#like if i lived alone or even just somewhere with roommates and not with my parents | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bi-writes · 4 months

Text

bestfriend!roommate!simon asks you to come with him on a night out. it is not quite the evening you were expecting.

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 5/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, mentions of death, fem!receiving suggestive touching, oral(fem!receiving), simon is an ass man, simon "i wont say it out loud but thats my girl" riley

simon was standing outside of the diner. he was in his usual spot outside, leaning along the brick wall in the alleyway. you knew it was him by the small light that flickered every so often--simon was smoking his routine cigarette as he waited for you.

simon was true to his word. ever since you began working night shifts at the diner, you weren't allowed to walk home alone. it was non-negotiable, not to be discussed. someone would pick you up at the end of your shift, and if no one could make it, there was a car waiting outside, a driver poking his head out and asking for your name. and that driver would stand, shaking a little, nervous, as they walked you to your door and said, "was told if i didn't see you go inside and lock the door that...i-i wouldn't be driving with two hands anymore--"

simon did not cut corners. he did not say "tonight will be fine--she doesn't need me." simon did not get comfortable, and he did not let safety and routine ease his fears.

he had made that mistake once before, and he had nearly lost everything--nearly. he would never make that mistake again.

the bell chimed above the door as you came outside. simon tossed the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with the steel toe of his boot just as you came near. you looked up at him as he came out of the shadows, smiling just a little.

"hi, simon."

"luv."

he wrapped a hand around the back of your head, bringing you close and kissing your forehead through the mask. you closed your eyes when he did this, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at the gesture.

"i need to ask you a favor," he said as you began to walk home. you put your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as you tried to skip the cracks in the pavement.

"sure, simon. what is it?"

"'m goin' out tonight. meeting with someone, at the pub. need you to come with me."

you looked up at him as he brought you to a stop before you were crossing the street. you frowned a little, laughing, confused.

"u-uh...sure...i'll come." you snuggled into his arm, resting your chin on his shoulder. "what's the occasion? need me on your arm so you can stay silent while i do all the talking?"

he grunted a bit, shaking his head.

"no. we're just going to a pub. in an hour."

"sheesh, not a lot of time for a girl to get presentable," you joked.

"you always look beautiful," simon murmured, putting the key in the front door and opening up the apartment. he put a hand on your back as he guided you in first. "that's a mad way of thinkin'."

you smiled to yourself as you went into your bedroom. you pretended not to notice the way his hand lingered on your back, or how it grazed the hem of your skirt.

when you came back out, it took every ounce of simon's self control not to groan out loud. you had his favorite jeans on. a light wash, ones that hugged your waist no nicely and accentuated the curves of your ass in a way that he couldn't see as well when you wore a skirt or a dress. and you were wearing heeled boots, ones that made you sit so good, made you a little taller, your walk just that much more sensual.

"im ready."

you shrugged on a leather jacket, and simon grabbed a black jacket of his own, fitting it on over his hoodie. the pub was only a walk away. it was somewhere you had been before; they had cheap pints and good greasy food, and the bartender called you doe--he liked your soft eyes.

you let go of simon's arm as he opened the door for you. the pub was warm, and the chatter was quiet and lively. the yellow of the lights and the smell of cigarettes and beer was so familiar and nice. you went for the bar, but simon put a hand around your waist, bringing your attention to the back of the room. your eyes fell on a man, someone with a beanie and an army green jacket hunched over a glass of single malt.

you let him redirect you, and when you finally went to sit at the table, a stern, weathered face with indiscernible blue eyes stared up at you. simon took a seat next to you, his hands folding on top of the desk.

"what...what is--"

"this is captain john price," simon interrupted you. "he's my commanding officer."

you straightened up in your seat suddenly. the captain had his eyes on you, looking you up and down--not in a rude or threatening way, more like he was just so curious. his gaze was gentle, and finally he held out his hand for you to shake. you clasped your hand in his, giving him a firm hold, and the man finally cracked a smile under his unusual mustache.

"nice to meet you," you said softly. "i...i-i'm sorry, i...i don't understand..."

"i need you to sign some papers," john said finally. "if that's alright with you, ma'am."

"ma'am? am i your mother?" you raised a brow, cracking a bit of a smile. "no need for the formalities. i'm under the impression you're the one getting simon home, so let's not beat around the bush, john."

at the use of his name and no other title, john smiled. he gave simon a look, something as if to say, i like this one. you tilted your head to the side.

"you want me to sign papers. let me see them."

john pulled a wad of papers from the inside of his jacket, sliding them over to you. you took them, unfolding them and skimming the words. there was only one set of words you needed to pay attention to before you folded the papers back up.

NEXT OF KIN

your head snapped to the side, looking at simon with an incredulous face. your lips parted, your bottom lip trembling.

"what the fuck is this? huh?"

simon clicked his teeth.

"please--"

you moved to leave, but simon had an iron grip on the back of your chair. you bared your teeth at him, hissing under your breath.

"i'm not signing shit, you asshole," you snapped. "what the fuck is this? if you wanna die out there, that's your fucking business, but don't put that shit on me, simon--"

"i need to know that if somethin' happens to me, that you're gonna be straight, so quit your whinin' and be fuckin' realistic," he said lowly. "if something happens to me right now, you don't get anything. and i can't go...i can't go out again without you signing those papers, do you understand me?"

"why do i have to do this?" you glared at him. you tried to be angry, but your eyes were glossy. you were terrified, and your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears. "why can't you just put my name somewhere and just--"

"we're not married," simon explained. "and if things go wrong...i want you to have everything. and i mean...everything."

you closed your eyes, sniffling as you tried to keep in the tears. you felt his hand touch your shoulder gently, soft circles to try and relax you.

"sign the papers," simon whispered. "just sign'em, and we can go home."

"no, i'll go home, and you can sit out in the fucking doghouse and think about how well it'll go if you ever ambush me like this again."

you flipped the papers back over, snatching the pen from john's outstretched hand and beginning to sign messily the highlighted lines on the papers. you finished, shoving the stack back across the table before kicking the chair out from behind you. it knocked simon's arm off roughly, but you just glared at him before making your way to the bar to sit. simon watched as the bartender poured you a generous drink.

"she's fuckin' pissed at you, and she sits at the bar instead of going home?"

"she's not allowed to go home without a ride," simon murmured. "a rule she knows well."

"sounds a bit--" john's voice cut short when he met simon's hard stare. john cleared his throat, tucking the papers back into his jacket. "'m gonna make sure these get filed."

"tonight," simon demanded.

"tonight," john echoed. "be all squared away."

simon folded his hands in front of him, swallowing hard as he looked at you at the bar. there were a few tears running down your face. simon hated seeing you cry; he hated even more that he was the cause of that pain, but in his eyes, this was a necessary evil.

"she's beautiful, simon."

"watch it, mate." there was no malice behind simon's response--it was more of an acknowledgement that yes indeed, she's beautiful. "this goes nowhere, cap'n. not johnny, not gaz, not laswell--"

"i know," john nodded. "i'll get it done."

john stood up to leave, and simon held onto his hand as they shook hands. he pulled him closer, staring right into his eyes.

"she gets...everything. every single bloody penny."

john nodded, letting go of him and finding his way out. simon turned his head back to the bar, watching you carefully. a man came up to you, presumably wanting to buy you a drink, but you spit something out at him which the man didn't like. simon leaned back in his chair, smirking under the mask when the man waddled outside with his hand holding his crotch and a hard, red face.

when simon closed the door behind you after stepping inside the apartment, you were quick to come closer to him. his hand twisted the locks, and then your arms were around his neck, hugging him close as you breathed in the scent of him. all of the sudden, you didn't hate the smell of cigarettes. burning cigarettes meant simon was breathing in, sucking in breath, alive.

"i'm sorry, luv," he murmured into your hair. "'m sorry i cornered you like that, but i needed to--"

"i just don't like thinking about it, simon--what the fuck would i do without you?"

"you've been without me before."

"not by choice, never by choice," you snapped. "you leave. and i just miss you." you push off the hood over his head, smoothing a hand down the back of his balaclava. "i know what you do is important. i know you're good at what you do. but while you're off saving the world..."

"don't do this to me," simon hissed. "don't play that fuckin' card."

"i can play that card all i like after tonight," you growled. "you wanna throw all that responsibility on me? the burden of carrying your cross if a bullet goes through your head? tough shit, simon! while you're off saving the world, i'm the one that gets left behind! i'm the one sitting at home, biting my nails until they bleed because i don't know if you're dead or alive!"

the room was quiet. so quiet, the creak of the floorboards sounding under you as simon gripped your hips tight. you beat a fist against his chest, letting more tears fall.

"it's not fair, simon," you whimpered. "all we've been through...everything that's happened..." you hiccuped gently. "it's not fair, you're so...you're so mean..."

"mean?" he looked hurt. a flash of it crossed his eyes, something sad.

"yes, you're mean," you whispered. "what you do to me is so mean..." you leaned in. "you touch me...you kiss me...you give me everything but then you expect me to just..." you sucked in a shaky breath. "...i don't know what i am to you, simon. i don't know what you want from me."

simon grunted at that. he was terrible with words. he didn't know how to express what he felt for you, how to tell you that you were it. that maybe instead of making you sign those papers, he should've gotten onto his knees and begged you to marry him. tied a thread around your ring finger and made price bear witness. but you were...this was already too far. living with you was too far, touching you was too far, tasting you was too far--he had enough self-control to leave before he went too far, but it killed him when he walked away from you.

so he got down on his knees. he turned you around, pushed on the small of your back until you were kneeling against the couch, ass up on your forearms as he found the button on your jeans and tugged them low. you didn't stop him, but you were still crying softly. simon wasted no time, getting behind you on his knees and tugging your panties down. he spread your ass with both hands after tugging his mask up, wasting no time as he leaned forward and buried his tongue between your folds.

"dunno what to call you," simon murmured. "no idea. all i know is that you're mine, luv--" you shoved your face into the cushions, whining as he slurped noisily, tracing letters into your cunt with his tongue and pressing kisses to the wet skin there. you were always so good for him--he never needed to get you ready, never needed to get you wet, you always seemed to know or maybe you were just that fucking needy for him that you were always this pretty between the legs when he was around. you were such a good girl--waiting, watching, smiling, she's so pretty, she's so beautiful, she's so good to me.

simon wasn't going to let a title take away the things you deserved if something happened to him. the comfort you needed, the security you were never promised, the love that simon always had but never voiced. you deserved it, and so help him, he would give it to you--he would take care of you even if he was six feet under, and there wasn't a move he didn't make that wasn't planned without you in mind.

how do i get back to her?

how i do i leave her without leaving?

how do i make sure she isn't lost even if she doesn't know where to go?

simon was the first man you ever loved. and he would be the last.

you were drooling. your eyes fluttering open and closed, your cheek squished against the cushions as simon ate your cunt from behind. it was filthy, deranged, sucking on your clit in the same place that you ate dinners and watched movies--now it was one of the places that simon ruined you again for any other man or woman or anyone who had their eye on you.

perfect, sweet little cunt--tight, tasted so good, something that could satiate the hunger on a man like him for days over. and simon was hungry. he had trauma; trauma that crawled into his dreams and turned them into nightmares, something that kept him from looking at women the way a man like him might, but he never felt that way with you. fuck, he was hard the minute he saw a sliver of your soft skin, had no problem gripping your plush ass in both hands and eating you furiously, not even a flicker of something angry in his head.

his brain turned off whenever he was with you. sex felt inevitable--hearing your cries wasn't something he wanted, it was something he needed. an angry need, one that had his tongue slipping up your folds and teasing your puckered hole before moving back down and curling inside your pretty cunt.

"c'mon, luv...c'mon, give it to me...give it to me, 'm not gonna ask again--"

you sobbed into the cushion as you came, rocking back against his mouth. you giggled with pleasure as you slid onto your stomach, simon's hands dragging your panties back up as he pressed soft kisses to the meat of your ass.

"'f someone comes around askin', sweetheart, you know what to tell'm."

you belong to a ghost. and that isn't a lie.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

929 notes · View notes

lalacliffthorne · 7 months

Text

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

(if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault)

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto the very comfortable couch, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there´s still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished a tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously huge shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a few days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and roping you into helping him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

(from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time)

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced that the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet, cheek kisses as greetings and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice.

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you´re upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from your uterus and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time than just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper hissing facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady to you

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the guy has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swims

have game nights

and evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he laughs

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaned against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you.

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

1K notes · View notes

acescavern · 12 days

Text

Lay Your Hands On Me x Mingi x Reader x Yunho

When you’re left alone over easter break, your two hot neighbors convince you to join them for their lake house getaway. Only, you didn’t realize the topic of conversation would be surrounding your dry sex life on the very first night. After a tense encounter at 3am, you decide to try and see how long it will be until they break.

Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader x Mingi.

Genre: Smut. basically pwp ish. i'm not entirely sure if there even is a plot to this anymore. not proof read

wc: 6.5k woops?

Warnings: NO member shipping, threesome, poorly written smut, best friends yungi, yungi are your neighbors, reader gets left out by her friends, mingi and yunho are horndogs, big dick!Yunho, Rough mingi, i feel like Mingi was kinda soft Dom, there's a thigh spank or two, unprotected (wrap it up!), cream pie, talks about readers sex life, overstimulation, multiple orgasms ( f receiving ), pussy eating, slight stomach bulge, the reader is a tease. Mingi calls reader Dollface, and Yunho calls her Angel.

note: Hey! I haven't written a full-fledged fic in a while. I feel like I've repeated so many words in this. I hope you still enjoy it, though! these two men have been WRECKING me. Did anyone catch the coachella live stream? I literally died

ps. I wrote this whilst listening to if u think I'm pretty by artemas

Any feedback is greatly appreciated! What was your favorite part?

I do not permit for my work to be copied, published on other websites and blogs or translated.

Your shoulders slumped once your roommate’s car finally left your peripheral vision. All of your friends had found something to do, somewhere to go and have fun, over the Easter break. It left you sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the sounds of the heating and water pipes creaking or even your upstairs neighbour's loud exhilarating activities.

You were excited at first, the prospect of having the place to yourself.. but the fear of missing out finally set deep into your bones when your friends had decided to meet up with each other during their trips whilst you sat at home alone with nothing but the walls to talk to.

With a dejected sigh, you pulled your thin cardigan further around you and turned to head back inside. You knew you probably looked miserable to any passerby, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

You startled when a pair of firm hands settled on your shoulders, halting your mopey shuffling down the hallway. “____?”

Your eyes rose from the floor, settling on the worried features of your neighbor. The corners of your lips twitched into a sorry excuse of a smile, hand lifting to wave at him. You didn't trust your voice. You always made a fool out of yourself around Yunho and his roommate.

“What are you still doing here? I just saw your friends leave from the window, shouldn't you be with them?” His brows were creased, his expression drawn in confusion.

Yunho’s fingers were absentmindedly pressing your shoulders as he bent his head to read your face. You knew the sting of your eyes meant tears, but you blinked them away and shook your head.

“I'm.. “ You swallowed thickly. “I'm by myself this break.” Your chest hurts just admitting it. “I wasn't invited.”

You weren't sure that Yunho's expression could even be sour, being the sweet and polite man he is, but it did. A flash of irritation crossed his brown eyes. Your heart leapt into your mouth when his hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, your own wide eyes staring back at him. “and you're gonna be okay?”

You knew Yunho meant nothing by it, but his touch was warm and safe. You fought the flutter of your eyelids, willing yourself not to lean into his touch. Your head bobbed in a slightly restricted nod, Yunho pulling his hands away.

“I guess. I'll just… clean, I guess.. laundry...” You weren't hiding how low you felt over the whole situation. Your voice held no enthusiasm, no life.

Yunho pursed his lips in thought, giving a quiet nod and letting you be on your way. He watched with a frown, your shoulders slumped and head hung low. Your eyes had lost the spark today that Yunho found one of his favourite things about you.

Instead of making his way down to the car to check if they had everything, Yunho went back into the apartment he shared with Mingi. The younger male looked up at him in confusion from the couch.

“What did you forget? Yunho, I swear if you just walked to the car and back again I–” Mingi was swiftly cut off by Yunho perching on the coffee table in front of him.

“What if ____ joined us at the lake house?”

It’d been half an hour since you were left to your own devices. Half an hour of mindlessly flicking through the TV channels with disinterest. You were almost grateful for the continuous knocking on your door… until you weren't, and it wasn't seeming to go away.

Opening the door only a slither, you came face to face with your other neighbor. Mingi. His dark hair is messy and damp as if he'd just showered. Judging by the enticing scent of spiced apples coming from him, he had. “Yes?” You raised an eyebrow at him, his expression locked in a grin.

“Pack a bag. Bring a swimsuit.” He said simply, causing you to stand solid in front of him for at least a good thirty seconds as he looked at you expectantly.

“Mingi wha–” Mingi cut you off, his hand cupping your shoulders to turn your body back into your apartment.

“Yunho wants to get there before midnight. Hurry up.”

That was exactly how you found yourself sitting in front of a warm fire a little before midnight with a marshmallow on a stick, your neighbors both sipping beers as they too toasted their treats.

“I did not look that miserable!”

“You did! You looked like someone kicked your puppy!” Yunho laughed, recalling your wounded look in the hallway just a mere three hours ago.

Mingi reached over, his ringed hand patting your knee. “You're cute when you sulk, ____.” His hand retracted all too soon, fingers curling back around the beer bottle to lift it to his lips again.

You'd long finished your beer. You all were only having one tonight anyway. You'd discovered after you had gotten here that the duo planned on staying a week at least.

After your complaints and confusion were worn off, you were grateful. Anything was better than listening to your thoughts for two weeks whilst you had the apartment to yourself. You were also glad that none of the perishable food you had stocked would go to waste. It would save the three of you having to live off gas station sandwiches before you could get groceries for the week.

You had never realized how relaxed the two best friends were away from the university. Around the campus, Mingi's expression was always pulled into a stressful pout. The crease between his brows was always begging for your thumb to just gently smooth it out. Yunho's shoulders were permanently tense. In fact, his whole body was. There were many times you felt like you'd run into a literal brick wall, but it had just been Yunho in the halls.

To see them both lounged back in the plastic outdoor chairs, beers in hand, and smiles on their faces was nice to see. Your soft spot for the two handsome best friends only grew tenfold.

“So,” Mingi set his beer bottle down, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Why were you alone?” he peered at you in curiosity.

“Didn't we go through this?” Your head tilted to the side, eyes moving to the side to send a puzzled look into Yunho's way.

Mingi shakes his head, pausing a moment. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he thought about how to voice his curiosity.

Mingi cleared his throat. “No, I mean…You had the whole apartment to yourself..” He trailed off.

He sighed, seeing your brows crinkled further in confusion. “Okay?...”

“He's asking why you didn't have anyone over.” Yunho cut in, his tone slightly exasperated with Mingi's cryptic questions.

“Oh.” The statement had your shoulders straightening in surprise, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. “Uhm.. I don't have anyone.” Your gaze tore away from his own, glueing to the marshmallow you’d plucked from the bag next to you.

You busied yourself with stabbing it with the stick as a prolonged silence carried across the warm fire. It wasn’t that you detested the idea of having company. It was more a case of…well. Most men gave you the biggest ick. Nearly all men you’d ever come across had given you the ick, and it only took you until now to realize that Yunho and Mingi had never given you that feeling.

You would be blind to miss how handsome they both are and the fact that both of them were genuinely nice guys. That just made the icing on the cake. The cake that you wanted, you’d wanted for a long while. You hadn’t made it obvious. You’d never made a move on either of them. Why would you? You knew who good guys like them go for. They go for bad girls they think they can fix. They didn’t go for girls like you. Little did you know, you couldn’t be more wrong.

When you did look up, both Yunho and Mingi’s concentration was fixed on you. Mingi’s left eyebrow raised as if to challenge your answer. “What?” Your tone grew slightly defensive.

“____, The walls between our apartments are very thin.” Yunho trailed off, looking sideways at his best friend when your clueless expression grew.

“So…?”

“So, we hear things. Everything. Specifically, I hear things... Through my bedroom wall on the other side of yours.” Mingi continued on, relief flooding him when your face broke out into a laugh, a cute red hueing your complexion.

“That isn’t my room, Mingi.” You covered your mouth to try and keep your humorous spurt of laughter at bay. “My room is on the other side of Yunho’s.” You took a bite of marshmallow.

“Wait…” Yunho murmured, his expression thoughtful. “So, you’re the culprit of the fake moaning after your roommate's birthday party last month?” His revelation had you choking on the sweet treat, Mingi had the courtesy to thump on your back to dislodge it.

“Oh my- Yunho!” You spluttered, hiding your face behind your palms. “The one time I tried to get with someone and you were listening?!” a heavy groan of shame left your lips, your body sulking back into the camping chair you were sitting in. “That’s so unfair!”

As much of a gentleman Yunho was, he found the whole situation hilarious. “A really rare occurrence.” He grinned, reaching into the cooler for another beer. “Seriously though, I felt bad for you.” You knew what Yunho meant.

Yunho was referring to how fake your noises were, how the guy didn't even pick up on it. Not that Mulgyeol from the campus soccer team would have time to notice. The guy was out in 5 strokes. You also knew for a fact that Yunho was probably referring to the sad little fact of you having to finish yourself after he left. You weren’t proud of that but you have needs and whilst the vast population of men give you the undeniable cringe factor, every six months or so you would attempt to divulge your urges - just to see if it would be different that time. News flash, it wasn’t.

“H-How did we get onto the subject of my dry sex life?” You nervously chuckle, looking back and forth between the two men with vibrant cheeks.

A chuckle rumbled in Yunho’s throat, dying off to a comfortable silence. The conversation topic would have felt very intrusive had it been with anyone else, but somehow, the two still hadn't weirded you out. You were still sitting comfortably content in your camping chair around the fire with them.

Mingi fidgeted in his seat, fingers threading through his platinum blonde hair… he hadn't said much else for the next 15 minutes. the three of you sitting in comfortable silence.

“I’m off to bed, guys.” You mumbled tiredly as you stood. You began to fold up your chair to take inside, but Yunho waved you off, claiming he would take it when they went to bed.

You weren't far from them, certainly not out of earshot when Mingi spoke again.

“We'd never do that.” it didn't take a genius to know what he meant, and the mere thought of his words made your skin alight. “Goodnight, ____.”

Mingi's parting words at the campfire the previous night had lit a fire within you. Your skin prickled with the curiosity of what else he could have meant. Your dreams hadn’t been favourable to you either, your body jolting you awake with the lingerings of a breathy plea hushing into the silence. Your skin was littered with goosebumps, and your mouth felt dry.

One thing about being in this lakehouse is the chill of a night, but you didn’t plan on being out of bed long. Especially in your pyjamas that were only white shorts and a blush pink camisole with white lace trim to match. A shiver shuddered through you as your feet hit the cold wooden floorboards. You didn’t bother with a cover-up. It was 3 AM. Who would be up at this hour anyway?

Mingi was. Nearly choking on air as he rounded the open doorway to the kitchen to find you reaching up on your tiptoes for a glass from the top shelf. You had one knee resting on the grey marble of the counter for leverage but it only had Mingi’s eyes zeroing in on the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen, your cheeks almost shyly peeking out the hem.

He sucked in a breath, brain finally kicking into gear when he saw your balance wobble and your fingertips only pushed the glass further away on the shelf. He heard you grumbling to yourself, cursing whoever decided to put the glasses on the top shelf. Your rambling had an endeared smile whispering the corners of his mouth, his head shaking slightly as he approached.

Mingi knew he was testing the waters here but as he closed in on you, his left hand splaying its fingers on your hip to steady you, his chest to your back, the right arm reached past your own to grab a glass. He felt the jolt of surprise your body made against his own.

Mingi cleared his throat. “You didn’t look like you were winning.” His voice was thick and gravelly from sleep, fingers tightening their hold on you as you moved back instinctively.

The glass made a muted sound as he set it on the counter, Mingi’s brown eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the view of your neck arched back to angle your head toward him, staring at him with surprised doe-like eyes.

You seemed to be rendered speechless, a blush on your cheeks that almost matched your top. The male was having heart palpitations when he finally got the front view of you, the teasing view of your navel between the hem of your camisole and the waistband of those pesky shorts he just wanted to remove drove him crazy.

Needing a distraction from the way your nipples perked beneath the material stretched over your breasts, his touch on you ceased. His fingertips tingled from the buzzing feeling of grazing your bare skin. Clearing his throat, he swiftly picked up the glass to fill it.

You felt like your soul was trembling, calling out for him to touch you once more. You felt wound tight, words catching in your throat. “U-Uhm, no.” Your attempt to recover had your voice sounding slightly strained. “Who’s bright idea was it to put cups on the top shelf?” You laughed it off quietly.

“That’d be me.” He hummed, “Yunho’s grandmother left us this place in her will, we renovated it a little.” Mingi leaned back against the counter, his black sleep shirt pulling taught across his torso. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, our families are close.”

You nodded quietly, acknowledging him. Mingi lifted the glass of water to his lips, your eyes locking on how his throat moved when he swallowed the cool liquid. Your gaze trailed up to his face, heated gazes locking as he pulled the glass away. Your breathing elevated, Mingi was looking at you as if he wanted to eat you… The corners of his mouth tilted up as he held out the half-full glass of water to you.

You couldn’t look away. The intensity behind his eyes locked you in place, your fingers brushing his own as they curled around the cool glass. Mingi couldn’t look away, couldn’t stave off the stirring in his shorts as he watched you turn the glass and drink.. His mouth prints are being covered by your own.

Mingi’s brain couldn't help it. To him, you’d just indirectly kissed him. He could see the range of emotions in your eyes. The eye contact finally broke when Mingi caught sight of a droplet of water cascading its way past the rim of the glass and making a path down your jaw and neck… he watched it disappear under the almost sheer camisole.

“Fuck, ____… You don’t make it easy.” He groaned throatily, prompting you to set the now-empty glass on the counter once more.

“What do you mean?” Your head tilted, eyebrows drawing in confusion.

An amused chuckle sounded between you, Mingi shaking his head in slight disbelief. “You seriously don't know how much we want you, do you?” He moved away from the counter, towering above you. Your chin was tilted up toward him by his index and middle finger, Mingi’s hot breath dusting your face. “You’ve got to know how fucking crazy you make us.”

“U-Us?” You echoed in confusion. You sounded breathy and distracted.

“Mhm. He’s right.” You jumped at the sound of the new voice. Yunho.

Mingi’s fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your head to Yunho’s tall figure casually leaning against the doorway. “Look at Yunho when he’s talking to you, Dollface, hm?” Mingi’s lips sounded against your ear, teeth grazing against the shell.

Yunho made it no secret that he was checking you out. Not when his bottom lip pulled into his teeth when his dark eyes roamed your figure. “We could give you everything you need and more, Angel.” His tone is soft, and you nearly find it harder to focus when Mingi’s face is pressed to your own, his hands sliding around your waist after finding no resistance.

“If you let us.” Mingi finished for him, ghosting his lips against the corner of your jaw. “But you ought to think about it…decide what you want.” His words left you confused, your eyebrows furrowing when they cut through the haze.

“Why?” You looked to Yunho, the male grinning at the desperation in your eyes.

He tutted, shuffling closer. Yunho’s long fingers slid into your hair, palm cupping your cheek. He almost cooed fondly at how you arched into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut. “Because this wouldn’t be just a one-time thing,” he murmured. “If we have you, we aren’t letting you go. You’re ours.”

Your breathing stilled, mind dizzying. A sound escaped your throat, both Mingi and Yunho’s touch seizing from your body. “Think about it, We won’t make a move until you do.”

And with that, both men left the kitchen with sick grins, leaving you standing there breathless and wanting.

You hadn’t slept for the rest of the night. How could you? With a proposition like that, your mind only raced. You’d come to the same conclusion. Nothing they said last night had scared you away. You still very much wanted them both, and actually, you liked the idea of being ruined for anyone else. Being theirs… well.. You guessed your thoughts of good guys only wanting bad girls were wrong.

You were already showered and dressed for the day by the time Yunho emerged from his room. Mingi was still sleeping, his door firmly shut opposite the room you were staying in.

You sat at the round four-seater table at the far end of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand as you scrolled on your phone. Yunho liked the blue colour of the blouse you wore, your cotton shorts complimenting it nicely.

He fixed his cup, sitting silently across from you. Yunho wondered if he and Mingi crossed a line with you yesterday. He’d worried about it all night after the kitchen encounter. All worries were soon washed away when he caught your eyes shyly glancing up at him.

“Was last night okay?” He blurted, almost wincing at how rushed he sounded.

You seemed to pause, taking a long sip of your coffee before you answered him. Almost as if you were making him wait. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” You voiced, prompting his shoulders to relax.

The both of you sat in a comfortable silence until you’d finished your drink. “It’s so sunny out, I’m gonna catch some sun.” You washed your coffee mug up, then turned to Yunho just before you left the room. “Wanna join?”

Yunho nodded, claiming he would meet you out on the deck. What he didn't expect was to find you in a pastel peach string bikini, the front of your body shiny and glistening with tanning oil. He can see where you had missed spreading the liquid on your back.

He inwardly groaned. Surely, you were doing this to him on purpose at this point. Yunho readjusted the sunglasses on his face, setting his phone and book down on the small table between the two sun loungers. He leaned back in his lounger, picking up his book to flick through.

From the corner of his eye, he watched you lie your lounger flat, adjusting the head cushion to lie on your front. The sun bounced off your skin beautifully, and Yunho was about to compliment as such but stopped short when your hands reached behind you to untie your bikini top.

“You don’t mind, do you? I hate tan lines.” He couldn’t see the mischief behind your eyes with your sunglasses in place, but he for sure caught the twitch of your mouth. “Did I miss any of my back?” Your question was loaded with faux innocence.

Yunho slowly folded his book back, slipping in his bookmark in the process. He set it down, wordlessly grabbing the tanning oil and standing from his lounger. Yunho perched himself on the edge of yours. “You missed a bit. Can I?”

You hummed your consent, propping your head on your forearms. “Mhm, please.”

Your stomach fluttered at the feeling of Yunho’s big hands on your bare back. The tingles returned, just like from Mingi’s touch in the kitchen. His hands slowly rubbed the oil into your skin, fingertips adding pressure at your shoulder blades.

“You’re tense.” He mumbled, thumbs working at the knots of muscle easing the ache away only to make the ache in your core yearn for him further. His hands firmly pushed up from the bottom of your back, thumbs caressing your spine and his fingertips brushing the sides of your breasts.

The sounds he pulled from you had Yunho smirking to himself. An almost pained moan had his fingers pausing. “There.” You sounded so breathy... Yunho wondered if you’d sound like that if he found your sweet spot too…

“God..” You groaned, “You got magic hands or something?” You mumbled against your arm.

Yunho laughed softly, dragging his hands down toward the base of your spine. He thought for a moment, eventually speaking up. “You don't like tan lines, right?” He waited for your hum of affirmation. “Then what about these?” His fingers tugged at the waist of your bikini bottoms.

Your eyes sprang open, neck twisting to look back at him. Whatever he had expected you to say or do was not indeed what you said and did for certain… Yunho watched on in stunned fascination as you swiftly untied the strings on both sides of your bikini bottoms. “You’ve got a point. Mind helping me out again?”

Yunho had never agreed to something so fast, pulling your bikini bottoms back from behind. He swore under his breath, mouth parted as he watched the drizzles of the tanning oil hit your skin from the bottle in his hand. His hands moulded to your body again, smearing the shimmery tanning oil over the globes of your ass. He was entranced, locked on the way they rippled under his touch. Yunho allowed his fingers to testingly dip close between your legs, rewarded with a soft moan of his name. Your breathing was getting shallow, your body responding to his touch like a magnet. His fingers brushed so close, one arch of your hips and-

Yunho withdrew his hands, once again leaving you to sit on his lounger once again. You were a mess, body trembling as you attempted to recover. “There. All done.” The amusement behind his voice was clear to you.

Fuck.

After Mingi had woken up, he’d ventured out to the deck to join you. His chest was exposed, a pair of black swimming trunks sitting low on his hips. He sat in the lounger you previously occupied. “Where is she?” He asked Yunho, arms stretched above his head in a yawn.

Yunho nodded toward the lake where you were, sitting on the small jetty with your legs dangling in the water. As if you’d sensed him, you looked up from the ripples of the lake water and caught Mingi’s gaze. He grinned fondly at the beaming smile on your face as you lifted your arm to wave. “Cute.” He murmured to his friend.

Yunho nodded in agreement. “The sun suits her.” He looked up from his book. “Makes her eyes shine.”

Mingi tilted his head, smile broadening as you slid off the jetty and into the water. “She caught a tan today?” He didn’t look away from you once as you swam over, climbing up the ladder to the dock and brushing your wet hair away from your face.

“Yep...oiled up and everything.” Yunho thought back to how you’d just let his hands trail your body like that. Once again, he shut his book as you approached.

“Mings! Sleep well?” You asked, grabbing one of the towels you’d brought out with you that morning. You took no notice of the trance he was stuck in, too focused on the water droplets dripping down your body just like last night.

Well... a little like last night, he could see more of your body. Peach suited you. Yunho nudged Mingi with his foot, snapping him from his staring. “Huh? Oh! Yeah, slept great.” He sat back in the lounger. “Always do out here.”

After drying as much of your body as you could, you disappeared inside. It wasn’t long before you reappeared, a cherry popsicle in your hand. Mingi’s arm encircled around your waist when he noticed you were about to sit on the floor. Instead, he let you sit between his legs on the lounger.

“Better than the floor,” you joked. You lifted the end of the popsicle to your mouth with your left hand, and your right beginning to mindlessly scroll through your phone.

Your body relaxed against Mingi’s chest as his fingers mindlessly played in your hair. “Is the water warm?” He asked, raising an eyebrow of amusement as you moved the popsicle away from yourself with a grimace. The iced treat had melted, the sticky substance making a mess of your hand and chin. You didn’t even want it anymore. The Cherry taste was more sour than expected.

“A little chilly to begin with,” You answered, slotting the half-eaten treat back into the wrapper, Yunho taking it from your sticky fingers to put it in the bag they were using as a bin for their snack wrappers.

Mingi didn’t say anything more. Instead, he grasped your wrist in his hold and brought your hand to his mouth. With a startled gasp, you tilted your head to watch as he lapped up the remnants of the melted liquid from your skin. Once he was satisfied, he let your arm go to shift his attention to your neck and collarbones. His mouth was warm and soft, wet tongue lapping at the mess on your skin. Your arms raised behind you to curl your fingers into his hair, sighing out in contentment.

Mingi moaned against your skin. He was addicted now he finally had his lips on you. Just like he knew he would be. Mingi’s teeth nipped gently at the juncture of your neck, his tongue swirling over the skin to soothe it. You didn’t have it in you to scold him for marking you up… not when your mind was a dizzy spell of fire.

Your dazed, addled mind didn't even see Yunho move from his lounger. You hadn’t a clue until his strong hands grasped your ankles, fingertips ghosting their touch up your legs to part your thighs. “So pretty.” His honeyed voice reached your ears through the haze. “But, sweet as she looks…” He began, his tone sharpening. “I made a discovery earlier, Mingi.”

The younger hummed against your skin, mouth still worshipping your skin. “Mh? What’s that?” His words muffled with his wet kisses across the tops of your breasts above your bikini.

“Our Angel, here.” Yunho toyed with the strings of your bikini bottoms. “Already knew what she wanted the moment she came on this trip with us, didn’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t think of a coherent thought right now… a sharp swat of Mingi’s hand across the top of your thigh drew out a whimpered gasp. “Yunho asked you a question, Dollface.”

“Yes! Yes, I knew.” You cried out, Mingi’s teeth biting at your skin once more.

“Thought so.” Yunho mused. “That stunt you pulled earlier really didn’t work in your favour, did it?” You hadn’t ever heard his mocking tone before, but you weren't about to complain… It sent shocks through your core.

“No, It didn’t.” You admitted. You were hoping to wind him up, determined to see how far he would go before he snapped… but instead, he’d left you practically naked and wanting on the lounger next to his.

Yunho tutted, shaking his head. He tugged the ties of your bikini free, letting the strings hand down. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He spoke raucously, shuffling down to lie at the foot of the lounger on his stomach.

Yunho's soft lips made contact with the inside of your knee, traipsing kisses up until he met the crease of your leg. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing you. The lake house was in the middle of a wooded area, two miles from the road or any neighbouring cabins.

Mingi held you still as your body began to writhe, the product of Yunho's lips blowing cool air over your throbbing centre. “Stay still, Pretty girl.” Mingi said gruffly, mouthing at your breast over your bikini.

His mouth worked at the bud of your left boob, lips suctioning around the nipple. Your whines fell on deaf ears, Mingi just wanted to kiss every inch of you. He struggled with the knot at the centre of your back that kept you partly clothed. Frustrated grunts, making him lift his mouth off of you to attempt to untie it. He settled with wrapping part of the string around each fist and tugging, effectively snapping the material.

Your head was too fuzzy to care, especially when you felt the flat of Yunho’s tongue lick straight up the middle of your core. “Yunho!” One of your hands flew down, from being draped around Mingi’s neck behind you, to clutch Yunho's hair. His mouth was relentless, muscular hands holding your thighs over his shoulders. You never knew a man could moan like that from eating pussy but here he was, his noises creating vibrations against you.

You didn't quite know where to pay attention to, Mingi’s mouth and fingers abusing your nipples or Yunho's onslaught of licks and sucks on your clit.

You slumped against Mingi again when Yunho prodded two fingers at your entrance, your hips cantering in acceptance. “You're so wet, Angel. Bet I could just easily…” Yunho trailed off as his middle and index finger finally pushed in. They dug deep within your walls, a long moan echoing around the deck. “Knew it.” He curled his digits, the pads of his fingertips tapping against the spongey wall he was looking for.

It elicited a sharp cry from you, Yunho mumbling a small ‘found it.’ before his mouth latched onto your clit again, tongue flicking in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers hitting your sweet spot.

By now, your sounds of ecstasy were no secret, pleas of their names desperately calling out as you writhed in their grasp. “Please!” You begged, Mingi lifting his head to watch your expression.

Mingi made a sound of disappointment as he was met with the sight of your head thrown back and your eyes closed. “Watch him, ____.” it wasn't a request. His tone held no room for debate, and so you peeled your glazed eyes open, tilting your head down to watch as Yunho devoured you.

You felt your orgasm building the faster Yunho's fingers abused your g-spot. Your moans rising in pitch. You didn't even give him a warning when your lower abdomen tensed, toes curling as the sound you let out was almost animalistic. Your thighs shook around Yunho's head, attempting to close, the fingers in his hair tightened to pull at the roots harsher than you meant.

When Yunho's head finally lifted from between your legs, he was grinning ear to ear at you as you slumped breathlessly against his best friend. You could feel Mingi's erection against the base of your spine from where you were laid.

“We're not done with you yet, Dollface.” Mingi cooed mockingly, looking down at your fucked out figure. He pressed a kiss to your forehead when you looked up at him, shaking his head gently and guiding your eyeline back to Yunho.

Your whole body froze. Yunho's swim trunks were chucked haphazardly onto the other chair, his hand slowly jerking his cock. He was huge! Probably the biggest cock you'd ever seen… his girth was impressive alone but you worried if he would even fit.

“____, you good?” He asked encouragingly. Yunho could see the apprehension on your face give way to a determined squint.

“Mhm. Fine, m'good.” Mingi's palms rubbed your sides as you answered.

“Okay, you need to tell Yunho if it's too much.” He stated. “You can make sure to do that, can't you?” He sent you a dazzling smile when you nodded.

You will yourself to relax as the fat head of Yunho's leaky cock makes the first press against you. Just the tip was stinging from the stretch. Mingi hugged your back to his front, kissing up and down the left side of your face and neck. “Relax. Stop tensing.” he demanded softly.

Mingi continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. Praising you, touching you, telling you how much you drove them both crazy. It relaxed your muscles enough to accept Yunho's length, pushing into you further. His teeth harshly bit into his bottom lip, his hips rolling slowly forward to sheath the final few inches in you. The garbled moan you made was accidental, but you were thankful Yunho stayed still to give you time to adjust.

“Holy shit.. are you all the way in?” Such an odd question to ask his best friend, but Mingi was never brash about such things.

Yunho nodded, his voice strained as he answered. “Our Angel’s a good girl. Of course, she took it all.” He grunted at the squeeze of your heat at his words. “I'm so deep.” He marvelled.

Mingi, as if to test his words, pressed his hand on your lower stomach. His eyes bulged out of his head, free hand reaching for your own for you to feel the outline of Yunho's cock. You whined, trying to roll your hips as a signal.

Yunho's thrusts started gentle, light taps of his hips against your thighs. Until you get used to his size, the initial discomfort makes way for blinding pleasure. His movements grow more calculated and hard. Mingi's hand stays on your lower stomach, feeling the way Yunho’s cock nudges your insides.

“Y-Yunho.. Yuuunhooo!” Your throat was hoarse from screaming his name repeatedly. “You're s-so deep!”

His thrusts get firmer, fingers digging into your thighs harder than before. This man was literally rearranging your guts in the best way. Mingi lets his hand glide from your stomach to toy with your clit, circling it with his fingers. It hadn't been long since your last orgasm but you were fast approaching a second. Yunho wasn't much better himself, his pace quickening. He felt his skin prickling as he approached his high.

The moment you fell apart around him, Yunho lost it. His thrusts grew sloppy, hips jittering as he spilt into you. “Fuck, Angel.” he panted. “You're gonna kill me.” Yunho pulled out slowly, taking his time to watch his release leak from you. He felt hot and sweaty but nicely sated.

Mingi manoeuvred your body back to the lounger as he slipped out from under you. The noticeable tent in his trunks caught your eye briefly. “Can you take one more?” He questioned you.

Yunho planted himself back on his own chair, sitting back to watch the two of you. He watched the obedient nod you gave, messy hair falling in front of your face.

Mingi tapped your cheek gently, pushing your hair back before connecting your mouths. The kiss was full of desperation, tongues curling around each other. You protested when he pulled back all too soon. “Turn over.” He helped you roll onto your stomach.

Unlike Yunho, Mingi didn't give a warning that he was going to thrust into you. He still gave you time to adjust, though, that much you were grateful for. His thrusts were brutal from the start.

Mingi wasn't holding back anymore. He wanted you ruined for anyone else but them. You were theirs and theirs only. He had a bruising grip on your hips, guiding them as you bounced back to meet his hips. Your moans and screams for him were constant, you'd surely have a sore throat in the morning.

He was pounding into you much harder than Yunho had. You had the pillow of the lounger in a death grip, back arched. Mingi watched the way your ass cheeks rippled with every bounce against his pelvis. You started to feel overstimulated, this was the quickest in your life you'd had an orgasm build up. Though, it was aided by the previous two and the mass amounts of tension between the three of you. Your lips parted on a silent cry as you came. Your body began to violently tremble.

Mingi pulled out immediately, his hand gripping his cock to empty his come over your ass, pruning deep in his chest. “You did so good.” He praised, breathless.

Your brain felt like it wasn't working. All you could do was dazedly giggle in reply. Thoroughly fucked.

“We broke her.” Mingi laughed, using the same towel you dried yourself with earlier to wipe your ass and lower back. He was sweet enough not to drag the rough material over your sensitive pussy. You were too overstimulated for that and he picked up on it quite quickly.

Both Yunho and Mingi pulled you into the en suite bathroom in Yunho's room a few minutes later. Your legs felt like jelly, and the two were cautious with how they handled you.

After they had showered you, Mingi wrapped you in a big fluffy towel. His arms held you to his body. You still hadn't said much, but your blissed out expression meant that the two men weren't worried.

“C'mon Dollface, you need rest.” Mingi said as he stroked your damp hair behind your ear. “We've got so much more in store for you.”

359 notes · View notes

house-of-lovin · 1 year

Text

love language

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

masterlist | over (1) | safety net (3)

Summary: Tara Carpenter loves to play games with you. (inspired by love language by SZA)

Warnings: sexual themes implied, mature language. toxic!tara, jealous!tara.

Note: this was originally going to be a two-parter, but I wanted to keep writing about this dynamic. So I made it into three parts! Sorry for the long wait, I've been deathly ill the last few days, so it's been hard to do anything but sleep :/ but the last part will be posted tomorrow! (idk how i feel abt this but i tried my best lol)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Tara: ‘Last night was fun ;) but had to run!’

At least she had the decency to leave you a text as she left you to wake up in your bed, alone.

Sighing, you sit up; cracks and pops reverberate through the empty room as you stretch your stiff muscles. You run a tired hand on your face and glance at the spot beside you where Tara was just hours ago.

You should have known she would leave.

You weren’t sure if she even bothered to stay after you had passed from exhaustion after the fourth round. Tara rarely stayed over, her sister’s overprotectiveness made the occasion scarce. Coupled with the fact that the smaller girl thought it crossed boundaries to stay the night. So, the only time she had ever slept was when you fucked her senselessly she physically couldn’t make it home.

“Morning!” A loud voice interrupts the quietness in your dorm. “I bought the three of us some coffee. By the way, I didn’t appreciate coming home to you and Tara naked. You do you, but at least send a text – or hang a sock on the door… where’d Tara go?”

“Left…” You flush embarrassed, grabbing the shirt on your headboard to slip on, and stepping off your bed. Shivers run through your bare feet as you step on the cold floor.

“Oh…”

“Yeah… Oh.” You replied bitterly, moving to gather some clothes to start your day; even if it started off on the wrong foot already.

“...How does that make you feel?” She says after a few moments of silence.

“You’re not gonna therapize me right now, Minds.” You laugh, trying to avoid her probing tone. “It’s too early and I’m nearly naked.”

“You’re really gonna stand there and tell me it doesn’t bother you how she’s acting?” She crosses her arms, fed up with you and her childhood friend’s immature antics.

“Why would it bother me?” You say as evenly as you can. “We’re just hooking up.”

She scoffs, “Yeah right, Chad told me what happened at the coffee shop last night.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course, he did.”

“Point is… she’s playing games with you and you say that you’re fine with it because you're just hooking up but I can tell it bothers you, Y/N."

You stand rigid, unmoving and slightly uncomfortable. Talking about your feelings has never been your strong suit, maybe that’s why you fell so easily into this routine with Tara. It was all physical and lust-driven; no words have to be uttered when you two are tangled in each other’s sheets. But maybe, somewhere along the way lines began to blur the longer you got to know the Carpenter. The more your lives began to intertwine the harder it became to separate feelings during sex.

It grows increasingly difficult to ignore that thought, when she acts affectionately toward you around your friends. During movie nights, she’d scare off anyone else who dared to sit beside you; sharing a blanket and linking your fingers underneath. And in the classes you had together, she always made sure to save a seat for you beside her, leaning into you as close as she can.

“I promise… I’m fine. Tara can do whatever she wants.” You maintain eye contact with your roommate; trying to remain unbothered.

“I can’t deal with you two.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying… you two have danced around each other long enough, maybe it's time you really talk to each other. Before someone gets hurt.”

You stay silent thinking over her words.

“Look... I really didn’t want to like you when I first moved here – getting stabbed makes people paranoid, you know.” She chuckles dryly. “But I guess the odds are finally in my favour 'cause I got a roommate I actually like… so figure your shit out because I’d like to keep hanging out together as a group please.”

You chuckle, breaking out of your trance. You send her a lopsided smile, appreciating her words. “I like being your roommate too, Minds.”

“Gross, this is too much for me now… go take a shower, you reek of sex.” She purposefully avoids your eyes, turning to grab her now lukewarm coffee.

You roll your eyes, laughing at Mindy's antics but grab some clothes anyway to start your day.

●●●

“So I just handed in my last assignment, which means it’s officially spring break for me… and everyone’s gonna be out tonight. Wanna come over?” Tara slides into your booth out of nowhere.

You flinch, slightly startled; dropping the pen you were using with a clang. You were currently in the common room on campus attempting to get some studying in before your final exam. “What?”

She rolls her eyes but smiles fondly at you. “I said, everyone’s out for the night. Come over… I miss you.”

Your cheeks flush as your heart darts wildly in your chest at her words. “We were just together last night…”

“Yeah, but I had to leave so soon cause Sam was coming home early.” She pouted, moving closer to you to swing her leg over yours.

You clear your throat, glancing down. “I still have to study for my exam tomorrow.”

“Come over after you study then…” She places a hand on your inner thigh, swiping her thumb on the fabric of your pants.

“Tara…” You were trying your hardest to gather some sort of self-control but it was becoming increasingly difficult when she started leaving light kisses on your shoulder. “Tara there are other people around.”

You were lucky you had chosen a booth that was tucked in the corner of the room, facing away from possible wandering eyes. Even still, this was definitely not the time nor the place, no matter how much you wanted to give in.

“Don’t care…” Her kisses on your clothed shoulder move upward toward your neck. You grab at her waist, trying to push her back. “Tara, seriously.”

She simply wraps her free arm around your shoulder, moving closer to you. “I’ll only stop if you promise to come over…”

You feel her bite down on the bruise you tried to cover up with your hoodie; you wince. “Ow… okay, okay. I’ll come over, now stop before someone reports us for public indecency.”

She rolls her eyes, but smirks smugly, unwrapping herself from you. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t immediately feel cold from the lack of contact. “You’re no fun… but I’ll see you tonight.”

The Carpenter doesn’t say anything else. Just slides out of the booth, gathers her things and walks away from you.

You drop your head against the headrest of the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh. You feel like the most pathetic person in the world for giving in so easily, especially since Mindy’s words kept ringing in your ears all morning.

Later that night, you found yourself standing in front of the Carpenter’s apartment, contemplating if it wasn’t too late to turn around and run away. This is a bad idea and you knew it. You should have padlocked yourself in your dorm and not left until the weekend was over. But Mindy had convinced you this was the best chance for you to finally talk to Tara.

So here you were rooted dumbly in front of her door. Unable to bring yourself to knock.

The door opening makes the decision for you. “I heard you stomping down the hall, were you not gonna to knock?”

She has a smirk planted across her lips as she leans against the doorframe.

“Uh… I was just about to...”

You see her brow raise in amusement but doesn’t question your awkwardness; electing to pull you into her apartment with a tug on your wrist. “Come on… I have a movie on and popcorn waiting for us.”

You allow her to lead you through the apartment and then to the couch, pushing you to sit down. Upon sitting, you take a moment to scan the living room; taking note of the one light coming from the kitchen, casting darkness to the rest of the room. She has candles lit up on the coffee table across from you, with bowls of an assortment of snacks.

This suddenly felt more… intimate. You felt a pang of guilt for thinking she had only invited you over as a booty call.

“Um… what is this?” You ask dumbly.

“What’s it look like? Movie night.” She chuckles before plopping down beside you and draping a blanket over your legs. You feel her move closer, pressing your thighs together.

The two of you haven’t had a movie night since before you had fallen into this friends-with-benefits situation. They were actually the reason how you and Tara became closer in the early stages of your friendship.

Two months ago, she had invited you over for a movie night under the guise of simply being bored, but when she had opened the door you saw the slight redness in her irises and the tear-stained marks on her cheeks. You said nothing and just allowed her to pull you inside. In your attempts to cheer her up, you may have made a trip to the liquor store around the corner and drank away your sorrows with the Carpenter. That was the first night you and Tara had ever slept together.

“Oh… I just thought–never mind. Movie night sounds nice.” You smile, appreciating her efforts. Maybe that talk can wait another time. You didn’t want to ruin the night when she was clearly trying.

“Good.” She returns your grin, settling in to lean against you as she entangles your legs. “No talking this is my favourite part.”

“The movie just started.”

“Hush.”

●●●

Thirty minutes must have passed when you felt a hand run up and down your thigh. Your eyes snap away from the TV, looking down atop Tara’s head as she leans on your chest. You couldn’t see her face from this angle but you can tell she was enjoying how you tensed in her touch.

You ignore the movements, turning back to face the screen. But Tara doesn’t seem satisfied as she tilts her head up. The feeling of her soft lips brushing against your neck makes you stiffen even more in her hold. And like earlier, she begins to leave a litter of light pecks on your still-bruised neck.

“Tara…”

She hums, scooting up to reach your jaw. Her fingers tickle your sides as she slips her fingers under your shirt to grab your waist, shuffling to sit on your lap. Tara kisses that spot just under your ear that always makes you cave – marking you. She has you now and she knew it.

A part of you wants to bang your head against the wall because of course this movie night would eventually lead to sex. It always leads to sex with Tara. It was like a vicious cycle you couldn’t get off of. But the way she touches you feels so heavenly that you couldn’t even think clearly enough to stop her.

“Take this off…” She mutters, bunching up your shirt in a fist as she pushes it up. You pull back to obey her request, hastily yanking the fabric off your head and connecting your mouths in a harsh kiss. You slip your hand under her shirt, tracing your fingers dangerously close to the waistband of her shorts. She whines under the cold touch.

“No teasing…” She whispers before grabbing at your cheeks to pull you impossibly closer; the feeling of her tongue brushing against yours feels sinful.

You wrap an arm around her waist, ready to flip her on her back and take her on this couch when suddenly a frantic knock startles you both.

“What the fuck?” Tara mutters, pulling away from you but keeping a firm grip on your shoulders. She was panting heavily, lips already beginning to bruise.

“I thought you said everyone was out for the night?” You heave, also trying to catch your breath.

“They were…” She mutters, sliding off your lap to toss you your shirt. You slip it over your head swiftly, following the smaller girl as she walks to the door.

She takes a look through the peephole and the scowl on her face was an indication that she was less than pleased. Then she moves to unlock the numerous amounts of locks on her door, yanking it open.

The twins, Anika and Ethan stood on the other side of the door.

“What are you guys doing here?” Tara says unamused, crossing her arms over her chest. You move to stand behind her, connecting eyes with your roommate.

“Mindy said it’s movie night, so we came over,” Chad answers from behind his twin, holding up a plastic bag with a large smile on his face. “Don’t worry, we brought snacks!”

You send your roommate a glare, grateful Tara had her back to you. Slightly irritated because Mindy had been the one insisting you go see Tara.

Tara sighs, dropping her crossed arms. She glances at you for a brief moment, before opening the door wider to let the others in.

“I’m gonna make some more popcorn…” The Carpenter mutters, leaving the room.

You immediately corner Mindy. “What the hell, man? You told me to talk to her, what are you doing here?”

She raises an unimpressed brow, pointing at your neck. “Did she leave that hickey on your neck when you guys were talking too?”

You slap a hand on the spot she’s pointing at, attempting to hide it. “Shut up… I was going to talk to her later.”

“No, you weren’t.” She whispers, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “You two were going to have sex and ignore the talking part… like you always do.”

You cross your arms, scowling, “So you gathered the entire village to cockblock me instead?”

“Yes.” She responds unapologetically. You stare at your roommate for a few seconds. Eventually, you groan lowly, knowing she’s right. You were about to give in to Tara and until you two have talked about what this is, that probably wasn’t the best idea.

Ultimately, that chance to talk with Tara never came as the friend group all settled back in the living room to watch a plethora of movies for the rest of the evening. And when Sam came home, everyone knew to call it a night.

Maybe you dodged a bullet by not confronting Tara tonight. Not quite sure what you even wanted to say to her, yet.

Hey Tara, remember when we agreed to just be friends with benefits? Yeah well I caught feelings... actually I may be in love with you. And it hurts when you run off with other people. Ha. Sorry.

She would run away from you. Tara was like a deer, you needed to be cautious upon approach. But even then, it was getting increasingly difficult to just remain friends with her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Tara leans against the doorframe; watching as you slip on your jacket to leave.

“I have my exam in the morning, but maybe after.” You stand unmoving for a few moments, wanting nothing more than to leave a kiss on her cheek but her sister was standing right there, watching the two of you with an observant gaze. So instead, you squeeze her shoulder, send her a tight-lipped smile and catch up with the rest of the group down the hall.

You missed Tara’s disappointed frown.

●●●

“What’s wrong with you?” Anika asks over the loud music.

Since it was officially spring break for everyone; students who decided to stay on campus have been throwing parties non-stop. And currently, that's where Tara found herself; huddled on a couch on a Thursday night beside Anika and Mindy, sipping on a red-solo cup as she watches people drunkenly dance around the room.

“What? There’s wrong with me.” She glances at her friend, confused.

“You’ve been staring holes at the front door for the last ten minutes.” Mindy counters, peering over her girlfriend to look at her childhood friend.

“You can just say you’re waiting for Y/N.” Anika teases, bumping her shoulder. "We all know."

Tara rolls her eyes, “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

The Carpenter hears a scoff, “You didn’t even wanna go to this party until you heard she might be coming.”

You’ve been…distant with her lately.

Giving half-excuses as to why you can’t hang out, cancelling last minute on group activities or taking hours to respond through texts.

She hasn’t seen you since your friends crashed movie night and that was already a few days ago. You never did meet up with her the next day, and since then you’ve made yourself scarce; not hanging out with the friend group, always seemingly busy.

She had confronted Chad on your whereabouts, she figured he would know where you have been spending your time, given your… close friendship with the boy. But Chad had merely said you were helping your uncle with his shop uptown during the break, hence why you haven’t been around.

Tara was hoping she can get a chance to be alone with you tonight and ask why you have been so closed off with her when she caught wind that Chad might be dragging you to the party.

“Shut up.” She mutters, sipping on the cheap alcohol. “She’s been acting weird lately, I just want answers.”

The two girls nodded, unconvinced. For the amount of times, you two say you’re just ‘hooking up’ Tara sure played the part of the concerned girlfriend perfectly.

Eventually, Tara’s wandering eyes snap to the door, catching a glimpse of the top of your head as push past the crowd with Chad and Ethan trailing behind you. You seem tense, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else than here.

Before she can even think about it, she’s standing, about to stomp over to you but a hand on her wrist stops her.

“What?” She glances over at Mindy.

“At least, let Y/N grab a drink before you ambush her.” She reasons, glancing over at you from across the room.

Tara turns to find you, Chad and Ethan greeting a group of people, smiling and laughing. The group eventually trickles over to the kitchen, no doubt grabbing some drinks.

“Fine…” She mutters, sitting back down in her spot as you disappear from her sight.

Tara waits for you to come out of the kitchen for the next ten minutes; patience thinning by the second. This was ridiculous, you were literally another room away. Why is she waiting for you to come back?

As the smaller girl's eyes remain unmoving from the kitchen door, she eventually sees you walking out with an unfamiliar girl beside you. You were smiling, clearly entertained by the conversation. Tara feels an uncomfortable pang in her chest at your undivided attention towards the girl.

The Carpenter can’t help her moving legs as she stands, abandoning her cup on a random table; stalking toward you with an unrelenting gaze. Before you can even step into the living room, Tara is dragging you upstairs by the wrist; leaving the girl you were conversing with confused.

“What the hell— Tara!” You stumble behind her, desperately trying not to trip on the steps as she tugs you along with an unabated grip.

She pushes you through a random door, slamming it shut behind her. Tara crosses her arms just glaring at you.

“What’d you do that for?” You huff, feeling slightly irritated.

She raises a brow at your tone, “Wanna tell me why you’ve been distant with me lately?”

You stand straighter, “I’m not… I’ve just been busy.”

Tara chuckles dryly, “Busy enough to ignore my texts?"

You didn't answer and the scoff Tara lets out tells you it was the wrong choice to make.

"You didn't seem busy enough when you were entertaining that girl downstairs.” Tara couldn't stop the words from leaving her mouth, fed up with the silence.

She sees a flash of irritation in your eyes as you cross your arms, defensive. “Are you serious? Why do you even care? You’re not my girlfriend.”

Tara’s brows raise in surprise. For a brief moment, you regretted your words as she looked slightly hurt before her face drops impassively. “I didn’t know it was a crime to be worried about your friends.”

You scoff, “Yeah friends…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She stares at you, not believing that for a minute.

“What is going on with you?” Tara steps forward, but you take a step back. This time, the Carpenter can’t hide the frown on her lips.

“I think we should stop this…us.” You gesture between you two.

“What?” Tara's forehead creases in confusion, unsure if she heard you correctly.

“I can’t do it anymore.” You mutter, eyes trained to your shoes; unable to look her in the eyes.

“Why?” She takes a step forward, reaching for your arm but you yank back.

“Cause I caught feelings!” You shout making Tara flinch; the repressed feelings you've been hopelessly trying to bury come hurling out; unable to keep them at bay. You knew this situation would only end in heartbreak the longer it continued. So you made the decision to break your heart first before she got the chance to. “I can’t do the games anymore… I-I'm tired, Tara. I think we should stop.”

“I–I…” Tara stutters, taken aback by your confession. "Y/N... we agreed we're just hooking up."

You laugh solemnly, roughly rubbing your eyes. Was it possible to feel your own heartbreak? That's really all she had to say? "Yeah... well too late for that."

"Y/N..."

“You don’t have to say anything else. You made your feelings clear. But I caught feelings, okay? I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but it just happened. So I’m sorry, but I just need some space at the moment.”

Without waiting for a response, you brush past the smaller girl, slamming the door behind you.

Tara stands rooted in her spot, unable to move as you leave her to process what you just said.

●●●

Reader:

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x reader #scream #scream movie #scream 6 #scream vi #jenna ortega

1K notes · View notes

lazypanartist · 11 months

Text

Hobie Brown x Artistic/DIY Reader

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Warnings: maybe spoilers for ATSV, IDK. Reader's in the punk scene and from Hobie's universe. Whole lotta projection.

Features personal Hobie HCs I guess. It's just self indulgent. Also! Roommate Gwen?

Please RB, likes alone don't do anything for the algorithm!

-----

"Who's she?"

You barely whisper the question to your boyfriend, peeking past the dividing wall between kitchen and living room. He glanced up from whatever he's cooking - eggs, probably - to look at the girl flopped across your couch.

"Oh. That's Gwen. Spider-Woman from another universe - she needed somewhere to crash, so I offered her our couch."

Our. The word still made you fuzzy inside, even after he dragged his stuff into your life a month prior.

Even with the warm and fuzzies, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was a bit.. off.

"The new recruit you took a shine to."

He hummed a quiet affirmation, his eyes meeting yours after a second.

"There's nothing going on, I promise."

"You don't have to promise." He wouldn't do anything stupid, that much you knew for sure. Still.. "You don't normally trust people so fast. Not enough to bring them here."

He turned back to you, handing you a plate with a pancake and silently gesturing for a clean plate. "She's.. cool. I dunno. Not like the rest of the people in the Spider Society. Reminds me more of you, actually."

You blinked.

"Home life trash, emancipated at fifteen, got a lot of stupid jobs to stay afloat and support an artisan hobby?"

He chuckled, bumping your hand gently with his own as he takes the plates - plural - from your hand. "Not quite. Her old man tried arresting her." You suck in a breath, and he nodded. "Thinks she killed a family friend. That's why she joined up - the dad, not the friend."

He fans the plates slightly. "Two?"

You shrug, head tilting towards the couch. "Well. She probably needs to eat when she wakes up."

He smiles, and you can't help but return the gesture.

"She's already wearing off on you."

"Yeah, well, I've only heard good allegations."

You lean forward to land a peck on his lips before opening the fridge, and you hear a huff when you turn from him.

"I hope she can help with groceries or something."

He laughs full heartedly at your grumble this time. You feel him approaching before he's actually touching you, his chest - finally healed - pressing gently against your back as he helps you search for pancake toppings.

You lean back into him before grabbing a container of fruit, and he helps you pull away and shut the door before he's back at the stove, flipping the next cake over.

"Well. She might be able to help at the next show."

You nod, grabbing a spoon and scooping some of the fruit onto your pancake.

"The one with the sale?"

He nods with a quiet hum. "She might have patch ideas or something."

You look her over from the distance, her vest catching your eye.

"Yeah.. she has good style."

You can almost feel him look past you before he's laughing, eyes catching the same piece you had been looking at.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.. if she's stealing my stuff, she's gotta."

You can't help but laugh with him again, looking at your new guest-slash-apparent roommate.

"You steal my stuff all the time."

You nod gently, smiling. "Yeah.. she'll fit right in."

---

Part 4

#hobie #hobie brown spider punk #spider punk hobie brown #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #spider punk hobart brown #hobart brown #hobart brown x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #x reader #xreader #spider gwen #roommate gwen

763 notes · View notes

deepouterspacecandy · 3 months

Text

Ink and Paper Hearts

I wanted to write something for Valentine's Day, and wound up with over 8k words. Sheesh! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for being here! Be kind to yourself and others. 18+ only. Violence and sexual themes. Angst, fluff, etc.

Raised on a cattle ranch, you spent your early days on horseback tending to the farm and living off the land. When disaster left you orphaned, a ragtag group of survivors embraced you as one of their own. Over time, they had become your family, and together, you’d endure natural disasters, famine, and hordes of infected.

It only took one sweep of malevolent raiders to destroy your home and turn everything you’d ever known to dust. You escaped the attack within an inch of your life.

Isaac was the one who discovered you withering away in an old diner off the freeway, fending off the infected with nothing but your integrity and a baseball bat. His medical team, which accompanied him as they moved between compounds, took care of your recovery, and nursed you back to health.

The leader of the Washington Liberation Front admired any person who possessed the strength to fight and the compassion to care for animals simultaneously, and in exchange for a safe place to lay your head, you promised to do just that.

It was a relinquishment of power; you learned early on. Anything involving Isaac came at a cost. Your bond with him was duty-bound, but he offered you another chance at having a family and a purpose. After being all alone in that desolate place, you’d been more than willing to fall in line.

Still, you were a different person when you first arrived in Seattle.

Some would say naïve. You saw yourself as a practical optimist. Now, you’re not so sure.

It’s truly astonishing how a year of unrelenting conflicts with the Scars can diminish the brightness of your silver lining.

The ability to find distraction in your work is a double-edged sword.

A jack of all trades, you spend most of your time working with the four-legged soldiers of the WLF. You have extremely limited patience for the human variety, on both sides of the fence. You tolerate a handful of your comrades, but between assignments, you’re happiest with your nose in a book, savouring the quiet and escaping into distant realms.

The drive for escapism hasn’t been a difficult undertaking lately.

A group of thirty soldiers left the grounds on assignment last month, and only two returned.

It left the stadium halls quieter, heads hanging lower than what you’d ever witnessed. Interactions that would otherwise leave you with a sunny lilt, instead left you carrying a heaviness that you couldn’t quite shake.

Few civilians choose to dive into surface level banter like they used to and the collective fear and sadness shrouding the compound has kept it that way for some time.

It serves as a reminder that even with extensive training and the most advanced military equipment, tragedy can strike without discrimination.

Unchecked and alone, the infected will forever wander through the shadows, driven by an unending quest to find their next victim. Maybe the same idea is true for all adversaries.

Your primary objective is to ensure the community remains united and intact. If you manage to stay sane, that’s a plus.

“How are you today, my little sunflower?” Manny asks, mischievously tugging your jacket.

“You better be talking to the dogs.”

“And if I’m not?” he asks, kneeling to offer unlimited ear scratches to the newest litter.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to refer you to every other time you’ve ever asked,” you say, giving the bottom of his boot a kick. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes, he does!”

A woman’s voice booms from the other side of the unit, and Manny forces a smile.

“The bane of my existence.”

You chuckle at his misery, knowing little about his relationship with Abby outside of the kinship they portray in combat and their supposed insufferable roommate arrangement. Something you’re only privy to after running into her after hours at the library as she was trying to catch some shuteye on the couch there.

“Will you quit harassing pretty girls and grab a damn dog already?”

As she approaches, tails of all shapes and sizes wag with incredible speed, exuding pure happiness. You wonder how much time she has spent in the kennels when you’re not around. Isaac has her spearheading every mission from here to Chicago, so you rarely see her. But the dogs never forget a kind face.

You exchange a few pleasantries with Abby before she drags her unenthusiastic partner to work. Manny’s womanizing ways at the stadium serve as a constant reminder of your boundaries in relationships.

You’re safer by yourself.

Abby does seem like a sweetheart, though.

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

“We ship out tomorrow morning,” Abby says, handing you an empty canteen and a backpack, a clipboard braced to her side by her white knuckled grasp.

Her abrupt tone makes you jump when it normally wouldn’t. She’s struggling to keep her voice steady, but you suspect she has more important things to worry her mind about.

“Right,” you nod. “Any idea how long?”

As she’s rushing to complete the next task, your query hits her at the worst possible second, adding to her already teetering stress load. You recognize it a moment too late and your teeth ache at the back of your jaw when she spins on her heel, pinning you with a glare.

“Do you expect a serious answer, or are you just trying to piss me off?”

“No, I—”

“Promises around here are as worthless as the ETA themselves, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Promises? What did that have to do with anything?

“I’m sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“Anything else I can assist you with, soldier? Or can we finish wasting my time?” Abby bellows.

You knew it would be a mistake to leave the K9 unit, but circumstances with the Seraphites have forced your hand. They not only invaded WLF territory, causing destruction and casualties among your people, but they’ve also been blocking your teams from conducting supply runs, leading to a rather grim situation in the reserves.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” you say, feeling the tension rise as you widen your stance against her more imposing one. “We’re all stuck in this mess.”

“Oh, really?” she seethes. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to hand you a shovel next time our people turn up in body bags. Give you a break from scooping dog crap to help us grownups with the actual shit.”

Abby is your superior and you know better than to test the hierarchy. The moment you denied Isaac’s advances, you tumbled from the top spot. But you’re no chump.

“What’s your problem?”

In a split second, Abby’s body looms over you as she detonates, “You’re my problem,” her breath hot against your face.

She flinches when you lose your balance and stumble backward, narrowly catching yourself. If her instinct was to rescue you, she restrained herself just in time, her hand frozen in mid-air. A twitch nags at the corners of her tired eyes.

“You’re no different from the rest,” you say, walking backward, chest heaving. “It’s all the fucking same.”

You’re down the hall and veiled by the four walls of your room before the opportunity to fumble your conversation further buries you in shame.

It’s going to be a long night.

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

Manny runs through his roll call sheet twice, inspecting each soldier with every measure but a squat and cough. If he thought he’d catch you on a minor clothing infraction, hell, a mismatched pair of socks, he’s sadly mistaken. You wouldn’t give Abby the satisfaction and besides, you hadn’t slept a wink preparing for this assignment.

“Where’s Anderson?” Manny asks under his breath. The team surrounding him dip their heads and you try to avert your attention. Brush it off like you had been too busy inspecting your gear to overhear him.

“We’re not going blind, are we, Alvarez?” Abby says, shouldering through the group to drop her bag on the tailgate of the Humvee.

When her arm brushes yours, you recoil, your fist hitting your stomach with a muffled thud. Her head snaps in your direction, but her gaze is less volatile than before. You make a point not to place too much trust in that emotional assessment, finding solace in the familiar sensation of your twisting hands.

“Alright,” she shouts above the murmurs of your unit, the quiet chatter falling into silence. “You will work in pairs, at all times, even when we are in proximity to each other. This is unnegotiable, so don’t ask me if you have to bring a friend to the pisser. The answer is yes.”

The group’s attention is undeterred, even as a faint chuckle escapes them, their eroded black boots facing her commanding presence.

“If you hear something, say something,” she continues, her chin bowing slightly. “It may save a life.”

You swallow thickly and lean against the armed vehicle, its cold steel biting into your back. It’s possible that your sleepless night will affect your performance, but you decide not to emphasize it and hoist yourself upright before anyone notices.

“Our destination is approximately sixty miles from here, and we will cross into Scar territory temporarily, so we’ll need to be cautious. Eyes on rooftops, balconies, you know the drill.”

The group divides between the Humvee and a military truck, and it’s only after twenty minutes of driving that you realize Abby has chosen you as her combat partner for the time being. You feel the weight of her thigh against yours, as she adjusts her legs to accommodate her backpack, and you’re left pondering her decision.

There is a clear sense of trust between her and Manny, making him not only her closest friend, but a lifeline in warfare. Does she think you’re weak and in need of a stronger match? You gnaw on your bottom lip at the notion, focusing on the greenery flitting past your window.

“Come on, Anderson, your balls aren’t that big,” Manny teases, gesturing to her outstretched posture, particularly the way her legs take up enough room for two. You shift toward the door to free up some real estate between you and concentrate back on the road.

As their banter fades into background noise, your attention shifts to observing the deserted surroundings, vigilant for any indication of danger. Apart from a pair of rabbits hopping around, the streets are completely motionless.

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

The cavalry parks outside a derelict warehouse, its craggy roof adorned by a lush carpet of moss. Rust-bitten chain link fencing surrounds an expansive lot at the rear, cube vans with faded labels scattered throughout. It’s a tempting location to scavenge, but the prospect makes your stomach lurch.

The presence of tall grass and the lack of windows on each vehicle creates ample opportunity for trouble. A lurking enemy, dead or alive, is something you’d like to avoid. It’s possible that someone has already searched the vans, despite their undisturbed appearance.

“Let’s break this down into teams and tackle it all at once,” Abby announces, nodding at the parking lot and the adjoining building. “Six outside, inspecting the trucks, and six inside. We’ll scour the property first, and then we can set up for the night.”

“Wait,” you say.

She blows out a frustrated breath.

“This better be good.”

The temptation to tell her to fuck all the way off is intense.

“Maybe we should put a couple scouts up high, search the grounds together,” you say, pointing to the safest vantage points. “Eyes in the sky.”

“Any other suggestions?” she asks.

“I mean, no—but,” you begin.

Abby interrupts, holding her hand up. “Like I said. Six and six. We don’t need to be out here longer than necessary.”

“Fine.”

She guides you toward the building, her palm on your lower back, and you jerk away from her grasp. She may have the authority to call the shots, but you decide where you place your neck on the chopping block.

“I’m with them,” you say, trudging toward the trucks.

“Hey!” Abby says.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. What?”

She gives you a once over, gritting her teeth.

You throw your hands up and let them slap against your sides, waiting for her to hurl her discontent at your head, clearly eager to tear a strip off you in front of your squad. With a distant gaze, she fixates on the hollow space behind you before heading towards the warehouse.

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

It took several hours to secure the perimeter and set up camp inside.

Your heavy eyelids rejoice at the promise of rest. The team in charge of the mail trucks uncovered a mother lode of undelivered packages, chock full of useful supplies. It was almost as impressive as the haul the WLF brought back from the airport a few months back.

Within the building, soldiers set up their bedrolls among a labyrinth of cluttered offices. It’s quite comical to overhear the entertainment value of some dusty, redundant telephones and keyboards. You catch snippets of the amusing conversations while rearranging your own space, the sound of playful jabbering rising from the ashes, finally allowing you to release a deeply trapped breath.

Abby eases up on her protocols to make the rounds and ensure everyone is okay. You make use of the time alone to freshen up and explore, gathering candles from various boxes to arrange in your shared office, the wax and wicks a rare, comforting find.

Abby spots them as soon as she returns.

“Nighttime always feels darker away from home,” you explain, worried she might find them frivolous.

She doesn’t.

“Candles are good,” she says, picking one up to roll in her hands. She scrapes her thumbnail along the wax base and shifts on her feet. “I like them.”

“Alright,” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

You try to ignore the intensity of her gaze as it grazes over you, but beads of sweat build along your lower back. It might be time to crack a window. Occupying yourself with that activity, you grow increasingly frustrated as the most accessible ones refuse to budge.

“Let me try,” she offers.

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” she huffs, and you glimpse her crossing her arms over her broad chest.

You reckon Abby isn’t used to being turned down, and it sours your stomach a little to be the outlier.

By climbing the desk closest to the wall, you gain some leverage and drive your palms into the ridge of the window. You feel the sharp edge digging painfully into your flesh, your back muscles tightening to an impossible degree.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grunt, putting all your might into another attempt, the image of a bottle smashing through the pane something you’d seriously consider acting upon if you were alone.

“Stop being stubborn and let me help.”

“I don’t need your help,” you groan, the tickle of sweat now threatening to break into a full stream down your spine.

“Sure seems like you do,” she says, the arrogance in her tone combined with the weight of her gaze on your back, sending your lid rocking chaotically over a burgeoning boil.

You suck in a rigid breath and ignore her remark.

“Look, if you just—”

“Abby!” you say, jolted by your own shout.

Manny must overhear the commotion, slinking against the door frame to clear his throat. As they murmur behind you, you bow your head and brace your hand against the glass, waiting to be reprimanded.

When you twist your body to offer an apology, the room is empty.

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

Even as the sun disappears below the horizon, the air in your office, as well as the rest of the building, becomes oppressively warm. You dig through your bag for a less cumbersome shirt but resort to stripping down to your sports bra and a pair of boxers. Abby hasn’t come knocking for a while, long enough for a clicker to obliterate you ten times over, but you temper your outrage.

Downstairs, there’s a treasure trove of unopened loot piled on racks, beckoning your interest. Abby abandoned her rule of two and frankly, you couldn’t care less.

Truthfully, she never wanders too far from her pack.

It’s possible she’s unaware of your whereabouts while you gather boxes from the metal racks downstairs in your underwear.

But it’s also possible she has eyes on you wherever you go.

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

“What’s all this?” Abby asks, lingering in the doorway.

Lost mail spills from the bins surrounding you. You’re captivated by the untold stories inside them. A peek into a world you’d never known.

“Letters, mostly,” you say.

Just inside the entryway, Abby slouches against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the fibers of the carpet using her socked feet.

“What kind?”

You’ve torn through dozens of envelopes, the contents of each one wildly different. It’s almost disturbing to imagine how many people had an entire universe they experienced through their eyes only.

You’ve already envisioned yourself journeying from one post office to another, gathering historical accounts and breathing new life into forgotten tales.

“I’m a bit lost with most of them,” you say, credit card debt and bank statements flying straight over your head. “Structures before the outbreak are a lot different from ours.”

Abby clicks her tongue, moving further into the room to sit across from you. She’s careful not to encroach on your space and a twinge of remorse worms into your belly. You offer an olive branch, handing her a photograph.

“But then there’s stuff like this,” you continue.

Abby’s eyes widen at the provocative image of a woman, her slender figure draped across a pristine silk sheet, the vibrant red of her lace panties and sharp stilettos creating a striking contrast. Attached to it is a note that reads:

When you’re alone, close your eyes, and I’ll be whispering your name.

Abby puffs a quiet laugh as a flush of pink creeps along the high points of her cheekbones.

“Who’s it addressed to?” she asks.

You search for the envelope among a sea of scribbled addresses and realize it’s a futile endeavour.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admit. “I think I lost it.”

“Damn,” Abby smirks, running her thumb over the curled edges of the polaroid. “Lost in transit twice.”

You give a half shrug, noticing how enraptured she is with the picture. Her blonde lashes catch the candlelight at an angle that cast long shadows across her freckled skin.

“Manny would lose his mind,” Abby says, rolling her eyes. “He’s obsessed with shit like this—women in general, really. Horny bastard.”

You can feel the giggles bubbling up inside you, and you clamp your lips together to keep them from escaping. Abby Anderson, the most revered soldier of the Washington Liberation Front, sitting criss-cross applesauce talking smack about her best friend.

It is about the funniest thing you’ve seen in weeks.

“Have you—ever sent one?” you ask, treading dangerous waters and bracing yourself.

She blows out a ragged breath, pocketing the evidence.

You wonder if it’ll be a gift for Manny or something she keeps for herself. The notion causes vicious heat to rise across your forehead and down the bridge of your nose.

“Not a chance. It’s not really my thing.”

The mountain of mail between you becomes a welcomed distraction, and you make use of having a focal point to stare at.

When she tosses the question back your way, it throws your stuttering heart into a full gallop.

“Have you?” she whispers, leaning back to study you with a leg outstretched. The heel of her foot rocks to a slow tune only she can hear.

Her muscular arms bulge as she balances herself and you do your level best to pretend you don’t care. You expect her to wriggle uncomfortably or try to change the subject, but she doesn’t. Instead, she waits on you to bounce the ball she has rolled onto your court.

It’s you who can’t stop squirming.

“I haven’t found anyone worth the effort,” you say, and it feels a little embarrassing, maybe, but you figure honesty goes a lot further with Abby. “People suck.”

“Would you?” she asks. “If you found someone.”

Your racing heart leaves you dizzy.

It’s too goddamn hot in this office. You crane your neck to fire silent vitriolic arrows toward the stubborn windows, desperate for a fresh gust of air to grace the back of your damp shoulders. Abby stumbles to her feet, stepping over you to solve your problem once and for all.

With a soft click, the lock releases, and the window glides open, allowing the cool evening breeze to sweep through the space.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Abby smirks, dropping back down to her spot on the floor. This time, she lies on her side, head propped up by her arm. “You almost had it.”

The crooked smile quirking up on her mouth hits you like a flashbang.

“I kind of hate you right now,” you say without venom. “But I should probably say thank you, huh?”

“Probably,” she grins, teeth raking slowly over the pout of her bottom lip.

She has freckles there too, and you’re suddenly envious of them.

“I won’t,” you blurt, tearing open another envelope. “Say thank you.”

“I wouldn’t either,” she laughs, and it’s a deep, warm cadence. A laugh meant only for your ears. She gestures to the letter in your hand. “What’s that one?”

The grin you’re desperately trying to hide causes your face to ache.

The brash woman you’re hardly accustomed to sharing a home with at the stadium is full of surprises, it seems. There’s a side to her that isn’t militant and melancholy, but rather the opposite.

She’s playful and witty. Her eyes, a staggering blue lake, are gentle and kind.

You could fall madly, painfully in love with a woman like Abby.

Abby herself, even. If she wasn’t an unstable box of dynamite.

You skim the handwritten letter with the tip of your finger, and another wash of warmth blooms inside you at the bulk of the sentiment.

“It’s a confession,” you explain, fixing your attention on the last paragraph. “He’s been in love with her for a long time, since they were kids.”

“Will you read it to me?”

Her gentle query sends a shiver of sunshine down your spine. Her eyelids are heavy like yours, and the shadows beneath hers speak volumes about the burden she carries. The weight of the world.

“Only if you promise to read the next one.”

“Deal,” she murmurs, sliding your bag over to use as a pillow. She snuggles into it and your whole body vibrates.

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

The trip home is lighter, despite the nearly crippling load. Clothing, toys, garden seeds, tools, home goods, toiletry items — the list is a mile long. You couldn’t take everything, but the mass of what hadn’t deteriorated or spoiled made it through the gates.

It’s a hopeful thing, not only to witness your group returning home unharmed, but with enough supplies to ease the strain taken from a new fruitful avenue.

The moment you and your squad walk into the chow hall together, you’re met with a chorus of cheers and applause. As Abby vanishes amidst the swarm of people, you exchange a few handshakes before seeking escape from the cacophony.

Your sleeping quarters are the chaotic aftermath of hurried packing and abandoned reading material, with your mattress being the only semblance of order in the disarray. It was Manny who taught you how to make your bed to military standards and perhaps his goal was to inspire more in you than routine, but either way, the habit stuck.

Gratitude simmers for it now more than ever, the crisp, clean sheets offering respite. Freshly showered and dead on your feet, you crawl into your cozy bed and drift away.

A thunderous crash shocks you awake.

You blink against the abyss, immediately comforted by the stadium lights leaking through your curtains. It drives other citizens insane, the absence of darkness, but you’re thankful for it.

Someone appears to be banging your door down.

“Cool it, already,” you say, scrambling for your cotton robe. The brutal assault on your sleep at this hour deserves to be outlawed—prohibited by the laws of the WLF. “Holy hell, are you trying to wake the whole neighbourhood?”

You tear open the door and any visceral anger coursing through you evaporates at the sight. Tall, fierce, and devastatingly gorgeous, all blended with the rich spice of amber liquor.

Loose tendrils of hair cascade along her shoulders and collarbone in protest of her braid.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have something for you. Can I come in?” Abby asks, and it’s not a question.

Before you can even request a moment to compose yourself, she unceremoniously dumps a heavy grey bin on your living room floor, adding to the chaos, before collapsing onto your couch.

“What’s going on, Abby?”

She may be a delightful, luminous drink of water when she wants to be. But damn, can she ever snore the walls down in record time.

You plop yourself onto the bin beside her and try to make sense of her unexpected visit. Should you venture down the hall to wake her roommate? There’s likely a sock hanging from the doorknob by now, but it’s an option.

“Anderson?”

The sound of your hands drumming on the sides of the plastic container fills the room, while you contemplate the amount of bourbon your crew has consumed from lunchtime until now. An indulgence that landed on your doorstep all the same.

When Abby whimpers and curls in on herself, you resolve to drape her in your heaviest blanket, hoping to help her tackle the unsteady beats of her sleep cycle and a looming hangover. She bundles the fabric in her fists and clenches it underneath her chin.

Captivated by her klutzy aura, you nearly trip on the forgotten bin.

The lid doesn’t want to come apart from its secured spot and you have the presence of mind to check for a locking device, just to be sure. There isn’t one, of course, but you’ll never let yourself live down the office window debacle.

It’s going to require elbow grease and a hefty tug. You hiss as it separates in several loud pops. Luckily, the noise only costs the weary girl on your couch a flinch or two.

Letters fill it to the brim, and you’re enthralled by Abby’s decision to bring them back with her. Your instinct is to open each one, but it doesn’t feel right without her there to chirp commentary at you.

“I don’t get it,” you breathe in disbelief, expecting your words to meld with the shadows and disappear.

Her ghost-quiet voice turns the thermostat up a thousand degrees.

“I was mean,” she stammers. “You didn’t deserve it.”

It appears that you’re tapping into her guilt-ridden subconscious, which feels so delicate you consider shaking her awake. You doubt she’d want to lay it all bare.

Does she always talk in her sleep?

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “Water under the bridge.”

Your response seems to placate her overworked brain. You can relate, as your own tries to lure you back to the land of lonely slumber.

You notice her face doesn’t relax, even when her breathing slows, the lines in her forehead streaked with dirt. To never find peace, even during sleep, must be exhausting beyond what most can fathom. It seems cruel to disturb her, even if she’s restless. You settle for leaving a glass of water on the side table for her before settling in at the end of the couch. If she startles awake, you’d rather she doesn’t do it alone.

Cramped onto the only slice of cushion she hasn’t claimed, you let the commotion of the day pull you under.

As morning greets you, you find yourself back in your bed.

The familiar scent of Abby drenches your blanket, but she’s long gone.

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

It’s your first day off in months, but you check the work assignment list to confirm. On your way back from the bulletin board, the classrooms are abuzz with joyful energy. Children eagerly play with the toys and delve into the books your squad brought home, and it gives you a sense of belonging. A goal beyond surviving.

Until now, you have thought little about your life beyond protecting the community. It always made sense to put your neck on the line for the greater good. While casually strolling past the gym, not in search of a certain soldier, you can’t help but wonder if there might be other adventures awaiting you.

Abby’s breath tickles your ear, and you leap a mile out of your skin.

“Looking for me?”

“Son of a bitch,” you wheeze.

She doubles over with laughter, imitating the strangled noise you make when you’re caught off guard. She takes a minute to catch her breath before she gives you a generous shove.

“You’ve got quite a potty mouth,” she teases, wrinkling her nose impishly at a passing group of young ones. “There are little ears around here, you know.”

“Yeah, well, they probably know better than to sneak up on a person,” you say, finding Abby’s laughter rather infectious. You bite back a grin. “Who does that? Is an apocalypse not enough for you people?”

Abby breaks into another bout of giggles, seeming to enjoy your newfound passion for merging the old world with the new one.

“Is it our apocalypse though, if we were born into it?”

“Yes, Abby, it is,” you huff, eager for your heart rate to return to baseline. “We’re in an active apocalypse and you’re awful.”

As she leans against the large window you’d been peering through, the sounds of the gym fade into the background. She tilts her head at you, eyes sparkling with intrigue. Clad in workout gear that accentuates her sculpted body, she doesn’t appear sweaty.

You must’ve caught her on her way in.

“Are you busy later?”

“Not really,” you say, fidgeting with a frayed string on your sleeve. “Are you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Okay,” you say, staring at a scuff on your sneaker before catching her gaze.

“Okay,” she mimics, directing her nose scrunch at you this time, turning your mouth dry. “Feel like being busy later?”

It’s not as if her tone is explicit or even her language, but this woman is a supernatural force. So, tingles rise into gooseflesh from your head to your toes, regardless.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask.

The roars of a lively group of soldiers reverberate through the gym, their spirited chants urging their champion to hurry her ass up. They beckon to her as if they are a part of the kindergarten cohort, causing both of you to snicker and shake your heads. One of them wolf-whistles, the rise and fall of the pitch echoing into the hallway. Abby wastes no time throwing up her middle finger in response.

“I can come by around seven. Does that work?” she asks, reaching for your wrist. She gives it a quick squeeze and slowly pulls away, her fingers sliding to the tip of your pinky.

Her simple touch is unexpected, and it electrifies you.

“Works for me.”

She beams, walking backwards through the gym doors, brows jumping at your frozen form.

You amuse her. This much is obvious.

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

A rhythmic tap grabs your attention, a stark difference from the first time Abby came knocking. But to keep with tradition, she doesn’t arrive empty-handed.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, gesturing to the dishes balanced precariously in her arms.

“I wanted to.”

She sets the meal fit for an army battalion down onto the counter and searches your kitchen cupboards for something to drink from.

With a single, forceful movement of her forearm, she clears space by shoving your knick-knacks aside to make room.

“Juice cool?”

The way she effortlessly makes herself at home in your space leaves you speechless. You nod.

“Good,” she says, a repentant grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty sure I’m off booze for the rest of my life.”

With the same delicate touch she used to tidy your countertop, she pours the freshly squeezed liquid, causing both glasses to hover on the verge of spilling. Abby takes a step back to assess the situation before bending over the rims, producing the most obnoxious slurping noise. It nearly sends you into hysterics as she levels out both glasses.

She hands one to you with droplets of orange decorating her chin and the collar of her shirt.

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Quality service right here. Plus, I love germs.”

Balancing the glass to the best of your ability in your right hand, you pull your sleeve over your left and use it to pat her face dry. Abby snorts, her normally lively body becoming static under your ministrations. She swallows heavily, and a calmness settles over you.

“I don’t have germs,” she pouts. Her eyes drop to your mouth for a split-second before her cheeks erupt in swaths of vibrant pink. “I swear.”

“You’re a mess,” you scoff, enamoured by this clumsy woman, blazing a path directly into the pit of your stomach. “Did you know that?”

As she nods, her broad shoulders relax, and her frenetic breathing begins to slow.

“Nobody else sees it,” she says, her words hanging heavy in the air.

The pressure of that emotional cargo would cause any person to buckle under the weight sometimes. It’s a strenuous life for everyone on base, but the expectations placed on her are especially burdensome.

“I see it.”

Your confession doesn’t offend her; instead, it seems to liberate her.

She sighs an exhale of relief, and it makes your heart squeeze.

“I can live with that,” she whispers.

The food was prepared with love as is anything set aside for Abby, and she tells you all about the cook who put it together. An original member of the Salt Lake crew, and a phenomenal chef, he got them through their bleakest days.

When the WLF opened their arms, he committed fully to helping Abby achieve her goals, working tirelessly to support her training and keep himself on the straight and narrow after their tragic end with the Fireflies.

She doesn’t go into detail about what happened, and your instinct is to let that be okay. The heart-wrenching rumours are more than enough to go on for now.

“He’s stoked for me to have a little downtime,” she says, waving her fork at the spread now spilling onto your coffee table across various plates. “Hence the whole smorgasbord situation. As soon as I told him—”

She pauses, letting out a little whimper of embarrassment, seeming to scold herself for being so open.

“Told him what?” you press, detecting a subtle grin playing at the edges of her eyes.

“He wanted to make an impression on my friend, I guess.”

Your neck tickles with heat and you attempt to ventilate by pulling the collar of your shirt away from your collarbone for a moment.

“The man can cook,” you say with your mouth full. It comes out funnier than you expected, muffled by chewing. “Sorry.”

“You’re quite a mess yourself,” she smirks, leaning to drape her arms along the back of your couch, scanning the state of your apartment. “Your poor books.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my books!”

She hauls herself off the couch to make an example of you, crouching at a cluttered stack. So, an earthquake must’ve hit only your room—what of it?

“I mean, this is just sad.”

“We can’t all have bookshelves and organizational skills, Anderson.”

“Says who?” she chuckles, her attention diverted by a novel that has piqued her curiosity. “This isn’t a lack of skill, either. Where’s your discipline, girl?”

Maybe it’s crouched in front of you, a blonde bombshell waiting to go off and properly reduce you to human rubble.

“I’m plenty disciplined, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” she says, tongue tucked behind her teeth in challenge.

The audacity, when you’re currently over the moon about this delicious meal, you’ll likely never get to enjoy twice.

“Yeah,” you retort, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve like a feral beast. You strip off your shirt and toss it into the abyss, grabbing a clean one from its home on a toppling lamp.

Her bright bursts of laughter make you giddy, a woman who never finds time to play, sitting on your carpet waiting for you to join her.

“Who even are you?” she asks, and it’s so gentle it stops you midway through redressing to ponder her question.

The cotton tank top falls past your hips and you smooth it out, sensitive to the wrinkles in a way you haven’t previously been.

“It looks good,” Abby blurts, reading you like the sea of books strewn about. “You’re—good.”

There’s something about the fortitude of her honesty that helps you decipher between barbs and a genuine fondness for your idiosyncrasies.

Maybe she’s someone you can trust after all.

She shuffles across the floor to the bin filled with letters and lifts it above her head with ease.

“What on earth are you doing?”

As her brows jump mischievously, she dumps the skeletal remains of a past life onto your floor, filling the room with a waterfall of bones. It ignites a fierce desire to protect this girl—create a time capsule of this moment for the next generation to build upon.

A reminder that not all broken things are hopeless things.

“Well, now you’ve gone and ruined my tidy apartment.”

“My bad,” she giggles.

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

Each passing moment feels like tiny punctures in an hourglass, causing time to trickle away. You’re both aware of it, trying to stretch the night. Abby leaves for a spell to hunt down her chef, in pursuit of caffeine. She returns flushed and sleepy, the bitter aroma wafting through the door alongside her soothing presence.

Curiosity and exhaustion get the best of you, and you ask about her friend. His thoughts on your late-night rendezvous with history. She does a goofy impression that makes you want to wrap your arms around her, and you watch her in fascination like an old cowboy reel, projected onto your heart.

“He says you’re a bad influence.”

“Bullshit,” you snicker, tossing her another envelope.

“Okay, so he didn’t say that. But he did tell me to give him a heads up if I decide to run away with you.”

You try to push that thought aside.

“Really, now? And why does he think that’s in the cards?”

“He thinks you’re my dream girl.”

She speaks as if she’s describing weather patterns to you, and you’re bewildered. The blunt force of her words mixed with the softness of her tone leaves you shell-shocked. You search for a tether; silently categorize every reason it can’t be true.

“What did you tell him?” you ask, busying yourself with a letter you read while Abby was away.

A tale of woe between two quarrelling families. It reminds you of Romeo and Juliet, some less violent, modern-day version, and based on the contents of their struggle, you gather at least one of them was grateful for the pandemic.

“Do you really want to know?” she asks, pinning you with her gaze.

You nod, a buzz of energy flitting through you.

“Yes,” you say.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Cackles burst from your chest, finding her candour rather precious. Of course, Abby told the guy off. But she doesn’t look away after she tells you; doesn’t shrug or scoff. She studies your reaction and holds her breath until a tiny smile breaks her anxious expression.

You forget where you are in proximity to the earth for a second.

“I guess I’ll debrief you on that situation at a later date,” you say.

“I hope so.”

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

The sound of her steady breathing is peaceful as the light of early morning whispers through the fog. She idly sips at her coffee and takes her time, setting each letter into their respective piles. It’s engrained in her to keep things orderly, an obvious clash with your paper heap. Unlike you, she finds the government letters intriguing, even the boring ass mortgage and debt related ones, and reads them all thoroughly.

Your hand catches on an envelope shaped differently from the rest. Inside is a card, with a dozen raised hearts adorning the front in varying shades of red. When you flip it open, it reads:

With you by my side, every day feels like Valentine’s Day. Thank you for being my rock, my love, and my everything.

Your family never spoke of this while you were growing up.

“Valentine’s Day?” you yawn. “What’s that all about?”

You show her the card, and she rubs her eyes, nursing the tail end of her own yawn with the back of her hand.

“Give it here, woman.”

She looks it over to confirm her suspicions, and with a knowing smile, sits up straight. She taps the card against her knee.

“My dad told me about this.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s um—it’s a tradition people celebrated near the end of winter. A day to do things for the ones you love, I guess.”

“Like a holiday or something?”

“Sort of,” Abby says, fumbling a bit with her own understanding of it. “Romantic stuff, mostly.”

She rubs her neck, mulling something over while you try to wrap your head around this new information. One day out of the year to do what exactly? Who was supposed to do the things—both people? Did the traditions start after breakfast or were you meant to wait until suppertime? Was it an endeavour meant to last the entire day?

“My dad didn’t really make time to celebrate it,” Abby continues. “He was always too busy at the hospital and then my mom—well, she worked there too, so.”

The veil of exhaustion lifts when you realize she’s peeling back a wound right before your eyes. You suck in a breath and hope she doesn’t mistake it for anything but your desire to let her speak. She drops the card on her lap and wrings her hands.

“They did these small things instead, you know? On regular days,” Abby explains. Her body droops as she seems to pick through her retention of their conversations.

“Like what?” you ask, your voice just a hair above a whisper.

“Like—okay. My dad loved to dance,” Abby says, leaning forward with a sad smile, the slouch of her shoulders regaining composure at the happier memory. “He was fucking terrible at it,” she puffs a laugh. “But he was a music buff and when he met my mom, he said it was the best excuse he could find to get close to her.”

You ache for her to have them here to tell the story, instead.

“So, they danced together a lot?”

“All the time, according to him,” Abby says, her face lighting up. “He told me that my mom was super shy, so she’d always give him hell about it. But he’d ask her to dance pretty much anywhere. Parking lots, gas stations, one time they danced in the middle of the grocery store.”

You try to imagine what Abby’s mom looks like, but your mind can’t seem to conjure up anything beyond Abby’s own image, a showcase of strength and grit.

“Do you remember much about her?” you ask.

“Not really. She died when I was a baby,” Abby explains, adjusting the cuffs of her shirt. “She loved being pregnant with me, though, apparently.”

“Well, duh,” you murmur.

Abby crinkles her nose at you and bites the edge of her smile.

“Dad said her stomach got so big that he started dancing with her from behind. She’d rest her head on his shoulder, and they’d just sway back and forth.”

“I love that,” you say.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, fondness heavy on her breath.

Abby’s speech becomes slurred as the birds on your balcony greet the dawn.

“Every time they danced, the scent of her reminded him of a cabin in the woods, surrounded by these giant pine trees he used to pass on his way to work. He’d dream up this elaborate plan for them to quit their careers and live off-grid. I think he promised it to her about a thousand times.”

“That sounds kind of amazing, actually.”

“Yeah,” she says, tapping her nose with the Valentine’s card, her sleepy gaze drifting to yours. “He was a sap.”

She finishes with the most outrageously loud, cavernous yawn and you’re too tired to do much more than giggle at her larger-than-life spirit.

“You can crash on my couch again, if you want,” you offer.

She wobbles to her feet, reaching for your hand to help pull you up.

“I’m on assignment in a couple of hours anyway,” she says, supporting your elbows while you try not to slip on the paper graveyard below. “I’ll be MIA for a while, but let’s meet up when I’m back, if you’re up for it.”

“Totally.”

“Cool,” she whispers, her fingers tracing patterns on the tips of yours before reluctantly letting go.

As she turns to walk away, her steps falter, and she abruptly spins around to face you.

“Can I hug you goodbye?” she asks.

“Of course.”

Before you can blink, Abby’s arms wrap around you, and you’re a puzzle piece, snug in her embrace. She melts you from the inside out, the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat thrumming against your body. The heat of her chest against your cheek lifts blissful sleepiness from the edges of your resolve and a part of you wants to ask her to stay.

As she gently moves to cup your head and support the back of your neck with her warm hands, you instinctively wrap your arms around her waist, afraid she might drift away.

“I feel so safe right now,” you whisper into her shoulder, and she nuzzles closer, squeezing you tight. Your feet are nearly off the ground before she relaxes her grip.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

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

Two weeks have passed since your visit with Abby and it’s hard to think about much else. It’s a pleasant distraction, even when the memory of her makes your insides flutter as if she tipped a bucket of butterflies between your ribs and set them free.

An unusually large number of soldiers from different stations have packed the grounds, and you’re grateful to have a unique job to keep you relatively separate from the chaos.

Dogs are coming home, but not all of them, and it shatters your heart to toss out their registration papers. You understand the nature of your contribution to this war machine, but it never gets easier. If you could, you’d gather up all the puppies and take them to the same cabin in the woods Abby’s father always dreamed about. Let them bask in the warm sunlight and frolic together amidst a maze of towering trees.

It’s a lovely thought followed closely by the sobering reality before you.

“You’ve done well.”

You drop the leash you were holding, and it clatters on the concrete.

“Isaac. You scared me.”

If Abby is a rare sight at the stadium, Isaac is a ghost. You haven’t seen him in months. He has expanded the WLF across several locations along the west coast and the number is only growing. Reports of a nearby prison piquing his interest have been swirling for a while now.

You’re not sure where he rests his head at night, but it’s almost never here.

“It’s nice to see you too,” he says, inspecting the four-legged fleet without getting close enough to pet them. “I hear your training program is working wonders.”

“I try. They make it easy,” you say, noticing that many puppies have tucked their tails between their legs. “What brings you to the stadium?”

“I’m—restructuring,” he explains, his footsteps echoing as he paces the unit, meticulously inspecting the facility.

Your heart sinks.

“What does this have to do with me?”

He exaggerates a smile, and it sets you on edge.

“You always ask the right questions,” he drawls, heavy hands landing on your shoulders. “I respect that about you. There’s never any fat to trim, just straight to the point.”

It’s more than you can say about him, frankly.

“I suspect you’ve heard about the prison.”

“I have,” you say, bending to pick back up the leash. A narrow excuse to put space between the two of you.

Isaac is still standing uncomfortably close, so you wrap the nylon around your wrist as an act of self soothing.

“Well, it’s proving to be an integral training facility. It’s both secure and unaffected by the flooding, which has been my biggest obstacle up to this point.”

You’d never seen the inside of a prison before, but you’ve read about them. A cold cement cage without access to sunlight, its surface striped with iron. It offered zero curb appeal. You made it a priority to give your dogs a comfortable enclosure for that very reason.

“They need me here,” you say, desperate to get ahead of his plan. “This is where I’ll be most effective.”

“I disagree.”

Your arms tingle with an icy chill as he turns to walk in the opposite direction.

“You said I’ve done well here,” you call out.

“It’s true,” he says over his shoulder. “And your expertise will be crucial. Transport leaves at oh-six hundred.”

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

You should pack to leave, but you’re frozen.

Isaac isn’t one to sugarcoat things and for once, you wish he would’ve.

You curl up in a plastic chair on your balcony and take in the fields below. Neatly organized rows of vibrant crops bordered by fruit trees, bursting with hues of orange and red. Berries snaking through walls of trellis, sweet and ripe. People milling about with baskets of laundry and boxes of produce, keeping society peaceful.

“You should’ve married him,” Manny sighs, dropping beside you. His hand rests on your knee. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you admit, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “All these fresh faces, and I’m the only one leaving.”

Manny moves his hand to your arm, offering a kind squeeze.

“You are not the only one,” he says, handing you a clipboard.

It’s a short list of dogs you’ll be taking with you, and you’re caught between wanting to laugh at Manny’s ridiculous disposition or sob at your utter misfortune. You wish the dogs could stay behind. They love when the little ones throw the ball for them in the afternoon.

“I have a life here,” you say, and it’s a plea to the universe. “This is supposed to be my home.”

Manny offers you a freshly picked apple and you roll the waxy surface between your palms. The image of Abby’s face flashes in your mind. Maybe it’s silly to feel so much, but you can’t stop it. The weight of never seeing her again makes you nauseous.

“I’m fucked,” you groan.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

“Keep your chin up, Hermosa. Something tells me you won’t be gone long.”

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

Hey you,

I’ve tried to write this about a dozen times, and I still don’t know where to start. Fuck it, right?

I barely know you and somehow you made me miss you so fucking much while I was away. When I got home and you weren’t there, it felt like someone shot me in the chest.

Manny brought me your bin of letters and I swear I cried for the first time in years.

How did you get under my skin so fast?

I hear you were sad when you left, and that breaks my heart. It kills me thinking of you being unhappy. I hate that you’re somewhere I know nothing about.

What is it like over there? Are you safe?

I check in on the kennels every day. You’re missed around here a lot.

Keep your head up for me. I’m going to make this right.

Please write me back,

A.A.

You’re busy fixing the fence with a skeleton crew when a delivery truck arrives, and someone throws a letter at you. The thrill of it causes your heart to pound in your throat, a rush of adrenaline washing over you. It takes every ounce of self control to keep from disappearing to read it somewhere private.

Trucks come and go regularly, as they divide resources between stations. Isaac seems to prioritize the prison, especially on the artillery front.

You finish reinforcing the fence and race to your cell to lose yourself in your first piece of mail.

You can’t wait to steal a pen to write her back.

Abby,

I read your letter every day.

Okay, maybe more like three times a day, but who’s counting? Seriously… this place has no concept of time and I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single clock to be found.

It makes me sad you were sad. I feel like we’re on a carousel of sadness! We should change that. (Have you seen a carousel before?)

The dogs aren’t doing too bad. They like the open fields here and they’re allowed to sleep in bed with these smelly ass soldiers, which I think is more for us than them, truly.

Thanks for checking in on my crew there. Means a lot.

My bed feels like a hard slab of steel because it is, but at least I don’t have to make it every day. Don’t tell Manny.

It’s nothing like the stadium here. We don’t have gardens and schools and we definitely don’t have a gym. I know, devastating! How will I ever beat you in an arm wrestle now?

The hot water is a work in progress, so I’m learning how to not die during cold showers. That’s also a work in progress, but I squeal less now. Which is something, right?

Try not to worry your beautiful head. I’m tough. I miss your face, though. There’s so much I want to ask you.

Please tell me something about you that nobody else knows. I promise I’m the best secret keeper, ever.

P.S.

If you find any letters from actual prisoners, be sure to fill me in. I feel like they’d have some great tips!

Yours truly,

You hope she lights up as much as you did when her letter arrives. It’s all you can hope for, aside from her safety and possibly a warmer blanket.

To: My Favourite Inmate,

You sure know how to make a girl laugh.

It’s good you don’t have clocks. That way, you can’t obsess over how long you’ve been gone the way I do.

Shit, I should send Manny over there for one of those cold showers. I gave him that polaroid we found, and he hasn’t come up for air in weeks.

It helps a bit to know those pups are there to keep you warm at night. I hope I can be that for you soon. I considered writing another letter because I was afraid to say it, but I think I want you to know. You belong in my arms.

Something I haven’t told anyone before…

Sometimes I miss being a Firefly, especially since things around here are getting worse by the day—but sometimes I guess I don’t want to be anything.

Maybe I’d like to try being just Abby for a while, you know? I’ve never tried that before. What do you think that would look like? Would you want to be a part of it?

I wish you were here beside me.

I’ve made it my mission.

A.A.

P.S.

When you wrapped your arms around me, it felt like lightning.

#abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #abby anderson #lesbian

177 notes · View notes

cozage · 7 months

Note

Hi cozage,

Congrats for 2k!!!🤧💖

SO, I was thinking about how Sabo would confess his feelings for his beloved one, or like, SHE would confess first? Being so oblivious and occupied with work like he is, maybe isn't crazy imagine that happening 👀✨

I loved the silent treatment one with him lol, I don't see a lot of imagines with him, I miss it rsrsrs

Thanks for lighting up my day with your stories 💖

Thank you! Writing Sabo is always fun, I enjoyed this one a lot :)

Characters: gn reader x Sabo Total word count: 1k

Subtle Realization

You knew you liked Sabo. You found him attractive from the moment you met him. But the second in command of the revolutionary army wasn’t as obvious with his feelings towards you.

You worked closely with him for weeks, a constant battle between hot and cold emotions from him. Sometimes, he asked about your day, your likes and dislikes, and many other things. Other days, he only barked out orders. It was confusing, to say the least. But there were a few moments that made you realize he was actually paying attention.

One morning, you were running late to a meeting, and you fully expected everyone to be pissed at you. You didn’t even have time to stop at your favorite bagel shop and grab breakfast.

But when you slipped into the meeting beside Sabo, he handed you a bagel with cream cheese and your favorite tea.

“How’d you know?” you whispered.

“I always see you there.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d just get your order for you since you weren't there this morning. That’s what friends do.”

Friends. That pesky word that he loved so much. He may have done one of the kindest things he had ever done for you- for anyone- but you were still just friends.

It was only a few days later when he asked you to dinner.

“We’re both working late, and you’ve been working so hard, I just thought it would be nice to go somewhere and talk away from work.”

“Sure.” Your voice was monotone, but your heartbeat quickened at the thought of the two of you at dinner. Alone.

It was a nice restaurant, far fancier than what you had dressed for, but Sabo complimented how lovely you looked, and the two of you had a fabulous time.

He learned about your past, and you learned about his-what he could remember of it, at least. He paid for dinner and even walked you back to your little cramped living space, like a true gentleman.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said. “Would you like to come in for a bit? It’s not much, but-”

“Oh no,” Sabo said quickly. “Dinner was lovely. We should do it again sometime.”

Were you reading too much into his words? Or was he trying to insinuate that he was feeling something more?

You smiled, trying not to let too much excitement show. “I’d like that quite a lot.”

“As would I.” He tipped his hat to you. “Since we’re coworkers, I think it’s important we get to know each other as much as possible.”

Coworkers. Somehow, it was worse than friends. You tried not to let your disappointment show, but once you slipped into your room, you couldn’t help but burst into tears.

A few weeks later, you were grumbling about your roommate. The set up was atrocious, and while you weren’t much of a complainer, your roommate and living space were both worthy of complaining about.

“Why don’t you just move in with me?” Sabo asked, not even bothering to look up from his writing.

You stared at him for a few moments. Surely you had heard him wrong. “What?”

“Move in with me,” he said again. “You already stay here well past midnight. Sometimes you even crash on the couch. I have a spare room. You should move in.”

You scoffed. “I can’t just move in, Sabo. Its-”

“Why not?” he asked, finally looking up at you. “It wouldn’t be much different than now. Nothing would change except where you call home.”

Home. With Sabo. Surely you were setting yourself up for heartbreak here. But you agreed.

Three days later, you moved in with him. And while you still referred to each other as coworkers or friends, you also went home together. You cooked dinner together. You shared a bathroom, and worked in the study together.

You never had a break from him, but you didn’t mind. In fact, on your off days, the two of you often went and did something together. You read books together and talked about them over dinner. You went on walks, and trained, and only when you said goodnight did the two of you go your separate ways. Sabo to the room on the left, and you to the room on the right.

It was awkward at first, but you quickly found a way to cohabitate. Cooking and cleaning was infinitely more fun with Sabo by your side, and he laughed a lot more in your presence.

Ten months after you first met him, he finally came to the realization.

You were sitting at dinner, just the two of you. You had made pasta, and you had managed to get some sauce on your face while the two of you were eating.

Without thinking, Sabo leaned over and gently wiped it from your chin, and suddenly the entire world simultaneously flipped on its head and made so much sense.

“Oh,” Sabo whispered, still staring at the place where the sauce had been. “I think I could do this forever with you.”

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest, you were certain he could hear it.

“What do you mean?” you whispered, scared to be hopeful.

His eyes darted up to yours. “I think I love you. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“Sabo-” you breathed out, but he lunged across the table, connecting his lips with yours.

He pulled away far too soon, afraid he had ruined one of the only friendships he actually cared about.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I know you might not feel the same way. I just realized and had to tell you.”

Part of you was certain this was a dream. But if it was, you never wanted to wake up.

“I feel the same,” you assured him. “I just wasn’t sure if you would ever…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

He gave you a slightly devious smile, leaning back across the table to give you another kiss. “Well I do. And we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

For the first time since you moved in, the two of you didn’t go separate ways for bed.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #op sabo #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo x y/n #cozage #✧˚sabo✧˚

318 notes · View notes

leewonkyeom · 5 months

Text

027: entering private property in 3... 2... 1

light a flame [27/51]

☆ summary: when your roommate quits his job at the coffee shop you frequent you never imagined the new guy would be hot or even your type. to make matters worse you both study law at the same university.

your friends to try to convince you to get together with him. you try to convince them you just find him really nice... but are you able to convince yourself?

previous | masterlist | next

continues below the cut

y/n, mingyu

yn: hi, mingyu. what's up?

mg: WHAT DO YOU MEAN "what's up?

yn: you called me, didn't you?

mg: oh. that's right. so you really don't know?

yn: know what?

mg: what's "hbg"s real name?

yn: oh come on. i've probably told you a million times

mg: you have not

yn: sure, i have?

mg: is it wonwoo or jihoon?

yn: who's jihoon?

mg: his roommate

yn: is he?

mg: ask him

yn: yeah, sure. i'll just waltz into his bathroom while he's showering to ask him... wait. he's done. wait two seconds

mg: okay?

[...]

yn: how did you know what his roommate's name is? that is super creepy

mg: because... he's also MY roommate

yn: you're fucking with me

mg: i'm not. that's why i called. i recognized my own living room

yn: wait. aren't you at seokmin's?

mg: yes. why?

yn: SOONYOUNG IS FEEDING YOU INFORMATION TO FUCK WITH ME

mg: what?

yn: it's the only logical explanation. we would have known if you knew wonwoo

mg: only we did not. he's my best friend. yn i'm serious

yn: *laughter* no way... i'm texting seokmin

mg: go ahead

yn: i still don't believe you

mg: go check my room

yn: i can't go into a strangers room!

mg: it's not. it's mine

yn: if you describe this place with enough detail, i'll do it

mg: if you go into the hallway, the one with the bathroom at the end of it... it's the only hallway really. it's the second door on the left

yn: you're not mixing up your lefts and rights?

mg: i'm sure

yn: okay. entering private property in 3... 2... 1 *click*

mg: you see?

[...]

yn: aww, you have a picture of you, me and seokmin on your desk!

mg: shit... i forgot about that

yn: no, it's cute. don't worry about it. i'm sorry i didn't believe you, mingyu, but are you really that unobservant?

mg: apparently. no wonder seungkwan knew...

yn: what?

mg: oh nothing. by the way, if you need somewhere to sleep tonight, you can borrow my room

yn: thank you! i'll change the sheets and leave your stuff alone, so don't worry

mg: i wasn't worried before now...

yn: SHIT!

mg: what's happening?

yn: wonwoo's wondering where i am. i have to explain this to him... love you. bye!!

previous | masterlist | next

☆ a/n: okay so👀👀 hope y'all were happy you werw right😌😌 also, mingyu needs some time to process, so stay tuned for thursday👀 as always, i hope you enjoyed this part, and i always appreciate likes, comments and reblogs!♡

fill out this form to be added to the taglist!

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #svt smau #wonwoo au #seventeen #wonwoo smau #wonwoo svt scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen au #seventeen smau #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff

231 notes · View notes

multifanhoe99 · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 10- Public Sex

I am basing this one off a true story please don't do this it's so risky and unsanitary.

Paring: San x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sex in a port-a-potty, FWB, degradation (calls reader a slut), he likes the reader but doesn't know how to tell her so he's kinda mean cause she likes his bad boy act.

=Let me know if I missed any.=

18+ MDNI

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

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

You wondered how it was exactly that you found yourself in this position. Never in a million years did you think that resident bad boy Choi San would even glance in your direction much less have you bent over for him on the regular. The truth is though that San is about as close to a real bad boy as a puppy is. His cool demeanor and sharp gaze always seemed to convince people that he wasn't up to any good but to those who knew him best he was a big softie. He lived to cuddle and was a real romantic and he truthfully had the biggest crush on you.

You were so sweet and beautiful and always seemed to make whomever you were talking to smile. He's been playing into the bad boy act for so long now though that he has no idea how to ask you out properly or even get your to see the real him. His best friend Wooyoung tells him that he just needs to do it but is he's being honest he's scared. That's what got him in this mess in the first place. He was finally going to ask you out. He was preparing himself all week but when the time finally came he chickened out. Then, he saw you at a party. He decided he was going to tell you then, after plenty of liquid courage. Maybe, he had a little too much because then next thing he knew was that he came up to dance behind you and instead of asking you or properly like he planned he ended up saying, "What is a pretty little thing like yourself doing all alone?"

"Um, well I w-was just looking for my roommate. She's here somewhere," you stuttered feeling hot with San being this close to you. You had no idea why he was choosing to talk to you but you couldn't deny that it made you feel good to have this resident bad boy all over you for the moment.

"Forget her, let me be your roommate tonight yeah? I'll make you feel so good you'll be begging me like a desperate slut by the end," yeah he definitely had to much. Be want supposed to say any of that but his mouth was moving faster than his brain. That is how you both ended up in your friends with benefits relationship. He would come over and fuck your brains out, saying the nastiest things to you and you loved it. You assumed that was all it was but to him, he used it as a twisted chance to get to know your and spend time with you. Unbeknownst to you that is why he so often chose to stay at your place even though he said it was just because he was to tired to go back to his dorm.

One day he invited you to go to a concert with him. He said he got the tickets for free from a buddy but he had actually bought them and planned on taking you because you're favorite band was headlining. You played it off very cool but on the inside you were screaming you were going to see your favorite band and with none other than Choi San. You couldn't get your hopes up to much though this was definitely not a date even though it did kind of feel like one.

Soon it was the day of the concert and right on time at 4:30 San was at your dorm ready to pick you up. You got there early even though you had seats but you didn't want to miss any of the openers either. Everything was going well and you were having a great time. You and San jammed out to the music and you were dancing and having fun.

"Hey," you said after a while, "I'll be right back I am going to get another drink."

"Wait," he replied also getting up, "I will go with you there are so many people I don't want you getting hurt." You thought it was strange that he would care but you couldn't think on it too much or you would stay deluding yourself into thinking he actually liked you. In his mind it was now or never. He had to confess to you before things for any further and his chances are ruined. He wasn't exactly thinking straight he just needed to get you somewhere he felt he could talk to you without so much distraction. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into the closest room he could find and that just so happened to be the wheelchair accessible port-a-potty. It was not his best option but it'd do for now. What he didn't expect was to feel you so close and he couldn't help himself. He kissed you deeply and passionately. It had you morning into his mouth.

He pulled away saying, "I am sorry I just couldn't wait anymore."

"Neither can I," you replied reaching to palm at his cock above his pants.

"God, you are just a desperate slut for my cock huh? Can't get enough that you're willing to let me fuck you right here and now," he said while turning you around so he could grind his bulge against your ass. None of this was part of the plan but you seemed to be enjoying yourself there for her just went with it loving the feeling of your body against his. Luckily for you both you decided to wear a sundress with no panties. You knew how much that drive him insane.

He lifted your dress bunching it together at your lower back. There you were bent over holding on to a guard rail in a port-a-potty with no panties and dripping wet just for San. That was it for him, the congestion could wait he needed to be balls deep in your beautiful pussy right now. He wasted no time using his pants and pulling both them and his underwear down to his mid thigh letting his cock spring free. He guided his tip to your entrance tubing his tip up and down your wet folds. Them, he started to push in.

"Fuuuuck you're always so right for me. I love fucking your pretty little pussy. That's it take it like my good little slut," he said. Officially lost in the high of pleasure he just said whatever he thought. He began to move faster slamming his hips into yours. One of his hands on the same guardrail you were holding on to the other covering your mouth muffling your sweet sons so you don't get caught. You were surprised you didn't get cause already though with the way the whole thing seemed to be shaking. Eventually he moved his other hand from the rail to snake around your body and start rubbing your clit. Your mouth was still covered but you still screamed that you were gonna cum and hopefully he'd know your were close. Which he did, he could feel it.

"You gonna cum for me little slut huh? You gonna cum all over my cock? That's it, cum for me go ahead," he encouraged. The feeling of his cock and his hand and then the words he spoke had you coming undone. He was not far behind and when he was just about to cum he pulled out of your letting it all drip onto the floor. When all was said and done and you were both satisfied and clean, at least as clean as you could get, he finally spoke the words he's been waiting ages to say.

"Y/N, I really like you and I have for a while and I'm not good with my words really but I want to ask you out on a real date. Honestly I've been wanting to do that for a long time. I want to make you mine for real."

You were too stunned to speak you thought it was a joke but he seemed so sincere. You decided to agree under some conditions.

"Okay," you began, " you can take me out on a real date. I really like your top but you should know that if I get any sense that you're playing me at all I'm done and this whole thing will be over. I won't let myself get heartbroken like that."

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, "I don't even plan on letting you go now." You two say back in your seats and enjoyed the rest of the concert. It was amazing and you couldn't wait to see where this will go.

A/N: Yes, this situation was a thing. No, I will not be doing that ever again. Highschool was a wild time and that is all I will say. Anyway once again don't have sex in a port-a-potty it is not great but it did give me the inspiration for this so at least it was good for one thing. Asks are still open and I am ready to get writing.

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #x reader #ateez smut #k pop smut #san smut #ateez san #san x reader #ateez #choi san

186 notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

Request: Hi I'll need ❤️‍🩹 for Wednesday. I need it to be angsty as hell but you can make it a happy ending if you'd like. Thank you @mindingmybidness12

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Warnings: angst. reunion. alluded secret relationship. wednesday is very mean :') no hea

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Note: hey are you okay 😧 (sorry i accidentally posted your ask too soon & needed to get creative LOL)

Count: 0.8k

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Destined to be alone—that's what Goody told Wednesday.

"Isn't it so exciting!" Enid squeals loudly at the table, causing Wednesday to wince at the happiness in her roommate's tone. "Oh, there she is!"

Wednesday knows she shouldn't look. She should keep her head straight down—better yet, she should leave.

"Wednesday, where are you going?" Enid asks, but her roommate has already stood up and walked off.

There's a briskness in Wednesday's walk even if she doesn't know where to go.

Her room?

No, it is too likely that Enid will bring you by.

The bee farm—no, there was too much of a chance of you visiting.

Wednesday only briefly considered Xavier's studio, but then she'd have to deal with his incessant questions.

How annoying, Wednesday thought. Everything in this forsaken penitentiary was already a reminder of you when you were gone. She couldn't roam a single hallway without your memory invading her mind.

"Wednesday."

She freezes in her steps. Even now, you were an unwelcome thought that distracted her from an ambush.

This was why—

"It's been a while," you say hesitantly. "A year in fact."

Wednesday turns around and immediately feels something constrict in her throat. You look mostly the same, but there's a growing maturity to you that's been blooming since the day Wednesday met you. Your eyes lack the dark circles and look lively, and your cheeks fuller.

You look happy, Wednesday realizes, something that you rarely did when you were with her.

Her fists remain clenched at her sides as she remains passive. "I suppose it has. Why have you returned?"

"Ouch," you say, laughing lightly, and the sound makes Wednesday want to bolt. You're pinching the side of your skirt, an obvious sign of your nervousness, and Wednesday wonders why you even bothered to call out to her.

You look around the empty hallway out of habit before looking back at her. "I told my parents I wanted to come back and finish my senior year. I'd like to graduate from Nevermore, and their recommendations to colleges really help."

College.

Wednesday feels the distant memory of you talking about it with her, only for her to give a noncommittal answer. You wanted to know where Wednesday planned to go, if she was even planning to go, just to see if you could follow or at least apply somewhere nearby.

But it looks like you've already decided your next path.

Something bitter builds in the back of Wednesday's throat, but she swallows down the acid. She doesn't have the right and will be damned if you make her a hypocrite.

Wednesday lets out a heavy sigh from her nose. "I see," is all she says before she turns and walks again.

"Wait, Wednesday—"

"What?" Wednesday turns around sharply, her tone callous and impatient.

The hurt that flashes across your face makes Wednesday feel humiliated, but it's all she knows how to do to keep you at a distance. If you stay away, then you can remain how you are now—happy.

"I just—" You swallow. "I just want to know that you're doing okay...that you're happy now."

"I don't feel anything," Wednesday narrows her eyes at you. "Did you come here to confirm something so ridiculous?"

"Yes," you put on a brave face even if you know that Wednesday is purposely being hurtful, "because I still care."

You watch carefully at Wednesday's face. Her eyes, her jaw, her lips—any sort of indication for something.

"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought," Wednesday finally says. "All I've ever been capable of bringing you misery."

"That's not true—"

"Isn't it?" Wednesday says haughtily. "I kept you a secret, made you invisible as you stayed beside me. I brought you along on all my investigations to the point where you were seriously injured."

"It wasn't that bad," you tried to say, but Wednesday scoffed.

"Don't take me for an idiot. I can still see your limp."

You clench your jaw, heat rising in your cheeks, but it's not like you can deny it.

Wednesday looks at you coolly, her expression aloof as she builds walls upon walls with spikes to keep you out. "And because you're so pathetic, you walked around suffering silently all the time but couldn't say it to my face. Even Enid had more guts than you."

There's a sharp breath from you, and Wednesday honestly thinks it's more torturing to see you try to put on a brave face in front of her. It's the same way you've always held back your tears around her.

You were the one thing Wednesday treasured the most, but it was obvious then and now that she was only capable of ruining everything she touched—that's why she was destined to be alone.

"So, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine," Wednesday turns away from you, beginning to walk away. "And if you want to be as well, stay away from me."

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday addams angst #jenna ortega angst #mm: my fics #mm.drabble.wednesday

499 notes · View notes

jupitervega · 11 months

Text

fleein the south part II

hi, i'm ri & i'm an autistic nonbinary trans guy-lite-ish person. 4 years ago i moved out to denver from mississippi (where i was born & raised) & immediately had a massive improvement in my quality of life. i was able to access medical & psychiatric care, my career stabilized, people were addressin me with correct terms for the most part, & i was startin to feel like life had finally begun

unfortunately when the lease ran out on our house end of summer last year my roommates decided not to renew, & then the people who were gonna be my new roommates backed out last minute. in a panic i looked for other options but with time runnin short & top surgery approachin i decided to recover at a friend's house & move back to mississippi once my surgeon cleared me to travel cross country so i could regroup somewhere i figured would be less expensive & at least somewhat familiar

that, friends, was a very costly & painful mistake! every single problem that made me wanna move away in the first place has only exacerbated!

i'm comin up on 8 months post top surgery, i have a beard, & i'm still gettin called ma'am/she/her. trump flags & signs still adorn many yards/porches here. hatred & bigotry run rampant in local politics. the other day i didn't even enter one of the convenience stores in the town where i live when i stopped by because they had posted a very thinly veiled racist sign on the door

when i arrived back here i was not even a full month outta surgery & i had a minor complication, so i went to the emergency room cause what else was i sposed to do? applied for charity as i had around $100 to my name at that point, which i THINK? got approved? also applied for mississippi medicaid the same day, which got denied almost outright as i have no children. so i've been uninsured since november & rationin the 3 month supply of my psych/migraine meds i received before leavin colorado for goin on 7 months. never mind bein able to access hrt!

job prospects here are Not Great! i've had to collect unemployment for a while as i cannot for the life of me find a full time job with a livin wage. otherwise i literally cannot make ends meet as the jobs i've held so far down here are payin average 50% or less of what i was makin in denver. even with the part time gigs i've had i have yet to crack 30hr/wk on any kind of regular basis

housin is an absolute shitshow. my lease is up 1 july (got a month extension) & i've been searchin everywhere for an affordable place of my own or at least a good roommate. the more affordable studio/1bd apartments go for around $700 & up, but most have income requirements of 2.5-3x the monthly rent which, considerin previous point abt wages, is near impossible. roommate listins are available but the majority are questionable at best & seekin a live-in bangmaid at worst

with all these considerations i spent the past few weeks feelin worse & worse lookin for somewhere close to the job i currently have. the leases are like 6mo-1y so i was picturin another year down here & how i was gonna survive, let alone thrive. my thoughts got darker & darker. i'd wake up in the mornin & be sad/disappointed i'd survived the night

this is no way to live

i snapped a few days ago. said to myself "if i'm destined to struggle wherever i go, i'd rather do it somewhere i actually Wanted to be in the first place" & started applyin for housin in denver. waitin to hear back from my first option & have secured a backup with a friend with a spare room for 6mo in case that falls through

right now i need help gettin the hell out! i've got first month's rent already put back, i can continue to collect unemployment until i land a good job in denver, & i'm already reachin out to find somewhere to work. i just don't have anywhere to go for another month or two to save the money i'll need to travel almost 1200mi (~1900km) back to colorado. i'll need at least $500 to make gas/food happen durin the time it will take me to get there, & i need it by the first of july (38 days from day of postin)

please help me escape!!!

ca: $jupitervega

vmo: jupitervega

ppal

please please please donate whatever you're able! pls boost!

thank u so much for readin, pls have an item from my emergency happy photo folder for yr enjoyment

#emergency #pls help #pls boost #emergency move #emergency transport #fundraising #help #mutual aid #mutual fund #direct action #direct aid #help pls #emergency assistance #time sensitive

230 notes · View notes

w1ldthoughts · 4 months

Text

System Reboot

A/n: Anon requested second piece of sad girl winter!!!

Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION, the characters are fictionalized versions of real life situations and real people. It’s all based on my imagination.

Love was supposed to be patient. Love should have been kind. But lately love was…hard. It made you question your sanity and your self worth. Love wasn’t supposed to exhaust you or desert you. And that’s exactly what love was doing. It’s exactly what Justin was doing.

When you met him he was a rookie and your college friend Gabe’s super tidy and quiet roommate who loved all things Oregon and couldn’t resist a good movie quote. You stayed in touch with him even after Gabe was released by the Chargers and eventually dated him for a few years before getting married. The first few years of marriage were everything they say it is in the movies. You got to spend every single day with your best friend and the love of your life all wrapped into one. There were football games to attend, bruises and injuries along the way that were no match for the love you two shared and eventually you had a child, a perfect little girl named Remi. Your family was your entire world. And maybe somewhere along the way all of your jobs as a wife and a mom clouded your vision as to who you were as an individual.

It’s not like anyone noticed, let alone your husband. He had things to focus on too; games needed to be won, he had his team, the media and Remi of course. Justin was busy but never busy enough to skimp out on his duties as a father. He cherished every moment with her and it was embarrassing to admit that you envied how much effort he put into his relationship with Remi while his relationship with you had become relatively nonexistent. You weren’t jealous of your daughter by any means, you were just struggling to understand how the same person who would go out of his way to bring you your favorite coffee before leaving for practice had barely kissed you goodnight the last few weeks. What changed?

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the garage door opening and Remi running to the back door to wait for her dad.

“Is that my girl?” He immediately picks her up as soon as he comes in and it actually gives you goosebumps watching them interact. Your husband listens intently as the three year old describes her day in vivid detail. “Hi.” Justin says, finally looking at you when Remi leaves him to head back to her playroom.

“Hi. How was practice?”

He shrugs, moving into the kitchen to sit across from you. “It was fine, nothing new. I was actually going to talk to you about—”

“Daddy? It’s your turn tonight for bath time. Come on, let’s go.” Remi holds onto his leg, tugging on his shorts until he stands up.

“It is my turn isn’t it? Okay let’s go get your stuff.” He tells her, grabbing her tiny hand. Justin looks back over at you and whispers, “we’ll talk later.”

You nod and start putting away the dishes and making sure Remi cleaned up all of her toys like you asked. The giggles and talking you hear going on upstairs make you re-evaluate everything you’ve thought about today. Some people have it way worse than you, why in the world would you be complaining when you live in this beautiful house, with this beautifully sweet husband and an angel for a daughter? Instead of continuing to spiral, you headed upstairs to listen to your husband read your daughter a bedtime story and even joined in as the two of them sang the bedtime song, “Hey Jude.” You both kissed Remi goodnight and headed back downstairs.

“What did you want to talk about?” You asked immediately.

“I can’t be the only one that feels like there’s a disconnect between us, right? I mean don’t you think something just feels…off?”

You sigh, feeling a lump growing in your throat. “I don’t know what to do, but I know I want to fix it.”

“Me too.” He reassures you. “Come here.” You slowly make your way into his arms, holding in the tears that are really threatening to appear. And he can tell. “What if we go out to dinner tomorrow night? Just you and me.”

There’s no way you can muster up words so you just nod, letting out a sigh of relief at this potential marriage saving date.

He was late. Not late enough for you to cancel the night altogether but it was annoying. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes when he walked in apologizing profusely. Now was not the time to make a scene. Dinner was…awkward to say the least. It was like trying to make small talk with an acquaintance from high school that you ran into at the grocery store. Your husband was becoming a stranger and maybe instead of fighting to hold on to something that was dying, you should just pull the plug. You thanked him for dinner and he walked in front of you on the way out of the restaurant. A hand that used to rest in yours or on the small of your back just remained at his side, crushing your spirit even more. The drive home was quiet and you headed straight to your room while your husband relieved the babysitter.

You looked in the mirror at yourself and couldn’t even recognize your own reflection. Staring back at you was a shell of your former self, someone who you vowed never to become and you cried silently the entire time you got ready for bed. All of your energy was focused on not making noise and you didn’t hear Justin come into the bathroom.

“Babe? What’s wrong? What happened?” He frantically asks, kneeling down in front of you as you sat on the edge of the tub.

“Justin, leave me alone please.” It came out a little harsher than you’d intended but maybe deep down you meant it exactly how it came out.

Either way, he was shocked. “I’m not leaving you like this y/n, tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine. If you won’t leave, then I will.” You ran a hand across your face and stood up to head back downstairs, the man trailing cross behind you. It wasn’t fair how long his stride was compared to yours. “Please stop following me. I just really need a minute to myself.”

“Why? You’re clearly upset and I want you to talk to me. I’m your partner, maybe we can figure it out together.” He’s almost begging, holding his hand out to you. Maybe a week ago you would’ve gladly taken his hand and fallen apart in his arms but there just wasn’t anything left for you to give. “Is it because I was late? Because I apologized and I thought we were good but—”

“No! It’s not because you were late.” You’ve never raised your voice at him but you clearly aren’t yourself anymore. “It’s…everything. It’s the fact that I can’t remember the last time we laughed about something that wasn’t related to football or kid stuff. Or that I don’t even know how long it’s been since we had sex. When was the last time you touched me or held me or I don’t know acted like I am the person you want to be with when you’re old and the most exciting thing in the world is sitting in a recliner reminiscing on the good days. These are supposed to be the good days and they’re not Justin. I am miserable and you can’t tell me you’re the happiest you’ve ever been either.”

He sits on the couch with a sigh, running a hand over his face. “I’m not happy. I mean we used to spend all day together, talking and laughing about random stuff and we just spent the last three hours together and couldn’t come up with anything to say.”

“So what do we do?” You ask hesitantly, already guessing where this is going.

“I don’t have any long term solutions but I do know we can’t keep going like this. I’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. We’ll have to figure out something more functional when the season ends.”

Watching him walk away from you felt real and final…but maybe this was for the best.

The week after the season ends Justin grabs some of his stuff and moves into the guesthouse. Two weeks after that you found yourself in a small coffee shop, googling “divorce lawyers in Los Angeles,” hitting a new emotional low. Nights were the worst. Times that you used to look forward to were just a reminder of everything you were losing. Remi wanted to watch her favorite movie, Elementals but even the sight of romance, even in cartoon form, had you holding back tears. You and your husband had been spending as much time with her as possible, trying to figure out the best way to explain to your child that your marriage was over.

“I mean what does that even do to a child that young? How do we even start? She’s already asking why we don’t do the bedtime song together anymore—”

This entire time since the separation has been hard on him too, even if he wasn’t physically that far away...yet. He’s got this headache that won’t go away and the thought of telling his baby girl something that will cause her pain makes his stomach hurt. So he tries to hide the pain with humor. “We shouldn’t have created a little genius. She’s probably already figured out something is up.”

You could see the pain in his face and hear it in his voice, but it wasn’t your job to nurse his wounds anymore…no matter how much you wanted to. It was decided that Justin would take her to the zoo next week and butter her up, and when they got home you would try your best to explain everything to her and move forward from there. That way you had time to read up on how to deliver difficult news to a toddler. Easy enough.

The week came a lot faster than you could prepare yourself for. On the morning of zoo day, the pain that radiates through your body is double the emotional pain you’ve been experiencing. All of your muscles ache, your sinuses are on fire and you really don’t know how you managed to get your daughter ready while Justin got her snacks, water and stroller in the car.

He took one look at you and knew something was wrong. “You alright?” There was an intense amount of concern in his tone and you nodded slowly, waving them goodbye and counting down the seconds until you could get back into bed and sleep off whatever this was.

In the car, Justin was interrogating his favorite spy. “Mini, are you excited for zoo day?”

“Yeah! I love the zoo. And animals. And you. But mama’s sick so she can’t come.” She says sadly.

“Mama’s sick? How do you know that?”

“Um,” she pauses, trying to put her words together. “She was coughing and blowing her nose, it sounded like an elephant.” He had to hold in a laugh. “And I hear her crying sometimes, maybe she has a really bad owie and you should kiss it better.”

The last part hurt, the thought of you all on your own dealing with all of these emotions and he wasn’t there to be your shoulder to lean on? It made him feel awful. “Maybe I should.” He turns around to face her and make a deal. “Would you be sad if we did zoo day another day? Mama really needs us to take care of her and I know Dr. Herbert is exactly what she needs to feel better.”

Remi had been obsessed with playing doctor lately and he knew she’d be all for it. She nodded excitedly as he drove to the store to pick up everything they would need. They came back into the house 30 minutes later with all of the essentials in hand and extra popsicles for his mini.

You woke up to a hand on your forehead…and then a tiny one. It would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t hot and cold at the same time.

“Her forehead is warm. She needs meic—the yucky stuff.” Remi whispers, holding the miniature stethoscope in her hands. Her dad nods at her and pulls out the medicine from the bag and hands her a bottle of Gatorade to set on the table. The doctor duo heads back downstairs to let you nap.

Two hours later, you woke up feeling refreshed and a lot less…gross. You gingerly walked down the stairs to find the cutest sous chef in the world hard at work.

“Hi mama, we’re making soup for you.” Remi sings, stirring the pot with Justin standing right behind her.

“Thank you baby, it smells amazing.” You give Justin a wink, whispering another “thank you.”

The three of you sit on the couch while you eat, taking in Remi’s movie for the eighth time this week. When you wake up from your third nap of the day, you are surrounded by your favorite people who are fast asleep next to you. At some point Justin must have gone upstairs to grab your favorite blanket because you know you weren’t covered in it when the movie started. These were the moments that you’d overlooked. Life was different now, you and Justin weren’t the 20-somethings that met and fell in love and it was a mistake trying to get back to that. This was your reality now and it could still be full of joy if you allowed it. That night, you asked Justin to stay for the bedtime song and asked to speak to him in the kitchen.

“I know we were supposed to tell Remi about everything today but—”

“Y/n, I don’t want a divorce.” He finishes for you. “This—you, me and mini, this is what I want. And honestly I don’t think we’ve tried hard enough to fight for each other so this is me, fighting for us.”

You reach out for his hand this time, which he happily grabs hold on to. “I don’t want to do this life with anyone else,” you whisper with your eyes watering. “You’re it for me and um…I want to fight for us too. Whatever it takes.”

“Maybe we could try counseling?” He suggests and you nod, vowing to help him look for someone you both liked in the morning. Your marriage wasn’t fixed in a day, but this was a huge step in the right direction.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You give his hand a squeeze and he smiles, squeezing it back.

“In sickness and in health remember?”

Even in moments of darkness, love is patient, love is kind. And if it’s meant for you? Love will always find its way home.

#Justin Herbert #Justin Herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert angst #justin herbert fanfic

100 notes · View notes