#its so much easier for me to just see a summary instead

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Fic Prompt #3

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 Characters: Dame Aylin/Isobel Thorm, Shar; also features Selûne, and Balthazar, that wretched walking content warning Length: ~4000 words Summary: Aylin prays in the Shadowfell, to a mother who can't hear her - and an aunt who can.

What can silence the Nightsong? @stachless prompted "nightmare" and also drew [this art]. Brainworms heavily inspired by @featherwurm's [art] and its followup [here]. Also inspired by a bunch of Aylin's Shadowfell dialogue, the extremity of what she went through, her mother, and the Jesus-Christ-Superstar-Gethsemane of it all. Then we have my own need to see her cherished and taken care of and protected, along with a bit of weird fascination with how the Calm Emotions spell is actually supposed to work.

Hurt/comfort. Warnings for canon-typical violence and references to torture.

---

Once, there would have been a steady hum, a warmth blooming eternal in her chest. An undeniable, reassuring presence, like a hand on her shoulder, and a loving murmur in her ear as if her Mother were there, but only just out of sight. Now there is nothing.

There is worse than nothing; there is a tug, a pull, a leeching so unnatural and wrong it makes bile rise in Aylin's throat. Makes her first steps into a stumble, as she pulls herself to her feet from where the latest Sharran had felled her, leading her so close to the bounds of her enclosure that the sickly glow of the grasping claws starts to manifest. 

So instead she kneels, as she has done countless times before: in magnificent temples and humble shrines, in muddy battlefields before and after skirmishes, in winter storms and in bright summer showers. Privately, or as one in a crowd of worshippers. Or, a traitorous little shard of her heart pipes up, with Isobel, whose devotion was always catching like the most pleasant of flames. 

"Moonmaiden, hear me," once she finally speaks, Aylin's voice is strong to her own ears, rising clear and resonant from the depths of her chest, unhampered by her predicament or by the bitter sting of grief. It is a bracing thing to note, and it makes it easier to straighten her shoulders and persist.

The odious essence that permeates the Shadowfell makes calm, comfortable meditation a distant dream, but Aylin does her utmost to shake off the worst of it. She chooses instead to focus on going through all the well-practised, familiar, reassuring motions. Hands open, relaxed, palms resting on her thighs, eyes closed but not clenched shut, chin upturned slightly, waiting for the light of an absent moon.

"Weaver of the silver loom, look upon me with mercy and pluck the threads of my fate to lead them away from this place, away from this dungeon of loss and dark and grief." 

It is easy, natural, to intone the words, even as the recitation feels slightly more formal than Aylin is used to. The conspicuous absence surrounding her and blanketing her heart does nothing to deter her.

"Guide me out of the grasp of shadow. Turn the tides, so that I may vanquish Your enemies once more and shield Your faithful from the darkness in turn, under Your watchful eye."

Ketheric will bleed, a Sharran plot that was allowed to fester and grow much too far will finally be thwarted, and Reithwin salvaged, recovered, a haven for those basking in the light of the moon once more.

Surely, whatever time Aylin has spent here… surely it is enough.

Her only answer is a coward's blow; a would-be justiciar who has snuck down to her prison oh-so-quietly, who has chosen to anoint herself with the blood of an unarmed, unaware opponent knelt in prayer.

In the rush of her own lifeblood Aylin could swear she hears laughter.

-

"Hear me. Moonmaiden," the words are ground out this time, slowly and painstakingly. "Our Lady of Silver. Shine Your gleaming light upon me, dispel the grip of shadow and pain, bolster my heart with Your radiance…"

There is an arrow lodged in her flank, and another one near her shoulder blade, still burning with the telltale traces of poison. This one wanted to make sure - a good Sharran: thorough, prepared. Lurking in the shadows and well out of reach, even for this. Truly meant for his mistress' embrace.

"I, whose hand has ever borne Your sword against wickedness gladly and with pride…"

The third in what can't have been more than, what, a day? But how to tell, when her own body falling and rising is the only thing she can rely on to try to gauge the passage of time? In any case, Ketheric is ramping up the production of his army, that much is clear.

So much of Reithwin has paraded before her eyes. People she had lived beside, even if for a little while, coming here to kill her. Some of them acknowledge the fact, even - let her know they never trusted her, sneer about their welcome and respect being but pretence, or forced by fear of divine retribution. Others avert their eyes and pretend they weren't the ones to help her pick out flowers for a bouquet to gift Isobel early in their courtship, just as they weren't the ones to help with the delicate petal-cups of the moonflower arrangements for her funeral.

If she thinks of what has happened, what must be happening to the ones who she hasn't faced here, the rage mixed with the bitter bite of failure threatens to overwhelm her utterly. They were hers to protect. Just as Isobel was.

She can't reach the accursed arrow in her back to pull it out. The sting mounts and mounts and meets the agony driven deep in her heart.

-

"Moonmaiden, hear me. As You guide the lost back onto their paths, as You set before our feet roads out of darkness, I pray. For my path is winding, never-ending, yet I have ever heeded--"

How much more? How much, how much, howmuch…

The spear to the heart she would have taken for one of the quick and merciful ones - but no. Because the Sharran misses, curse them, and then stops to deliver a tirade - before being swallowed by vicious, hungry shadows.

"The tides turn, inexorably," she mutters, half-dazed with blood loss, stumbling to her knees. "The tides, they… in Your strength, as all things, they…"

Aylin's head lolls forward, proud chin meeting chest, prayer cut short. "Enough. It is enough. I have borne--" What, she cannot say. Penance? Some crucial holy burden? Instead, she ekes out syllables around the agony in her chest, where the spear is still lodged. The spear left in her in disgust, once the acolyte realised it was a mere inert replica of the artefact they sought, incapable of delivering true death, of elevating them beyond a mere ordained assassin. Before their own fate was sealed so very efficiently.

One does not become the Chosen of a goddess by choosing themselves, after all.

"Please."

In the silence, she scrabbles with bloody hands and pulls the spear out herself, inch by painfully slow inch. Throws it into the abyss with a roar of fury and disgust, for she has no use for a weapon here. She cannot fight and tear and kill her way to freedom, a sword that cannot cut itself free. The best she could achieve by destroying her captors here and now would be oblivion, to be forgotten here. 

Lost.

"Mother," she whispers, and feels burning shame at prayer being reduced to pleading. "Mother, please."

Nothing.

-

The necromancer visits again, when she is barely recovered from the last freshly-made justiciar, still catching her breath and clutching at newly-unshattered ribs.

Aylin has goaded him before. Barked out whatever insult came to mind, every threat and vow of vengeance most bloody on both him and his coward of a general, who so adamantly refuses to come face her. But this time - she will find she cannot remember, after, what it was she said that led to this - if she even said anything.

But whatever she does or mutters or simply is right then crosses some threshold, unfathomable to her. Something that permits such aimless, gratuitous cruelty, justifies it in the mind of the truly monstrous. 

Balthazar is uncharacteristically silent, the usual sick gloating absent, when he gestures for the hands to pull her to her knees, to hold her in place; when they grip her neck and claw her head back and rip her jaw open against all her mighty strain, as if she is not even trying to resist. When she tastes the rust of the blade and then the rust of her own blood.

Her mouth burns, jaw and chin and palate aflame, agony spreading from the carelessly cut lip down to her throat. She spits blood, and blood, and blood, but it will not stop, and it chokes her. Dizzying, mortifying. Hunched over after she is released, one hand clenched in the dirt of her rocky prison, barely holding her up, the other scrabbling at her neck.

She cannot speak aloud the words that old and young, great and small throughout Faerûn know will bring the Moonmaiden's keen-eyed, loving gaze to them. But then, she has never really needed to. Selûne has ever kept watch over Her daughter, Her sword.

Mother. Aylin tries to think, upwards, upwards, imagining flying up to pierce the shadowy dome. Mother, hear me, when they would silence me.

Nothing. 

Balthazar shuffles into her blurred view, doing something with a jar, and silver-flecked muscle and--

And what will he do with it? What does he do with all else he steals from her? It is a horror she does not want to contemplate.

Her tongue, made for poetry, made for battle cries and striking fear into the unworthy and the wicked, into the scheming and the twisted. Made for jubilation and proclamation, made for testifying the glory of her Mother and the good, righteous cause she championed so gladly. Made to argue and philosophise. Made for joy and pleasure taken in the mortal and worldly and wondrously, preciously, divinely mundane: tasting fine wine and succulent food and the sweetest of lips and the softest of skin and most cherished of flesh, all hers, once, all of it -- all of it taken, gone.

Lost.

Instead, violation and violence. A cut throat, and spilt guts. And here comes one with a cruel mace - atypical, for Sharran clergy. She would laugh at herself, a half-mad thing, at the spark of absurd, sick excitement at being murdered slightly unusually - but what else is there? What is there, here, in the void?

Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. Pain, or nothing.

Her.

Aylin does not attempt to pray when she next rises. She screams curses and barely-coherent tirades against her hated, hateful aunt, if only for there to be something, anything else.

"Silence," comes that rarely-heard voice. Despised, yet known. "My sister spawned a rabid dog, it seems."

A gleam of feeble triumph warms Aylin's heart. A response provoked. A goddess' hand forced, even if in a matter so very small. She stands, as tall and proud as she can in bloodied rags. "I was chosen to bear her light, to be her sword, to champion her cause--"

"She did not choose you," the voice cuts her off, growing louder and closer, echoing in the endless chasm of its domain, surrounding. "She made you. And what a pitiful job she did of it, too." The disdain is palpable, radiating out of every wisp of shadow swirling around the lonesome platform. "She whelped you to hunt down my faithful."

"She charged me with protecting her own." Aylin glares into the darkness, turning this way and that, trying to fathom where to best aim her fury from her perch in the eye of a growing storm. 

"She who seeks always to steal from me, to supplant me, she who knows no measure, whose ambitions know no end."

The raging shadows swirl ever closer, angrier and angrier still. But Aylin refuses to be cowed, refuses to yield, faced with the one who gives her purpose. For the Sword of the Silverlight is a necessity, yes, but it is not Selûne who makes it so. It is her spiteful sister and her misguided followers, ever prowling and looking to harm.

"You lie, as always, Lady of Loss. She wishes only for peace, for her faithful to be left to make their own way, to flourish. Without your schemes, there would be no need for my service at all."

A clap of thunder behind her; Aylin turns, but not in time to see the grasping shadows that rush towards her, wind around her legs and arms, around her neck and chest. Restraints nothing like the eerie, necrotic claws, but just as cold and cruel and unmoveable.

"Ah, so my sister needs to bind her paladins with chains of bloodline to ensure they serve her?" The voice is mocking, and so very, very near. As if Shar herself is standing there, speaking in Aylin's ear as her shadows mercilessly pull her down. "Perhaps, for once, she is right. For I have claimed a prize from her already, and he has brought me you."

"I am not bound," Aylin spits out, pulling against her fetters, grinding her knuckles to dust and bone on the cold stone of her prison. "I am not bound. I choose, I serve, I am faithful--"

"You are a failure."

"I am-- I am Dame Aylin Silverblood, Sword of the Moonmaiden, Moon Daughter, Bearer of the Silverlight. When I am free, there will be a mighty reckoning. I will bring it on wings of silver, on the edge of my blessèd sword, in the name of my Mother, and in my own name."

"You are a failure," the darkness repeats, unphased, calm, certain, factual, "and so you have been discarded."

"I am," Aylin starts, barely forces out, then stops, gritting her teeth against the burning pressure, the rancid atmosphere cloaking her prison. "I am--"

"I am the Nightsinger and you are my Nightsong, and so it is mine to silence you."

The darkness becomes tangible, cloying, suffocating. Aylin tries to draw breath but finds that she cannot. Cannot see through the thickening murk even to the sickly blazing runes of her prison-circle.

"The moon does not shine its foul light here, and it never will. Here, in my perfect dark, we are gloriously free of it. Howl your foolish prayer-ditties, Nightsong - they will fall upon no ears. Your ever-whimsical, capricious mother has abandoned you to my care."

The shadows tighten and Aylin chokes on darkness like she choked on blood. Her back burns with phantom pains, spiking up and down her shoulder blades, and every wound and indignity feels visited upon her again. A scream feels like it should tear itself from her throat, but there is only silence.

"In the creation of my army, I have given you purpose. Much more than my pathetic sister ever has. And once that purpose is fulfilled, I will silence you forever."

She finds herself sprawled on the ground, suddenly free of the restraints, as the final, threatening proclamation rattles through her muscle, deep into her bones.

"The loss of a daughter," Shar sounds amused, almost, a cruel smile tainting her words, "is devastating, I hear. It will make a fine gift for my deserving kin. Now rise. One approaches who must prove their worth."

Aylin's mind is flooded with Isobel, Isobel, Isobel, and her chest feels like it will cave in on itself.

-

The air rushes in, finally, and Aylin tastes blood in her mouth from a bitten cheek, feels a pounding in her head - and very little else. A cool balm, a much-needed distance has been put between her and the red-hot thornvine of the past century, and it allows her to breathe.

She blinks, and knelt before her is Isobel, alive and whole, in a simple nightgown, hands aglow with the remnants of a freshly cast spell.

"Aylin?" She asks, cautiously, with the telltale downturn of the corner of her mouth that means she is concentrating. Her eyes are wide and filled to the brim with such tender concern, the restrained but clearly pained tremble in her voice more agonising than any Sharran knife. She keeps her distance, though the tension and the need to leap forward, to be close, to hold, is palpable.

"You were… I tried to wake you, but you weren't responding. It was like you were lost to me."

Lost.

"I am…"

Aylin stops, because she does not know what words could follow and not be lies.

"This will only last a minute. Please, stay with me, Aylin. Alright?"

Aylin nods.

"Breathe with me." 

Aylin does.

"May I touch you?"

Aylin hesitates, where she should have roared her enthusiastic consent. But her entire body still feels raw.

"...yes," she says only when she truly feels it to be true, and Isobel seems… proud?

The lightest, gentlest hand comes to rest on her cheek and jaw. Familiar, loved, ever so slightly colder than… than before. Isobel.

She would have nuzzled into it happily, usually, pressed a kiss or two to the soft palm. It is a bit much at the moment, though, just that little bit too close, and so Aylin slowly pries it off her cheek and holds the hand between both her own instead.

Then the minute is up and the spell wears off, and the veil that was between her and what seems like the rest of the world abruptly falls away. Aylin draws air in with mounting effort, then lets it out in a hiss at the flood of sensation.

But the hand between hers serves to ground; Isobel's eyes, luminous in the moonlight that seeps into the room, hold her own and seem to encompass her entire.

"Should I cast it again?" Isobel asks softly, free hand already rising towards Aylin's temple.

She moves to decline, muster up some sort of casual air, but stops herself at the last moment. Digs down to the soldierly disposition that has been a help to her, an ingrained way to make sense of so much. It does no good to overestimate one's own capability. Her mind rattles off, almost of its own accord. A correct measure of one's strength is key to all engagements.

"Once-- once more, please, my love," Aylin asks, and is mildly surprised at the complete lack of shame and nauseating sense of inadequacy that had, for a time, become her stalwart companions.

"As many times as you need," Isobel says reassuringly, already leaning forward and reaching out with both hands. "There is no shame in accepting help."

It is a song and dance they both know well by now. The words Isobel has spoken what must be hundreds of times, in an effort to make them real and true to Aylin.

Her touch on what feels like the sides of Aylin's troubled mind accompanied by a murmured incantation take all of a second, but the coolness and numbness and the slight drowsiness ripple outward and encompass her again. The separation from herself, the distance from everything, is always mildly discomfiting and ever-so-slightly reminiscent of the Shadowfell - a reassuring fact, as Aylin takes it to mean she is in no danger of craving it, or growing to depend on it.

It is but a moment of reprieve each time. But it is just enough to buy her a chance to shore up her own defences, when they have been so cruelly torn down by the workings of her own unconscious mind. She places her hands over Isobel's own once again, breathes in time with her, and thinks, very deliberately, of little else.

This time, when the minute runs out, the shock of being plunged back into the world is barely noticeable. 

There is no brand-wound placed on her by Shar, like brave Shadowheart still bears. And yet it still feels so often like her aunt's cruel grasp is lying in wait behind every shadow, waiting to snatch her up and pull her down, down, down, until her knees meet the cold rune-inscribed rock in the heart of the Shadowfell.

It makes Aylin still want to laugh at herself, sometimes. Her knees are, in fact, resting on the finest mattress of the grandest bed Waterdeep's House of the Moon could provide. Her legs are entangled with duvets filled with the softest down, with sheets of finest silk. And yet, and yet.

But she does not let out any bark of bitter, self-deprecating laugh, for even after everything, there is Isobel. The anchor. The crux of everything. The eye of a swirling storm. A beacon of light so blessedly blinding it washes out all else, all pain and sorrow and acrid, biting memory.

Isobel, whose mere presence drowns out the roaring winds of the Shadowfell, fills up the Lady of Loss' cursed silence that steals and numbs everything it touches.

Isobel, something to focus on when all else is too much, or too little. Who scuttles closer to Aylin on the bed once she sees her calmed enough, and leans in until they are pressed shoulder to shoulder.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Her thumb rubs small, delicate circles into the back of Aylin's hand.

Aylin sighs. "I cannot possibly begin to explain… to put into words…"

"Could you try? For me, my love, and for yourself?"

The only thing silencing Aylin now is she herself. 

Truth and honesty, ideals to strive for - and the light that chases away any Sharran shadow. Aylin draws in a deep breath, as much as her chest that still feels cramped will allow. Squares her shoulders as if preparing for combat.

And still her words come out hesitant, almost meek. "I would not have wanted you to bear witness, then. To… to their crimes, their sins against me. To my shame. And so I do not want to make you a witness to them now, even if it is only through my telling."

She feels reluctant to expose Isobel to any of it. Even when, yes, she is an accomplished cleric and a healer and has seen and dealt with her own share of horrors, but…

"Aylin," the palpable pain in Isobel's wide eyes is already too much as she reaches out a gentle hand again, turning Aylin's face towards her. "You are the woman I love, and the chosen of my heart. Nothing will ever change that."

"It has been nigh a year." Aylin knows she sounds petulant. Knows she would have thoughtlessly blinked away the meagre span of a single year, before.

"Compared to a hundred?" Isobel shakes her head, looks at her almost pleadingly. That way she does, the way she seems to have reserved for whenever Aylin insists she should think nothing of the way she hastily exited a too-tight or too-dark space.

"Fine. Fine, my love, for you," Aylin breathes out. "But… outside. Let us first recover somewhat, in my Mother's light."

Let Her hear as well.

Isobel rises, takes her by the hand, and pulls her along, gently, out onto the balcony. Theirs is a spacious, luxurious suite situated in the prime spot of the temple complex housing wing, overlooking the luscious inner gardens in the House of the Moon. Usually, neither of them care for the pomp and circumstance their visits tend to invite in Selûnite spaces. But this time Aylin feels grateful for both the privacy and the position under the moonlight dome, as she does little but breathe in the scent of the moonflowers, freshly opened for the night, each cupping a little mote of moonlight and embracing it in blue.

For a good while, until Aylin feels ready, Isobel chatters, hums, softly fills any second of silence. She has come to understand so much, and Aylin is so grateful as she lets the sweet voice buoy her heart, carry her. 

It felt near-blasphemous, at first, these calls to a goddess over things she would have once called trivial. But the joint efforts of her Mother and her beloved have convinced her they are anything but. 

Mother? Aylin sends out the simplest of thoughts as she gazes upward and feels the moonlight bathe her face, fill her heart to bursting, settle around her shoulders like a blanket.

I hear you, daughter. I see you. I hold you under my gaze, safe.

This, too, is her birthright. Simple reassurance.

Under her Mother's silver eye, guarded in the circle of Isobel's arms, Aylin speaks. Once her words run dry and she is left feeling drained, scoured out, head dizzyingly feather-light, Isobel finally moves from her side. She returns within moments, wraps herself around Aylin and wraps them both in a star-embroidered coverlet. 

"Never again," Isobel whispers, all moon-bathed steel, as she presses a dozen soft kisses to Aylin's face, then holds her to her chest. "I will not let anyone harm you again."

It is a heartwarming, if impossible thought. Aylin doesn't have it in herself to do anything but believe it.

The moon continues on her path across the sky, her Tears shining bright, as the night descends into a silence that is both warm and comfortable.

#dame aylin #isobel thorm #aylin x isobel #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #my fic #bg3 #oathkeeper writes things #fic prompts 2024 #sipping that hurt/comfort juice

[amethyst-halo]

remembered how much i want to rewrite asc bc i don't like it and now i wanna explode

#i stopped reading the books bc i just. ugh #i dont like them #its so much easier for me to just see a summary instead #then i dont have to deal with nightheart who is the biggest problem for me #sketch speaks #yea hi idk where the wc thoughts came from i havent had them for weeks but here we are lol

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ the mood i'm in ❞ ─ an adhd chronicles blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!adhd!reader. summary: sometimes rearranging a whole entire closet is a biological need. content warnings: fluff, adhd antics (i'm diagnosed don't try to come for me) word count: 600+. a/n: this was requested by @ficmeoutofthisworld and i felt the need to make a blurb!verse of it, so expect more fluff for these three 🩵 & the idea of jack calling you honey came from honey is for love by @angellsell

“daddy, honey has that weird look again.” aaron can’t help but smile at his little boy, putting the files he was working on down on his desk, telling him to come closer with his hands. jack had gotten into the habit of calling you honey very early on in your relationship, that being one of the pet names aaron used the most when talking to you. it was too endearing to correct him, even after you moved in. you both just let the boy be, knowing that he would call you by name once he got older.

you didn’t mind him not calling you mom or any of its variants, even if the relationship you shared now was much alike mother and child, jack didn’t remember a lot of haley by himself, he was too little, but aaron always did his best to keep her memory alive in him, so if for his young mind it was easier to call you a pet name, you would take it every single time with a smile. and so would aaron. 

“what look, buddy?” he asks even though he’s sure he knows the answer, having been through that a few times over the last two years. 

“she’s staring at my stuff and sitting on the floor.” bingo. every once in a while you would get obsessed with something, it made sense after you were diagnosed with adhd and he learnt how to accommodate you properly, but for a while it was just a big clash of his organized and controlling nature and your chaotic mind. 

“let’s see what she needs, okay?” jack nods, leading the way with his dad closely behind. they find you exactly as his boy explained to him, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor, staring at his wardrobe so attentively it might scare the unknown eye. 

“darling? what’s going on?” he asks without entering the room, not wanting to invade your space before you called him in, instead he decided to lean on the door frame, observing you with his kind eyes.

“i want to rearrange all of jack’s clothes but we need more hangers for that and i don’t want to go to the store just to buy hangers, but i also can’t get up to go to the kitchen and check what else we need.” you answered quickly, finishing your ramble with a huff, dropping your shoulders and looking at your fiancé with a pout that made him get closer to you, offering his hands so you could have some support while getting up, you lazily do it, being embraced by him as soon as your feet touch the ground. 

“go watch something with jack, okay?” his tone is always soft, as if your conversations, even the silliest and mundane ones, were secrets for you two to keep. he knew you too well, so he prevented the whine he knew would come–you wanted to get this done, you needed to rearrange jack’s clothes or the itch in your brain wouldn’t leave–and he did so by holding both of your cheeks with his hands, making you look at him. “i’ll make the shopping list and then you both can go to target while i get some reports done.” you nod happily, his hands moving with your head. 

telling you to watch something with jack could seem like a mindless choice of words, but it wasn’t, aaron knew you were feeling stuck and how bad that made you feel, you needed a dopamine kick before you could do something, and no better way for that than colorful silly shows with your favorite boy.

by the time he’s done with the shopping list, you had already started another important project: napping on the couch with jack. so he leaves it attached with a magnet on the fridge, gives you both soft forehead kisses and goes back to work, not minding the fact he did it quickly for no reason, happy you were resting and that it was done for when you decided to shop.

#lari writes sometimes #i dont proof read shit ever btw #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

[cloudypariah]

How to perpetrate and sabotage your own kidnapping: A guide for dummies.

- The creation of the board (and its subsequent discovery)

Summary: Step One: host a brainstorming session with your teammates on how best to kidnap your future abductee. Step Two: have said abductee show up half an hour into the session and begin correcting your entire plan. Step Three: realise at the beginning of their impromptu presentation the target has absolutely no idea that they’re the target. Step Four: fail anyway.

Pairing: Dark!Poly!Task Force 141 x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Content tags: Dark content - Discussions around kidnapping, tense situations. If this is not your cup of tea, please go and find something different might better suited your palate. This is an 18+ fic meaning minors do not interact with this work. No one has permission from me to repost, copy or translate my work. No one has my permission to put my work into any AI source.

Notes: This is my first foray into the COD fandom and will be the first part in a dark comedy series. Please let me know what you think. Not proofread very well, sorry for any mistakes! Thanks for the motivation @live-love-be-unique !

Link to Task Force 141 masterlist / Link to COD masterlist

Captain John Price likes to think he knows his men well enough to trust them when his back is turned. Now that itself doesn’t necessarily mean knowing each and every one of their dirty secrets - he definitely wouldn’t come out smelling like fresh daisies if any number of his were revealed - but it does mean that he has the awareness to recognise that they all share one particular secret.

He sees it in the way Lieutenant Riley’s body language shifts when you give him his medical forms to look over, your consideration at offering him the option to disclose only certain personal information making the reserved soldier relax just enough to offer you a low thanks, accompanied with a stare that stretches on for a few moments longer than considered socially polite.

It’s also so amazingly obvious with Sergeant MacTavish. John’s surprised everyone else misses the way Soap’s smile takes a little longer to fade after departing for yet another mission, your swift congratulations on completing yet another physiotherapy appointment - “ Keep it up the good work big guy” - leaving the Scotsman floating on cloud nine damn near until the plane lands.

And how could he forget Sergeant Garrick? The man’s quick to change his tune and focus up, but the captain has observed Kyle absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder, thumb gingerly stroking the spot where your palm was only moments before, your figure long gone as you retreat down the corridor to where you came from.

No, Jonathan Price doesn’t miss a thing about his men. And it only takes two weeks and a long chat in the corner booth of the bar one quiet night - sans you or Laswell - before somehow his place becomes the meeting point for an unusual, though not unwelcome, topic - you.

More specifically, how to keep you.

The wooden shit box of a sports bar was where the first two facts were confirmed amongst them: 1. Every single one of the 141 men wanted you for themselves, but they weren’t above sharing. 2. You weren’t worth killing each other over, not when there was a much easier solution staring them in the face.

John’s house became the go-to place to discuss fact number three - They needed a plan.

It was Gaz who initially suggested the whiteboard after numerous interjections from Ghost and John; from everything to how to keep this from Laswell, to deciding which of your usual hangouts would provide them with the best opportunity to commence your “relocation”, to how to delicately but firmly explain said "relocation" to you once it was complete. Kyle loves his brothers in arms and never regrets a moment where his life is on the line if it means saving any one of them, but his patience began to wear thin when Soap got bored and started using goddamn paper planes instead of words to get his point across. At that Price finally relented and bought the damn thing.

Now, John was expecting you to pop by his place on Wednesday night to drop some papers off. A perfect opportunity, were it not for the fact that the gentlemen were still disagreeing on where to relocate you. However, it’ll allow you to grow more comfortable with him while he has some alone time with you, your presence like a balm on a wound - soothing and necessary (at least to him).

He had been looking forward to seeing you… tomorrow. So when you turn up not just on the doorstep but in the middle of the bloody hallway in his own bloody home halfway through the 141 “guys night”, his secondary action of shitting bricks quickly overrides his primary instinct to eliminate the threat.

He’s on his way back from the bathroom when he sees you standing, familiar folders firm in your grasp - fucking hell, is that his spare key too? - and a sour expression on your pretty face.

Your eyes narrow further when you spot him, striding over with fury rolling off you in small waves. “Captain Price, I know you did not leave these dossiers on my desk just before the end of my work day with a note stating they all need to be completed by the end of the work day.”

John’s senses are briefly overwhelmed by you being so close to him, the sight of you angry having a different effect on him than what you had originally intended. He’s never seen it before, and his hand twitches when you’re less than a foot away - fluctuating adrenaline or the desire to reach out and hold you, he’s not sure which is more prevalent. 

He always forgets to not be so obvious around you, but it isn’t as though you usually notice. (He’s not sure if the thought should make him feel sad or grateful.)

The sounds of his men arguing in the background, merely the next room over, are enough to bring reality crashing down hard.

His voice is deliberately loud and stalwart when replies. “You can’t be here.”

“Tough shit. Your lads night can wait.” You lean past him to the origin of what your gut was telling you was the sounds of the remaining 141 members quarreling. It’s easy to slip past Captain Price once your mind is set, the push of files against his chest preventing him from reacting for a few seconds - all the time you need to move down the hallway to where everyone else is bound to be.

John is quick to rush behind you, the arguing noises having swiftly changed to near cartoon-like crashes just moments before you enter the room. 

Ghost has migrated to the corner of the sitting area, standing as stiff as a fucking nutcracker, a mountain of crumpled notes and paper planes spilling out from between his arms. (His mask is still on thank god because it’ll hide exactly how caught out he feels, and if there’s one thing Simon Riley cannot stand it’s feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar). His eyes instinctually watch your every move, waiting for your reaction.

Both of your gazes drift to the other side of the room, with neither of you failing to notice how the couch cushions are strewn widely across the space, (with one being stuck on top of a bookshelf for some odd reason) to find not one, but two soldiers gecko’d to the standing whiteboard.

Their demolitions expert is currently splayed out on the left side of the board and desperately grabbing the top of its metal frame, his stomach pressed into the cold porcelain and a left leg hitched up in a poor attempt to conceal the incriminating writing.

Price’s protégé is in a similar state. Dear Gaz has his back against the right side, with his arms outstretched to - much like Johnny - cover as much of their group planning as possible, a coloured marker clasped in each fist.

Two deers in headlights.

The sight of his task force is enough to bring back flashbacks of his original conversation with Kate about bringing these men together because Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck was he thinking?

There are a few moments when nobody moves or dares to breathe…

… except for you, of course.

You waste no time walking over to the two youngest members of the 141 as you attempt to shove them off the board. “Move,” you demand, palms pushing firmly against their sides. “I want to know what’s so important to everyone.” When they refuse, you do your best to stare at them, pleading with a pleasantly soft, “Please.”

Yeah, they both do what you say with ease when they hear that, giving you enough space to take in the somewhat smudged scribbles.

You miss the signal John gives Simon, the Ghost moving closer to your position as John quietly locks the door, and when your attention is drawn back to the board after the other two move you also miss all of the knowing looks shared behind your back. This was very far from ideal, but how can they recover from this?

They hope you understand that whatever comes next, they didn’t plan for it to start this way.

Kyle and John call your name but you ignore them, still processing the information written in front of you.

Johnny flexes his hands, preparing for the worst as you step back and say, “This is… bullshit.”

Every single member stops. That was not the reaction they were expecting.

Turning to face the group, you scoff. “I’m not even kidding. Firstly, you’re using guys' night to work, which is horrible for your mental and emotional health. And you should all know better.”

Four sets of brows furrow in united confusion. You don’t let that deter you from continuing, your arms gesturing haphazardly at the whiteboard. “Secondly, this is hands-down one of the worst brainstorms I have ever seen. This is not cohesive in the fucking slightest. Garrick, mark me.”

Kyle chokes on his spit, his brain short-circuiting before he sees your fingers wiggling at one of the markers he’s holding. The sergeant promptly gives it to you.

Your free hand takes turns pointing at everyone else in the room, a verbal command of, “sit down” directed at each man also. Dumbly and cautiously they all do. Ghost places himself at the end of the couch nearest the entrance, John strategically chooses a spot between yourself and the kitchen, and Soap and Gaz sit closest to you, where the two of them can hear you muttering under your breath as you draw what appears to be a massive cloud shape in the middle of the board.

Once completed, you fill your shape in with the word ‘TARGET’ and slam your free hand against the board. No one flinches, but if one were to look closely there would be some eyes widening in response. Johnny swears he sees one of your eyelids twitch.

“So,” you call out, “what do we know about the target?”

There are not only wide eyes looking at you, there are full glances exchanged between your audience.

“Seeing as you had the nerve to not invite me in your little meeting while keeping me on overtime” - Kyle and John squirm at that, and your finger makes a little circle - “we are going to be working on this project together. With all due respect, I’m not asking.”

Surely not…

And it’s when Captain John Price reviews the writing left over from the others that he realises Kyle and Johnny did one thing right during their clusterfuck of a coverup.

They managed to erase your name.

… you have absolutely no idea you are the target.

 A piece of writing far in the coroner catches your attention, and your shoulders slump. “The target likes knitting and ‘The Karate Kid’. In another life we would have been the best of friends.” A dramatic sigh leaves you, “Oh well, at least I’ll be able to give you some insight into the mindset of this individual. Any questions?”

Four hands shoot up.

Rubbing your hands together with glee, a maniac smile grows on your face. “Excellent.”

#dark!141 #poly 141 #darkfic #task force 141 x reader #dark task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #sergeant kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod x female reader #female reader #cloudypariah writes

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Never Felt A Love Like This Before

The second part of the small bump mini fic series is out now!

pairings: leah williamson x reader

summary: its' been a long few exhausting months but finally being able to meet your baby girl was worth it in the end.

"Let me take that from you, love," Your wife insisted, rushing to take the heavy load off your hands.

"I'm fine, Le," You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully, you were of course now well accustomed to your wifes' overprotective nature by now. "I'm not made of glass, you know," you joked with her.

The final trimsester of your pregnancy was a time of both excitement and apprehension for both you and your wife, more so you also to deal with your wifes' need to be stubbornly overprotective of you even attempting to lift anything rometely heavy around the house.

You knew her concern was only coming from a good place though, her overprotective nature was down to the fact it had been a long nine months and she didn't wasn't about to let anything jepordizing the health of your unborn daughter or yourself.

You realized a few months it was easier to just suck it up and agree with your wifes' silly overprectiveness, it weren't that bad to deal with.

"It won't be long until we meet you, baby Gooner," Leah bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on your very pregnant belly before she peered up to look at you with loving eyes.

You both made the joint decision to find out the gender of your baby, but it was only both of your families, a few friends and of course your wife's team mates that new that you would be having a baby girl.

Leah especially was thrilled with the idea of having a daughter to hopefully follow in her footsteps, no matter how much you've tried to tell her that they might not even like football.

Your wife weren't having any of it.

"What if she wanted to be a Spurs fan instead?" You asked with the purpose of trying to wind your wife up.

Leahs' sweet smile is quick to turn into a menacing scowl, "Over my dead body will my daughter support Tottenham," she scoffed, like words were venemous.

You couldn't help but let out a loud laugh in amusement for your wifes' sudden change of mood, the discussion of different footballs team was always a sure subject with Leah if any team other than Arsenal was mentioned.

"Listen here, baby Gooner," Leah spoke directly to your belly, which made you giggle in amusement. "You have Arsenal running through your blood, your a Gooner through and through," she continued to speak to your unborn daughter, which always got the same reaction that you always got, a handful of kicks' as soon as your baby heard Leahs' voice.

"I think she definitely took notice of your words," You joked with your wife playfully, smiling at the connection that your wife and daughter already had. "The way she is kicking, I wouldn't be surprised if she does decide to become a footballer though," You commented.

"That's my girl," Leah grinned and placed a gentle kiss on your exposed stomach, which yet again earned another few excitedable kicks from your baby girl inside of you. "See? Baby Gooner, through and through," She added.

At first the nickname baby Gooner had been a silly nod to Leahs' persuasion for your unborn daughter to become an Arsenal fan just like her Mummy, however, as soon as the rest of your wifes' team mates heard it, they were all quick to cotton on calling the baby that name and it had just stuck ever since then.

You'd both decided to keep the name for a secret now, something for just you and your wife to only share.

You were both very excited for the day that you would finally be able to meet your baby girl, but of course you savoured all of the memories of your favourite times where your wife would place her hands on your stomach, being able to feel the tiny kicks and movement from your baby girl, a constant reminder of the precious life that was growing inside of you.

The nine months hadn't exactly been the easiest roller coaster, full of hormonal mood swings, horrific morning sickness and pregnancy cravings that had your wife up and out at all hours of the night, but you both know it'll be worth it the minute that you meet your baby girl.

It's the middle of the night when you woke up and feel a dull ache, spreading through your body like a silent alarm. Shifting in bed with soft groan, the discomfort was growing stronger with eaching passing moment.

You only knew it meant one thing, it was time.

"Le," You whispered, shaking your wife awake beside you from her light slumber. "I think... I think its' time, it's happening," you stuttered out.

Leahs' eyes snapped open, panic flooding her senses as she was quick to bolt upright in bed, "What?!" she exclaimed, her heart was pounding in her chest. "Now?!"

"No, next week. Yes now," You couldn't help but sarcastically comment, letting out a hiss as the dull pain started to become a little more intense than before. "It's time, Le," you repeated.

You watched as your wifes' began to race into action and shoot up from the bed, her eyes darting around in a sudden panic, "O... Okay, just stay calm. It's gonna be fine, just... just breathe, love," she told you, despite having everything prepared and ready for this very moment, the reality of it was hitting your wife like a tidal wave right now.

"Le," You sat in the bed and looked at your wife amusedly, one hand was resting on your very swollen pregnant belly and the other was videoing your wifes' initial panic, you wanted video proof of this to look back on and laugh when it was needed, "I'm fine here, alright? My contractions are still quite far apart, so we don't even need to leave to go to the hospital yet, so just stay calm, okay?" you told your wife, trying to ease her own panicking.

"Right, of course, you... you're right," Leah ran her hand over her hair before she settled back down on the bed, "So, do we just wait until its' time then?" she questioned.

"Yes, we just wait until then. Why don't you stick the kettle on and make us both a hot drink?" You suggested, hoping that while your was downstairs that her anxiety would ease up more.

In the hushed intensity of the delivery room, Leah stood by your side with your fingers interwined in hers in a tight grip as the final moments of your labour drew near, "I... I can't, I can't do this!" You cried, panting loudly as the beads of sweat glistened your brow and your breath had become short as you pushed through each contraction.

"Almost there, love," Leah murmered, your wifes' voice a soothing balm in the chaos of the moment, "You're doing amazing. I'm so proud of you,"

"That's it, Y/N. That's it, I can almost see the head," The nurses' voice spoke aloud as she could see the head of your daughter from where she stood, "That's it, almost, Y/N. I just need one final push," she instruced.

Leah let out a gasp and tears welled up in her eyes as she set her eyes on your daughter, "She's almost here, love," she whispered in awe.

"Just one final push, Y/N," The midwife in the room repeated, "You're doing great, just one more push and your daughter will be here," she told you.

With all of the energy you could muster, you pushed one final time and it felt like the room seemed to hold its' breath, the anticipation was thick in the air until it was broken by the ear-piercing wail of your newborn daughter that sounded like a sweet melody to you and your wife right now.

"Congratulations, Mommies," The nurse smiled widely, cradling your newborn daughter in her arms before she placed her down gently in your own, "You have a precious baby girl," she added.

You had longed for this moment that you felt your daughter nestled against your bare skin, you let out tears of joy as you felt that instant connection between you both, "Hi, baby girl. I'm so glad you're here now," You whispered quietly, your daughter looking back at you with big wide eyes.

Tears continued to well up in Leah's eyes as she watched the scene unfold before her, her heart swelled with pride and love for you, who had just brought your new baby girl into the world.

"I love you so much," Leah murmered in awe, leaning down beside you as she pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, "You did it, love. She's here and she's perfect," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"She really is perfect," You whispered back, peering up to your wife with a tired smile, but no matter how exhausted you felt, nothing would change how happy you felt in this moment, there was a sense of overwhelming amount of love and wonder for the little girl that you currently had cradled in your arms.

"I hate to interrupt the moment," The nurse smiled warmly at you both, her eyes crinkling with kindness as she looked between you and then your wife, "Would you like to cut the unbilicol cord, Mum?" she asked your wife, her tone gentle and inviting.

Leahs' own heart fluttered with a mix of emotion and nervousness at the question, glancing at you to seek a sense of reassurement in your eyes that it would be okay, "Is that okay?" she checked with you to make sure it was alright.

You squeezed your wife's hand to reassure it was okay, "You've got this, Mummy," You whispered, noting the name you'd both decided on for each other, Leah would be Mummy and you would be Mumma.

Your wife grinned and turned back to look at the nurse, "Yes, I'd love too," she agreed, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

With a careful guiding hand from the nurse, your wife gently took the scissors and prepared to make the first cut as her fingers trembled with nerves.

As the blade sliced through the cord, a rush of emotion washing over you as you watched the intimate moment between your wife and newborn daughter, watching as the nurse carefully finished the proccess, your heart swelled with love for the tiny life that you had both brought into the world together.

"I'm so proud of you," You told your wife with an exhausted smile, peering down to look at your little girl resting on your chest before you looked at your wife, "Do you want to hold her?" You whispered the question, almost afraid to disturb the sleeping newborn on your chest.

"I'd love too," Leah nodded in agreement and with the nurse's help, she delicately placed your little baby girl in your wifes' arms.

Watching the moment made your heart swell even more, the first time you saw your wife holding your newborn daughter for the first time would be a memory that would be etched in your memory forever.

"Hi there, I'm your mummy and I'm so happy to meet you, baby Gooner," Your wife cradled your baby girl in her arms as she smiled down at her in awe, "We waited a whole 9 months to meet you but every single minute was worth it now that you're here, and I love you so so much already," she whispered, not taking her eyes of your newborn daughter.

Gently moving to take a seat beside you on your hospital bed, Leah sat with the baby nestled in her arm with her other free arm was wrapped around you, "I'm so in love with you, I love you both so much," she whispered quietly, the two of you just staring lovingly at the tiny bundle wrapped up in a blanket.

Your wife was right in her words, you had waited a long nine months to meet your little girl, but damn it was worth every minute now that she was here in your arms and you were finally a family of three.

leahwilliamsonn and y/nwilliamson posted

Liked by liawaelti, lottewubbenmoy & 98,203 others

leahwilliamsonn: my wife and i would like to introduce the newest baby gooner to the world, remi delilah williamson 👣❤️

my heart is so full of love for our baby girl and my amazing wife right now, I love you both so much! ❤️

© scribblesofagoonerr

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #scribblesof #scribblesofagoonerr

[wosoamazing]

Recovery

Summary: Part 2 of Negative Thoughts and Beach Days

Warnings: Eating Disorder (slight talks of being sick but it doesn't happen) - let me know if anything else and I will add

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, but I hope you like it and that it was worth the wait. Currently working on a two McFoord x Child!Reader fics and a Leah Williamson x Child!Reader fic and kind of a Sam redemption fic. But if you have any ideas for this series (either Barca, Arsenal or Matildas) or requests in general I will add them to my WIPs.

Lia had come over to cook dinner for you and Leah, it was something that happened quite often, however today the meal was fancier than usual. You just sat in your chair, in front of your plate, you used your fork to move the food around on you plate, taking small bites every now and then. You felt terrible you wanted to eat the food that Lia had taken the time to make, but there was a part of you that didn’t want to eat because of its fear of fatness and getting fat, and against your will this small part of you had started to take over more and more recently, causing you to feel funny when you thought about food, but this time something else was there, the thought of throwing up after you ate, this thought scared you, you had managed to suppress your thoughts and feelings for most of the meal however they finally bubbled over, causing tears to start free falling from your eyes, you felt stupid and pathetic all over again, you jumped up and left, sprinting up the stairs and into Leah’s room, you hide yourself under the covers and curled up, wanting to feel something else, anything else.

_

The two women that just a second ago were sitting at the table with you were in a mixed state of emotions, your sudden out burst caught them off guard, Leah really didn’t know what to do.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lia asked thinking it would be best.

“I’m sorry Wally,” you sister said to her still in a state of confusion.

“It’s okay Le, I’ll talk to you later, hopefully Bug is okay,” she said as they both started to get up out of their seats.

“Sorry about ending our night early,” you sister said as she hugged Lia, “it’s okay don’t worry, I understand, see you tomorrow, maybe?” your sister nodded before heading upstairs to find you.

_

Leah followed the sounds of your sobs to her room, she couldn’t see you but the lump under her covers indicated that you were there, she climbed into the bed and pulled your body on top of hers, she didn’t say anything, instead she rocked back and forth slightly whilst holding you tightly. You had gotten yourself so worked up you gaged, before you started coughing, Leah handed you the water on her bedside table, you took some small sips from it, Leah changed your position slightly so that your head rested against her chest. “Take some deep breaths with me bug,” you did as she said, your eye lids started to droop and your head began to get heavy, which Leah noticed “It’s okay bug, I’ve got you, I promise I will stay here, you can go to sleep if you want, we can talk later. Love you,” you didn’t respond, you buried your head into her side and eventually the exhaustion from your sobs caused you to fall asleep. When you body stopped shaking from your sobs and your breath was less rapid Leah sighed out a breath of relief, you had gone to sleep. She picked up her phone to see a message from Lia.

Lia: I hope everything is all okay, I cleaned up, I know you’re going to say I didn’t need to, but I did it just to make things easier, locked the door behind me. Hope bug is okay, message if you need anything.

Leah: Thank you, really you didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it. I don’t know what is wrong with bug, she was crying hard when I found her, eventually she fell asleep, I was worried she almost made herself sick, I think the only saving grace was that she didn’t eat much. I’ll keep you updated, sorry again about our night.

You become aware of your surroundings again slightly later, you were now resting against Leah’s side with her arm around your upper body almost supporting it, her laptop rested on her stomach as she did some work with her free hand.

“I-I’m sorry,” was what you mumbled into her side, alerting her to the fact that you were awake.

“It’s okay bug,” “Do you think Lia is upset that I didn’t eat her dinner? I feel really bad, she took so much time and care to make it and-”

“No bug, Lia didn’t even mention the fact you didn’t eat. She was just really concerned about you and whether you were okay or not.” you hummed in response “What’s wrong though bug? Do you feel okay?”

“um, well, I-” “It’s okay bug take your time, I’m here and I will stay here as long as you need” you knew from that response that Alessia had spoken to her, you didn’t know how much she said to her but she knew something, but you also knew Leah would want to hear everything from you, you wondered how long it had been since Alessia spoke to her, for her not to question you.

“I-I, I started getting conscious of my body a while ago and then these people on social media were being really mean and I know you say not to let it get to you but I did and then somewhere along the way I had obviously decided that not having my period meant that I was skinny enough and then I got my period and this voice in my head started to grow and was telling me I’m fat, and ugly and no one liked me and then I started to believe it so I stopped wearing my normal clothes and then when we went to the beach I couldn’t fit into my bikini and so the voice decided that I was really fat and ever since has not made me want to eat food and I’ve tried to not let it take over but it did and then tonight while I sat there looking at my dinner the other thing in my head was the voice that was telling me that if I ate it I would be fat and so I couldn’t eat and, and, and I’m sorry, it’s stupid and pathetic I know.” you blurted out managing not to cry, however tears started spilling form your eyes again when Leah sat up against the bedhead and pulled you into her lap and just hugged you tightly, resting her head on top of yours, giving you a reassuring presence. After you had calmed down slightly Leah started to talk, but she remained in the same position “I’m here for you bug, always, whenever and whatever you need, I would move mountains for you, I love you so so much, your my little bug. Please, please never feel like you have to hide your emotions, even when you think that they are dumb or pathetic or stupid because I can most definitely reassure you that they aren’t. We’re going to get through this together okay, I’ll help you, the team will help you.”

“I-I’m sorry” you sniffle. “There is nothing to be sorry about bug, this isn’t your fault.” she held you for a little while longer before she turned you around so you were facing her, she put her arms around your back, and looked at you. “I’m going to set up a meeting with Jonas okay, I try and do it for tomorrow morning so you don’t have to stress about it, Lessi did mention to me that she offered to do the meeting with you but I also want to offer to be there in the meeting for you”

“Um, could you do it with me? You can say no, but um, I would really like it if you could-” “Of course bug, I will definitely be there.” You smiled and leant forward to rest your head on her chest, before a yawn escaped your mouth. “Why don’t you go get changed unto your PJs and brush your teeth and I’ll do the same and then you can come back and sleep with me tonight,” you nod into her chest before getting up.

You climbed into the bed and snuggled up beside your sister, “can you tell Lia?” you softly said to her, knowing she knew what you meant.

“Sure bug, I love you heaps, have a good sleep.” she replied to you. You closed your eyes and mumbled “love you,” she placed a kiss on your forehead, and you quickly feel asleep. Once you were definitely asleep, she picked up her phone to message Lia

Leah: Bug is very sorry for not eating your food, the first thing she said was sorry, and asked whether you were upset.

Lia: Bless her, is everything okay with her?

Leah: um well, not really, can we call? Bug is asleep next to me, but she shouldn’t wake up.

Lia: Yeah sure, just give me a second.

_

You woke up the next morning at 7, slightly later than usual, Leah wasn’t in bed still, but you could hear her downstairs talking to someone else, who you thought was Lia. You made your way down the stairs and into the living room, to find Leah and Lia sitting there.

“Good morning,” your sister said as you walked in,

“Good morning, um Lia, I-I just wanted to say I-I’m sorry for not eating the food y-you made for us last night,”

“It’s okay Y/N/N, can I have a hug though?” she asked softly, you nodded and moved to sit next to her on the couch, she put her arms around you. She then let go of you, you moved so that you could rest your head on her should, she put on of her arms back around your shoulders and the other reached out for Leah’s, before she spoke, “we were thinking, maybe today at some stage I could or Leah and I could talk to the team for you if you want, it’s okay if you want to tell them yourself but we just thought you might prefer if we did it.”

“I think I would like that, thank you”.

You walked into training checking the time on your phone 9:30, your meeting was with Jonas at 10, you didn’t get the chance to train though, as your morning was mostly filled with tears and meetings. After you spoke to Jonas, who was very understanding you had to see the phycologist, dietician, and physios. You arrived in the dining hall a few minutes before lunch, and it had been obvious that Lia and Leah had told the team about what was going on as they all came up to you and gave you a hug as they filtered in.

Jonas had said that they would come talk to you after lunch, he encouraged you to invite a few people to stay with you to hear the plan so that they knew it in detail and could ask any questions they themselves might have. So, you asked Leah and Lia if they could join you and also Steph as she would be with you at Matildas camps but also because you thought she would want to know.

You were sat at one of the lunch tables, Lia and Leah were either side of you, holding a hand each and Steph stood behind you with her hands on your shoulders, as the staff informed you of the plan going forward. You were happy with it, it included some rules about food intake especially for game days but mainly just guidelines that you needed to stick to, you had to speak to the phycologist twice every week and the physios would be doing health checks on you more regularly. They would revise the plan in a month or so.

_____

You were walking out of the tunnel to the pitch for pitch inspections when one of the physios came to your side. “Here,” he said as he handed you an up and go.

“I don’t want to, I feel sick” you replied, trying to give it back to him.

“Well, that’s fine but you know the rules, you don’t drink it you don’t play,” you sighed as you pulled the straw out of its plastic and pierced the foil circle before you start sipping. One of the ‘rules’ in your plan for recovery was that to play you had to eat a sufficient amount of food that day, however you struggled to eat on game days due to nerves so the rule that you to drink some sort of meal substitute during the pitch inspection and finish it to be able to play was made.

“Thank you,” you rolled your eyes and walked over to Kyra.

_____

It was almost the end of mealtime, and you didn’t want to eat anymore, “Leah, I’m just not hungry, why don’t you understand that you aren’t listening to me,” “Just a few more mouthfuls please” “Leah, I told you I’m full.”

“I know you don’t want to bu-” “It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s that I can’t, I’m going to be sick if I eat anymore and that’s worse, realistically I want to eat more so I will be sick but that’s not healthy, so no, no more” you cut her off before your voice broke and you started crying, resting you head in your arms on the table.

“I’m sorry for pushing you too far Bug, I just wanted to help.” Leah rubbed your back, before you sat up and hugged her.

_____

“Tony, where are our up and go’s,” Alanna whined when you were handed one. Most of your Matildas teammates didn’t know, Tony said you didn’t have to tell them and you didn’t want to have the awkward conversation with them, so you didn’t, you weren’t trying to hide it, if they found out they found out.

“She’s just special” Kyra replies mocking you, you stick your tongue out before going over to Steph, who was with Mini.

“Up go, I wan” Harper said.

“I’m not sure if everyone can have one Harper, they might be special ones just for me,” her bottom lip dropped and started to wobble, “well maybe you could take this one as an ‘accident’ and I will have to go ask the staff for another one, I mean if they want me to play they will have to give me one,” you say with a smirk, before handing your up and go over to Harper, Mini’s brows furrowed, she was confused by what you meant. “I’m going to go get another one so I can play. Steph, you can tell her I’ll be back,”

You came back shortly later with another up and go in hand the way Mini looked at you informed her that Steph had told her. “You know you didn’t need to give her it, you should’ve kept it,” Mini instructed you as if you were her child before she pulled you into a one-sided hug, her other arm was occupied holding Harper. “I know, but they were always going to give me another,” you smirk “I mean they can hardly say no, how is that going to go down in the media.” Steph glared at you, “What?” you asked Steph playfully, she just rolled her eyes and sighed.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 3 - french girl | art major ellie x dance major reader

last chapter | next chapter

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 3.8k words | slow burn(?), mutual pining, loser ellie, recreational drug use (weed)

a/n: this took so long because im an intp AND a taurus *makes excuses for myself* also tysm to everyone who commented on the last chapter ur amazing and ily ♥

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Ellie’s in nothing but her underwear, legs criss-crossed on her navy comforter; holding a joint between her lips as she tunes the strings of her maple wood guitar. It’s a lazy Saturday, the one day out of seven where Ellie isn’t constantly tormented by homework and art projects.

These days are practically therapeutic for her. Being able to strum her fingers against the nylon strings and relish in the relaxing, skunky smell of cannabis can fix all of her problems. Minus one, of course: getting to know you better. 

For now, she’s at peace with doing nothing, that is until a loud ding goes off and the brightness of her phone flashbangs her otherwise dim-lit room. She scowls, exhaling a puff from her lungs as she reaches over for the device. Ellie has friends, but she’s no social butterfly. Her phone is usually dry, especially on weekends. Jesse is definitely with Dina, so unless it's serious; there’s no reason for her to be getting a text. 

Naturally, her scowl deepens when she reads that the number is unknown. 

???: hii

ellie: wrong number

She opts to toss her phone away, but the next message throws her off track. 

you: it’s — !

Ellie’s eyes widen at her screen like your name is a hypnotic spiral. She can feel her heart swelling well within her chest, and she’s left wondering if the weed she’s smoking is laced or if she somehow manifested you. Ellie quickly transfers her blunt in one hand and her phone in the other, straining her thumb trying to type as fast as she can to you. 

ellie: oh hdy! 

ellie: hey*

you: dina gave me ur number, i hope that’s okay 

ellie: yeah ofc it is :-)

ellie: i was planning on giving it to you

Ellie typed that half-lie slowly, weighing how true it really was as she pressed send. It was on her plan of things she’d like to do before dying, but even then she doesn’t think she would ever gain the courage. 

you: oh thank god

you: i thought i might be intruding 🙁

ellie: never, what’s up?

you: can i ask you something?

ellie: yes of course aks me anythign

ellie: ask* anything* shut sorry

ellie: SHIT

you: lmao are you okay??

ellie: yeah… forget about that, ask away

you: well i was wondering if you could help me study? im failing my anatomy class..

you: if u can’t it’s okay though!

A sheepish grin spreads across Ellie’s face, as she thinks about all the scenarios that could lead to. To think she’d finally have an excuse to see you after weeks of hoping, of praying for the opportunity. You asked her for help instead of taking other options, especially considering how much easier it would’ve been for you to. 

ellie: its no problem, id be glad to help :-)

you: really?? ur a lifesaver els, tysmm

you: when are you free?

ellie: Right now.

ellie: or whenever .

you: let’s meet at the library in 20?

Almost instantly, Ellie’s excitement warps into anxiety. She wasn’t particularly ready to see you and twenty minutes doesn’t seem like nearly enough time to get her shit together. She thought you’d ignore her impulsive desperation of “right now” and set plans for a later date, but, alas, you didn’t.

Ellie rubs her forehead with her blunt holding hand, trying to scratch the itch of her worries away with just her pinky and thumb. Despite her increasing knowledge of you over the past few weeks, she was still incredibly nervous to be around you. 

Ellie takes one final hit of her joint before snuffing it out in a doob tube on her nightstand. She sets her guitar against her bed and nearly falls off trying to get up in a rush, even though she has more than enough time to get ready. 

She stumbles around the room to put something on, settling with a gray hoodie and a pair of jeans. She attempts to keep her balance as she hastily shoves each leg through her pants; simultaneously eyeing around her room in an attempt to remember where exactly she put her anatomy textbooks. 

Ellie hears a familiar ding from her bed and she snaps towards it to pick up her phone, peering at the screen.

you: ellie?

Ellie curses under her breath, scolding herself for forgetting to text you back. She taps on the keyboard, quickly making sure she doesn’t manage another typo before hitting send.

ellie: sorry! yeah i’ll see you in twenty!

you: awesome :) 

—

You weren’t ready to see Ellie either, you figured, since it took you hours to actually text her. You made up far-fetched scenarios with the worst outcomes; the one where she immediately deletes your number tormented you for quite a while. Now you’re trudging across campus to meet her, internally at war with your mixed emotions. On one hand you get to hang out with a cute girl and on the other you’re hanging out with a really cute girl. Alone. Zero friends around. 

There’s a chance you two might not have anything to talk about. You guys are only mutual friends after all. Even if you guys somehow manage to start a conversation, what if she comes to not like you by the end of it, or vice versa? Not to mention the window incident you’re both hoping the other forgot. 

You hesitate in your steps as you reach the library doors. It’d only take a few seconds to spin around and walk back, but how could you leave her there? You thoughtlessly chew on your lip, eyes worriedly shifting around. 

You can’t recall any moment you’ve been so anxious about meeting up with a girl before. Not once, not even in a distant memory. You’ve always been the bolder one in your endeavors. The fact that Ellie is the only girl to make you feel this way has to mean something. You slowly pace in front of the doors in an attempt to dissipate your worries, nodding to your inner thoughts and ignoring the probable concerned stares in the distance. You’re the one who invited her, so you’re gonna stick it the fuck through. You couldn’t bail before testing the waters, you’d never forgive yourself.

So you barge into the building, letting the cool air hit your face from the swinging doors; granting you a waft of leather and drying ink. The building was decorated with freakishly tall dark wood bookshelves; so high, there were beige ladders in place to reach the top shelves. As expected, it was quiet, empty and definitely overfunded. Studying has never been your forte and you’ve never stepped in this building; save for a few dance history books. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for everyone else. Thankfully, one pro definitely outweighs those cons. Ellie was going to help you study. Ellie is the reason you’re here at all.

You tidy up your outfit that you diligently put together and roam farther into the library, trying to hold down a smile that’s impossible to hold down. In fact, it completely takes over your face. You need to simmer down your giddiness before you start skipping around. You purse your lips and briefly steady your eyes on the dark, olive carpeted floor ahead of you. 

You head towards the front desk that’s just a sunken step away with the intention of asking for directions to the study hall. An older lady is sitting there, glowering with obvious annoyance definitely because of your loud entry. It’s been ages since you’ve been in the library— your failing grade proves that— and clearly you’ve forgotten all the rules with it.

A flash of guilt passes through you and you force an apologetic smile. She returns it with a grunt and you immediately redirect yourself further into the library; aimlessly in search for the study hall. 

-

You’ve been walking around for a solid five minutes and you swear you’ve passed the same fantasy section a million times now. It’d be smart to text Ellie and tell her you’ll be late, but your ego won’t let you. 

The looming large, ornate bookshelves certainly don’t make it any easier for you to navigate around.

The question of why the school spent so much money on all this occupies your mind as you venture further. You make a turn around a corner you’ve definitely made before, and you sigh at the familiarity of the area in front of you. 

You keep pressing forward anyway, hoping you can manage a new route this time around.

Before you can make another turn, you’re interrupted by drowned footsteps behind you blending into your own, followed by a tap on your shoulder. You flinch at the sudden touch, sharply turning around only to see Ellie looking at you with a downward smile. 

“Lost?” She sarcastically presumes, her viridescent eyes taking in your shocked yet relieved expression. 

You fiddle with the straps of your backpack between your fingers, shyly glancing around you. “No, I was just… looking for more textbooks.” You nod sagely at your own words, as if you’re trying to convince yourself too.

“Oh? Next to—“ The auburn-haired girl squints at the shelf behind you before adorning a wide grin, “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?” 

Your brows raise and you follow her eyes onto the obviously fiction-filled bookcase. “Uh, yeah? I’ve got Professor Snape at four.” 

Ellie narrows her eyes at you in amused disbelief, trying not to laugh at your adorably dorky excuse.

Dramatically sighing in defeat, “Fuck, okay, you got me.” You say lowly, a bashful smile developing on your lips.  

“You passed the study hall five times. I counted.” Ellie goads.

You partially suppress your laugh, mindlessly giving her arm a light smack. “Oh, my god. Don’t tell me that!” 

She dotes on your laughter and your touch; whether it was intentional or not. Either way, she’s feeling good about herself now and her previous worries about this encounter floated away, and you could safely say the same. 

“It’s a good book though, we can go back and get it. No need to be shy about it.” Ellie quips.

“Shush!” 

—

With Ellie as your guide, the trip to the study hall was much easier than you made it out to be. You recognized the big glass windows you passed by often and when you stepped into it, you flushed with embarrassment. It was a direct contrast to the old-fashioned, mahogany colored library you’d been meandering around. 

Ellie really could’ve counted the times you walked by, and she really did. The first time, she thought you must’ve seen a friend and left to catch up with them. However, the second time around she realized you might be lost. 

She was going to text you and tell you to turn around, but she thought it was cute seeing you walk in circles, ignoring literally every sign in your way. By the fourth time, she could tell you thought you were in a time loop and she found it fucking hilarious. Someone like you, seemingly exceptional in everything but directions. The fifth time came and, of course, she decided she was being cruel and had to come help you herself. 

Ellie leads you to the desk where she’s set camp at, and the amount of books and paperwork makes you dizzy. “Jesus, Els. Are you teaching me the entire course?” 

She takes a seat before giving you an answer, “Well.. That depends on how bad you’re failing.” 

You take a seat across from her, setting your backpack on the floor before resting your forearms on the oak table. “My teacher said I was dumb as fuck and essentially called me a homophobic slur.” You’re exaggerating, obviously, but that was exactly what it felt like.

Ellie scoffs out a sound, unsure of whether to laugh or be offended for you. “Damn... It’s Bill, isn’t it? God, that guy is a fuckin’ prick.” She questions, clearly unsurprised by his actions.

You sit upright in your chair, relief shining through your words, “Yes! Is that his thing?” 

Ellie casually leans back, thinking back to when she was a student of his. “Oh, yeah. He’s a blunt guy, shitty filter,” She continues, and somehow you’re both meeting each other’s looks, “But he’s fair with his grades, n’ I know it doesn’t make it any better, but he has a husband. He’s just… old.. and grumpy.”

You try to consider that he is letting you retake a major grade. You guess you could appreciate that somewhat. “True... still, the comment was unprovoked. You must know him well though?” 

“Yeah, I took his class last year. We were at each other's throats about coursework n’ shit. Really hard to reason with that guy.” Ellie purposely leaves out the part where she was being unreasonable too, but only for the sake of storytelling, of course. “Then that summer, I saw him at a family gathering.” She finishes off with a dramatic shiver in disgust and you laugh at how endearing it was. 

“Anyways, his gaydar is somethin’ else. I can never tell.” She admits, carelessly waving a hand in the air. Ellie’s radar in particular is broken. Shattered, even. She can’t keep track of the amount of times she has stood in the shower, realizing a girl was flirting with her only days later. 

“Even with me?” 

“Even with you...” She speaks with artificial sadness and a slight sulk.

“Ouch… I’m wounded.” You fake a frown, slightly dropping your shoulders.

Ellie’s eyes fall to your nails; some suspiciously shorter than the others, and all painted in your favorite color. “But… that I know for sure, I can definitely tell.” Ellie comments.

 A swarm of butterflies suddenly parade your belly, and you shine a coy smile her way. “They’re not short because of that…” Your half-hearted attempt to defend yourself drips in the lightness of your voice.

Ellie briefly raises her eyebrows with a sly smile plastered on her face, folding her arms over her chest; which, unbeknownst to you, was to shield how hard her heart was thumping. She’s shocked she hasn’t turned into a pile of mush yet, probably thanks to her smoke session earlier.

“I’m serious! I keep my hands to myself.” You continue on, putting in a little effort in your voice for your defense this time. For the most part it is true, lately your mind has been on Ellie, and Ellie only. The thought of random flings didn't excite you, but she did. However, it wasn’t not true that you’ve had a fair share of hookups. You’re in an art school, how could you not? 

“C’mon, just yourself? I’m sure you've cared to share.” Ellie playfully pokes around you with her words; nonchalant and prone for a reaction. 

Your jaw slightly drops, making your head tilt to the side incredulously. “Wow. What makes you think that?”

Ellie unfolds her tattooed arm to rub her palm against the back of her neck, responding unexpectedly timid, “Hey, ‘m not blind. I know you’re popular.” 

You snicker at her explanation and shake your head. “They’re friends. You can be friends with girls even if you’re gay, Ellie.”

“Friends don’t touch you like that.” She notes with an uncharacteristically stern expression.

It surprises you for a second, but all it makes you wanna do is poke fun, tease her, and see where it’d go. “Like what?”

Ellie sighs, reluctantly explaining further, “Like they’ve touched you before.”

“Straight girls are touchy.” You shrug, purposefully ignoring what she tried to imply. 

The way you said it so matter-of-factly makes Ellie’s eyes roll. “You know I don’t mean it like– ugh, my judgment is usually fucked up, but that? That I can tell the difference with.” Ellie states with surety.

You narrow your gaze at her, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “What are you jealous or something?” 

“Of you or the girls?” 

“Oh, the girls were an option?” You playfully remark, but also with honest curiosity in how she’d answer. 

Ellie clears her throat and leans forward to place her textbooks into view, trying to hide the blush spreading across her features. She’s not doing a great job at it and you’d love to tease her some more, but you can settle with taking the win for now. 

—

Night crept up faster than you both anticipated, the ambient sounds of paper printing and carts rolling by were no longer prevalent. The only thing filling the room is the buzz of the light fixture above and the words you two exchange. The table is cluttered with Ellie’s open notes and some textbooks with neon page markers poking out the sides. It wasn’t organized by any means, but it was a mess you both found easy to work around. 

Surprisingly, Ellie is a great tutor. When she saw your paper, she didn’t make fun of you like you thought she would. Instead, she expressed how grating it is to remember all that crap and you shouldn’t give yourself a hard time over it. 

To help you memorize the muscles of the body, you guys settled on one area and made up silly rhymes for it. She tried to argue that brachiosaurus was perfect for brachialis even though it didn’t even rhyme. You even gave her the chance to pick a different one, but then she said brachyceratops with a mockingly straight face and you knew she couldn’t be trusted for the task anymore.

The air between you two wasn’t stuffy or silent like you feared it’d be. Ellie made you laugh, not in the breathy forced way you’ve unknowingly gotten used to making. 

She made sure you listened to her tips & tricks, made you review your mistakes so you wouldn’t repeat them again.

You hadn’t picked up your phone for anything other than to google things on the subject, and your ringer? Off. Your attention never strayed far from her. That made her undeniably nervous– sweaty, and hard for her to breathe normally, but she could  acknowledge how well she was doing.

Ellie’s head is dipped down to a paper you two were working on and you’re openly ogling, wondering how she’d look in a pair of glasses. Flipping through papers, tapping the back of a pen on her inviting lips. You tell yourself you snap back to reality before your mind strays any further. 

“If we keep this up, you’ll remember it all in no time” She encourages, eyes still glued on the paper. Secretly, she hopes it takes a little longer. Just a little.

“Thanks for helping me out, Els.” You say, face tilted into the palm of your hand. 

Ellie looks up from the paper to give you a smile, but she doesn’t hold her gaze for long. A millisecond later and her blush would have you thinking she had a sudden, terrible fever. 

“It’s no problem. It helps me out too.” Ellie points to the examples she sketched out for you with her pencil. She pauses before speaking again, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in her mouth, “Can I ask you something?” 

Studying her expectantly, you lift your head off your hand. “Yeah?” 

Ellie fidgets with her pencil, trying to muster up courage. Her mouth feels dry trying to push out the words. “I’m also struggling with a class and uh,” she twirls her pencil in one hand, tucking a sliver of her hair behind her ear with the other, “I was wondering if you could be the model for my art final?” Her question came out whinier than she’d like it to, making her freckled-face wince. 

You can sense how nervous she is about asking, but you can’t place your finger on why she ever would be. This is the first time anyone has ever asked you something like this, so in your mind it’s nothing but exciting, especially coming from her. You can already imagine yourself sitting prettily still while Ellie studies you and paints long, fancy strokes on a yellow canvas. “Ellie, are you kidding? I’d love to.” 

Her lashes flutter in disbelief, “Really?”

“You’re helping me, so why not? It’s fair.”

“It’s kind of a weird thing to ask. I mean, we barely know each other.” Ellie murmurs, unaware that you have absolutely no idea what she’s on about. 

You lift a brow at her. “We will eventually, right? What’s weird about a portrait anyways?” 

“It’s not a portrait… Well, I guess it is–“ Ellie sighs into her palm, “I’m drawing you, but…” She cringes before she can finish her sentence. 

“A portrait in pencil? What am l missing?” You slowly question. 

“Think Titanic.” She grimaces as she waits for your reaction, trying not to bang her head on the table for picking Titanic of all movies. 

“Titanic? What does that have to do with…” Your voice trails off, quieting down so you can process what Ellie said. Think Titanic. It's hard for you to connect what the 1997 romance movie had to with this, but when it connected, it connected. The infamous drawing scene was memorable. You’re in awe, not quite sure how to react. 

“You don’t have to be fully… y’know..” Ellie insists. 

Your face is still unreadable, as if you're lost in thought, and it’s freaking her out. Too many what-ifs are going through her head, all of them gradually getting worse the longer you stay silent. She thinks she got too close to the sun when she had more than enough warmth. She's already preparing herself for rejection, worryingly scouting your face for a hint of revulsion; however, it never comes.

“Oh. Okay.” You calmly respond with a shrug, your face still unreadable; the only difference being a light smile. You could’ve thought about it longer, but you’re so flattered Ellie wants you to pose for her that you rather worry about it later. She wants to sketch your body onto paper. Yours. It sounds vulnerable and a little nerve wracking, but she’s your friend. A friend you have a crush on, sure, but you wouldn’t want to inconvenience her over it. Plus, you owe her now. Really, you’re purely being selfless. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Okay?” Ellie repeats to make sure she was hearing things right.

“Like I said, you’re doing this for me, so I’ll do it for you.” You reassure, gesturing around to the study session laid across the table. 

“Are you sure? You know I’ll still tutor you, even if you say no–”

“— Do you not want me to?” You pout your lips, hoping she hasn't changed her mind already.

“Are you shitting me? Of course I do. I just… didn’t expect you to say yes.” Ellie finally says, absolutely dumbfounded given her hand movements. 

You laugh melodically, “Didn’t think that far, huh?” 

“Nope.” She answers with a cute embarrassed smile, her blood rushing to her face. 

Your phone buzzes, probably a text or notification. You reach out and shove a few papers to the side to get to it before taking a look, only for your eyes to be drawn to the time. “Shit. It’s late. I think the library closes soon…” You murmur regretfully, feeling all too comfortable where you were.

Ellie presses her tongue against her cheek in annoyance, upset that time dared to pass by as fast as it did. “We should get going then, I guess.” She says dejectedly, not wanting to leave you just yet. 

You peep her suddenly gray aura and smile warmly towards her. “Can you walk me back to my dorms?”

She nods with subtle enthusiasm and pushes out of her seat, immediately packing all her belongings to join your side. “Yes! — I mean, sure. Yeah.”

—-

The lamp post lights are warm and waning, complimenting the shadows on both your faces. You two walk down the dark flagstone path towards the housing area, chatting about nothing. It’s nice to be able to spend a little more time with her before the night is over. Unfortunately, you guys were drawing closer and closer to your dorm and the feeling of loss came as quick as it left. 

“Hey, Els?” 

She glanced at you and hummed in response, giving you the signal to continue. “I was wondering if you were gonna be at some party tomorrow? Apparently Dina’s co-hosting it.”

Ellie looks at you quizzically before looking off elsewhere to think. “Why the fuck would they party on a Sunday?”

You snort out a laugh before lifting and dropping your shoulders, “I don’t know, senioritis or something. Will you come though?”

“Mhm, I’ll be there.” She smiles as she speaks, loving how your face lit up by the end of it. Ellie isn’t too fond of parties, but for you? She can make an exception.

You cheer in a whisper tone and it makes Ellie smile harder, her features creasing in adoration. You two finally approach your dorm building. You walk up a step before turning to wave goodbye. She raises a palm in return and you flash her a smile that makes her heart leap before turning into the building.

If Ellie couldn’t tell before, she’s completely enamored by you. 

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a/n: fuck jk rowling but i rlly couldnt think of any other commonly known fantasy book :/

taglist: @bready101 @pascals-doll @macaroni676 @khai-le @pedropascalsbbg @seraphicsentences @starlight-savegery @snowy-vee @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @a-little-bit-of-everybody @elliesactualgirlfriend

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #ᝰ like a french girl

[thedeathdoctor]

Won’t Let You Get Away (1/?)

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN! Reader

Summary: Ghost falls hard for one of 141′s new recruits

Warnings: there’s no smut in this one it’s just fluff and exposition

A/N: Just sat down and wrote this because i need to get back into writing again. Gonna be a possessive Ghost x reader fic hopefully because that’s like crack to me rn. Will probably get pretty dark & into some trauma in later chapters so heads up now if you aren’t into that. May or not edit this later for coherency but I am not doing it now. :)

From the day Ghost first met you, he knew you were going to be his undoing. Happy, bright eyes looked directly at his own, unafraid to see the person underneath the skull mask and fearsome reputation. Ghost no longer kept up with the mythology surrounding himself as doing so would take entirely too much time away from him, time that he preferred to spend training instead. Even after working with him for some time, most soldiers still preferred to train their eyes to the bottom of his mask, unable to fully meet the cold gaze of their Lieutenant.

You had to have heard the stories. There was no way that you’d make it all the way to 141 without being told at least one about its shadowy Lt. Sometimes, during R&R at base, Ghost could hear some of the grunts whisper incredulously about him and still, when he turned to face them, hardly anyone would allow themselves to be caught staring at him.

Given the way that most tended to leave him alone as if he were an apex predator, your kindness surprised him. A high level of respect accompanied the title of Lieutenant, and you managed to inject a sense of warmth into your conversations with him. While he was used to being feared, he felt genuine admiration from you, something that he hardly received from anyone else in 141.

You had asked him to help you train, and your willingness to admit your own weaknesses impressed him. You were an excellent sharpshooter, but when the enemy was up close, you struggled at hand to hand combat. It especially didn’t help that you simply weren’t as big as many other soldiers. As huge as your spirit felt in your body, it just didn’t have the mass that you felt you had. So, in order to improve, you asked the largest guy in 141 to practice with you, the Lieutenant.

The two of you trained hard, sometimes at odd hours, but you wanted to feel competent in any situation. Defending yourself, even in the depths of fatigue was worth being awoken at 2 or 3 am for impromptu training. Despite feeling groggy and discombobulated, you put all the effort you could give into all of your sparring sessions. Slipping out of holds became easier, and you learned that with the right timing, you could use his mass to your own advantage in a fight. Even when you failed and ended up with a face full of dirt, you got up and brushed yourself off, sometimes even cracking a joke before trying to analyze where you could’ve done better.

He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, and this scared him deeply.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #my writing

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Vampire's Kiss | Chapter One

Pairing | Vampire!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 3,7k

Warnings | +18, hate and prejudice about vampires, mentions of blood and sex

⤷ Summary | Humans have finally unveiled and accepted the centuries-old existence of vampires, in a modern world people share their lives with these peculiar and mysterious creatures, but it is not all roses.

Will two souls belonging to such different species be able to be together?

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! ❤️ This is the first chapter of Vampire's Kiss, please let me know if you like the story, it would be really good for me! 🥰💜

Taglist: @katherine-kookie

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Next

"Do you know what happens when a vampire invites you out?" You roll your eyes, aware that Mirae is not yet finished with her rant, "Let's hear it, what?" "You never come home and are found in a forest, hanging from a tree, drained," was her solemn reply, she looks at you with stern eyes from behind the thick lenses of her glasses, you smile at her vivid imagination. "Sis, you know that we now live in a society where vampires are accepted by everyone and drink only donated blood, yes?" her frown if possible deepens more. Vampires for a few years now have been leading a healthy lifestyle for everyone, they no longer attack the living, and to have more control over their actions the government sends to their homes every two weeks a bag of blood from the donor they have chosen based on blood type, otherwise they can support themselves by eating the same food as humans, especially undercooked meat. It came to such a condition after all the bloody clashes that took place, both humans and vampires found themselves tired of fearing they would not make it to the next day, so the current arrangement had been arrived at that allows you to coexist without too many problems. Unfortunately, there is always someone who does not accept the new way of life, and your younger sister is one of those someone, she does not trust vampires.

"They're just waiting to come back as strong as they used to be, then they'll start to see us as tasty blood bags again," she hisses, glancing evilly at the page you opened from the PC. This is a dating site for vampires, from which many mixed couples have also sprung. Your best friend for example was happily married last year to her boyfriend, a vampire she met through this very site. You've met him, Shawn is just the sweetest guy and doesn't deserve the derogatory designation of "bloodsucker," as Mirae enjoys calling him instead whenever your best friend video chats with you and is with him. "You hang out too much with those extremist freaks on campus," you look at her harshly; she had joined a crazy group two years ago where they preach hatred of vampires, and she has totally changed since then. She is young and easy to be influenced, you just hope she doesn't go too far. You've tried to convince her to drop that subspecies of a cult, but her crush on the Leader of the Muggles is stronger than common sense, "And now I'd like some privacy!" "I don't want a vampire brother-in-law, I'll never accept that!" she exclaims in turn, before walking out slamming the door to your room, you feel the strong urge to yell insults at her, but you restrain the urge and refocus on the still active web page.

Many faces are silently watching you, and there's no denying that each one is fascinating in its own way, but you don't feel any chemistry, nothing that makes you say, "That's him!" so you go on searching for at least another hour, but still nothing. You could simplify things, date human guys who would surely be easier to find around, after all you've already done that and had a great time, but there's something about the idea of getting bitten that appeals to you. You've read around that vampires like to consume blood during sex, this happens mostly between couples, at that moment it's not just feeding, it's a kind of connection that goes on on both sides, a level of intimacy that provides an almost painful pleasure, you definitely want to try it to satiate your curiosity, and maybe you'll even find the right man for you. Ellen, your best friend, even hinted at some things, but she never went further with the details because it is something too personal to tell, she didn't even explain to you how she - human girl - shared the experience with her boyfriend, since then your brain has never stopped thinking about it for a moment.

You wearily squint your eyes deciding to end your search for the time being, you are tired and certainly cannot waste any more precious hours of rest, your job as an assistant is hell, especially when you have a disgusting caricature of a menstruating man for a boss. "Honey, it's ready!" you hear your mother shout from the kitchen. You haven't lived with your parents for a long time, but every now and then you take a little break to visit them, the only bad thing about these meetings is your younger sister of course. You put on your shoes and walk to your bedroom door, heading to the kitchen, where you find your mother preparing dishes for her meat and potato stew, your mouth is already watering! "Mom..." you look at her with affection, you adore your mom, she cooks like a god and is always understanding, the sweet woman who raised you always knew what to say at the right time and also knew how to measure her words, unlike your father who is a little more like Mirae character-wise.

"Take a seat, come on! Otherwise the food will get cold," she says kindly, patting you lightly on the back, you follow her order and sit to the right of your father, who is staring at the television with a grim expression, his reading glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose, almost following his mood. "Something wrong, dad?" "Another dead body, this time a man at a gas station, not a trace of blood in his body... not a drop," he mutters, you tighten your lips. You know what he'll say next, he doesn't trust vampires. "You know they're not all the same, dad... Tomorrow you'll hear about a human man who killed his employer, don't forget that our kind commits evil deeds too." "But our government helps them! They want live prey, not a sterile bag!" you try to reply, but promptly Mirae comes to her father's aid in his words, contributing to that stifling closed-mindedness. "Dad's convinced too, see?" your sister raises her nose up in a saccharine manner and your stomach clenches, suddenly losing your appetite. Your mother arrives at that moment with steaming plates in the tray, you sigh intercepting her glance, and yes, maybe in such cases it's better not to say anything else.

"You sent the message to Park Jimin, yes? The one where I ask him if he can ask his boss to agree to a dinner to get us on the same page regarding the compatibility of our companies, yes?" You stare at your boss's sweaty face with a smile, even though inside you are screaming. Maybe it's middle age or the fact that his wife left him demanding maintenance, the fact is that he has become more paranoid and oppressive over the past year. "Mr. Kim, I have already contacted Park Jimin and he indicated that he would give me an answer shortly," the man nods, relaxing a bit. The life of the company depends on this agreement, you know. If Kim Seokjin had incorporated your boss's small business then it would have saved you from the broken bank, and as a result your salary would have been even more substantial, but you don't put much hope in that. As mentioned, you are on the brink of the broken bank, which means your efforts do not pay off, so why should Kim Seokjin accept it? In the company where you work you are a bunch of suburban writers and journalists, your magazine is old stuff now. The only way to save everything is to assign you to something else, something your boss evidently never thought of in order to get you up and running again.

"... - it's a crazy thing that a vampire would go to such lengths!" the old man finishes, you realize you haven't been listening to anything at all, but from the last sentence you got the gist of it.

Yes, Kim Seokjin is a vampire, and yes, he goes out in the daytime to have his picture taken with yet another model hanging on his arm.

Vampires can be in daylight, the sun gives them mild eye irritation, which is why - particularly in summer - they use sunglasses, but otherwise no problem, they live like normal humans, just with a little more sunscreen.

And your boss is tremendously envious of all that is Kim Seokjin.

But if you want to hold on to your job you need to talk to Jimin, you've known him since college, he was dating one of your friends at the time and fit in very well in your friendship group, despite being the only non-human present, even when he broke up with your friend he made it clear that he wanted to remain your friend, but you didn't see each other as often as you would have liked.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" you almost jump out of your chair at the lighthearted voice of your colleague, Valentine.

You cast her a suspicious look, "What do you mean?"

Her pretty face breaks into a wide grin, but to you it was like seeing a fox sneer.

"That dating site, right? Vampire's Kiss! Do you know they even made an app out of it? That Kim Seokjin is really a monster of genius."

"Kim Seokjin?" you ask with confusion, has he now also put his hand in the area that was in charge of relationships? Your colleague squints.

"You've been visiting Vampire's Kiss for a week and never wondered who came up with it and put it within everyone's reach?" you arch an eyebrow, of course you didn't know, you're interested in more than just that site! Users signing up for example, not its developer, "Ah! Forget it, just answer me!"

The temptation to tell her to go to hell makes your lips tingle, but you finally respond with a polite smile.

"I haven't found anything yet, actually."

"Take any one, they're all the same."

You widen your eyes, "How?"

Valentine moves her hand hastily, "Vampires, they're all the same! Take any one for experience, they all have the characteristics we're looking for," she says, as if it were obvious you were looking for someone just for fun and nothing else.

But you are not like that, you have enough failed relationships behind you precisely because every one of your partners was looking for that, fun. And you're fed up, you want a healthy, real relationship, not something to try one night stands.

"I don't want just anybody, and I'm not just talking about sex... I'm looking for a relationship actually."

Without warning she bursts out laughing, soundly even. Gritting your teeth, unnerved by her behavior, she recovers for a moment wiping away imaginary tears, "You can't be serious! Vampires were not created for humans, they don't see life the way we do, the most we can do with them is to experience some fun things, but then each to their own way," she says using a cute tone, as if she's looking at a little girl who lives on dreams.

"I'm happy to see things differently from you," after answering her that way you go back to your horrible job, earning a resentful look from her.

"Look it's not just me saying this, a friend of mine recently broke up with one of those guys there, she got dumped" she mutters, you sigh.

"Has the thought ever crossed your mind that we are not all the same? You don't have to rely on other people's experiences, start making your own instead."

Maybe you've been too harsh, so you turn to apologize to her, well, you're sorry you used a brusque tone just because you don't like her way of thinking, but you catch her fixing her lipstick quietly, even sending a flying kiss to her own reflection, you narrow your eyes and refuse to talk to her again. You have better things to do than to listen to ignorant, self-absorbed people.

You rather concentrate on the speech you are writing for your boss, it must be ready before 3 p.m. and without that he would not have been able to say a single word during the meeting with the employees. How such a man has managed to run the show so far you still cannot understand, the secretary before you must have been a saint.

"Ah, Yoongyu asked me how things are going for you here in the office, if you're finally getting along well," Valentine casts you a mischievous glance, "Have you two been getting very close lately?"

More than you can brag about.

You shared a brief but intense acquaintance with Yoongyu on the physical plane. You both had a good time, you were the newcomer and he was the director of the company, he was second only to the CEO so you were totally reliant on his guidance, and just in one of those moments where you felt totally lost at work, he asked you out to dinner. You accepted without a second thought, you liked him, he had subtle dark fox eyes and a charming smile, but your relationship didn't last long. You wanted different things, you a stable relationship and he just a friend to share the intimate sides of a relationship with.

Things were over rather quickly, and now you were enjoying a good friendship.

"We're friends, that's all," she rolled her eyes, as if she believed very little of your words.

"Listen to me, give up your vampire hunting, Van Helsing and find an easy romance to live with."

You don't answer her, the vibration of a new message teases your attention, and you pick up the phone.

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Baby, are you there? 🥺

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You smile spontaneously once you read the sender, Jimin writes to you often using that term, he always treats you like a little sister and for that you are grateful, he is one of your best friends and maybe that is the very reason why you can see vampires as to normal people, just like you.

From: You.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Does my lovely vampire

needs a hand?

🥰

━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

I always need a hand, baby 😏

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You roll your eyes and take care to point it out, always without stopping giggling. An outside person would have found your chat wacky, you are not together and yet you allow yourselves to flirt a little playfully, but you both know that there would only be mutual affection between you and nothing more driven.

From: You.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Ouch!

That's how you hurt me 😥

But okay though, don't get mad....

But I would need you to do me a favor 💜

Meet me downtown for coffee?

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You cannot deny him help; you know it as well as he knows it.

From: You.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mh. Okay.

What time? A suitable time for me.

Possibly.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are my angel!

Later around 5pm would be perfect!

I love you, baby ❤

━━━━━━━━━━━━

It would have been nice to find someone to chat with using lots of adorable emoji, someone to call "boyfriend" while smiling like a fool.

You tighten your lips, Jimin always gives you too much hope, he is adorable and always expresses himself sweetly to you, who are a loser to the fullest extent. Consequently, you always think that if someone like Jimin loves you, why shouldn't you hope for more? That's what always rubs you the wrong way.

You are both sitting comfortably outside the café, Jimin sips his coffee absentmindedly, you have chosen a milkshake with chocolate and hazelnut.

You see him search his pocket for something and once he finds it he lays it on the coffee table, it is a completely black bottle with an airtight cap, you raise an eyebrow in his direction and he smiles at you with one corner of his mouth slightly more raised than the other.

"Ever seen a vampire correcting his coffee?" he asks amused, you simply shake your head.

"You are the only vampire I have relations with and you have never done so in my presence."

He tightens his lips and pours a generous dose of the scarlet liquid into his cup, the action doesn't bother you all that much ... but it leaves you intrigued.

"I need it to calm me down a bit, the last period hasn't exactly been the best."

Now that you get a better look at him, his usually pinker lips are now tending to pale, as if he has stopped hydrating, and his eyes are more glazed over.

"Not getting enough rest, Jimin?" but he denies it with his head.

"Problems with my parents, actually ... That's why I need your help."

A shiver goes down your spine, you know Jimin's parents, they are very stiff and composed vampires, the one time they saw you, they didn't look very happy.

"Jimin, I don't think your family likes me," you flinch uncomfortably, the boy immediately takes your hand, there is panic in his eyes.

"Please, I wouldn't ask you if it was just a trifle! You can save me."

You stand for a moment shocked by the desperation in his voice, even his magnificent dark eyes shine in despair.

You take a deep breath, already knowing that you will regret everything.

"Okay...but remember that you have to help me with the matter of my company, I risk losing my job without the agreement, Jimin."

He nods, "Jin is a very good friend of mine, I'll take care of it."

"I don't know what I'll have to help you with, I just hope I don't end up bleeding to death or worse," you say jokingly, but when he doesn't return your laughter your heart tightens.

His grip on your hand strengthens, "I won't let anything happen to you, baby."

The fact that he did not deny those possibilities unnerves you and not a little, what are you getting yourself into? Jimin has been in the world longer than most humans, so why the hell would he need the help of a mere human like you?

You bite your lip absentmindedly, maybe you're just wrapping your head around it before you break it.

"All right, but could you inform me?"

The boy takes a breath, "My parents are peculiar, old-fashioned dare I say it... they come from an era when arranged marriages flourished like chocolates in a chocolate factory, and now that I have reached a high level in business, they demand that I marry and in truth they have already chosen for me," he begins to explain, as he speaks your mouth opens wide, "But I already have a girlfriend and I love her! She is a vampire, but she doesn't boast a rich family like mine, so they immediately set her aside in favor of a woman I know, but I don't like her."

And again... what exactly can you help with?

"Jimin, I still don't understand... how am I supposed to help you?"

"Jin is throwing a party to announce his official engagement, what I ask is for you to pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my parents."

It's official, you need an ambulance. And urgently, too.

"Y-You are crazy! Your parents hate me just because I breathe their own oxygen, how can you propose such a thing to me! Besides, don't you already have a girlfriend? Use her!"

Okay, you're panicking and you see the corners of your vision darkening, you need to calm down. Jimin gets up and waves to a waiter to bring some water, then tries to take your hand back, but you escape from his grasp.

"Honey, calm down ... the thing is ... I'm sorry to tell you like this," he babbles, you shake your head quickly and try to stand up, but his hands go to rest on your shoulders, consequently pushing you back into the chair, "My parents can't stand humans, to them they reflect the worst of the worst!" he blurts out, and you shoot lightning and thunderbolts from your eyes.

"Exactly, you idiot!"

"That's why you're perfect! If I introduced you to everyone as my girlfriend, threatening to marry you in front of all the other vampires -- at the cost of losing my inheritance -- my parents would start reconsidering my real girlfriend to avoid the scandal of such a statement! Between a human and a vampire of humble origins, who would be the lesser evil for them?"

You bite your lips harder and when the water comes, you begin to drink it quickly.

Unfortunately, the reasoning squares all too well, Jimin is an only child and the Parks cannot afford to lose him, they would never accept a vampire girl of impure blood and even penniless, but a human is something intolerable for vampires like them.

"To say in front of the elders that you will marry a human woman would be ... a disgrace, and would cast shame on your family, who to avoid this ... outburst of yours,  would immediately accept the other option through this blackmail of yours," you murmur with your heart in your throat, Jimin nods slowly.

"They don't mind if I 'use' human women for sex, as long as they don't go to taint our bloodline."

You close your eyes, undecided about what to do.

You're fucking scared, his parents creep you out, but it's Jimin. With your heart clenched in a vice, you nod.

"It's just one night, right?"

"Just one," he assures you.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fiction #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #vampire jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts vampire au #bts smut fanfiction #bts smut #bts fanfiction smut #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook x you #vampire bts #bts ff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Happy New Year!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

Bucky feels along the iron bars of the grated door. The metal beneath his leather glove could twist it easily. He doesn’t want to scare her so he won’t. She can’t know he was there. Not yet.

He made up his mind when he saw her leave. He doesn’t have the courage to introduce himself but he can make himself known in other ways. Even in those she doesn’t even notice. He’s going to give her what she needs most; safety.

He slides the file from his sleeve and sets to fiddling with the key slot above the handle. His frustration almost has him breaking the mechanism. No, he can’t. He can pick a damn lock, he’s done it before, it just so happens it’s always easier and faster to just punch a hole through it.

Finally, he gets the door open but there’s another. He sighs and lets the heavier door lean on his arm. Good, she’s not entirely helpless. The double barrier reassures him but you can never be too safe. Especially someone like her. He’s not stupid, he’s definitely not the only one to notice her and her warm eyes or soft lips.

The second lock is much quicker than the last. He closes both as he enters and stops to listen. There’s a thumping above followed by a scream. The churlish wail of a misbehaving child.

He looks around. There isn’t much to the apartment. A single room; a couch with a pull out mattress with its back to the kitchenette set against the far wall. In the corner, just to the left of the counter, there’s another door. He peeks inside; the bathroom stands dark and slightly dingy.

A pang plucks in his chest. She shouldn’t live like this. One room. Like a cage for a mouse. She deserves a lot more than this. If only he could give it to her. He will, when she’s ready to let him.

He paces around, taking in every inch. Her scent lingers. He thinks of sitting on the mattress, of smelling the pillows, but he doesn’t want to disturb too much. Instead, he sets to work.

First, the photos. He takes pictures of every inch. As reference, as fodder for the fantasies that build themselves in his head. Then comes the most important step.

He scratches his chest, his tags sticking to his skin. He didn't realise how he was sweating. He's all worked up, his mind laser focused but his nerves entirely scattered.

He unslings the bag from his shoulder and takes out the small lens. It sits on his fingertip, barely visible against the leather of his glove. One of the few perks that come with his work. A rare benefit between the sleepless nights and bruised ribs.

He puts one in each corner, making certain with the app on his phone that he has all vantage points. He adjusts the one nearest the door. He’ll add one outside as well. Should he put one in the bathroom too?

He crosses the front room and flips on the light for the second room. There’s no window in there. He shouldn’t need to put a lens there but…

He stares at the shower stall. That’s wrong. That’s too far. No, when he sees her like that, he wants it to be special.

He turns off the light and backs out. He does a final lap around the space and stops by the small drawers in the corner. The transparent plastic gives a view of the contents. Her clothing is rolled inside to fit. Even if the drawers are stuffed tight, she doesn’t have much. She deserves more than the gray cotton and faded denim.

He adds that to the list in his phone. He pulls open a drawer and snaps photos of the tags. He’s no good at guessing sizes. Even for himself. It’s why he owns a t-shirt that Sam calls his Hooters shirt. He doesn’t know what that means he just knows it isn't funny.

He glances around one last time. He needs to go. If she comes back, there’s nowhere to hide. If she caught him there, she’d never trust him.

He goes back outside and locks the doors, one a time, with the file and pick. He’s happy to be done with it but forlorn to leave her again. He has no choice, he has a mission. At least, he’ll be able to keep an eye on her.

He tucks his chin down as he heads down the alley. He shoves his hands in his pockets. He should’ve taken something. Just something that smells like her. She wore a bandana the other day, a pretty yellow one with little flowers on it. It was tied around her hairline to sop up her sweat as she cleaned. He saw her wiping the windows but she didn’t see him. She never does.

As he gets to the street, he nearly jumps. She has an armful of bags and doesn’t see him above the grocery peeking out the top. He wants to help her but he finds himself paralysed. He sidles out of her way as she continues on her path, completely unaware of the ghost watching her.

He watches her as she limps down the alley. The bags crinkle noisily and she grunts as she lowers them down to the cracked pavement. She rubs her hips before she finds her keys from her purse. He can hear how she shudders, almost whimpering in pain. He hates that she suffers. He wants to take that from her too.

It’s too early. He doesn’t want to blow this. Sam told him to play it cool. He said girls these days don’t like to be smothered.

He has to make himself walk away as he door opens. Suddenly, he’s very paranoid that she’s going to know he was there. That she’ll sense the intrusion, maybe even find the cameras. As if she’d be inspecting the plaster that closely.

His heart is pumping in his ears. He’s so nervous. And a little guilty. He had no choice. She hadn’t come back to the restaurant. He would’ve tried to be cool. Maybe ask about her book, then introduce himself, she might even give him her name. He knows it but he’d love to hear her say it. To him. And she could say his name too. 

He tries to imagine that and he shivers. One day, he hopes, it won’t all be in his head. But until then, it will have to be. Or at least, nestled in his pocket. He slides out his phone and finds the app still open. There she is, under his eye, under his protection. Safe and sound.

Her

You put the bags on the bed, barely getting that far before the burning turns intolerable. You hiss and sit beside your grocery, holding your hip with one hand, and the armrest with the other. It’s not very far to the store but enough to make it a task.

You take a moment and a breath. You stand and bring one bag to the counter. You unpack the budget staples; a bag of cheap rice, some quick oats, a small bottle of dish soap. Nothing very exciting but enough.

You sit again before you fetch the second bag. Frozen fruit that won’t spoil too fast in the crisper and a loaf of whole wheat. You get everything away and fold up the paper bags.

The pull out frame groans loudly as you lay down. You have your book hugged close but you’re too tired to open it. You try not to bemoan your lack of help. The ministry approved you for a check, but didn’t see the need for more than that. It wouldn’t be much, you barter with yourself, just once a week to help with the big chores.

Maybe they were right though. You get it done. Even if it takes a little time and a lot of pain.

You close your eyes and sink into a half doze. The sort that makes your eyes itchy but can’t soothe your racing mind. You relent, not wanting to sleep so early, and sit up again. You should eat, you forgot to do that before you left.

You drag yourself to your feet and hobble around to the kitchen. You lean on the counter as you flip on the kettle. Quick oats will do, a bit of brown sugar and cinnamon, a dash of milk.

You pause as something catches your eye. Just beside your foot. You grip the laminate and get to your knee. You lift the slender chain from the floorboards, the silver catching the stray sunlight from the window. It’s only a chain. No charm or ornament. You know for certain, it isn’t yours.

You don’t have jewelry. You never really had the need or the money. Aside from the braided bracelet a friend once made for you, you’d never even owned one of those pretty silver lockets you wanted so badly as a girl.

You examine it. The tiny metal balls threaded together. The military sort that snaps off easily. You wonder if maybe you dragged it in. You could see it snagging on your pant leg or even your jacket. Whoever it belongs to, you can’t know. You feel slightly bad that you won’t then be able to give it back.

You clutch the chain as you struggle back to your feet. You coil it up and put it on the kitchen shelf beside the tin of tea bags. It may be a sign that you should pay better attention. Sometimes it feels as if time is just blowing past you like wind.

Bucky

He watches her kneel and retrieve something from the floor. He tilts his head, his thumb at his lips as he sits on a bench, brow furrowed at his phone. What is it?

He uses his fingers to zoom in and notices the slight gleam of something dangling from her hand. His chest thumps as he flattens his palm against it. He drags his touch up to feel around his neck. His tags.

Shit. How did that happen? He was diligent and careful. It looks to be just the chain though…

He stands and slides his phone into his pocket. He tugs at his tee shirt, finding a shape caught where one side is tucked into the top of his jeans. He sighs a breath of relief as he fishes out the metal tag. He can replace the chain. Better yet, she won’t have his name. He’s not ready for that and he knows she isn’t either.

Now he knows he needs to be careful. He’s been careless and so soon. He’s not the soldier he once was. He’s getting complacent. That’s why he needs her. To keep him going.

And she needs him. He watches her limp back to the fold out bed. He had to fight to keep from running back to her apartment. Watching her struggle alone is the hardest part. He feels as if he’s torturing her, just sitting there as she whimpers in agony.

That bed is the biggest issue. Sleeping on that can’t be good for her. The shower is another. She should have a hot tub to soak in when she feels especially bad. And the bags. She shouldn’t be carrying all that alone. She couldn’t even see him over the load. What if he had been some villain?

He can’t fix any of that right now. He has to go. There’s a plane waiting for him, some bad men too. He takes a breath. He has to do this for her. The less evil there is in the world, the safer she is.

He sets his shoulders and begins his march down the street. His steps are certain, his posture is straight, and there’s more than a stone in his heart. There’s a little flutter there. He didn’t realise before what was missing; a purpose. 

Before, he fought, he killed because it’s all he ever knew. Because it’s what they told him to do. Now he has a better reason. The only reason. Her.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the lonely souls club #falcon and the winter soldiers #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier

[void-wolfie]

i love you. i support you.

summary: jenna finds you on the bathroom floor puking. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: eating disorders, bulimia, terrible writing lol

words: 1.08k

a/n: I don't have any experience with eating disorders so this may not be an accurate description. I know bulimia affects people in different ways and I did my best to research and depict this disorder in an authentic manner. if you have an eating disorder you should definitely seek help. it took me a while to find the right words to write this but hopefully this is what you were asking for anon :)

*if mentions of eating disorders (i.e.; anorexia, bulimia, etc.) trigger you please refrain from reading

Jenna was sitting across the dinner table from you, her plate almost empty, unlike yours, which you'd barely made a dent in. You'd eaten a little bit, but you didn't feel like eating anymore, you just kept pushing the rest of your food around with your fork.

Jenna watched you mindlessly push the food around on your plate, completely unaware of her eyes on you. She was worried. You'd been acting strange for a while now, and that bubbly, carefree demeanor you carried proudly seemed to be fading away.

She chalked it up to stress at first, work was rough for you and she hadn't been able to spend as much time with you due to her own projects. But it felt like there was something else going on as well, she just couldn't figure out what.

"Babe?"

Your head shot up, finally noticing her worried expression. It sent a wave of guilt through you; you hadn't meant to make her worry...

"Is everything okay?" She seemed wary of asking like you were some ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

"Yeah, fine," you forced a small smile, trying your best to ease your girlfriend's worries, "I'll be right back, I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

You got up from the table as fast as humanly possible while trying not to look suspicious, a task easier said than done. Especially when your girlfriend is great at reading body language.

You made sure to shut the bathroom door behind you, instantly turning on the sink to drown out any noise.

Your stupid thoughts, they were at it again. You often felt safe in Jenna's presence, like your own insecurities couldn't touch you. But right now, there was a war raging inside your mind and you were quickly losing.

You knew looking in the mirror right now would be a death sentence, so you avoided that, instead, focusing on the way your hands gripped the white countertop.

It's just in your head. It's all in your head. You kept telling yourself. You can control it. Don't listen to it.

But the other little voice in your head was screaming, begging, clawing its way through the caverns of your mind. If it were any louder you wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors down the street could hear it. Fat. Fat. Fat. Too many calories.

Fat. Need to purge.

Ignore it. It can't control you.

Purge!

Shut up!

It started to dawn on you that maybe you were fighting a losing battle. Destined to lose no matter how long you fought.

Jenna was worried. You ran to the bathroom fairly quickly. Something wasn't right, she could feel it. She could hear the sink running, drowning out any noise.

Tired of the uncertainties rolling around in the back of her mind, she made her way to the bathroom, pressing her ear up to the door to listen in. Yes, it was an invasion of privacy, but she needed to make sure you were okay.

For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of the sink running. Then she heard it, it practically echoed against the bathroom walls. The sound of puking.

She gently pushed open the bathroom door, just to confirm if her suspicions were true. Through the crack of the door, she could see you slumped over the toilet, your knees digging into the tile floor as you gripped the bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach.

Jenna pushed open the door the rest of the way. She sat down on the floor next to you, trying to give you space while still being close enough to rub your back soothingly.

She didn't say anything, just sat there, doing her best to provide you with comfort.

It had been quiet for a few minutes now. You were silently waiting for the next wave of vomit, but there didn't seem to be one coming. The tears had stopped flowing long ago, but the salty tracks were still wet against your cheeks trailing down to your chin. Your throat ached and you could feel the shame of the situation beginning to seep in.

"It's back, isn't it?" It was Jenna who'd broken the silence, barely even whispering in the quiet of the bathroom. The only noise was the sink still softly running in the background. Part of you was glad she left the sink running, the sound of the water was better than having to listen to your puking echo in dead silence.

You nodded, silently answering Jenna's question.

You told Jenna about your eating disorder long ago, when the two of you first started dating. You didn't give her many details, and she didn't push you to tell her. She knew the basics, and she was glad you trusted her enough to tell her anything at all. You were in recovery; you were doing well. At least you were till a few weeks ago. All it took was a bad fight with a close friend and a few comments about your past to send you spiraling. You relapsed that day and have been struggling to manage it since.

Jenna's hand still rested on your back, doing her best to try and comfort you, "How can I help?"

"I don't know..." You answered truthfully.

"We're going to get through this together, okay? I love you. I support you."

If it weren't for the conflicting tide of emotions washing over you, you'd probably be smiling like a love-sick fool. I love you. I support you. You said that to Jenna every time she had to go away for filming or movie premieres or whatever else her busy schedule had planned. It had become routine between the two of you, one that had become a source of comfort for both of you. Now it was her turn to support you.

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay."

You let Jenna help clean you up. She made sure you brushed your teeth extra well, making you use mouthwash twice just to be safe. She helped you into the shower and helped your tired form get dressed after. And when it was all said and done, she made sure you were cozy in bed before putting on your favorite movie to fall asleep to. The talk of figuring out a plan was promised to be done tomorrow, for now, all you wanted was comfort and your girlfriend, and Jenna was more than happy to help with both of those things.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #void-wolfie

[luvrxbunny]

saving it for you

Pairing: Post-outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel goes away for 3 weeks and he’s saved himself for you.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol consumption, piv, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mating press

WC: 4.4k

A/N: Um Ellie is like 20 cus I say so (It’s easier for them to bond that way imo its not even plot-important)

The first thing Joel sees is your beautiful face smiling in the crowd and he can already feel the weight of the world lifting off of him. He hears the guys laughing, taking in the crowd’s applause but all he can focus on is you. You’re giving him that face that makes his heart clench, Ellie is standing by your side and the two of you look so perfect that he fears his heart might just stop. His two girls, smiling their dazzling smiles at him, waiting for him to come home. 

They pull into the stables and he dismounts his horse much faster than is safe, people are flooding into the small space trying to congratulate him but he brushes them off. His eyes scan every face he can see as he pushes through the crowd, looking for his girls. He’s getting restless, annoyed even, at the people praising and thanking him; they’re in his way. His responses get curter and a bit rude the longer it takes to get to you guys. He just misses you both, it’s been three weeks, the longest he’s been away and he feels like he might be losing his mind. He thinks about just screaming your name, you’d be sure to find him then. He’s not ready for the commotion that might cause, the looks he’d get.

“Joel? JOEL!!”

 Your voice has him sighing contentedly before he can even process that it’s you. The moment he whips around to find you, he’s frozen. The way the sunset is shining in your eye, the tears that are flowing down your cheeks, your trembling lips as you hold back your sobs. He opens his arms, feeling emotion build up his throat and behind his eyes, as you both crash into him. It knocks all the air out of him but he’s so grateful for the ache in his chest because it’s immediately healed by the warmth of you two. That’s what he’s missed the most, your warmth, both of you.

Tears are flowing down his cheeks as he keeps both of your faces in his chest. He’s mumbling about how much he’s missed you both. Ellie is already complaining and struggling out of his hold. You on the other hand, are gripping him as tightly as you can, almost tearing his clothes, he can feel your sobs vibrating into his jacket, damp from where you’re tears are falling.

Eliie escapes with a remark of “Gonna fuckin’ suffocate me” and he lets it go, opting to focus on you instead. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his chest as he buries his face in your hair. You smell like strawberries, he missed it so much. He took one of your shirts with him but it lost your scent 3 days in… he missed it.

You shift your arms from around his torso to around his neck and finally place a wet kiss on his mouth. His hand is behind your head, pushing you into his lips in an instant. He tries not to moan into you, he’s aware that people around but god is it a task. He pulls away to see you and his knees almost buckle when you pull him back in, hands tangled in his hair and whimpering so gently when your lips meet again.

“Okay okay, alright break it up”

He can hear Ellie protest next to him and feels your smile against his lips, a little giggle slipping through. He wipes his tears before you can see them and smiles at you, watching you laugh at Ellie. Two more things he missed, watching you both interact and your fucking smile. You take his breath away as he watches your easy banter with Ellie, your arms still wrapped around his neck, he’s still inhaling your scent. 

The moment breaks when someone bumps into you, detaching your arms from him with a yelp. Ellie grabs you with quickly as you both laugh, quickly brushing it off, It irks Joel but he moves on. 

“It seems like everyone is heading to Tipsy!” Ellie is wiggling her eyebrows, she wants to go and you seem supportive. “I think we should go!” Your voice is all he can focus on, not what you saying but how you saying it, the way you say it, he’s missed it. You’re looking at him expectantly as you finish listing off why you think they should go. “So Joel? I’ll go with you to drop your stuff off and we’ll meet Ellie at Tipsy?”

He’s nodding at you, a little sluggish as Ellie begins to walk away. You grab his duffle from off the top of his pack and his back is instantly grateful. He whispers a small, “Thank you, baby.” and you press a kiss to his lips quickly and smile up at him. “I’ve missed hearing you say that”

The walk home is relatively peaceful, you tell him about everything that happened while he was away. He watches you ramble on fondly, his heart swells when he notices you start to huff, struggling with his bag. You drop it with a groan when you both reach the porch and he brings it inside with a chuckle as you whine outside. “No! I have to carry it in! Joel!!” You groan frustratedly behind him, he turns around to see you pouting, actually upset. “Joel it doesn’t count this way!”

He embraces you where you stand in the doorway his legs spread, pressing his whole body against you as he rocks you side to side. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. You’ve got no fuckin’ clue.” He can feel your cheeks press into his chest from your smile right before pushing him away. “Uh-huh, I’m sure. C’mon”

You grab his duffle and make your way upstairs, he follows behind you, trying and actively failing to keep his eyes off your hips, your ass, the way they move as you make your way up the stairs, he’s missed it. 

His thoughts wander as you both make your way to your shared bedroom. 

The moment he’s in there with you, blood starts rushing south. He can’t help it, it’s been so long and the room engulfs him in your scent. He adjusts his pants as he puts his pack down, pushing it under the bed. He can see you’ve been sleeping on his side, your pillow taking your spot, you’ve been sleeping with his. He gestures at the setup when you finish placing his bag in the closet. “What’s happenin’ here, honey?”

You go rigid and avert your gaze with a nervous smile. “I really missed you, Joel.” You look over at him adorably before making your escape, hurrying downstairs. He takes a moment to compose himself, adjusting his pants one more time before heading down. 

You guys walk back with silent smiles for a little while before you speak up. “Your side smells like you… along with your pillow, that’s why I was using them.” You’re kicking a rock across the sidewalk as you speak. “Uh-huh… An’ your pillow?” You giggle down at the sidewalk before responding. “I missed you! The bed just- it was so big without you, the pillow made it a little bearable.” You chuckle lightly at yourself but what you’re saying makes his heart hurt.

He hated having to leave you, he refused it for quite some time but Tommy insisted, saying that Joel was the best they had, he couldn’t let his brother down and you didn’t want him to.

“Huh.” His response embarrasses you a bit, you start wishing you hadn’t told him, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Y’know… I took your shirt.” Your head snaps up to look at him and your eyes meet for a moment, shock and love written all over your face as you watch him avoid your eyes. “The uh- the pink one you wear to bed.” You see a blush rise to his ears as you gasp. “I was looking for that one!”

A shy smile splits his face as you hit his arm. “ ‘M sorry it smells like you! Or smelled I guess”

You watch him with such admiration as you guys arrive at the bar. You can hear people talking inside and you know it’s going to be a long night. 

The town is alive tonight, music is playing and you’re dancing with Ellie. You’ve been drinking with her too, keeping pace with her even though everyone knows you’re a lightweight. Joel has reserved himself to the back corner after making his rounds, letting people give their thanks and praise. He’s just watching you know, watch you realize you can’t keep up with Ellie and switch yourself to water, pride inflates his chest. 

My girl.

His breathing becomes shallow as he continues to watch you dance. He watches you get barely appropriate with Ellie, he knows the two of you are friends but… c’mon. He considers breaking you guys up but then your favorite song plays and he watches the joy spread on your face. He watches you jump up and down with Ellie, both of you singing lyrics at each other.

He loves how you are with her, he cannot believe how lucky he got with you. He continues thinking about you as he walks over to the bar for his 2nd glass. Ignoring the blood rushing south.

As the night progresses Ellie makes her way over to Maria, who she goes home with. You’ve started drinking again while dancing alone, Joel is still watching from the corner, a little drunk as he finishes his 4th glass. He places the empty glass on the bar before making his way over to you. People continue to block his path, attempting to talk to him but he shrugs them all off. He needs to get to you. His pants are tighter by the time he reaches you. He’s standing behind you and he knows you know he’s there. 

You whine and press yourself back against him. “Missed you so so much, baby.”

He twitches against you when he hears the love name. It’s been too fucking long. 

You turn with a wild look in your eyes as you press the palm of your hand to the bulge in his pants. It feels so fucking good, watching the way you bite your lip as he moans, he watches your face scrunch up. “Oh gotta lemme make you cum.” You’re a little tipsy, your words slurring against each other, your eyes hooded, maybe more from arousal than alcohol. 

Joel tenses a bit from your words, you take it as a good sign and continue, 

“We could go in the back booth, the bathroom, I wanna touch you.” You’re pouting at him now as he begins to shake his head.

 “No, let's just go home, love.” He’s pressed his forehead against yours, panting against your face as you palm him. 

He can feel it when your eyebrows furrow and you stop touching him with a grunt, “Joe,” his name comes out wrong, the ‘L’ getting lost behind your soft lips making him chuckle before kissing “You can’t even walk home like that! Lemme make you cum first Joey please”

Joel is getting a little nervous now, he can’t cum yet, not like this. “Sweetheart, they- they’re closing soon anyway. We’d just be an inconvenience.” Joel is speaking a little sternly, trying to convince you to just go home but what he’s saying is not getting through to you. You’re wearing a smirk on your face, thinking that he’s just playing hard to get. You press a kiss to his collarbone before pushing your hand down his pants, only to be stopped by him instantly. “Sweetie… C’mon..”

This rejection you comprehend. “I- I’m sorry Joel. I thought maybe you were just saying that… I’m so sorry obviously we can just go home.” You look so upset at yourself, thinking that you made him uncomfortable, and pushed his boundaries.

You’re looking at the ground now and you’re about to turn around to start walking home when Joel grabs your arm to hold you in place. “Baby, I want to. I swear on everythin’ I want it so fuckin’ bad but I- fuck I-” He’s looking to the side as he tries to gather his thoughts and confidence. “I’ve been-” His voice is different, he sounds embarrassed, whiny even. “I’ve been saving it for you”

You feel like all the air has been knocked from your lungs and heat begins to burn in your stomach. You’re still staring at him, in shock at what he’s just confessed. There’s no way that he means it in the way you’re thinking right now.

 He probably just means his energy! He saved his energy for sex! That’s what he means you creep.

“Right. You don’t wanna waste your energy here… I get that.” Joel is red, embarrassed that you misunderstood what he said. He grabs your hand and starts walking home, the tightness in his jeans getting unbearable. 

The moon is shining beautifully as you guys walk home. Joel hasn’t explained himself yet. You think that you’ve made him a little uncomfortable and that’s what is causing the silence between you two.

Joel trails behind you, watching the way your hips move, trying to muster up the courage to fully explain himself to you. He’s leaking in his boxers uncomfortably, his mind is running rampant with thoughts of what he’s gonna do once you both get home. The way he’s gonna fill you up.

He jogs a bit so he can catch up with you one house before you guys. “Honey, I wasn’t talkin’ about my energy.” Your head snaps to look at him but he’s looking at his boots, hands in his pockets as you both continue walking. “I haven’t uh-” He chuckles and shakes his head at the ground, his eyes closing for a moment. “I haven’t gotten off since- uh since I left. That’s what I’ve been savin’… not my energy.” You’re silent for a bit after he finishes and it makes him nervous. He risks a glance at your face and realizes that you aren’t there. You stopped walking. He looks back to find you a few steps away, staring at him. Your chest is heaving as he watches you process his words, uneasy as he awaits your reaction and response. 

He gets nothing however, you just start walking again. He trails behind you again as you both arrive at the house and walk inside. You hold the door open for Joel, he normally protests but he decides to just accept it this one time. It clicks and locks gently behind him as he stands in the dark living room. He’s thinking about how to approach you, he feels that you’re upset but it doesn’t change the fact that he needs you. He wouldn’t be able to handle the pain of just sleeping next to you.

You turn around after closing the door to see Joel just standing in the living room. You take this time to examine him, you memorize the expanse of his back, all its broadness and the muscles that ripple as he stretches his neck and arms. You feel your need for Joel continue to gather between your legs as you walk up behind him. You lift your hands to his back gently before coming up to his stomach and chest as you press your body against him, hugging him from behind. 

Joel moans as you run your hands over his front while pressing your chest against his back in a way that has his cock jumping from within its confines. He huffs out before placing his hands over yours where the rest is on his lower stomach, just above where he needs you the most. His pelvis refuses to stop tensing under your hands, his hips tilting upward against his will when he feels your lips on the back of his neck. “I’d like to ask you why, Joel” He almost drops his head back into yours when he hears your whisper behind him. “I- fuck, sweetheart. I wanna cum in you, fill you all up.” He removes your hands and turns around to face you, smashing his lips against yours the first moment he can. 

He’s groaning into your mouth as you unbutton his pants and his shirt. He separates your lips from his and reattaches them onto your neck. His hands place themselves under your shirt, moaning as they run over the expanse of your stomach before coming to unclip your bra. You’re almost overwhelmed with how Joel is all over you. Your hands are buried in his hair pulling him away from your neck to take your shirt off. Joel is disheveled as he watches you undress, revealing your adorable pink underwear, his favorite pair. He’s touching himself, his hand down his pants tugging at his cock as you lay yourself out on the couch. He watches you smile up at him before reaching down to touch yourself, spreading your wetness over your clit before circling it gently, your hips coming off the couch to press up into your fingers. Joel’s hips twitch and he yanks his hand out of his pants, grunting out a gruff “Fuck you, honey.” As you giggle and moan on the couch, you watch Joel take his shirt and pants off before walking over to the couch.

He towers over your body, inspecting every inch. Joel just rakes his eyes up and down your naked body, his cock twitching between his legs as he does. He stays watching you for what feels like hours before he finally touches your leg. You think finally as he lifts it, opening your legs and exposing your wet pussy to him. A moan slips through his lips as he sees the mess you’ve made between your legs, his knees weakening and dropping him to the ground. 

A whine shoots out of your lips when he hits the ground, it evolves into a moan when Joel rests his head on your open thigh, kissing gently into your pussy. You can feel your other leg resting between his thighs and against his bulge, as he makes himself comfortable. You watch Joel’s eyes roll back as he slowly licks a stripe up your pussy, collecting as much of your taste as he can before you pull at his hair, forcing him up and out from between your legs. “Joel! You said you wanted to fill me up.” You try to use an accusatory tone but it comes out more like a whine, especially with the pout you’re holding on your face. 

Joel smiles at you sweetly before pulling himself up onto the couch and pushing your thigh against your torso to make room for him between your legs. You reach your hands up to his desperately, pulling him in for a kiss as you try to pull his hips flush against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face as he kisses you, then use them to pull your face away from his. “Calm down, sweetheart. I still gotta stretch you out, It’s been so long since you’ve had something to properly fill this hole right, baby?” You just moan his name back at him in response. 

His thick hands run down your face and down to your pussy, running his fingers along your lips, parting them, and gathering your wetness before bringing it up to your clit so he can play with it. Joel leans back on his heels to kiss your womb as he pushes his first finger inside you. You both gasp, a loud, pleasured one at the stretch of his thick fingers from you and a soft aroused one at your warmth from Joel. “Joel- please just fuck me.”

You’re squirming against his fingers, and Joel has his head pressed to your chest as he fingers you. He listens to your heart speed up as he adds another finger, your hand comes up the side of his face to play in his hair as the other grips his forearm. Your whole body is arching into him in a way that makes him wanna cry; the way you yearn for him on such a basic, primal level, that your entire body needs to press against him. His cock is twitching and leaking against his thigh and you’re moaning right into his ear. 

“I think you’re stretched hm? I think you can take me now, baby.” Joel is worked up, his body is hot and he can't think straight. He’s been waiting for weeks. All the nights he spent in his sleeping bag, your shirt pressed against his face as he grinded against the hard ground willing himself not to cum, or the sex dreams that plauged him after the first week, that had him waking up hard with nothing to solve it. He’s pent-up and throbbing as he presses against your entrance. The wetness that has gathered there coats his tip and has him groaning and playing with your clit as he coats himself in it.

You’re grinding your hips up at him, trying to force him inside you. His eyes are misty, wild, and desperate as he finally pushes inside you. He inches his way in as you grip his arms and moan at him. He pauses halfway, trying to calm himself down as you whine and clench down on him. “C’mon, darlin’... can’t last if you keep up like this.” He groans out at you and brings his hand up to stop your hips from moving, leaving your clit pulsing at the loss of stimulation. He listens to your moans as he keeps pushing himself in, he listens to your breathy whine of relief when he presses his thumb to your clit again. He finally presses himself in you fully, he can feel your walls against him, sucking him in. He’s missed it so much, he’s been dreaming about this moment for two fucking weeks, and he’s been edging himself for days fantasizing about his moment.

 He’s stopped breathing, he can’t breathe because you’re already pulsing around him, your thighs twitching from where they’re resting against his hips. Your feet come up to lock together behind him, pulling him in as you cum all over him, coating him in it as your pussy milks his cock. “No fuckin’ way, no-” His sentence devolves into a whine as he tries not to cum, he tries to shut his eyes and think unsexy thoughts but he can’t block out your moans, the way you’re leaking on him or the way you’re squeezing him like you want his cock to stay in you forever. “No, baby- please- fuck” He’s panting and grunting against your face as his hips buck into you, setting off explosions in your stomach. 

“Not gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” He thrusts hard into you. “Saved this load up for you so I could breed you” He lifts both your legs over his shoulders and you watch his eyelids flutter before pressing into you. “Gonna make this a proper breedin’ session, yeah?” You can barely understand what he’s saying, your head is in the clouds as goosebumps rise all across your skin. Your body is insanely sensitive from your orgasm and the arousal of his homecoming but Joel doesn’t care, he needs this, he needs you.

He buries his head in your neck as your pussy suffocates him, groaning out as he fucks himself into you. His cock punches into your cervix again and again, his cock twitching inside of you like a second heartbeat as you moan in his ear. You’re moaning unashamed, too far out of your head to care about how you might sound, especially to your neighbors or any passerby and it's fucking him up. “Yeah, good girl. Keep moanin’ for me like that.” He pulls out of your neck to thrust harder, grunting as his eyes roll back. 

You’re clawing at him, moaning and writhing as you feel a coil begin to tighten. 

“Holy fu- Joel!” His eyebrows furrow as his hips start stuttering, losing their rhythm as he begins to whimper for you. “Sweetheart…” He tries to get his rhythm back, thrusting into your pussy as perfectly as he can. “So close, baby. Please just a little more.” You’re moans get increasingly breathy as you get closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night. 

“Cum with me sweetheart, please. I wanna feel it, saved it all for you c’mon-” He’s rambling as he gets closer to releasing his load into you. His eyes roll back and he’s panting as he tries to keep up the pace whining when he feels you start to tighten around him, groaning as he thrusts harder, and starts toying with your clit again. Your body convulses, folding in on itself as you start cumming around him. 

His groans get higher in pitch and closer together as his cock pulses inside you. He listens to your orgasm crash over and pride swells in him, he opens his eyes to look back down at you and cums deep inside you.

He moans hard and painfully above you like he got punched in the gut. He leans down to press a kiss against your lips but quickly pulls away to moan your name. His cock throbs out thick ropes inside you, you can feel him filling you up, coating your walls and cervix in his sperm. His orgasm feels like it goes on for hours as he bucks into you. “Fuckin’ take it, my love. It’s better than I imagined, feels so good, honey.”

He rambles on as he keeps thrusting into you gently, prolonging his orgasm. 

He’s huffing and puffing as he comes down from his high. He releases your thighs, letting them fall over his hips so that he can pull out and press his body against yours, your stomach pressing against yours. 

You force yourself up to a semi-sitting position and grab the blanket off the back of the couch to cover the both of you. You wrap Joel in the blanket and lay back down. He feels your hands run up his back, stroking over the wide expanse of it before running themselves through his hair and pushing his face to yours. You kiss him gently and sweetly, with all the love you have. He kisses back with the same emotion, causing you to smile on his lips.

A sleepy chuckle leaves his lips before laying his head on your chest, listening to your heart rate slow. His skin breaks out in goosebumps when you massage his scalp, a satisfying groan leaves his chest as you smile. “What?” You giggle out at him, scratching lightly. 

“I fuckin’ missed this. I missed you.” He gently nuzzles into your stomach as his eyes begin to droop.

You smile as warmth blooms in your chest. “I missed you more.”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

#joel miller #joel x reader #joelxreader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller fic #pedro pascal last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #smut #nsft #the last of us #the last of us smut #luvrxsmut #luvrxfics

[nekokoaa]

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (III)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

4K words | (3/5) chapters

Chapters:

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V)

Author's notes: I work as a freelance copywriter so I had to prioritize my projects but I still managed to get this done! Enjoy! :) Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list.

Also on AO3

III.

Sometimes you wish you were mindless—just a rusty cog of a machine in a 9 to 5 corporate job. Simply, a taciturn sheep led by a shepherd, waiting for the day a butcher’s knife is pressed against its neck. It was easier to handle life in such a way. Regrets can never be born when allied with carelessness.

But it was something beyond you. Clearly. The throes of passion had tempted you that night. His hand on your hip firmly held you in place, fingers pressed into your suit. Covetous crimson eyes searched between your eyes and lips long enough that the sweat of your skin gathered at your clavicles. But you managed to resist his heat, disappointing, yes, but at least you still had your dignity—your morals. If it wasn’t for that, you might’ve been in his bed that night, rocking your hips against his without a single care in the world.

Three weeks had passed by and you haven’t had a session with him since that night. You were canceling them in hopes that the fire between you fizzles. With distance, desire usually fades so you only hoped that night was just your hormones acting up and there wasn’t a deeper meaning to how you felt.

Between that time, you had the opportunity to meet Gwen Stacy from 65. She was a nice girl, cool, and very much like all of you. Burdened with the sense of justice with a side of wittiness.

She was popular, especially among the Peters who had lost their Gwens. They looked at her like she was a what-if moment and were impressed by her, but you knew you’ll be seeing them on your office couch soon enough.

Hobie was practically best friends with her now. The late night sessions with Hobie were a rare occurrence these days. Like a stray, he found a new person to feed his interests.

Jess favored her the most. Reminded her of her younger days, and how impressive she was at that age—still is, as she’s been carrying a baby in her stomach while doing her missions flawlessly.

Miguel was indifferent. At least that’s how he acted. But as long as work was getting done, you were leveling up the relationship bar with him.

Out of everyone, Peter B was home to her. To see a familiar face amongst like-minded strangers had helped her settle in faster than you expected. Seeing them together made them look like family.

Because of the great reputation she had around the society, today you allowed Gwen to pull you away from the safety of your office straight to Miguel’s for what she called emotional support. There was something she wanted to ask him—a request. And she had the idea that your presence would soften him up somehow.

“Why do you think that?” When you asked, Gwen looked back at you with a knowing smile. Her hand still latched onto your wrist like a snake squeezing its prey. She guided you through the cavernous hall of tech that led to Miguel’s office, the pathway seemed to grow darker the closer you got.

“I see how you two look at each other during meetings.” She said effortlessly like it was a fact. You let out a cough like you choked on air, already shaking your head to her conclusion.

“You know he’s always leading them—what? Do you expect me to look at the ceiling or something?” Gwen laughed at this, but it didn’t look like she was convinced.

Walking in, you had expected Miguel’s office to be darker than the hall leading towards it, but it was instead imbued with a ruddy tint, and streaks of sliver threads surrounded the area Miguel was standing in. He was in the middle of briefing a few Spider-Men for a mission on Gaia-3000. Miguel always made sure to remind his agents of the canon events before going on a mission to prevent the loss of the universe. It was more important than the mission itself.

The briefing didn’t last long as Miguel noticed you enter with Gwen. His gaze could’ve riveted you to the floor, the look on his face was neither soft nor austere—perhaps aloof would best describe how he looked at you. Yet you wanted to believe there was something behind those eyes of his because not once did they leave you since you entered. 

It was until the Spider-Men walked into their portals that Miguel’s attention moved to the floating projections. The silver webs of fate orbited around him as if he were a sun. He would’ve looked occupied if it weren’t for his eyes moving between you and the projections.

“Doc.” He greeted you once you were in front of him, looking down at you through the hologram of a canon event that floated in between you two. There was a moment—just a moment where his eyes looked soft… but it could’ve been the trick of the hologram.

“Miguel.” You had to suck your lips in to stop yourself from smiling. You hated to admit it, but you were happy to speak to him after so long. Staying away from him was a selfish decision, one that you regretted now that you stood in front of him. 

Your heart thumped in bliss, the warmth from that night revisiting you like an old friend. How inane of you to think that distance would’ve settled this emotion. It was already being stitched onto your soul from the moment this agreement started—the very needle sunken in when his hand stretched out of that portal into your apartment many months ago. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

You fell for him. Regardless of whether he felt the same or not.

“Uh, I’m here too…” Gwen had a slight smile on her face, bending forward with a small wave to Miguel.

“Gwen,” you could tell Miguel forced a smile, fangs appearing while none of the light reached his eyes. It lasted a moment before it dropped to his usual scowl. Miguel then turned around to face his floating platform that started its slow descent to the ground. “I’m sure you already had a tour of the place unless you’re just here to say hello.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something!”

“If a universe isn’t collapsing, or an anomaly hasn’t appeared, then Jess can handle it.”

“But it’s important! I just figure it would make our jobs easier. You know, making sure the universes are in order?”

The rumble of the descending platform had filled in for Miguel’s silence. He peeked behind his shoulder, his eyes looking past Gwen’s and into yours before they lowered to the ground. He then folded his arms against his chest, sighing. “I’m listening.”

Gwen immediately beamed, light filling her eyes. “Okay!” You could tell her entire energy ignited. Her arms flailed with every word that left her lips. She was animated—excited, glowing like a sun rising from the horizon, its rays brighter as the seconds go by. If anyone were to watch her, they too would feel elated by her presence alone. 

But as the sun rises in one part of the world, it sets in the other. Her idea was nothing but grave to you, the dread in your face impossible to hide as she spoke with an open mind—naivety in her words. You couldn’t blame her because it’s possible no one told her yet, not Jess and surprisingly not Peter B. If she had told you of her idea prior, you wouldn’t have come here to support her. Just the thought of her idea could be considered mutiny to the entire cause… to Miguel.

You cast your eyes down, afraid to even lift them towards Miguel. You didn’t have to. You could already feel it brewing, simmering like water on a stovetop. A part of you internally begged for Gwen to shut up, or wished the sound of the descending platform was loud enough to overtake her voice. Miguel wasn’t facing either of you but you could still feel a weight on top of your shoulders, drilling you into the floors, your limbs heavier than sacks of sand.

Gwen went on and on until she was rambling, probably because she was excited or nervous. You couldn’t exactly tell. It was until the platform finally reached the ground that Gwen ended her request with a “pretty please” and a large smile on her face.

That smile didn’t last long.

“No,” Miguel spoke softly.

“Wha…” she faltered, physically her shoulders dropped. “What? Wait—why? I mean—he would be such a great asset to our group and—Probably one of the best Spider-mans I’ve met. The things he can do— He’s amazing , Miguel.”

“I said, no.” And it was final. Gwen knew that but she still pushed, making her argument, excuses, anything. Miguel silenced her with a heavy sigh, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. You expected anger when he turned to face her but no, there was nothing but sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for what he had to reveal to her. He towered over her and with a heavy hand on her shoulder, said:

“That Miles Morales… was never supposed to be a Spider-Man. He’s not one of us. He’s an anomaly , Gwen, the original anomaly.”

At those words, it was like a string was pulled, released and an arrow soared and struck her chest. Gwen was trying to make sense of it all but nothing made sense no matter how long she thought about it.

Miguel continued regardless. With the command of his hands, the projections swirled around you three, depicting the moment when Spider-42 fell into Earth-1610, bit the wrong Miles Morales and in turn, the Spider-man from his universe died. Your real comrade.

Gwen didn’t want to believe it. Shaking her head as she stared at each projection. The truth floated around her. Thoughts ran a mile a minute. It would’ve been better if Peter B. told her instead of Miguel. Maybe if she heard it from a trusted friend, it would’ve been easier to believe. But Gwen knew there was no reason for Miguel to lie about this. What motive could Miguel have to not let Miles join the Spider Society?

“Miles Morales-1610 as Spider-man was a mistake.” His words to her were the final nail to a coffin. With the skidding sound coming from her shoes, she turned around and bolted out of Miguel’s office.

“Gwen!” You were about to chase after her until Miguel’s voice cut through the air.

“You think I’m done here?”

You physically jumped at how loud he sounded like thunder had rolled and rumbled the floor under your feet. You turned towards him and immediately you regretted it. What was brewing before was most certainly his anger, saved solely for you while Gwen was spared because of her naivety. But you—you knew better than to associate yourself with the anomaly. If only Miguel could give you a chance to explain yourself.

“Miguel, I—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand latched onto your wrist, pulling you deeper into his office and into a room beyond the shadows. It was more like a traditional office than the one outside with a desk, a bookcase, a soft couch and some cabinets. There was even a bed that Miguel probably slept in whenever he didn't want to return home. The sheets were ruffled so you could tell he often used it but never had enough time to make it because he was usually always on the go.

However, it was the last thing on your mind when you had a fuming Miguel in front of you. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before he grabbed you a little too rough by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. Red eyes lasered down on you.

Undoubtedly, you knew he was angry, but there was something else in there.

“What were you thinking? You know what Miles-1610 is to us, Doc! You know what an anomaly could do to a universe and you still supported her idea? Did you really think that was okay? Letting an anomaly join and ruin everything —!”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know that’s what she wanted to ask! All she told me was that it would support the society and she needed me here for emotional support! If I knew it was about the anomaly, I wouldn’t have come here!”

You yelled back louder. Miguel’s talon-less fingers buried themselves in your upper arms, squeezing them. His eyes were wide, shaky red irises searching within your own for any hint of honesty. The grip on you wasn’t as firm as it looked. Like a crane holding a prize, the slightest nudge would’ve shaken his hands off. Despite how he looked, Miguel made sure he wasn’t hurting you.

“This is exactly why I told Jess I didn’t want her to join! She’s—She’s too close with the anomaly. She can jeopardize our entire cause all because of him !” He froze after, an idea appearing in his head. He wasn’t thinking rationally anymore. He released you, turning around like he wanted to leave. “She has to go home.”

“Wait! You can’t—Let’s think about this, Miguel.”

He was quick to face you again, his hands returning to your upper arms. He bent forward until his face was at your level. “I can’t have her risk all that I built—that we built.”

There it was. It wasn’t just anger he was feeling. The signs were all there; His trembling breath, the sweat that made his forehead glossy, the weakness in his hold. 

Miguel was panicking.

It was fear that buried itself within his fury from the moment Gwen had asked for Miles-1610’s recruitment and when he thought you supported her idea. It was like he saw it again. His daughter disappearing in his arms, the weight of her so heavy… until he felt nothing—until nothing around him existed except for what remained of the universe: white light and empty space. He had the blood of that universe on his hands and no matter how many times he tried to wash them away, it was now embedded in his soul. All that existed ended because he was the anomaly of that world disrupting the canon events. 

Months after months of research couldn’t bring him the exact reason for that universe ending, but he was sure of one thing. If everything went how it was planned, nothing like that would happen ever again.

And that’s why it was his job to put things back to how it was. It was the only thing he could do to atone.

So yes, Miguel was reliving his trauma yet again.

And it was your job to relieve him of it.

“That doesn’t mean we should make rash decisions,” you told him, gently. “She’s one of our best and letting her go would slow down our efforts. You and I both know that.”

Miguel’s energy was being sapped out of him, visibly his shoulders dropped and those red eyes were no longer on you as he hung his head low. He released you and retreated to sit on his bed. For a moment, he looked like a toy that ran out of batteries, burying his face in his hands before he ran them through his curly locks.

It was so different seeing him like this—like he was moping. You followed him and stood between his legs.

“Besides, Gwen's a smart girl. She wouldn’t do anything that would put the universes at risk.” He didn’t respond or even look at you. It made you run a hand against his cheek as your thumb brushed under his eye. “When’s the last time you slept? You look tired.”

“I don’t have time to be tired. Not when there’s a Galaxy-size mess I have to clean up. With every anomaly we restore, 10,000 more just take its place. It’s never-ending, Doc. I’m like a janitor mopping up a shoreline.” 

“We all took an oath. A spider-person’s job never ends. Which is why we need to rest as much as we can to fight another day.”

“I didn’t ask for this, Doc.” He sighed, leaning his head against your hand until his cheek pushed up against it. “And I won’t be able to sleep.”

“None of us did…” you lightly smiled, “And I’ll help you.”

You pulled your hand away from his cheek, but you didn’t miss when he leaned more against it for his lips to press into your palm. The brief feel of them jolted something within you like a warm shiver struck your lower stomach. Gosh, it made you curious—too curious about how they would feel against other parts of your body.

And you didn’t miss those eyes that looked up at you, red like cherries, sweet like them too. It was hard to turn away, somewhat thankful you managed to because you didn’t want to be under their spell. You still felt the heat of them on you even as you approached his bookcase. Your palm still tingling from the feel of his lips as you pulled a book off one of the shelves. You returned to him grinning.

He was disappointed when he glanced at your book choice in your hand. “Charlotte’s web? Am I a kid to you?”

“No, but… you act like one sometimes. Lay down for me.”

You pushed against his shoulder leaving him no choice but to oblige. What he didn’t expect was you to climb in after him, settling on your side next to him while you opened the book to page one and started to read. 

Miguel still couldn’t sleep. His eyes remained open, watching the top of your head as you read. A lovely smile on your face as you tried (and failed) to give each character their own distinctive voice. When you weren’t busy turning the page, the hand that he kissed was together with his, fingers interlocked. You were so used to holding his hand by now that you thought nothing of it and ignored the warmth that spread throughout your body because of it.

“Are you finally resuming our sessions?” Miguel interrupted you, pulling your eyes away from the book and into his own.

“Only if you need it.”

You knew Miguel would never admit he needed it, especially how adamant he was about them in the beginning.

“I need it.”

Oh.

“I definitely need it.”

“Then… I’ll put you back on my calendar.”

“ Muy Bien. ”

His sonorous whisper had heat searing your cheeks, not to mention, that smile that flashed your way made his fangs look bigger—so mischievous it had you biting your lip. Immediately after, Miguel’s mask materialized around his head. Much to your disappointment.

“Do you really need your mask on while you sleep?” You asked.

“You never know when the job needs you. Have to always be on the ready.”

“Words from a true workaholic… you said you wanted a family but how exactly were you going to make time for them when you’re working all these hours?”

“Oh, I always made time for mi hija . Always went to her soccer practice. Always was there to read her a bedtime story. Take her clothes shopping. I was made to be a dad but… it just isn’t in my fate to be one.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard his pain. You squeezed his hand, regretful.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no, no—It’s okay… It’s a valid question.”

Not knowing what else to say, you continued to read. Seconds, minutes, time ticked away. Miguel’s hand was still tight in yours, but his voice came out heavy whenever he commented about the book. His head was against the pillows, turned in your direction. 

Your voice must’ve been soothing him because his hand would grow weak in yours and then he would suddenly squeeze it, throwing a random comment out about the main character, Wilbur, and then trying to convince you he didn’t fall asleep. Sometimes the heat where your hands came together would make him doze off and the coolness that grew when they were briefly apart would stir him awake.

“Maybe we should’ve recruited Charlotte. She really saved that pig’s ass,” he mumbled, looking like he had sunk deeper into his bed, the pillows swallowed his head.

“Yeah, she dedicated her life to saving him. All the way to the very end. She never gave up, spending hours weaving her web, trying to convince the humans no matter how tough it got. I’m sure she may have felt like she was… mopping up a shoreline too but her actions paid off in the end… the difference is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You have us—all of us to rely on, to help shoulder the burden. Please don’t forget that—that we’re here for you.”

You expected something, anything from him, but you received nothing but silence. “Miguel…? Oh…” it was then you noticed his hand was weak in yours and when you pulled your hand away, he stayed asleep.

Finally. You couldn’t help but smile, softly closing the book before sitting up.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he lay supine against his bed. You should’ve left his office but you stayed there watching him sleep, taking in the rare sight of Miguel completely defenseless. You wished you could’ve seen his face. It would’ve been the topping on the cake.

Your fingers brushed against his arm, suddenly craving the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer, but you wondered if Miguel felt anything for you. You knew how lonely men acted. As long as the body was warm and could keep them company, it didn’t matter to them.

Some part of you wondered if you were just as lonely as Miguel—that these feelings were just because you craved for someone. Maybe it was even the reason why you sprung up this agreement in the first place. After your divorce, you became married to your work, the only thing that mattered was your patients as a therapist and the people you saved as a superhero. You abandoned yourself, shutting yourself off from the world within your white-walled apartment. It was why you looked up to Miguel as much as you did because he was the one who pulled you out of your darkness. So you were hoping you could do the same thing for him.

But you knew your heart beat too strongly for it to be just feelings of loneliness. It longed for him even when you were this close to him, wanting to be surrounded by the warmth that emanated from him, wanting to be touched, kissed, and held only by the man who saved you, your guiding light while you were lost at sea.

Your hand moved to caress his cheek, feeling the fibers of his mask under your fingertips. You were leaning closer to him, unable to resist like a moth to a flame. God, you were completely enamored by him. Looks like he didn’t need to look at you to be under his spell.

For the first time, you didn’t think about the consequences. For the first time, you were mindless.

You pressed your lips against his lips, closing your eyes. It was softer than you expected; light, feathery and warm. Too warm . It was brief but it was enough to light a flame within you that burned when you pulled away. Your breath shuddered as you inhaled, the warmth lasting only a second.

Your eyes opened, but you found yourself stilling. Miguel’s eyes were still closed, though half of his mask was dematerialized to the tip of his nose. His lips were out, free from the fibers.

Your mouth hung open. Miguel had removed half of his mask when kissed him and you hadn't a clue if he was asleep all this time or not.

The remainder of his mask dematerialized and you were face to face with those eyes of his. Your heart skipped a beat, knocking the air from your lungs as your palms grew sweaty. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You felt so much pressure under his gaze, his face not quite readable. You flicked your wrist towards the ceiling and a web shot out, preparing yourself to run away until a glowing red web wrapped around your wrist and riveted you in place.

“Not this time, Doc.”

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

Tag List:

@oikawa-bubs @brittney69 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @allysunny @smarty0029 @96jnie @deepinballs @lovecandyuwu @remuslupinwifee

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #the agreement

[juuuulez]

📰 | richie jerimovich x reader ; “Princess.”

🎧 -> untitled 07, kendrick lamar

info: Richie Jerimovich x Reader, no use of (y/n), reader’s nickname is princess because duh it’s cute, mention of drugs, arguing, brief mention of Mikey, brief mention of a sexual relationship, Richie just wants what’s best for you.

summary: Richie is your dealer, and also a pretty good lay. But recently he’s changed his priorities, and tries to change yours, too.

gigantic bear brainrot right now, and i was thinking about that little glimpse of dealer richie annnndd that’s sorta it! don’t like, don’t read, but the overall consensus is about recovering and breaking old habits.

i also happen to have such a soft spot for this man!!!!!! sue me!!!!!!!!!!!!! i literally wrote this in less than an hour i’m insane

Hey. You working?

Richie’s phone goes off, ironically, right when he’s on his break. Every day, he goes outside for a cigarette at the exact same time. And you know that. He knows you know that, and he also knows what you want. Of course he does. It’s always the same thing. He stopped doing this shit for a reason, but you? He’s weak. And probably stupid.

Neither of you even discuss the plan: it’s protocol at this point. Not even seconds pass, and he’s already punched in a response.

Nah. Come see me.

Minutes later, and there are footsteps approaching down the back alley, towards the door Richie lingers near. He turns to see your form approaching, watching the way you tug at the sleeves of your sweater, likely much too thin to truly combat the cold. With how hasty you’d been, Richie suspects you’d already been nearby. Likely around the corner, just waiting for the go ahead.

It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you, though Richie knew why. Because he didn’t do this shit anymore. To reach out again, you must’ve been desperate. He could work with that.

“Princess.” He greets, nursing a lit cigarette between sharp teeth.

You’re sighing, a look of exasperation on that pretty little face. A mix of relief, and discomfort, at being out in this weather. “You’re my saviour, you know that, right?”

Richie scoffs, already approaching. Closing the gap between you two. “Find that one hard to believe.” He mutters.

As usual, you move in to intrude on Richie’s space, tucking yourself against his side. The biting Chicago winter urges you closer, as he’s somehow warm, though Richie is always warm. One hand ashes his cigarette onto the concrete, and the ofher arm wraps around you, hand cupping the ass of your jeans, thumb tracing the pocket seam.

Laying there is a wad of cash, he can feel the outline faintly under the thick fabric. But he doesn’t take it. Nor does he replace it with anything, despite what you’d been expecting, what he’d agreed to. This routine you’d built up, an unspoken process.

You shift away slightly, looking up at the taller man with furrowed brows. His hand shifts higher, finding its place against your side, holding onto your hip.

“What gives?” You ask, trying to decipher that unreadable look on Richie’s face. For a man so expressive, you were lost on an interpretation in this moment. He wouldn’t even look at you, squinting at some unknown spot in the alley.

Then his head starts shaking, a disapproving look forming, before the words follow. “Sure you don’t want some dope instead?”

“If I wanted dope, I would have asked for it.” You retort. The words were sharp with intent, slightly irritated.

Richie tries harder to convince you, finding that would be easier than outright admitting his concern. “Come on. You haven’t thought about making the switch?” He muses as if it were obvious, taking a long drag from his cigarette. That hand is still on your side.

You roll your eyes. “To what? Being miserable and a fucking downer?”

“No.” Richie rolls his eyes. “To going, I dunno.. natural, or whatever.”

This gets no response, and Richie finally glances down at you. You look confused, but mostly pissed. Definitely some form of agitated.

“Weed and shrooms.” He clarifies with a shrug.

“Are you serious?” You’re snapping at him, finally stepping back a little, out of his hold. “As if you even have shrooms.”

“I could get them if you wanted. Gotta be better than that other shit.”

“Fuck! You’ve gotta be the world’s worst dealer.” You utter, running a hand through your hair and looking off into the distance.

Before he can get a word in, you begin venting, letting that frustration bubble up. “Y’know, if I wanted a lecture, I’d call my parents. But you, Richie?”

So, he snaps back. Like he always does. After all, fighting is miles easier than having an actual discussion. “I dunno, princess, this ain’t fuckin’ right! I can’t do this shit to you.”

“It’s coke, Richie! Not heroin. I’ll be fine.” You urge.

He shakes his head, voice only rising with his temper, a tone most are accustomed to. “You know that’s not the fucking point.” The words have anger in them, laced with bite, intent.

And for some reason.. some, god forsaken reason, you let up.

Maybe you knew this would happen. Maybe you had the smallest, tiniest inkling that coming to Richie, of all people, was a bad idea. You knew he’d stopped dealing, for the most part. But you couldn’t blame him, not after everything that happened with Mikey. It’s not like you didn’t know him, too, but it was different.

So, you relent, pressing a hand over the crease of your brows. “Okay, okay. Just..” You can’t get out a full sentence, mind reeling with about twenty thoughts at once. The most prominent notion: you certainly weren’t getting your coke today. Not from Richie. And, frankly, you didn’t trust anyone else.

He looks down at your dejected form, jaw clenched with tension. Richie didn’t like being the bearer of bad news, by any means, and felt a pang of sympathy. In an ideal world, he’d give you anything and everything you wanted.

In an ideal world, you wouldn’t be asking.

“What’ya need it for, anyway?” He ends up inquiring, tone a tad softer, now that the hostility has simmered.

You shrug, kicking around a rock. “House party.”

Richie nods, getting a vague idea of what was happening. It was for later. That was good.

“Then how ‘bout.. you come over to mine,” He suggested, “We smoke up instead.”

It wasn’t an unfamiliar request, but any means. You’d spent many nights in his apartment. It was lonely and derelict, as most days, he didn’t have his daughter around. Sometimes things escalated. By all means, Richie was certainly a good fuck, if anything. But you were messy, complicated, not someone that stuck around for long. Richie understood that, as he wasn’t looking to settle down, either. Not with someone like you. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Already bought the beer, Rich.” You justify, giving a minor resistance towards the idea.

Of course, he has a solution for everything. “Bring it.”

You nod along, the slightest of smirks appearing on those plump lips. It was clear as day, a physical indicator that you were fucking weak for anything he suggested. “So you’re denying me product, and you’re gonna drink my beer?”

“Yeah, but the weed is free.” Richie offered, a grin beginning to form, purely because he was getting what he wanted.

There’s a low whistle, sucking the air from between your teeth. It’s cold out, and you’d rather get home, given this was supposed to be a quick pick-up. The thought of spending a night over at a Richie’s place was incredibly tempting, given you hadn’t seen him much lately. He’d been pulling away, which was understandable. You weren’t exactly the healthiest to be around.

“M’kay, weirdo.” You agree, looking away to avoid spotting how purely happy that makes Richie. Deep down, you know he’s genuinely pleased with himself, not just for getting you to come over, but to abandon the drug altogether, even if just for a night. He’s fixing you, making you a better person, which you really fucking hate.

He throws the cigarette to the ground, stomping on its ashy remains. “See? What a good fuckin’ girl you can be. Just gotta use that pretty little head more.”

To emphasise his point, Richie cups the top of your head, fingers disrupting the part of your hair. His hands are huge, for the most part, covering the expanse of your skull. It prompts you to swat it away with a displeased grunt.

“Don’t push it, asshole.” You warn, already trying to fix your hair. Before he can cause any more damage, you’re turning on your heel, eager to escape the cold.

“10pm. Don’t be late, princess.” Richie calls out to your retreating form, watching the semi-enthusiastic thumbs up you flash him in return.

Feeling pretty goddamn successful, he gets back to work.

#me when i neglect all my current wip’s because i desperately needed to write about richie #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #the bear #the bear fx #the bear x you

[ronearoundblindly]

New Parent Panic (Ari's POV)

Ari Levinson x reader--best friends-to-lovers (now engaged w/a baby)

a Bedrock and Blueprints tale (see previous or series)

Summary: Little Rachel gets sick for the first time on a day that's not-quite convenient for her parents...

Warnings for eh...self-pity? dudeliness? sorta idiot Ari but he's relatable? very very fleeting mentions of sex. Mostly this is a web of hurt/comfort, much like its counterpart perspective. WC 2.5k 😣 This got out of hand... *You'll be surprised to learn that since I posted (technically this morning), I continue to not know much about babies, so yup, it's fiction.

He felt like crud yesterday, but he never said anything.

The cast only came off of his leg three weeks ago, and between getting back to work, taking physical therapy, and having a newborn at home, Ari is run fucking ragged.

He doesn't say anything though because you are just as worn down. You're in this together. He can manage.

Despite his best efforts, he got shit sleep last night. His thigh aches when the weather is colder, and the burning strain in his atrophied muscles won't let up since he diligently repeats his PT exercises whenever he can all day long.

He has no more sick leave--or at least, it seemed useless to take it when all he had was minor chills and a headache--so he leaves in the morning for the construction site where he is grounded. Until the strength in his legs is evened out again, he'll only work on the ground, but that's not resting. He actually moves around more than if he was climbing or balancing up on unfinished floors.

Ari focuses on not limping slightly when he's home around you, but he knows you can tell his recovery isn't done yet.

So yesterday he felt pretty rough, and whatever it was ruined his sleep, but he did all he promised he would do around the house before going to work and returned right after the shift ended.

He even strategically holds the house keys so they will make zero jingling noises, in case Rachel is asleep and not to be woken.

Ari can tell immediately that his girl is, of course, not asleep at all.

"Why's she crying?" he says, changing his bearings over from an intense day of helping the rather large project crew.

"Because she hates me."

He's pretty sure that's not true so walks over, not bothering to take off his shoes, saves time if he swings by the bedroom. He can do a lot more if he removes his stiff work layers and washes some grime off. He wouldn't say no to beer either...

If he's going to do a lap around the house, he may as well grab whatever helps you.

He asks if Rachel needs medicine, but it's not been enough time for another dose.

"Hungry?" He means both the baby and you, but before he can specify, you practically bite his head off.

No, I don't think you've starved our fucking child for your amusement, but I think you might be hangry...

"Calm down," Ari tries to soothe instead. "I'm just trying to help."

It clearly doesn't come out as soothing.

"Well then fucking help me," you cry, and he can tell now that it is crying.

As soon as he's dressed down a little, he'll do anything and everything you want, but either way, he'll have to take a minute to be ready, now or later. Now just seems easier because then you can pass Rachel off to him for good.

He simply has to use the bathroom.

Turns out so do you, and you've needed to for a long time.

Ari offers to let you go first. He figures he can set her in the basinet for the whopping minute it will take him to change clothes.

You say no. You already have her.

"Fine," he sighs, beelining for the bedroom, ready to strip and flip his body like an actor offstage. "I'll be right back."

"Take. Your. Time."

Ari turns around, unamused, biting his tongue and taking a breath before, as calmly as he can possibly manage, he says, "Kid, just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

His aching body, too-cold in some spots, too-warm in others, makes him twitchy. He can't stand still and he has to take the weight off his bad leg.

You don't answer. You just walk off to the kitchen

"I swear, woman..."

Ari does everything too fast.

He knocks down a few hangers in the closet grabbing a sweatshirt from the shelf. Toiletries do a half pike in the dip of the sink when he replaces the bottle of mouthwash. He uses the last of the toilet paper rolls but is a little scared to stay any longer before relieving you.

He's about to warn you to replace it, but you're on the phone, relaying Rach's fever and very few specific symptoms beyond that, other than constant crying.

He won't interrupt you in the middle of a conversation with your back turned to him, so he decides this is his chance to get a beer out and open, within arms reach once you're done and he can take over.

The call ends.

Rachel is shrieking now, and it's difficult to hear over the wailing.

He figures you have to relay a rundown of what she's eaten and when she can have meds again, so he won't yell over the din much and asks what he needs to do.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

He barely gets the baby balanced in his arms when there's a short break in the flailing yell.

You run out. He assumes you're making a break for the bathroom, but no, you go out--like out-out--of the house. He can't move fast enough to follow, and Rachel resumes crying within seconds of the front door shutting.

Ari hasn't locked the car yet (the beep could wake a precariously sleeping kiddo so he waits to see if it's safe), so he makes it to the living room window in time to see the van shift slightly with your weight inside.

He can't see you though. You aren't in the front seats.

"Well, lil' general," he mutters to a baby that not only cannot understand him but also cannot hear him over the noise she's making, "we have our orders."

He won't take the screaming child outside; that's rude to the nice neighbors. He gathered enough info from your phone call to know Rach probably needs fed again, and by the time that's done, it'll be meds--for him and the baby. He waits to take anything for his leg until close to bed, so it's effective, maybe allowing him a few decent hours a night.

He wets a washcloth and grabs a bottle.

Ari bounces. He wiggles. He shimmies. He groans when a momentary stab of pain races up his thigh. He is so fucking sick of being in pain. He hated being trapped in bed. He hated being trapped in a cast. He hates not being at 100%. He loathes using the pain as an excuse for not doing his part at home.

So he has mentioned it as little as humanly possible.

Finally, he arranges himself on the couch with that donut pillow thing to cradle Rachel's head while she eats, and Ari slaps the cool cloth on his own forehead, leaning his neck back at an awkward angle. He doesn't really care; this is about the best he's felt all day.

He isn't sure whether he expected you to come in by now or not. He can't blame you for wanting space, just any amount of it at all really, but it's cold outside. The car won't stay comfortable for long.

Rachel has, eh, sorta stopped crying by the time the bottle is empty. She kicks her chubby legs out and stares at Ari with huge eyes, snorting with each exhale. He does the suction thingy to clear her nose, just like you taught him, and then it's Daddy-Daughter drug time.

Diaper change is next, and then because Ari happened to put on his favorite navy blue sweatshirt, he pulls out Rachel's navy blue onesie. Sue him. It's cute to match his kid.

Her big eyes get heavier and heavier, so Ari takes his chance to go check on you before Rach is even fully asleep.

He slips his shoes back on without tying them.

He's happy the first words out of your mouth once he opens the car door aren't an apology. Goodness knows when he needs a minute, he needs a minute. There's nothing wrong with that.

Ari wishes it weren't his fault though.

"Is she okay?" you ask with a watery voice.

He rubs across your back, your body curling in on itself even more. Those hard plastic, all-weather mats must be murder on your bare feet and shins.

"Took a few ounces of a bottle and went down in her bunk."

He plans the best way to lift you with his weakened stance, adjusting you like a sad rag doll before hauling you into the house.

Honestly, he's looked forward to holding you all day. He thought maybe you'd share a hug when he got home or cuddle on the couch for a bit, but none of that happened obviously.

Instead, he sinks down in the front hall, keeping you on his lap while he kicks his boots over to the mat.

He kisses your temple.

Your forehead is sweaty but chilled from outside. He has no clue if you're sick, too, but if it's whatever he had yesterday, he knows it won't last very long.

One thing he knows for sure: he had no way of knowing this was how your day went.

"How many times I gotta tell ya to call me?" he whispers. The longer his skin is pressed to yours, the more he's convinced. "You know, you're warm, too."

You ignore yourself again, asking if he took Rachel's temperature.

He cradles you while explaining what he did, squeezing you tighter once there's nothing left but to focus on you, which you do in the absolutely worst way.

"I'm a bad mom," you breathe.

"What?" He smacks his head on the wall behind him. "What are you talking about?"

Not fucking today, kid. Don't do this.

"Bullshit," he seethes, his gut knotting at the thought of you wallowing in those thoughts, alone in the empty, cold car. "Don't you ever say that again."

Your evading his attempts to wrangle you into facing him.

"I shouldn't have--"

"Stop," he bites out.

"--you were--"

"Stop it."

"But I'm the one who wanted this, Ari!"

That's not fair and you know it. His heart is breaking open with yours.

"Me," you continue, choked by misplaced guilt. "I wanted kids. This whole time. I bitched about how Joanna's done--"

He fucking hates the idea of you comparing yourself to Joanna.

"--and I thought I could just...and I suck at it. Rach even likes you better!"

You're full-on blubbering now, and he won't say it, but you're adorably pathetic like this. His breaking heart swells a little.

"No, kid," he adds. "She was exhausted. I only got here at the right time."

"It's 'cause you're comfy and you smell good--"

Well, I do use my bathroom time wisely...

"--and she loves you."

You say that like it's a bad thing?? Ari snorts out a laugh at your lip quiver.

"She loves you, too. You're her mom." He tucks you in closer, stroking his hands over your restless form. "I love you. So much. So, so much."

Ari searches for your hand and the sapphire ring he put on it until he can spin the band gently on your finger. He knows you deserve a wedding, sooner rather than later, but he doesn't want to be in pain standing up with you in front of friends and family. He doesn't want to limp during your first dance. He certainly doesn't want to need painkillers to take you to bed that night (or any night really).

That's his guilt.

Yes, you were very pregnant when he fell and broke his leg. Yes, there would have been almost no way to have sex with his cast on, or properly maneuver you for any other positions and activities. Yes, you needed plenty of time to heal after giving birth. But come on!

If he had control of his body, or his muscle mass back, or less self-consciousness and disappointment, he would love nothing more than to be all over you--last night, this morning, when he walked in the door, in the kitchen, out in the car, or right here on the fucking floor.

Ari knows those are selfish thoughts. You need his comfort and words more than you need to feel like an object. Rachel--or, he guesses, a baby in general--makes everyone feel like they're just playing a roll, like they're there for one purpose only.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ari rumbles near your ear. "You're my favorite."

You slump into his chest until your forehead braces his throat. You fit him so perfectly.

"Almost not fair, really. You've got a decade of brownie points, and she's managed to make me buy more pads for her than I've had to for y--"

You pinch at his side harshly, biting back a smile. He deserved that pinch. He earned that smile.

"Oh! And you can control your bladder for a whole day, which is downright impressive wh--hey now--" the assault on his ribs has him jumping around the floor "I'm just...being...honest," he chuckles.

"You're a jerk is what you are, old man."

He grabs both your arms and pins them together in front of him.

"Yeah, but I'm your jerk. Your old man, kid. I'm yours, okay? You are not alone here. You don't have to know how to do everything by yourself." He lowers his voice as well as his face to yours. "And you mean just as much to me as that little girl in there. You hear me?"

You only nod, so he gently knocks his forehead to yours.

"Please be okay. I could never do this without you. Any of it..."

You're settled in bed, watered, fed, and cleaned, but Ari notices Rachel starting to fuss again.

When he sweeps the thermometer over her head and ear, the reading says her temp has actually gone down slightly. He'll take that win.

He lets out a silent cheer and holds his hand up.

"High five?"

Those huge eyes just blink at him.

"No? It's fine. We'll work on that."

He lefts her out of the basinet and tries one more bottle, turning on the TV but getting lost watching his daughter's tiniest movements instead. While he's burping her, he runs through his PT routine, twice, since his mobility gets a little better once his meds kick in.

Lil' General is out cold almost instantly over his shoulder.

Ari grabs another wet cloth for your forehead before putting everyone to sleep.

He bounces his way closer to you in the bed. He wiggles and shimmies until you're resting against his chest. He smiles when he realizes you don't feel overly warm anymore, pulling the blanket higher, letting the static of Rach's white-noise machine take him under.

He felt like crud yesterday. Today, he helped his ladies feel better and goes to bed happy, holding you.

[Main Masterlist; Bedrock and Blueprints Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber

#ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #bedrock and blueprints #ari levinson x you #ari levinson angst #ari levinson fluff #hurt/comfort #best friend!reader #established relationship #ari levinson au

[stealanity]

“ EASIER. ” ft. kim sunwoo

genre & warnings : ex ! sunwoo, fluff, angst, swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk men ew

summary : you probably didn't expect your ex-boyfriend to come and pick you up on his motorcycle after a night out with your friends, but he's right here.. so?

word count : 2k>

a/n : feedbacks are allowed besties !

after a good drunken evening with your friends, you can't wait to get home. but the problem is, the girl who was supposed to drive you home had forgotten she wasn't supposed to drink, being now much drunker than you were. what a mistake to have trusted her, because now you had to get home alone at a very late hour. but lucky for you, you still had one last card to play : your brother.

as you waited patiently outside the bar for him to arrive, tapping away on your phone, ignoring the drunken morons around you, a familiar sound suddenly drew your curiosity. as you looked up, your gaze instantly fell on a pretty black motorcycle that stopped right in front of you. and its owner with.

« what the hell are you doing here? » you say with a sigh, a look of surprise probably pasted on your face. the boy in front of you shook off his helmet, finally giving you a glimpse of his face and his damn smirk. « your brother called me, i was on the road so.. he told me to pick you up. »

a nervous laugh left your lips, rolling your eyes at his statement. you couldn't believe your brother would dare send your ex-boyfriend to pick you up instead of him — you definitely couldn't count on him. typing furiously on your screen, you were quick to attack and swear at your eldest sibling, insisting that he was only just a bastard too lazy to do anything.

« i swear he's a dead man. » you sighed, tucking your phone away in your pocket as you began to walk, completely ignoring the other boy standing beside you. but quickly, he was riding his motorcycle beside you, calling your name to get you to stop. « no, don't call me. there's no way i'm going home with you, i'd rather walk. »

but sunwoo wasn't about to let you go so quickly, so he continued to follow you, dragging his pretty motorcycle that you loved with him. « you're going to walk? do i need to remind you that your brilliant minds didn't choose the bar nearest your home? »

he wasn't wrong : you had at least two hours of walking to do before you got home. but what was your brother thinking sending someone as insufferable as sunwoo to get you back home? a long sigh left your lips as a drunk came a little too close to you. « hey pretty girl.. i can take you home if you want. » he said, hiccupping, as you laughed in his face before putting on a disgusted face, moving on.

you heard sunwoo's laughter behind you, and the sound of his motorcycle starting up again. and within seconds he was back beside you, a helmet in one hand held out towards you. « come on, i can't leave you alone with bums like that. » sticking your tongue against your cheek to contain your irritation, you crossed your arms against your chest, continuing on your way. « thanks for your concern, but i know how to take care of myself. »

« oh i know that. but i also know that all you want to do is take a hot shower and go to sleep, » you hated having to admit that he was absolutely right and that you'd probably have to give in to his request in the next second, « the question is whether you want it in 3 hours or 20 minutes. »

pivoting towards him at lightning speed, you grabbed the helmet in his hand and slipped it on, not deigning to say another word to him — but you could swear you could see his smirk through his black motorcycle helmet. « hang on tight, pretty. » he said as he started off again, of course without receiving a blow on his back from you, « don't tell me what to do. and don't call me pretty. »

but even if your greatest wish was not to listen to him, for your own safety you clung firmly to his waist. you looked over his shoulder as he began to drive, letting the speed of the motorcycle make your hair fly behind you.

suddenly, a certain nostalgia invaded your heart — it's been a long time since you've been on a motorcycle, a long time since you've felt the adrenalin of being on two wheels. hair blowing in the wind, the landscape flashing by, drawn only in horizontal lines, the feeling of flying... since you were no longer with sunwoo, all that had disappeared from your daily life.

and come to think of it, you missed it terribly. especially being able to slip your arms around him, rest your head on his back and close your eyes, enjoying the floating sensation and the adrenaline in your veins. it was something you loved to do when you were with him — and he knew it.

but you had to stay focused, and not forget how much you'd suffered from your breakup. even if, when you think about it, everything could have remained as it was in the past. laying your head against his back, like in the good old days, you watched the city lights take shape around you, gleams of white, yellow and red invaded your sight, like the first time you rode that bike.

it was a warm summer night, you were out with your brother and his friends, including sunwoo. and against all odds, you and him instantly get along well. so much so that he asked you out on a date the very next day, just as he dropped you off at your place after a late-night ride on his motorcycle. it remained an unforgettable night for you : the star-filled sky and the gentle sound of his bike's engine had lulled your dream night. not to mention his adorable tired look and his drop-dead gorgeous smile. your heart was racing as much as it is now that night, and you'd probably give anything to relive it just once.

closing your eyes to fully enjoy the ride, your arms tightened a little more around sunwoo's waist. you could feel his body relax under your fingers, and the vehicle accelerate slightly after that — because he knew, he understood that nostalgia for the past had invaded your mind, and that this was his chance to prove to you that you wanted it all back, and above all him back.

after long minutes of driving under the moonlight and city lights, the bike finally slowed down, before coming to a complete stop in front of your house. « you're back home, babe. » he said softly, as he got rid of his helmet, ready to get off the bike. but your tiny hands clasped his leather jacket again, holding him against you, « no, please. let's stay here a little longer. »

sunwoo laid his tender gaze on your figure clinging to his : your arms around him as if your life depended on it, your head resting on his back, exactly as before. removing the gloves from his hands, he slid his fingers against yours the next second. but this simple gesture sent an electric shock through your muscles, causing you to instantly step back and get off the bike. « thank you for the ride, bye. » you say as quickly as possible, giving him your helmet while keeping your face down. but sunwoo didn't seem to agree with letting you slip away so quickly, and held you back by slipping his hand around your wrist.

« y/n, » he began, while you were still staring at the ground, « how do you feel? »

you didn't know if answering him was a good idea : a part of you wanted to cry and tell him that it had been a long time since your heart had beaten so fast, but the other part wanted to shut up forever and run far, far away from his smile and warm arms. nibbling your lower lip, you shook off his hand from around your wrist, bringing your arms to your chest. the boy let his arm fall back along his body, but his gaze never ceased to pierce your soul. you felt it, his gaze burning all over you, like the sun's aggressive rays in midsummer.

it would have been so much easier if every one of your feelings for him had disappeared — but memories and familiar sensations had this effect on your heart, that screamed out to you that you still loved him. it was like autumn, and you kept falling again and again.

« listen, » he said softly, as he approached you, pulling you back until you were trapped between him and his bike, forcing you to back up until you're caught between him and his bike, « having you back on my bike made me realize that i never want anyone else to ride it but you. »

your eyes plunged into his, now completely lost in his brown pupils filled with the stars that fell from the sky. without warning, his hand nestled against your cheek, enveloping it in a gentle warmth, his thumb mechanically caressing your skin as his face moved closer to yours. it was a dangerous game for your heart, which didn't know how to resist the gentle eyes of the only boy who ever managed to give you butterflies in your stomach. sunwoo was your daily adrenaline dose, and you could feel your skin burning under his touch — especially when his thumb deviated from your cheek to reach your lip, caressing it as if it were the most precious of diamonds.

you felt all your strength leave your body, as if an invisible force had pinned you down. and when your name rolled off his tongue, oh boi you knew you were screwed. « y/n, just one word and i'll stop, » he whispered, softly, almost as a sigh, and you could feel his minty breath crashing into your face, « but if you don't say anything, i'll kiss you like it's the first time i've discovered your lips. »

you didn't know what to do. in your memories, kissing kim sunwoo was like tasting heaven mixed with the sweetness of hell — an ember-hot kiss from an angel. but you mustn't do that, you mustn't give in to temptation, even if being his again was tempting. but after all, a simple kiss doesn't commit you to anything, right? but despite your long reflection, not a word left your lips — and the next moment, his lips were on yours.

it was as if you were discovering the curves of his mouth all over again, even though you knew them by heart. your eyes closed at the exact same time your arms slipped around his neck, drawing him against you, while his hands slipped under your thighs, lifting you off the ground to wrap your legs around his waist. and he kissed you divinely well, as if it were the first time, as if you had gone back in time to your very first date. you could feel his warmth invading you and his tongue chasing yours, while your heart raced in your chest — it was exactly as you remembered it. the same sweetness and feverishness, the same minty candy taste, the same animosity mingled with the passion escaping from his heart.

it was like before.

that kiss made you want to believe that everything could go back to the way it was, your lovely relationship of perpetual bickering and constant flirting. but the fact that you broke up wasn't for nothing — it would have been easier if he hadn't been your ex-boyfriend.

but.. a little flashback on a drunken night was no big deal, right?

you decided to give your memories a chance to come back to life, and give sunwoo the opportunity to love you like on your first date.

just tonight.

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networks : @deoboyznet @kflixnet

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