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cupid-styles · 3 months

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A little idea of a scene for hockeyxballerina: even before they start having a thing they end up in a heated kiss with him pressing her against a wall, car, bookshelf of whatever whi his hamd on her throat and her brain his so foggy she lets him spit on her mouth but the she comes to hers senses and runs away without a word, not even an insult because she is so shocked with what she did

🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

word count: 1.6k

content warnings: smut (hehe finally!!!) (spitting, public play, dirty talk, degradation)

hockey!h x ballerina!yn masterlist

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. . .

There must be something clinically wrong with Y/N tonight.

Well, maybe not just tonight. Maybe... maybe, that "something wrong" has been creeping up her body and spreading from her stomach out to her chest and center over the duration of a past few weeks. Maybe she expected it go away after a day or two, because why wouldn't it?

Harry Styles is his worst nightmare. Her moral enemy. Her fiercest competitor.

So why the fuck does she think he looks good enough to swallow whole tonight?

He walked in with a crowd of his hockey buddies an hour or so after Y/N, Lea, Rena, and Mai had arrived. Per the pre-game hosted at Mai and Rena's place, she was already feeling a little buzzed when she got here. She was planning on taking it easy tonight — she was still diligently practicing for the spring showcase every day — but the second her eyes flitted over to the stupid backwards hat he wore and the flex of his jaw from the gum he chewed, she knew she needed more to get through the night.

And she's pleasantly tipsy when she makes a move to head to the bathroom. She hears her friends scold her for "breaking the seal," but she rolls her eyes and playfully flips them off in response. Her sneakers stick to the vodka-coated floors of the college bar as she pushes her way through the crowd, trying to make her way to the ladies' room without any tequila spillage on her top.

Harry Styles is an idiot, she thinks to herself as she walks, There's no way I could have a crush on him. What, just because he drove me home a few times and helped me when I hurt my ankle? That's stupid, he's stupid, and—

"Hey, you."

Her eyes dart up at the familiar deep voice and she wishes the ground would open up and take her right then and there. Did she somehow conjure Harry up with her thoughts? She's a little drunk, but there's no way she's that powerful.

Unless she is.

"I have to pee." she replies, pointing to the bathrooms behind his tall stature.

"Okay. Go pee, then."

She flashes a tight smile his way as she brushes past him. She thinks from the corner of her eye she sees him stand against the wall of the small hallway, crossing her arms over his chest. The last time they were in this area together, it was right after she slept with Malcolm (the stupid, prissy idiot from the opposing team who wouldn't even smack her ass). At this point, it's been months since Harry lowly waxed poetic in her ear about how he could make all her degrading dreams come true.

The memory makes her shudder as she washes her hands.

Y/N's suspicious are proved right when she exits the bathroom to see Harry still standing there. She's prepared to ignore him and walk straight past him until he reaches out to grasp her wrist, gently pulling her back. She yelps, a tipsy, unattractive sound, and it makes Harry's eyes crease with laughter.

"You good?" he asks. Y/N's vision darts down to the gum he's chewing between his teeth and she swallows.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry shrugs. "Just making sure you're not too drunk."

"I have a dress rehearsal this weekend," she replies with a shake of her head. "I just came out to see the girls."

"And me." He points out cheekily, making her roll her eyes.

"I didn't even know you'd be here tonight, Harry."

"It's one of three bars in town and all the athletes come here."

He's right about that, and she knows he could double down by pointing out the obvious, too — that this is the only bar their friend groups ever frequent, and the hockey team rarely misses a Friday night out.

Luckily, he spares her the embarrassment.

"We have a game tomorrow night," he continues, "Will you come?"

"Why would I do that?"

"School spirit. Duh."

Y/N scoffs at that and shakes her head. She focuses her eyesight on anything but the cocky, beautiful, stupid man in front of her.

"I'm practicing all day. I'll be in an ice bath before your game even starts."

"Hot," he smirks. Y/N's stomach flutters.

"Stop being a douche. I thought we were past this."

"We are!" Harry exclaims, lifting his hands up in surrender. She only now realizes that he'd had his fingers looped around her wrist that entire time. "I'm just saying, you're hot."

"You must be more fucked up than I thought," Y/N guffaws.

"If I was fucked up, I'd be trying to sleep with you right now."

The words fly from her lips before she can even stop them: "And that's not what you're doing?"

She doesn't know if she says it because she wants to call him out on his bluff or she's feeling the confidence — and lust — from her the drinks she consumed tonight. But she doesn't take it back. And she certainly doesn't walk away as she watches Harry's head cock slightly to the side. His expression almost seems as if he's... impressed, in some way. The smirk on his lips makes her ball her fists at her side.

"You would know if I was trying to fuck you, Y/N."

She swallows. It's warm — she's suddenly so warm right now as she realizes their chests are nearly pressed against one another. The height difference between them makes it so her breasts are below his pecs, but she still feels the expanse of muscles through the layers of their clothing.

"I doubt that," she mutters, and he clenches his jaw. It's almost hypnotizing to watch. "I really think—"

"I think you should shut up now."

In a moment, his hand is spread over her hip and they've swapped places; her back now pressed firmly up against the wall. His tall form all but blocks any onlookers from seeing who he has cornered, but he couldn't forget it even if he wanted to. Not when he's been dreaming of this for weeks.

And really, he wouldn't do it if he didn't have some sort of prior knowledge about her hookup with Malcolm — the fact that she's somehow just depraved as him.

So he wedges his gum to the back of his molars, utters out the words, "open your mouth", and gathers up the spit behind his lips. His length immediately thickens in his pants when she sticks her tongue out. And then he spits in her mouth.

She whimpers instantly at the feeling but it's drowned out by his own groan. It's filthy and demeaning, but he can see it in her eyes how much she loves it.

"Looks so good," he mumbles, thumbing at a bit at the side of her mouth before pushing it in. "Swallow."

She does.

"You're well-behaved for a brat," he notes as he gives her hip a squeeze. She hums, eyes flickering when his hand lifts her shirt up slightly, fingertips trailing over the smooth skin of her stomach. "Did you want a prize, puppy?"

With hazy eyes, she nods.

He smirks, almost immediately stuffing his hand down her jeans. She gasps when he finds the sodden fabric of her underwear, eliciting a low chuckle from his chest.

"All this just for some spit? Maybe you're nastier than I thought."

She wishes she could reply back with something snarky but she can’t, not when he begins to roll her clit beneath his fingertips. Her eyes flutter shut as he applies a bit more pressure, pausing momentarily to collect some of the wetness accumulating at her whimpering hole.

“Finally let me play with this pretty pussy, hm?” he says mockingly, “Maybe one day you’ll let me stretch it out, too. Might take awhile for it to fit, though— I know you’ve never been with someone as big as me.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles breathily. He laughs and squeezes her clit between two of his fingers. She gasps, barely offering enough recovery time before he’s back to rubbing circles.

“What, you really think you could take my cock, sweetheart? You can barely take one of my fingers. Gonna have to train you for months, but I think you’d like that.”

“Harry—“

“I know,” he coos condescendingly as he speeds up the movements of his fingers. “You’re such a stubborn brat you’d just want me to stuff you full on the first try. Feel me in your fuckin’ stomach.”

“‘m gonna cum,” she mewls, reaching out to dig her fingernails into his chest. He hisses from the small bite of pain. “Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna cum—“

Harry wouldn’t stop touching her even if he wanted to. Especially not as he watches her fall apart beneath his grasp, her knees almost buckling from the intensity of her orgasm. He feels her pussy clenching rapidly and he swallows harshly, the sight nearly being enough to make him come in his pants.

She’s quiet and shaky as her orgasm tapers off and Harry gently pulls his hand from her pants. He helps adjust her jeans back up and over her hips, her eyes flickering up to his face.

“Oh my god,” she mutters, her eyes widening as if she’s just realized what she’s done. “Oh my god, what the fuck?”

“What?” Harry asks through furrowed brows. He’s expecting some sort of nervous response about accidentally abandoning her friends, but instead she shakes her head and lightly pushes him away.

“I can’t. This was— this was bad, so fucking stupid.” She mumbles to herself, keeping her arms stretched out in front of her so he can’t get closer. “Fuck, Harry.”

He’s left confused and nervous as she watches her leave the bar.

#bestie asks #writing #hockey h

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2hightocare · 1 month

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We’re jk oc deprived 😭😭😭

Any new Drabble ?

noooo I can’t seem to finish any of my works for them, there’s only like prompts of barely 500 words here’s sum for you guys🥳🥳🥳🥳

“Do you guys have triple extra-large condoms?”

“Your dick is not that big, oh please,” Yoongi bursts out laughing, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands. You can’t help but snort softly as Lora tries to figure out how many inches triple extra-large would be using her hands.

“How is that possible..?” Jimin says, laying his head down on the hotel room bed beside Taehyung, who’s been snoring away since you all arrived.

“Just because you have a small dick doesn’t mean I do,” Jungkook retorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the colorful wall of the room.

You’re all in Las Vegas, celebrating Jungkook’s and your three-year wedding anniversary. It was a spontaneous trip planned just a few hours before catching the earliest plane. None of you are new to Vegas, Taehyung, who’s lacking enthusiasm. The moment he steps foot in your and Jungkook’s hotel room, he knocks out.

The room has become the main hangout spot for everyone.

“I aspire to be as delusional as Kook,” Ari jokes from her spot on the floor in front of the mirror, curling her hair. The group bursts out laughing as Jungkook rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around your neck from behind, joining in the laughter.

Jungkook’s strong personality is one of the things that drew you to him. He always knows how to make you laugh, no matter the situation, with his random remarks and perfect timing.

“I think this is the dumbest thing ever,” Jungkook sighs, bouncing his leg where Iseul is sitting, sucking on her pink pacifier. Her two small pigtails bounce with each movement of your husband’s leg.

“She needs them, they’re literally mandatory, baby,” you lay your head on his shoulder, glancing around the clinic and noticing a brunette mom making googly eyes at your husband. Jungkook, too worried about his daughter, doesn’t even notice.

“I know, but do you not hear all the babies crying?” Jungkook says, watching Iseul giggle at his worried expression. “I’m afraid you’re worrying more than her,” you laugh, squeezing Iseul’s cheeks, making her squirm in Jungkook’s lap. “Aren’t you so cute, huh?” You coo, eliciting giggles from Iseul.

“Oh no,” Iseul pouts, pointing to the pacifier on the ground. “Oh no, it’s right, princess,” Jungkook bends over, picking up the pink pacifier and passing it to you. Iseul reaches for it eagerly, but you scrunch your face, sticking out your tongue. “Yuck,” you say, and Iseul mimics you, making Jungkook laugh at her reaction. “God, can’t believe I made such a perfect offspring,” Jungkook exclaims, showering Iseul’s face with kisses, which only makes her laugh more.

“You did not just call her offspring,” you gasp, a snort slipping past your mouth, making Jungkook laugh loudly before quieting down, realizing where you are. “Jeon Iseul?” The door opens, revealing a woman, likely the doctor’s assistant.

You and Jungkook immediately stand up, making your way to her. “Iseul?” she asks, and you confirm with a smile, interlocking your fingers with your husband’s as he holds Iseul on his other arm.

“Okay, follow me,” she says, leading you through a hallway adorned with pastel colors and animals painted on the walls, catching Iseul’s attention as she points and babbles.

“Gee-raffe!” she babbles, her baby teeth showing as she smiles at the animals. “Aw, she’s the cutest,” the assistant remarks, turning to give a warm smile to your daughter. She opens a sliding door with a giant elephant in the middle, leading you inside.

“Take a seat. Whoever’s going to hold her, please sit there,” she points to the big chair in the middle of the room. Jungkook sits, placing Iseul on his lap and adjusting her dress.

“Okay, can you tell me her birthday?” the assistant asks. “November 10th, 2022,” you answer, adjusting your cap as Jungkook pokes Iseul’s cheek.

“Okay, the doctor will be here in a few. Bye, Iseul. Nice meeting you,” she waves at your daughter, who waves back before the assistant exits the room.

“I want another one,” Jungkook whines, attacking your neck with kisses. “Baby, no,” you moan as he sucks and nips, leaving red marks on your throat.

“Please, give me another one,” your husband pouts, finally looking at you. His tattooed hand holds the base of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss as he smiles into it, making your teeth clash.

The kiss is messy, strings of saliva connecting between you both each time you separate to catch your breath. Jungkook bites your lip, making you moan into his mouth, to which he replies with a cocky smile.

“I’ll fuck you so good, baby, please,” Jungkook whines between kisses. “Please,” kiss. “Please,” another kiss. “Please,” and another.

“We can’t,” you reply between kisses. “Why the fuck not? We can do them right now,” Jungkook says, pulling you closer by your throat.

Jungkook has been wanting another kid, but as much as you want to say ‘fuck it’ and do it, you just couldn’t at the moment. You’ve been too busy with school, and the same goes for Jungkook with work, but he didn’t seem to think it through. He wanted another mini you, turning the house upside down alongside Iseul.

“Please, Iseul would love to have a brother… or sister,” he adds late, causing you to side-eye him, which only makes him smile as he nestles into your neck.

“No babies yet, let’s wait,” you happily sigh as he places a kiss on your collarbone, twirling a strand of your hair.

“So we’re not fucking?” Jungkook peeks up with a grin as you burst out laughing. “Not without protection,” you scratch the back of his head, making him moan before he rests his head on your lap, looking up at you with a smile.

“I see how it is,” you joke as you feel him shift in your arms before laying his head on your lap. “What?” you ask, placing your small palm over his face before moving it around. Jungkook sticks his tongue out, licking your palm, which has you quickly retrieving your hand.

“Ew, you’re nasty,” you scrunch your nose as he reaches for your hair, pulling gently.

“That’s nasty? You literally asked me to spit in your mo—,” before he could finish, you place your palm over his mouth again, shutting him up as his eyes widen with amusement.

“Shush,” a small giggle leaves your lips as you blush like a high school girl. You’ve known Jungkook for over ten years, and till this day, he has you giggling and kicking your feet whenever he looks at you.

“I miss your lip piercing,” you pout, squishing his cheeks with your hand as he laughs, poking your belly button with his pinky. “I do too, but Iseul literally ripped my shit,” he says, a pained expression on his face as he remembers his daughter pulling on the lip piercing with incredible force.

“Is that why you took out your ear ones too?” you ask, biting your lower lip as your finger plays with his pierced earlobe. He nods, his eyes fluttering closed as your fingers trace along his perfectly carved eyebrows.

“Well, I miss them,” you pout, tracing the outline of his lips.

“I’ll put them back on tomorrow,” he winks, making you roll your eyes before pinching his lips together.

“I still can’t believe you guys won’t add me to the group chat,” Jungkook whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

“It’s only girls, so no,” Eunbi says, finishing braiding her thick blonde hair as Jungkook sends her a dirty look, which she returns.

“Namjoon is on it?” Your husband continues poking your cheek, as if that would make you add him to the group chat. But only if he knew that you weren’t even admin, and that it was Eunbi’s job to begin with.

“He’s part of the girls. He just gets us,” you give him an apologetic look, which he rolls his eyes at before scooting to the furthest edge of the couch and crossing his arms.

#ask! kuwtb💌#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jjk #bangtan #fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk fic #jeon jungkook

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stagefoureddiediaz · 1 month

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7x05 promo meta

Thank you 911 for dropping those stills - its save you all from my terrible quality screen shots!

This was supposed to be a costume meta, and it is, but things rather got away from me so its got a bit of a mishmash of spec and the like in it! its probably incoherent but my brain is whirring!

Ok first things first - Firehouse!

Soooo whenever we've had firehouse scenes before between Buck and Eddie, the one not in uniform is the one receiving advice - Buck after he found out about Daniel, Eddie during the Black out etc. So I expect this scene to play to a similar theme.

The green jacket for Buck is an interesting one for me, green is all about growth - especially this shade of green. I think this scene will be the first time Buck and Eddie see one another in person - Buck perhaps re-apologising to Eddie, clearing the air, Eddie offering buck some advice (i don't know exactly what advice, but perhaps along the lines of not bottling things up and talking to him etc!).

The fact its a broadcloth jacket harks back to his shirt jacket from Eddies breakdown - that one was very red, so there's no direct connection to the meaning of that jacket from a colour theory perspective, but there is a wider theme connecting to the broadcloth - broadcloth is a fabric that was historically used for military uniforms (it still is) so the use of broadcloth has this element of going to war - unlike the red jacket that signalled danger and Buck going to 'war' to both get to Eddie and to then help him in the aftermath, this one is more likely to be a war related to Bucks 'bad behaviour' from the basketball game and I think and with the green of the jacket meaning growth, I expect this scene to show them on a more even footing - one where the one doesn't need to go to war for the other, because the 'war' is over, this is the aftermath now and Buck has grown (in the same way that Eddie was in green during and after his breakdown - he grew from that moment)

Date night - for Buck and Tommy

Firstly I want to mention the fact that Check theory is in overdrive for this scene - the check is literally everywhere - floor, tablecloths, walls, windows, the guy sat to the side of Tommy. Something is clearly going to happen that is going to lead to some sort of chaos. My money is on Check shirt guy suddenly becoming ill and interupting both dates (call back to Buck choking on bread would be chefs kiss imo as that was Bucks first proper date!!).

I originally thought his was the same shirt Buck wore when he was trying to donate sperm - however, turns out it isn't it isn't, this is a knit bowling shirt while the one from the sperm donation storyline was a knit polo (no buttons all the way down the front). I do think the remarkable similarity between the two shirts is relevant though. because Buck trying to donate sperm, was Buck trying to start a new life, but it was a false start when he was wearing the similar shirt (because the power was out at the clinic) and he is essentially doing the same thing here - he's on his first 'date with a dude' and is starting a new life as a bisexual man - only it seems he's probably going to try and hide it from Eddie - thus a false start in the same way his first attempt to donate sperm was. thing is, Buck was successful in making his donation in the end, so even if he has a couple of false start in this episode, he'll be successful in the end (see the end of this meta for the reason why!!)

Tommy is in brown (possibly a dark olive green, but it looks more brown to me at this moment in time!). Brown is of course one of Eddies staple colours, so we are continuing with the Tommy Being costumes as a version of Eddie!

But Brown is a colour of stability and strength - its solid ground. It's showing us that Tommy is completely comfortable in his sexuality (whatever denomination of queer he is as we don't know at this point!). Its also a colour of safety support and protection (its why many police and military uniforms around the world are brown - meant to invest a sense of protection - a reflection of what that job is supposed to be!). for me thats playing on the idea that Tommy is going to protect and support Buck on this date - Buck not wanting to come out to Eddie in that moment and Tommy supporting that and protecting Bucks right to chose when and how he gets to come out to the people in his life (and I adore him for that!) is my guess on why he's wearing brown here.

Eddie and Marisol's date night

(as an aside - Bucks face in the still below is hilarious!!)

I already mentioned the pink handbag in my 7x04 meta, but now we also have a pink skirt to add into the mix and its a ditsy print of two shades of pink, which not only further supports my pink and innocence theory about this season, but it also plays into how both Shannon and Ana were costumes as well - in lots of pink and in ditzy prints!!! Marisol (who doesn't even have a last name) is not long for the world of 911 - if it doesn't end in this episode, its gonna be over very very soon! She is going to essentially be an innocent bystander in whatever the hell is going to go down at this date night fun house we're about to see, whether her seemingly naive personality (well what little personality she seems to have!) plays into things as well, we'll have to wait and see!

The other aspect of this outfit that is making me laugh is the fact that the skirt is giving me 1980's/early 1990's teen vibes (not to out myself as old but trust me I had some just like this back then and I wouldn't be caught dead in it now as a grown woman!!) and the baby pink handbag looks like something an 8 year old would have to play dress up with - its all very childish and immature - naive one could say, and its suggesting to me that we're going to see some pretty childish behaviour from her at some point in this episode (we'll have to wait and see if I'm right!). The other aspect oof this childish style we're seeing on her plays into Eddies narrative of looking for magic and trying to recreate what he had with Shannon. Its for me one of the reasons why i think we have s2 Eddies hair back, especially this greased back version in this scene - its a nod to his s2 arc when he tried to recreate the magic with Shannon. Eddies journey is about learning that he cannot recapture or recreate that magic he had when he was young - that the love of youth - in all its innocence is not something that is sustainable or actually what he wants in the present. for me, him figuring this out is an important part of his wider un-repression arc and will allow him to move forward and learn that he needs to build a relationship on a stronger foundation that magic and innocence. That (ghost of a) second chance with Shannon ended up as a literal car crash (sorry to be blunt but it was a metaphor back then too!) so my feeling is that this is going to go the same way - and end in a figurative (at least) car crash.

As for the chain necklace! you can read my 6x15 metas for a fuller run down this one is the most comprehensive one (and theres some stuff lurking on other meta posts as well) but essentially every single one of Buck or Eddies girlfriends have worn a chain necklace (there is also a bracelet too, which I think Marisol wore in 7x01 but her scene was so blink and you'll miss it that I can't get a good still to be sure!) of this style - I never did get to writing the full meta on the chain necklaces I intended - the season 6 finale rather deflated my enthusiasm to do so, but I can talk about it here so, things worked out I guess!

Chains are a representation of incarceration, or of holding something back. they are a huge symbol of slavery and are used in derogatory terms when used to talk about relationships (the old ball and chain etc). This is why we see them on all the women connected to either Buck or Eddie, and never on any of the other female characters in the show - these women are essentially holding Buck and Eddie back, they are chains to be broken free of.

Then we have Eddie in his white shirt! There are a couple of reasons I am completely in love with this choice! firstly is the most obvious, it paints things very black and white for Eddie and Marisol - they are opposites! In this context, the wardrobe department are deliberately creating that opposition between them - and in combo with that pink bag and skirt - things aren't going to end well for them.

Black is a colour that sucks light and colour from things (yes there is the concept of the little black dress etc for dating but thats more about timeless elegance and Marisol is not wearing a black dress!) that absorbs everything around it - you can see in the picture below how the black of her top is absorbing the colour while Eddies white shirt is bouncing it around and glowing with the red - its especially obvious on her sleeve which is partially sheer and partially matt - the sheer parts are picking up the light, making the black non sheer parts still look black.

The other reasons I am living for the Eddie in a white shirt of it all is the fact that it really highlights that red lighting - this use of red - in this setting at that moment - when it doesn't appear to be anywhere else in the scene and certainly not around Buck and Tommy - can only mean danger and anger. Its telling us that Eddie is not happy - jealous definitely (that look is one of jealousy!) its also hinting at underlying anger though. My thoughts on this is that its playing into Eddie having to face up to his feelings for Buck - that he understands them, and perhaps feels like he missed his shot

The other reason I'm obsessed with the choice to put Eddie in a white shirt is this ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Because yes that is Eddie in white and Buck in dark blue, and yes that is the only other time we've seen Eddie in white in the entire show (excepting white shorts in fight club and even they fit the theme we're seeing here). Seeing them in the same colour ways here is very much giving Buck and Eddie divorce era 3.0 (fight club/lawsuit was 1.0 and the one above was 2.0) vibes.

Having dinner with Buck (or in the same space as Buck) and his current partner and the blue and white (and green that Tommy is wearing which matches the green that Taylor was wearing) is definitely a choice. This scene in season 5 was essentially a Buck and Eddie break up - 'move on Buck, I have' - we all know how that spiral ended - with Eddie digging in with his leaving the 118 and excluding himself from the firefam and Buck cheating on Taylor and asking her to move in with him.

thing is Eddie has form for doing dumb things when he feels under stress or pressure (asking Shannon to marry him again, fight club after her death and Buck suing the firehouse, leaving the 118 and not getting the help he needed until he had a major breakdown to name 3!)- so if we saw some kind of parallel to this scene - (this is especially in light of Eddie talking to Bobby about the job in this episode) where Eddie doubles down on a poor decision (don't know what but I'm currently speculating that its maybe asking Marisol to move in with him way way too soon - when he doesn't know her - hello episode title) in the same way Buck did with Taylor (because he is faced with the fact he could've had a chance with Buck after-all and is emotionally cheating on Marisol) and it plays into

I'm not saying we're going to be getting rid of Marisol in 7x05 (unfortunately) but I am saying the writing is on the wall for that relationship - there are too many costuming signs on both Eddie and Marisol for it not to be headed in the direction of ending. My guess from what I'm seeing with these costumes and that lighting, is that 'Ghost of a second chance' is when it will come to a head - it plays into the theming of Shannon redux and car crashes, learning from past mistakes before you repeat them.

And finally we're at Bucks loft!

Not saying this is at the end of the episode - I have zero idea where its going to land - every time I see a new still from it I'm more confused and decide its going to be at a different point of the episode!

Anyway, thats not important! Eddie is in his Buck 'date night' shirt - the one he wears when he has serious talks with Buck in the loft. thing that is different this time, is the fact he's in jeans rather than the green trousers he's worn on every other occasion. Something about that is making me feel like, while this scene is likely to be similar in that its going to be a serious talk, and I'm sure from the way it looks in the stills we're going to see Eddie reassuring Buck as we have in previous scenes, I think we might find this one is going to give us Buck and Eddie on a more even footing that we've seen before.

I'm fascinated that the Christopher watch is not visible in the above still, but it's very visible in the below one, and in the other stills we've got. We don't often see it hidden under eddies sleeves - we usually see it more like we can see it in the date night stills - visible with the shirt slightly tucked underneath. haven't figured out if its going to be significant or not yet - I need to see the scene!

We do have to talk about the looks they are giving each other here though - especially Buck!!! because I mean!!!! its kind of giving me don't keep things from me again vibes!!

I am very much loving that they put Buck in this jumper though! it is the one from the sperm donor storyline - when Buck tells Eddie, Hen and Chim he is 'responsible for creating new life.' I love this specific parallel because there is the play on the fact that Buck is now living a new life - that he's figured something out about himself - that he's creatinga new life forhimself - one where he is bisexual, and openly so (as we know he's going to tell people in this episode and hell he might be telling Eddie in this scene!). the other thing is that this light blue colour, throughout season 6 became a real representation of Buck journey of self discovery - all the way back to Lev at the happiness convention and his year of yes, right through to post Lightning strike Buck who was trying to wrestle with his death and his rebirth - the light blue here really ties all of this together beautifully

Right thats All at this point - I'm sure my brain will conjure up other things once i've hit post, but for right now - I'm off to bed!!

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @bewilderedbuckley @spotsandsocks @bewitchedbewilderedbisexual@rogerzsteven @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @bi-moonlight @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud @satashiiwrites @lover-of-mine @yramesoruniverse @extasiswings @favouritealias @pop-kam

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viviennevermillion · 6 months

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My boyo. He's so adorable but SOOOO deranged it's not even funny. Like how do you work for human traffickers to make up for your inescapable poverty, use your magic to turn people into puppets to sell, enchant them to participate in a whimsical musical number for no reason but your own personal amusement, tell the terrified victims over loudspeaker how shit you think they are, let yourself be enraged by a bunch of sassy high schoolers and then decide by the end of the day, to quote my dear friend Azul Ashengrotto, I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!!! How does one go from trafficking children to wanting to found a school for magicless children in the span of 24 hours. How do you manage to escape a probably exploitative work contract AND steal your bosses' property in the span of 24 hours with nothing but 1 madol and a dream? How's he going to fund this school? He apparently has to be worried about getting enough to eat. How do you just go "you're right, no more trafficking children, from now on I'm gonna commit to the good of humanity :)"

His lesson from the whole thing was "actually schools are good!" rather than "wow I feel so bad for all the people I probably sold :/"

There is not a sane bone in his body and no rational thought in his brain. His thoughts probably contain so much cursing that the sentences are unintelligible when you censor them. Everytime he speaks to a person he doesn't like, he internally adds "you mediocre little fuckshit pissbabies" or similar to the end of the statements. He has the most deranged evil laugh ever. Even when he likes you and you tell him a funny joke he goes "hehehahahaaAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAH" like he's about to kill someone. He likes having his little ears scratched. He bites though.

He's like the biggest asshole cat you can mentally picture. He doesn't just push stuff off your shelves, he takes the vases and chucks them at unsuspecting pedestrians. He's mad at you and you ask him for a glass of milk and he takes the milk carton out of the fridge and pours the entire thing all over the floor and kitchen counters without breaking eye contact. There's a collection of knives on his bedroom wall.

He's my special little guy. They want to study him to update the DSM-5. He eats the rich. He needs some money to found his little school so he gotta work in retail, scanning the customers' products at checkout and muttering "fucking bourgeoisie cockroach" under his breath. Shamelessly lists "amusement park manager" and "salesman" in his CV as if he worked at a legitimate business. He once had a mental breakdown at the grocery store after closing hour and downed a bottle of whiskey straight from the shelf and then danced through the snack aisle stabbing his cane into the chips bags out of boredom while singing "you're never fully dressed without a smile". Gidel being mute is the only reason this kid does not curse like an uncensored Rapper version of Ebenezer Scrooge.

He's clinically insane. He's the most wondrous attraction at Playful Land. He hopes the afterlife is a musical. He's Fellow Honest. This is a fake name.

#twst #fellow honest #twst fellow #twisted wonderland fellow honest #twisted wonderland #stage in playful land

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unforth · 6 months

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I had a day off yesterday.

And I can already practically hear the assumptions that such a statement is prompting the reader to make. Those assumptions are wrong. I don't mean I didn't work. I did, for about 8 hours. That's not at all what I mean.

I mean my wife took the kids out at 9:30, spent the night with her mom, isn't back yet the next morning.

There are things I NEED people on this website to understand about parenting. And I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, because honestly the way that Tumblr as a cohort talks about parents makes me sick. Multiple polls have shown that only about 2% of people on here are parents. We're a huge minority, and we're constantly talked over, ignored, or accused of being bad parents (like, personally, I have had people reply to my comments or come on to my posts and tell me I shouldn't have my kids). In my case, being a parent means I'm almost 41, I'm married to @ramblingandpie, and our children are inching up on being 8 and 6 years old.

My entire day, and therefore my entire life, revolves around them. I'm up most mornings at 5 AM, because that's the earliest they're "allowed" to wake up, and so my brain just defaults to being awake around then - better to wake up before them, at least then I get a few minutes in the morning. Between 5 and 7, I sit with them, do my social media, work on side blogs, study Chinese. Then it's helping them get ready for school, then my wife or I or both get them on the bus, and then I work until the last possible minute, which is either when I need to go pick them up for an after school activity or when I need to go down and meet them off the bus. My afternoons are after school activities, chores such as washing the dishes and cleaning up toys, talking with them, working with them, playing with them. Their bedtime starts at 7:40, and my son gets scared if I leave before he falls asleep so I sit with him until about 8:15. As soon as he's asleep, I go fall on my face, sleep as best I can, then wake up and do it again. Overnight, it's hard to sleep deeply, because about once a week someone will wake up in the middle of the night and need help. That could be as minimal as a hug or as complex as having to completely change the bedding on a bunk bed at 2 AM while also comforting a child who is afraid they'll be in trouble, or afraid they're sick, or afraid of their nightmare, or, or, or. Further, if a child is awake, there is always noise. I usually study Chinese with two or more competing sources of noise. I read the same way. My life is loud, and active, and consists of constant interruptions.

I adore my family, and I love my children, but this is terrible for me.

I do all of this as an neurodivergent introvert. My clinical depression is at least medicated, mostly because post-partum depression after I gave birth the first time nearly drove me to suicidal in under a week (we were expecting this and were prepared, fortunately, getting help was as simple as a phone call). The constant noise and interruptions and forced socialibility are about the worst combination of home-life I could be subjected to. I spend far too many early mornings just breathing deeply and gearing myself up to be subjected to the wall of Loud, Boisterous, Needing-My-Attention that is every minute when anyone else in the house is awake.

So what did my day off look like?

I helped get the kids ready to go and did some morning chores. I'd been up at 4:30 AM so I also had already social media'd and studied. Then, while my wife finished the preparations, I started work, and I worked from about 8 am to about 4 pm, straight. I didn't get hungry so didn't bother stopping for lunch. No one interrupted me, no one asked me to look at anything they'd built, no one broke my concentration, no sounds could be heard except those I'd chosen myself.

I'd been out the day before at a local shopping street and listened closely to the things the kids said they wanted, so at 4 I grabbed a couple orders I needed to ship for work and drove to our local downtown, dropped the orders in a post box, then went back to the shops and did some Christmas shopping in the 45 minutes or so before everything closed. I think I'm basically done with what we'll get them - other bigger things will be left to grand parents - so that's a load off, I literally had a stress dream earlier this week about it being 12/24 and having forgotten to do the shopping and having to go to (oh horrors) the mall on the day before Christmas. (Reminder: I'm a Jewish atheist. It's just virtually impossible not to Holiday in the Culturally Christian Hellscape that is the US. Also, my wife is Christian. So.) Found something cute for my wife, too, even tho I already know the main thing I'm getting her. Then, I realized - one of my favorite restaurants is on that block. So. I went there. I sat by myself at a table, only the indistinct restaurant hubbub around me. I read four or five chapters of my book, and ate a savory crepe, and drank lovely fruit tea, and got a scone to-go that I'll eat for lunch today. It was more than I probably should have spent on myself - about $25, including tip - but fuck it. I only get maybe a handful of days off all year, and I'm allowed to indulge a little.

Then I came home. There were no lights on. There was no noise. I had considered doing some more merch work while watching TV on the actual television (my kids are too young for subtitled shows, so usually if I want to watch My Shows I either have to do it on my computer when they're not around, or put them on and read all the subtitles aloud while trying to keep up and process the actual meaning of what I'm reading). But when I got back, the quiet and dark was so goddamn NICE that instead I curled up on the couch and read more of my book. I did that until bedtime - still about 8:15, because I'm exhausted. Then...I went to bed. And I slept long and deep, knowing that there was no chance I'd be interrupted and woken up, I didn't have to be, even in sleep, alert to every noise and possibility that I'd be needed.

I'm still exhausted and burned out, but even one night to myself felt really, really nice.

Saying "Tumblr does X" as a universal statement is doomed to failure, but generally speaking, the parenting posts I see on Tumblr, the ones with tens or hundreds of thousands of notes, speak what's apparently widely seen as a truism on here: that unless someone wants to spend 24/7 with their kids, to be 100% emotionally available at all times, is always kind and patient and perfect, they are a bad parent, maybe even abusive. I remember when covid started, there were multiple posts actively mocking the "oh god, my kids are now home all the time, how am I supposed to do this?" attitude that a lot of parents posted in despair. WhY dId YoU hAvE kIdS iF yOu DoN't WaNt To SpEnD tImE wItH tHeM?

Look at what my usual day looks like.

Look at what my day off looked like.

Do you really think I don't want to spend time with my kids? Do you really think I don't love my kids?

But I'm not a fucking MACHINE. I'm a PERSON. That's what people on Tumblr seem to forget. PARENTS ARE PEOPLE. The same tumblrinas who post ~uwu be kind to yourself rest if you need to, you should forgive yourself for that mistake you made~ will turn around, with zero sense of irony, and post "you're a bad parent if you ever raise your voice around a child."

Expecting parents to be perfect means expecting parents to be inhuman. It also means that a parent can't be poor (can't spend all your time being the perfect parent if you have to work multiple jobs or weird hours!), can't be introverted (can't be a perfect parent if you're not completely emotional available, god forbid socializing is exhausting for you), can't be on the ADHD or autism spectrum (what do you mean you forgot to get your kid to a doctor's appointment once? what do you mean over-stimulation can make you angry? how dare you get angry at a kid!), can't be depressed (gotta get out of bed every single day, gotta always be upbeat, patient, happy, or else that's Evil), can't be (like my wife) physically disabled (what do you mean your hands hurt too much to hold a child's hand? are you denying them touch?? CRUEL). And when the only answer you can offer to that is, "if you can't be that perfect you shouldn't be a parent," then you're saying people who aren't middle class to wealthy, people who aren't neurotypical, people who aren't physically able, shouldn't have children.

And honestly...what the fuck is your problem?

I'm not perfect. I tell my kids to just leave me alone sometimes. I raise my voice, especially when one of my kids starts punching the other, but also sometimes just cause I'm exhausted and Can't Anymore. I've forgotten an appointment by accident and felt like a total fucking idiot, and I've skipped an after school activity because I just wasn't up for taking them. I've served them more unbalanced, unhealthy meals than I can count. I've made many, many mistakes, but I've also done my best, and I love my kids, and I hope that when they grow up, they'll still love me even as they recognize that I wasn't perfect, just as I've come to accept my own parents' short-comings while still loving them very much. They're people, too, and the older I get, the more I understand where they were coming from.

When I fuck up, I apologize.

When they tell me they're unhappy with something I've done, I apologize, and I try to do better. Sometimes I even succeed.

This shit is hard, yo. And it's getting harder every year.

I'm BEGGING Tumblr: you need to start seeing parents as people. The way y'all talk about parenting on here is toxic, and genuinely harmful, and frankly exhausting. You have no idea what the reality of raising kids is like, and you need to shut the entire fuck up.

I had a day off yesterday.

I might get one more before the end of 2023.

I already can't wait. I am so, so, so tired. sigh

(if you actually read this whole rant and even a single word of it resonated for you, please reblog it. I'm tired of never seeing positive posts about parenting while I see negative ones with a bajillion notes.)

#unforth rambles #parenting #momblr #nothing prompted this #i just think about writing posts like this all the time #because the low-level background buzz of how much tumblr hates parents is a constant stressor tbh #and every once and a while i tip over the line end up Writing the Thing #and so here we are again #god i have so much to do today and instead i procrastinate with this #oops

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alle-ni · 8 months

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My thoughts about goodomensverse (I'm clinically insane) (my personal opinion) (long post)

Book Crowley:

- absolute disaster

- lonely boy

- grumpiest

- he's so in love with Aziraphale but didn't even realised yet

- a bit dumb sometimes ngl

- very tired

- he's trying so hard save earth and everything he knows but everytime he tries to explain why it's always AZIRAPHALE

- sometimes he's like... your old gay uncle, the old gay uncle of the family except it's a 6000 years old gender fluid demon

- HISS LIKE A SNAKE GANG

- got called dear once and them died (figuratively)

Radio Crowley:

- flirty

- "Humm have you ever seen me in a dress~~??"

- he's like flirting with Aziraphale 24/7

- 0 patience this man is a BOMB

- if Aziraphale ever EVER got slightly flirty with him back he will EXPLODE

- smartest of them all, he's very intelligent

- HISS LIKE A SSSSSNAKE GANG

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and it makes him SO FRUSTRATED

- his Aziraphale is the hardest one to reach, maybe this is why he's so deliberately obvious and direct with him (he's resilient, he will never give up)

- he's like a tsudere teenager collegial except he's a 6000 years old demon with serious issues

- not called dear yet poor soul </3

TV Crowley:

- SILLY

- he's the dumbest of them all, sorry 😭

- red hair

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and everyone notice it's SO OBVIOUS

- he's the most affected by The Bookshop Burning ™ event

- the only one who got to kiss the angel, good for him ig, or sorry, idk

- anxiety bomb he literally (literally) EXPLODE

- strongest soldier bc his Aziraphale is IMPOSSIBLE

- got dumped 2 times more than the others someone pls help him

- the most brave tho

- doesn't hiss a lot :/ free him from this madness let him hiss

- he's like a puppy with giant yellow eyes except it's a 6000 years old snake demon that lies all the time

- protective as hell this man wouldn't let anyone near Aziraphale if possible

- got called dear but at what cost??????????????

Book Aziraphale:

- Anxious all the time, religious trauma except the god is your father and he left you and never talk to you again and the guard angels are your siblings and they want you do be dead

- He's so soft he wants so bad to comfort Crowley but he's really hard to reach

- his Crowley is the most difficult of all of them, he needs to circle him a lot to get in touch

- this man got called names so often I don't think he even cares anymore

- he's very nerdy

- he's the calmest of them all

- really chill

- everyone is so mean to him for no reason

- he has 1 braincell tbh and it's really bad bc his Crowley is not that brilliant too they're both stupid sometimes

- he really REALLY wants to be with Crowley and Crowley only, he sounds almost obligated to be with heaven

- he is really kind to others even when they don't deserve

- he called Crowley dear once and then implode

Radio Aziraphale:

- full of himself

- bastard

- the most closed and oblivious of them all

- he tries to play cool with Crowley all the time (he's slowly getting insane and someday he will jump on this man)

- he's the most self sufficient one he barely holds on Crowley to anything and they're pretty independent

- Crowley can say shit like "Miss me angel~~??" and he would keep a bored face and not react at all (he screamed with the walls 4 hours later)

- he's also a tsudere collegial but he at least try to look cool and composed in public

- he's the Aziraphale that most believes in heaven, he's sure they are good and selfless and the right side

- he's not so brilliant tbh but he got a lot of spirit

- the most active Aziraphale ?? He really put his hand in the dirt and do the things alone

- the most angry and bad tempered of them all, bro scream "WE ARE CLOSED LOOK AT THE DAMN SIGN" when ppl barely touch the bookshop door

- he has a lot of patience with Crowley, not deserved tbh bc he thinks it's his personal job to get in Aziraphale's nerves

- overall he is polite

- he's really proud of their "arrangement" there not only one chance he let go without saying that

- he likes to provoke Crowley sometimes too but not as much as the other way around

- if he ever call Crowley dear he will explode

TV Aziraphale:

- bitchiest

- this man need to be sedated what the fuck Aziraphale

- most nuts of then all he's CRAZY

- he's the most up to do shit with Crowley they're insane together

- he doesn't let Crowley rest he is flirting and being cute and hitting on Crowley all the time

- he's so obviously in love with Crowley its embarrassing

- he's the fruitiest he's the entire salad

- the most... indulgent, if I can say, of them all

- more like an employer of heaven, different of book Aziraphale

- he's the only one with almost white hair

- he got kissed but at what cost

- he's the most intelligent of all of them how can he be this dumb

- he loves little things about earth and humans and life and he seems to be the Aziraphale that most love EARTH itself, like, the life, the humans, the food, the little pleasures we have, the little time of happiness we have between all the shit that is happening... he really loves humans <3

- he's conflicted about heaven, he seems to know that there's something WRONG with how heaven works but still doesn't understand what exactly it is

- "oh but saving me makes him soooo happyyyy~~~"

- overall kind and sweet, in a excited way

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziracrow #crowley #Aziraphale #radio omens #good omens radio #good omens book #thats my opinion #more like some thoughts i have been collecting since im hearing radio omens #not really accurate #does this count as character study????#lol I think not #maybe i have a preference for radio Aziraphale i wrote so much more about him and ended up erasing it all bc it made me look insane #shit its 2 am I'm so sleepy

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thedovesaredying · 2 months

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Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 2

Second chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto AU. Written from the POV of Nikto this time. A reminder once again that there's a prologue and "part 1" is only the first full chapter. The original cowboy AU is owned and created by @ghouljams.

A/N: I'm a day late on my estimation for when it would be done, but life decided to get me sick, busy with uni work, and put one of my legs completely out of action. I also realized about 3 husbandry manuals deep into my research that the chapter would be a bit too long if I included that much information. Instead, the info will be sprinkled in among the next few chapters.

Warnings: Sputnik being a silly girl.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

First | Prev | Next

The weather is downright miserable. While one might assume the worst weather would be torrential rain or unforgiving hail, Nikto is firmly of the belief that there’s nothing worse than a hot, sunny day. It’s hard enough to be constantly covered from head to toe, but to then add on the Texan sun beating down at its full strength? He’s certain he’ll be nothing more than a puddle of sweat by the end of the day.

At least Sputnik seems to be enjoying the disgusting temperatures. She’s running around the front of the property, completely unfazed by the heat. She welcomes it, in fact, using it as the perfect excuse to paddle into the large dam for a cool swim at the day’s warmest.

Her paws are caked with mud and grass, so much to her sadness she’s been barred from entering the house, forced to wait until she’s dried off and all the muck has fallen off of her paws. If she’s still dirty by the end of the day then a quick hosing down will be in order, but she’ll likely consider that a fun game too.

For now, she’s content to lay stretched out on the porch, her side rapidly rising and falling as she pants.

The weather isn’t the only thing that’s miserable, however. Nikto’s mood has been foul ever since his forced trip into town for new supplies. A certain hyena had decided that she was bored while her owner was away and had decided to chew a rather large hole in the wall of the shed.

The hole was easily large enough for her to climb through and so, after having already spent most of the day hard at work, Nikto was forced to leave for the only hardware store in town. Some new planks of wood and a hammer not riddled with rust later, and he’s reminded of the invoice he received the vet clinic a few days prior and has also yet to pay for.

He’s not quite sure what possessed him to go to the clinic in person, but he was disappointed regardless with what greeted him. The receptionist was painfully cheery and seemed determined to dig into his business with her endless questions. He’d left feeling completely drained from only a single conversation with the woman. You hadn’t been there. He can’t fathom why that annoys him so much.

The hole in the shed was simple enough to fix, even under the intensity of the sweltering heat, but the issue of Sputnik remains.

Clearly, he can’t leave her unattended for several hours at a time just for work. She’s never had to entertain herself in such an environment and clearly, it’s stressing her out being without her only packmate. She requires both social interaction and physical activity, but above all of that, needs mental stimulation.

Like a toddler left without a guardian, Sputnik has decided that she can tear apart the house and garden while unattended. Plants have been torn out of the ground, wooden structures gnawed to bits, and most concerningly, large holes dug along the fence line.

The situation is far from ideal, but Nikto does not abandon his own. He isn’t like those bastards at the CIA who are willing to leave those loyal to them knowing full well they will perish without help. He made that decision a long time ago, and Sputnik’s very name is a tribute to that.

It was only three years ago, but it felt like eons. It started with a small enemy group hidden deep within the South African wilderness who were utilising spotted hyenas as guard animals. Nikto and his team had cut through the animals both outside and inside the building, even the ones hidden away in the basement below.

In the end, only a single cub remained; a tiny girl still nestled up against the steadily cooling body of her mother. She couldn’t have been more than a week or two of age, bright eyed as all hyena newborns are, and covered in scraggly fur.

The other men on the team planned on putting the animal out of her misery, but the sight gave Nikto pause. She was small and defenceless, and abandoned by her cowardly handlers to be killed by their enemy. It was a story he couldn’t help but find familiar. Picking up the infant, she snuggles into his vest, completely trusting of him despite not having known him for more than a few seconds.

She whines and licks at him as he tucks her into his shirt, safe and warm pressed up against scarred skin. No one says a word, when he leaves the compound with the cub and boards the waiting helicopter for the trip back to base.

His first thought was to name her Laika, but that name seemed a little too common for his taste, and so he chose Sputnik, the name of Laika’s space capsule and eventual tomb. A tribute to yet another stray who was left behind by those who should have protected her.

Sputnik would not suffer the same fate; she would never be disregarded like a broken toy thrown into the trash. She’s good, she’s loyal, she trusts Nikto unconditionally. Destroying a bit of property would never be a reason to break that trust.

Instead, he presses dial on your number and holds his phone to his ear. He’s been thinking it over for several minutes, finger hovering over the button with your contact listed, before forcing himself to press it. For a long while it rings and he’s about to give up when you finally answer with a bright greeting to whoever is on the other side.

He grunts out your name, listening as you happily chirp his own back at him in return. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask. He can hear the soft rumbling of a car’s engine in the background and can only assume you’re driving somewhere.

“I require... assistance,” he says after a long pause, letting the conversation drift into silence. While it isn’t necessarily help he’s asking for, it still rankles deeply that he isn’t solving the issue alone. He despises being indebted to anyone for anything, but for some reason he doesn’t get the feeling you’re out to acquire favours from anyone. You’re a professional merely doing what you’re trained for and nothing more. He can admire that.

“What can I help you with? Is Sputnik alright?” You sound so genuinely concerned about her, so much so that it sounds like you almost drop your phone.

He glances down at the hyena laying happily at his feet, panting up at him with a broad grin. “She is fine,” he confirms, catching the relieved sigh you let out, “it is behavioural issues she is dealing with.”

You make a soft sound, clearly intrigued, “well, I’m on the road at the moment heading toward my next appointment, but I should have time to drop in to your place in a few hours. Will you be around then?”

“да,” he hums, “we will be here.”

“Perfect! I’ll be there in a few,” you confirm, and after offering an acknowledging grunt, he ends the call.

He goes to pocket the phone but pauses, glancing at your number. Mulling it over for a good long while, he selects the number and adds it to his contacts. There’s only two other people there, one of them his current workplace and the other one of his old acquaintances from before even his time in KorTac.

A rather dramatic huff from Sputnik draws his attention from staring at his phone, and he watches her with hidden amusement as she rolls over onto her stomach. She looks up at him with big, sad eyes and a pathetic whine. When he merely rolls his eyes at her she playfully snaps her teeth in his direction.

“Я не знал, что ты такая королева драмы,” he growls back, curling the undamaged part of his lip at her.

The hyena, fortunately, can tell he’s still joking despite his deadpan tone and leaps to her feet with a delighted cackle. She shakes out her coat, biting at the air. The moment he so much as twitches a finger in her direction she turns and leaps off the top of the deck, forgoing the stairs so she can sprint across the yard.

Nikto stands from his chair but doesn’t give chase, watching as the crazy animal spins around in circles before darting off toward the dam again. She dives into the water with a splash, sending muddy water in all directions. He cringes slightly at the sight of the hyena now dripping with muck. At least he was already planning on hosing her down. The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, with Nikto taking some time to rest while Sputnik causes minimal trouble.

When your car finally does pull up, the poor girl has exhausted herself again, laying in a pile of leaves while she happily naps away. The moment her flicking ears pick up the sound of your truck on the gravel she jumps up again, eyes wide as she takes in the familiar sight. She’s already giggling to herself with excitement, looking between Nikto and your vehicle.

“место!” Nikto calls, ignoring the sad whimper that earns. He approaches when you pull up, patiently waiting as you drop out of the front seat and close the door behind you.

When you spot him, you offer a wave and grin, “hey, Nikto!” You take a moment to glance over at Sputnik and he can see her near enough vibrating with how excited she is to come over and greet you out of the corner of her eye. “How’ve you been doing?” you stop just before him, looking him right in the eye, completely unfazed by the monster you’re facing down.

“We are fine,” he says, perhaps a little too firmly given the way you blink at him, “we require some assistance with behavioural issues.” He quickly amends his statement in the hopes of not immediately scaring you off.

Fortunately, you’re quick to bounce back, a smile returning to your face, “of course, what sorts of problems are you experiencing?”

“Спутник!” The hyena’s head shoots up upon hearing her name, “ко мне!” She sprints across the grass, very nearly crashing into his legs with her enthusiasm to heed her owner’s command. “She is getting bored when left alone,” he explains, watching as you reach your hand out for the hyena, “eating walls, digging holes, breaking everything she can reach.”

Sputnik snuffles at your hand, before whining and immediately shifting to lean up against you, demanding pets. You scratch behind her neck and Sputnik’s tongue lolls out of her mouth in delight. “I’m sure we can work something out to help prevent her from damaging anything else or accidentally eating something she shouldn’t be.”

“She struggles when left alone, especially during work hours,” he adds on, turning and starting to stalk toward the side of the house where the majority of the damage can be seen.

“Okay, well she sounds like she just needs some enrichment to keep her occupied while you’re away,” you nod to yourself as you follow Nikto around to the side of the house. Several of the small plants that had been happily growing in little spots around the yard have been either pulled from the soil or completely shredded if they couldn’t be moved.

You look at the scattered remains of the poor shed’s wall, but don’t look entirely surprised by the backyard warzone you’ve stepped into. You frown down at Sputnik, scratching her between the ears, “what a silly girl,” you coo, rubbing at her ears as the hyena grins up at you with half-lidded eyes, “you shouldn’t be eating all this stuff, it’ll make your tummy sore!”

Somehow, your baby-talk voice just serves to make Sputnik even giddier, and she eagerly licks at the tips of your fingers. Nikto almost rolls his eyes at the little heart eyes the animal is subjecting you to. It’s impressive, really, how she can remember someone is a friend from only a single interaction.

When you snap back from your babying of the animal, you quickly refocus. “Hyenas have very powerful jaws, and they love to chew things, so if she doesn’t have enough to keep her entertained then she’ll find something to destroy.”

“She was given an old tyre a few weeks ago, but it only lasted a few days.” To say he was deeply unimpressed with how quickly she’d torn it to pieces would be an understatement. He knew that Sputnik had quite the bite on her, but to chomp through nine millimetres of rubber like it’s cardboard? Impressive, if a little annoying.

“How big is your freezer?” you abruptly ask him, and Nikto suddenly worries where this line of questioning is going. Does he need to check the trunk of your car? Regardless, he offers you a nod.

“Perfect!” You clap your hands together, making Sputnik jump excitedly at the sudden sound, “it’s supposed to be quite hot tomorrow, so I can think of at least one idea for her.” You start listing out what the two of you are going to do rapid-fire with the same confidence and efficiency of any commanding officer.

You’re in your element, your passion for your work clear as day and you have him following your every instruction. You’re like a fount of knowledge when it comes to anything and everything husbandry related, suggesting changes to Sputnik’s diet, new toys to keep her entertained, and ways to prevent her from destroying anything she really shouldn’t be messing with.

When you finally end up leaving, it’s long past sundown. Sputnik has grown bored of watching the two of you working in the shed and has retired to her massive dog bed for a nap, so the two of you have been working in comfortable silence. He’s glad you don’t feel the need to fill the air with irritating chatter, only offering corrections here and there.

He escorts you to back to your truck, closing your door behind you once you’re settled comfortably into the driver’s seat. You roll down the window and offer him a grin, but he can see just how tired you are given how your eyes are slightly drooped. “How much do we owe?” he asks, quickly tearing his gaze from your sweet smile.

Little wrinkles appear across your forehead as your lips turn downward, an innocent, confused look on your face, “owe you?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead just huffs in mild amusement, “payment, for your work.”

Your eyes light up in understanding and you laugh, “oh, no, don’t worry about that,” you wave him off, “I’m just happy to help out.” You just smile up at him, as if you can’t see anything wrong with what you just said.

Nikto is forced to remind himself that you’re a civilian, not another untrustworthy operator. Not everyone does things purely for the pay they’ll be rewarded with, even if the very thought of not giving you something in return makes him uncomfortable. He holds his hand out to you, “phone.”

You blink at him for a second, but quickly do as you’re told, just like the good girl you are. He goes into your contacts and adds his number and details, hitting save the moment he’s done. He doesn’t bother adding a picture, passing your phone back to you, “call us when you require assistance.” He waits until you offer him a nod before he steps back from the side of the car.

You have an odd, flustered look on your face for some reason, but you’re quick to snap out of whatever daze you're in and give him a quick wave as you put your truck into reverse. He watches silently as you disappear back down the driveway and into the steadily darkening evening, waiting until you’re out of sight.

Sputnik is absolutely delighted the following morning when Nikto presents her with her blood and peanut butter ice block.

Translations

“да,” - “Yes”

“Я не знал, что ты такая королева драмы,” - “I didn't know you were such a drama queen,”

“место!” - “Stay!”

“Спутник!” - “Sputnik!”

“ко мне!” - “Come!”

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #call of duty nikto #cowboy au #nikto x reader #fanfic

149 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 10 months

Note

Happy follower milestone! Maybe an Ettore onesbot where reader is assistant to the doctor Dibs and maybe some kind of nurse kink???

Afflictions Of A Dark Nature

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is my first time writing for Ettore so apologies if it seems OOC, I did try my best (I even re-watched High Life and will be sending the bill for emotional damages). Also get well soon @ewanmitchellcrumbs 😚

Warnings under the cut! Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* lots of swearing, mentions of past sexual encounters that may have not been consensual, fingering, dub-con, p in v sex, ass slapping, degradation, mentions of a blood test, male masturbation, oral (f receiving), creampie, cum eating, dacryphyilia, choking, kinda face slapping?, ass play, spitting, overstimulation | Word Count: 6.4k~ | dividers by @firefly-graphics

If he had to see that wrinkly, smug face of Dr Dibs again, Ettore would lose it.

He knew who he was. He wasn’t beyond acting out against women if he wanted to. It’s part of what put him here in the first place. Drifting through space, on some suicide mission that the oh-so-wise earthlings had decided it would be better to doom prisoners to death rather than qualified astronauts. Not like it mattered. He was on death-row anyway, so what loss really was it?

Only the loss of his complete sanity.

He knew that if he lashed out at anyone, even Dr Dibs, there’d be a punishment of sorts. In a way that was wholly unethical for someone who is supposed to provide care, but hey, who’s keeping track. Nobody gives a shit on earth. She could put arsenic in the water supply if she wanted to, and nobody could say a thing about it.

For the sake of at least living longer, though it made him dry-heave inside, he sweetened up, got more sleeping pills out of it as a result, which in this place was gold dust. A long, good-night’s sleep did little to take a person away from a situation like this, but it was at least something. A small mercy in a way.

Deep down, there was a need-no, an impulse that Ettore couldn’t shake.

But before he could indulge in the memories of those needs, someone called his name.

“Ettore, is it?”

Her voice was sweet, far too compassionate for someone stuck aboard working on this fucked up prison. And when she raised her eyebrows at him to elicit a response, she gave a polite smile. When was the last time someone smiled at him, truly?

She had a clipboard in front of her, disguising the lanyard around her neck and she wore blue scrubs, which looked the same design as the prisoners, but instead theirs were red.

Perhaps to show how dangerous they were. Hers was clinical and clean. Pure.

He wore suspicion on his face, marked with the furrow of his brows and without saying a word he stood and followed her into the infirmary. She was a head shorter than him which made him smirk when he was sure she wasn’t looking.

All he knew was that he was grateful it wasn’t that wrinkly, smug bitch. He was sure she was doing something fucking weird to them. Just couldn’t put his finger on what.

When she drew the curtain, she let him in first, “Have a seat”

This cubicle was at least separate. And even though they’d not been on the ship for long, it looked crusty and old, with those wax linoleum floors, vile padded walls. It looked like it was going to fall apart.

Ettore slumped into a chair next to a computer with a huff, taking in his surroundings, still trying to figure out what to make of this new person. Why hadn’t he seen her before? And she looked a lot younger than Dibs, was she even a real doctor or nurse at all?

Her hair was in a loose bun, fractionally more formal than Dibs who wore her braid like armour over her shoulder at all times. It made her look older, despite what Dibs would like to have believed.

She sat down in front of the computer, typing in a few things, and he admired her face for a moment in silence. The way the light of the monitor reflected off the colour of her eyes, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips when she was trying to read something and how fast her fingers typed on the old, beige keyboard that was far too loud for his liking. Sounded like a clock was ticking in his brain.

He didn’t say a word. As was Ettore’s way. He was usually never one to speak first. He was an observer, seeking out the weaknesses of people as if he could simply by looking, like he could extract a little piece of them the longer he did. For her though, he couldn’t make her out.

When Ettore craned his head slowly to look, he could see she was reading his medical history and it made him feel special to know that she was finding out everything she could about him. He wished he could do the same to her. Find out all her little secrets.

“Just some general things and blood work today, nothing fancy” she says, meeting his eyes for a moment with another polite smile, the kind of smile where she’s clearly just trying to be nice, but Ettore can’t help the deep ache in his core to have a woman in front of him now, after years of not touching one. The Box was fine, sure, but there was no other feeling like a woman. Their warm, fleshy insides, each ridge within different from woman to woman.

Something knocked on the door in his mind. A sinful thought had arrived and asked how would she feel? Did she use the Box as well? Who did she think of when she touched herself?

“Roll up your sleeve for me” she instructs, holding the blood pressure monitor in her hands and tearing the velcro away.

She meets his eyes again briefly to find him already looking at her when she leans forward to wrap it around his bicep, right over where his tattoo is. She has small, soft hands, indicative of her work. How would they feel on him, wrapped around his cock? Would her hands even surround him? That was all he could think about as she patted the cuff in place, brushing against his shoulder.

The machine whirred to life and it squeezed his arm, at the end bordering on pain which made him wince. She busied herself with typing on her computer in the meantime, the lanyard around her neck now visible, showing her name.

Got you.

When the machine beeped, she looked at the screen and put the results into his record, wheeling her chair to him again to take it off. He felt his cock get hard beneath his scrubs not just at the feel of her hands on him again, but now because of her proximity. He assumed everyone used the same soap here, she was no exception. But it smelled different on her and he inhaled a deep, long breath to commit as much of it to memory as he could.

She looked surprised when he spoke, as if she hadn’t expected him to.

“Why haven’t I seen you around”

It was hardly a questioning tone, more like an accusation. But she didn’t flinch away at it, rather, she was used to it.

She gave another polite smile, “Oh well, I’m usually in here, running all the tests Dibs gives me” she explains, getting her additional tools ready for the blood test, “But she wanted more help with ‘menial’ tasks like this, is how she put it” she says with a short, quiet huff of a laugh, like she thinks the reasoning was poor.

“So now you’re doing poor sod’s blood tests?”

She nodded, “Something like that”

Her tools were lined up, a tourniquet, a syringe and some cotton swabs. She pulled a pair of blue gloves on and moved her chair closer to him.

“So you’re gonna poke at me?” he asks, half-amused, like he’s testing her.

She cleans the area around his arm with alcohol, a puff of air coming out her nose in a quiet laugh, tightening the tourniquet on him “Just seeing if you have good veins” she says, running her thumb over the pale skin of his arm, clearly finding a vein she was happy with.

Dr Dibs always missed his vein at least once, and he’d clench his fist as the needle went in. He wasn’t into drugs, like a lot of other prisoners here, so he wasn’t used to the prickly feeling. He found pleasure in other ways he deemed fit.

“Just a scratch” she mutters, inserting the needle beneath his skin, smiling to herself when blood goes into the bottle. First time.

Ettore watched the vial fill with rich, thick blood, and then watched her, “You seem a bit young to be a doctor”

"Technically I'm a Junior Doctor" she replies, concentrating on his blood flow before meeting his eyes again. She seems to look at him deeply, her pupils flirting across his face now that they're so close to each other. He hears every little breath, every movement of her throat as she swallows thick, like she's nervous. And everytime her tongue darts out to wet her lips, he stares at the pinkness of it, thinking of how it would feel.

"Should I be trusting you to give me a blood test?" He teases with a wolfish grin, trying to see just how far he can push his luck.

"Hm, I don't suppose you have much choice" her smile turns a bit devilish at his quip, which quite honestly, the turn of her lips makes him want to bend her over the desk and fuck her right then and there. Wants to see what kind of sweet sounds she might make. Even the thought of it makes his cock ache.

“Suppose not”

"I'm allowed to give you blood tests" she says with a teasing smile, pulling the needle from his arm and replacing it with a cotton swab, "Hold that there for me"

He obeys, holding it with his thumb firmly, smirking at the banter he didn't expect to have. The fact that she doesn't visibly seem afraid of him only spurs him on more. Thinking how far can he really go to make her feel uncomfortable. To make her realise just how dangerous he is, what he could do to her.

If anything he's shocked at his own restraint that he's managed this long without touching her. Such a small little thing. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he put his mind to it. And in those cute little scrubs as well, she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to him. How easy would it be to just rip right through them, to see if she was wearing anything underneath. He imagined she wasn’t, and that he’d rip them open to be greeted with her bare, soft skin, how plush and feminine her tits would be, filling his palm. He wants to squeeze them painfully, make her whine out like a slut.

His body is getting hot, blood thrumming with want.

Once the cotton swab is secured to his arm with adhesive, he can’t take his eyes off her, challenging her to meet his gaze to see what she would do.

“Why are you here?” he asks, intrigued. She doesn’t look a bit like a criminal. But he could be surprised by her and he has a feeling he will.

“That’s a personal question” she states, not losing the lazy smirk on her face at the fact he’s clearly so interested in her, “why are you here?”

“Alright, point taken”

She doesn’t prod for more information.

Holding out a clear tub to him, “You know what to do right?” she asks, clearly holding back a wider smile.

Cheeky bitch.

He snatches it from her grasp with a grin, “Now?”

Her eyebrow twitches in amusement.

“However long it takes”

A jolt goes through his body, as if a light had just come on inside. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fucking cock tease.

He gave her a look before drawing the curtain in the cubicle, barely a few feet from where she sat. So close that he could hear her typing on her computer, hear her quiet sighs. What sweet noises would she make with his cock prodding her soft, tight insides.

Usually when he did sperm samples for Dibs, he took no enjoyment from the idea that she was essentially in the same room as him, not that it took him any less time to cum, she was still a woman and that meant something. As repulsive as she seemed.

But when he took himself in his fist and stroked himself to hardness, teased himself with eyes softly falling shut, he imagined they were her hands. Everytime he squeezed from base to tip, reaching down with the other hand to cup his balls, wondering what her tongue would feel like dragging over every inch of him. Would she tease him? Lick his angry red tip only slightly, and that sensitive spot underneath, flattening her wet muscle over it slowly, allowing him to feel every warm and minute movement.

Without even really realising, his hand was guiding himself faster, desperate to feel the friction of her pussy choking him. Would she buck her hips to meet his desperate thrusts, or squirm away as he bullied the end of her, pushing against her cervix recklessly. He wanted her to be a good girl, and just take what he gave her. If he started, would he really truly be able to stop?

He struggled to hold in the shuddered breaths and he very nearly forgot to put the tub in front of him before finishing. A pleasant roll of warmth ran through his body, one that quickly turned into a dark, deep desire. His hand wasn't enough. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long. He wanted the real thing and she was right there. Dirty bitch was probably already wet thinking about what he was doing.

Slipping through the curtain he handed it out to her and she took it with an amused raise of her eyebrows.

“That was quick” she quipped, putting a lid on it and writing his name for the label.

Oh she’s going to get it, dirty fucking mouth.

He couldn’t hold off the sort of accomplished grin on his face, she was more fun than he thought. For a moment, he allowed himself to just simply observe her, wondering what other fun they could have.

He was growing impatient at not being able to act on those thoughts.

“Is that it?” he asks, making her look up again.

“Unless you have any other…ailments?” Ettore doesn’t miss the way she suppresses a grin by biting the inside of her cheek. He doesn’t suppress his and feels impossibly hard once again seeing her dainty lips curl up just slightly. She must be able to see beneath the thin fabric of his scrubs, how much he wants her. Let her see, he thinks, make her squirm a bit.

He watches the way her eyes briefly run over him. It was so quick, that had he not been looking right at her, he would have missed it. She swallows, feeling like he caught her and turns away a bit, trying to hide the warm feeling that settles between her legs at the way he’s looking at her, exciting and yet dangerous at the same time.

She only hopes he doesn’t notice the way she’s squeezed her thighs together.

“Smashing then, cheers doc” he smirks, sauntering off with a certain swagger about him, knowing that his sweet, innocent looking little doctor is all worked up. He looks over his shoulder before leaving.

The ache of the blood test is completely forgotten. Instead, all his blood is below his waist, with none left for his brain to function. It’s been a while since a woman last did this to him. Yeah he’d fucked plenty of women, some had even wanted it. But he wanted her to want it. Wanted the little slut to beg for it. To beg him to stuff her full of his cock.

That was new, he thought. But it didn’t deter him from trying to get near her when she was alone, for any chance he could get at having her all to himself.

Annoyingly, he didn’t find the opportunity for quite some time.

Anytime he stalked past her office, there was always some other prisoner inside, having their own tests. A flash of something akin to a dark jealousy courses through his veins, his hands forming fists whenever he hears her talking in a hushed voice to another male prisoner, speaking in that way that only a doctor does.

It’s short lived, when he realises she doesn’t speak as sweetly to them as she does to him.

It feels like he’s had a hard-on for days, just merely thinking about being alone with her. It’s beginning to become painful just how much he wants it, to make her squirm for him, to make her cry. His use of the Box has increased dramatically, but the more he does it, the less the effect. His hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He can’t replicate that tightness only a woman's cunt could give, the feeling of being sucked so desperately inside someone, being milked for all he’s worth. He dreams of it. She would take it all, he thinks, she’d be a good little slut and take it.

He thinks that if he goes there often enough, he might just run into her, drag her inside, or to a nearby hallway, or even tackle her to the floor if need be and shove himself so deep in her she won’t be able to hold back her wanton moans. He imagines holding her arms behind her back so she can’t move, brutally fucking her so hard that her hips will be bruised.

He’s always liked walking around in the dark, even though he knows he’s not really allowed.

Tonight though, it rewards him.

A soft light emanates from her office and when he leans against the doorway to peek inside, he emits a quiet laugh through his nose, hands in pockets, just watching her.

Her hair is free of the loose bun she wore before and it trails down her back as she’s sat in her chair, leaning over a microscope. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing and recording notes that his presence doesn’t even disturb her.

He didn’t even think about announcing his presence. He wanted her genuine reaction.

So he didn’t think twice about stalking up behind her and grabbing a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. Only a quiet gasp escaped before he slammed his palm over her mouth, muffling a surprised cry.

“Shut the fuck up” he warned with a low voice.

She froze at his words, eyes wide and breathing heavily, not even having to wonder who it was. His fingers curled painfully against her scalp, tugging her up so her back is to him. Ettore can feel her hurried breaths out her nose hitting his hand.

“Be quiet and I’ll play nice” he says against the shell of her ear, making her body shudder, drawing his hand away from her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispers accusingly behind her as he pushes the front of her body close to the desk, the edge biting into the front of her legs. His hands run down the sides of her, sucking in the fabric to the shape of her body, growling low at finally being able to see her form underneath.

“I came to see you” he grins,

“Fucking liar”

There was something exciting about being called out like that, and about her saying such vulgar words. As sweet as she looked, he knew there was something deep inside, somewhere he wanted to prod and poke at.

“It’s your own fucking fault” he snarls, pushing his hardness against the softness of her ass. He feels her freeze up for a moment, as if she’s just putting the pieces together, “prancing about in your slutty fucking doctor’s outfit”

One hand dips beneath the hem of her scrubs, a warm sigh expelled from his chest at the softness of her stomach beneath it, trailing higher over her ribs. He can almost feel her pounding heart from here, and it does nothing to deter him, the smirk on his face evidence of that. His large palm tugs at one of her clothed breasts, slightly annoyed to see that she’s wearing a bra underneath, but he squeezes it all the same, relishing in the pained whine she lets out in response to it.

His other hand tugs her forearm almost painfully behind her, twisting it in his grip harshly. He fully knew how strong he was compared to her and couldn’t have her doing anything rash. Best to keep her hands where he can see them.

“I was just trying to be nice” she counters with a harshness to her voice, not being able to take the breathiness out of it, “Damn sight better than what most of you deserve” she briefly struggles in his hold, that is until he tightens the clamp on her wrist. A warning.

“Careful” he warns low in her ear, “I don’t think you understand the situation right now”

“You need to get off me. Now” she tries to push her hips away from him, but at her blatant refusal, he only pushes himself closer to her, moaning softly at the friction against him and the warmth of her even with her scrubs separating them.

He resists the urge to outright laugh, and scoffs instead, “You are in no position to make demands to me. I see right through you…you want me”

She only grunts painfully in response, half-trying to tear her hand away. Not trusting herself to say anything. Ettore almost wants to laugh at how pathetically she’s trying to avoid showing how she really feels.

“How long has it been, hm?” he says, more like a growl than anything, as his hand dips beneath the waistband of her scrubs, “Since someone touched you here”

She doesn’t reply, half fighting and half giving in. But then his hand cups her clothed sex, only covered by her thin underwear and she feels his large palm rub against her, her clit throbbing with desire at not having been touched in so long. God it had been so long. His fingers tease her entrance, rubbing in circles, coaxing some slick from her.

“A while, huh?” he smirks.

“Stop it, we’ll get in trouble” she says, but it comes out a whisper, not able to hide the way his hand against her most intimate area is having such an effect on her. The heel of his palm rubs against her bundle of nerves, making her blood feel like fire in her veins, arousal pooling in her belly.

“You think I give a fuck?” he retorts, grinning, “I would have a thousand punishments if I meant I could shove my cock in your tight little hole”

“You wouldn’t”

He does laugh at that, “You wanna bet?”

Her body briefly goes rigid, trying to hold back a genuine moan when his hand dips past her underwear, and Ettore groans at the feeling of her warm, wet pussy, coating his fingers with her slick. Her eyes break closed, mouth taut into a thin line to hold in her whine, body slightly trembling at how hard she is trying to hold back.

“You talk all this shit and you’re fucking soaked for me” he grins against her ear, “is this what was under that uniform…while you were prodding and poking me?”

She gasps, her lips opening in a hurried breath as his digit sinks into her, teasing her soft, spongy walls with the calloused pads of his fingertips. She doesn’t answer him. Can’t. She can just feel herself getting warmer. It’s undeniable, the effect he has on her. And she’s not sure if she’d be wise to submit to it.

But it’s getting harder and harder by the second not to.

“Oh, you’re filthy” he says, inserting another finger, stretching her pussy with them, softly but harshly pushing inside “getting off on taking my blood, fucking slut”

At both his words and motions, she lets out a soft and quiet moan, a pressure inside her building the more she feels his fingers caressing her warm, wet walls.

Ettore tugs down his sweatpants, freeing his cock which sits hot and heavy against the curve of her ass, the tip flushed and stood to attention against his stomach. He gives himself a few pumps, pushing forward to let her feel him. He doesn’t even bother to begin the tryst with kissing. He’s not like that.

It’s much too soft and intimate a gesture, compared to what he plans to do with her.

She turns her head, now just quietly moaning at the pleasure his fingers give her, eyes half open and a hedonistic expression on her face. She sees him pull his shirt up his chest, and then looks down, to see what exactly is pushing hard against her backside.

Before she has any time to react, his hand is curled around her nape, pushing her head flush against the table in front of her, sending the samples scattering to the floor.

"Stop it!" She protests, trying to wiggle helplessly out his grasp, "I'll scream"

She sees him smirk, looking down at her with a half lidded lust filled gaze.

"Do it then, makes it more interesting" he shows his teeth, tugging down her scrubs song with her underwear. Now with her body flush against the table and stuck, both his hands knead the globes of her ass, his fingers leaving pink marks in their wake. He takes fistfuls, spreading them to have a proper look at her glistening pussy, just waiting for him. She whimpers at the pleasured pain it emits when his fingers hold her apart, only to turn into a surprised gasp as he kicks her ankles apart.

“Someone could walk in!” she whisper-shouts, holding her hand to her mouth to muffle any sounds when he runs the tip of his cock over her soaked folds, slapping it against her clit and smiling at her reaction.

“Let them watch then, they can see how much of a mess I’ll make of you” he purrs leaning down to press his chest against her back, “None of that either” he pulls her hand from her mouth, “I want to hear how desperate you are for me”

With her cheek flush against the table, she had to only move her eyes to look at him. Glazed over with the pupil blown wide, it betrays just how much she may or may not want it, she still doesn’t want to show him. She’s almost annoyed at his cockiness, until she feels just how big he is, teasing her ever so slightly at her entrance.

“Now let’s see what pretty noises you can make for me, hm?”

He pushes against her, parting her folds, pulling her hips towards him to sink as much inside her as he can. His heart beats faster as he feels her pussy choke him tightly, every single ridge feels like fucking magic against his cock, he feels like just finishing inside her right there. She chokes a moan, his curved member rubbing up inside her at all the right angles the further inside he goes, until he kisses the end of her with the tip, reaching places she could never with her own fingers in the Box. Her back arches slightly as he bottoms out inside her, his fingers so tight on her hips they will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not even a second, as he pulls all the way out, his length covered in her slick and slams back inside with a wet smack, watching how the flesh of her ass ripples when his hips meet it.

“Oh you’re bad…” he purrs, setting a brutally quick pace. Her eyes softly shut, her front rubbing almost painfully against the stainless steel table with each hard thrust.

“Gonna have you on every fucking flat surface in this ship” he breathes, his voice hurried from the effort and how she tightens around him at his words, “you’d like that wouldn’t you….everyone watching how much of a slut you are”

She yelps out in a pained moan when he slaps her ass, gripping it after to emphasise the burn, “Answer me”

“Yes-yes…” she manages through hurried breaths, trying to control her volume but rapidly failing.

Every time he fucks into, the sheer thickness of him pushes the air out of her lungs every time, her walls stretching against him to accommodate. Ettore smirks down at the view. She lets out between a sob and a moan when she feels his spit on her puckered hole, his thumb rubbing circles against it and spreading his saliva over her sensitive skin.

It feels so right and wrong at the same time. And when he pushes a thumb inside, only making her feel more full than she already does, she can't help but buck her ass against him, wanting more friction, pleasured tears falling down her cheeks. It really had been a while since she last had sex, obviously. But nobody had been this forward and rough with her before.

“See? I know you like this…knew you wanted to fuck me the second you saw me” he mocks, giving one hard, deep thrust inside which has her squirming against him with a desperate whine, his thumb sank all the way inside her ass, the movement of their fucking aiding in stimulating that as well.

He thinks, one day he'll claim that hole of hers as well.

But not today.

He pulls out quickly and instantly tugs at her hair, turning her over so that he can see her face. She’s sat weakly up on the counter, thighs held apart for him by one of his hands. Poor thing looks tired out, he thinks, looking at her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, her head lolling back against the counters with a thud.

“Are you fucking crying?” he grins, softly slapping her cheek and grabbing her face so she looks at him, “really has been a while, huh? That’s a bit pathetic”

He practically rips the shirt off her, not even bothering to take the bra underneath off and just tugs it to the side, freeing her breasts. He groans at the sight, perky, rosy and stood to attention in the now hot office, smelling of pure, unadulterated sex. They fill his palms perfectly, and he tugs at them with his fingers, revelling in the low, chesty mewl she lets out.

It’s no effort at all the way his cock just slides into her again, slowly. Too slowly.

She feels the curve of his cock, different in this new position, every vein and ridge. His thickness splits her open until he hits the end of her, pounding mercilessly into her, making the cupboards jolt in place with each snap of his hips against her thighs, which he is keeping in his palms wide apart. Ettore grins down, watching at the way his cock disappears into her over and over, at the ripple of her soft, soft skin each time.

She arches her back against him, warm, pleasured tears pricking at her eyes the closer she gets to that tight, hot pressure in her tummy bursting. He laughs as she clenches noticeably around him,

“What is it, hm?” he sneers, “or have I fucked you stupid?”

Her moans are so desperate she really does look pathetic, “fuck…I’m gonna-”

“You gonna cum for me?” he taunts with a wide smirk, all of this just doing wonders for his ego, “now, why would I let you do that?”

“...ne-need it…”

He never lets up his pace as once hand curls into her neck, tugging her forward so that her eyes are solely on him. She moans softly at the rough action.

Pathetic.

“You gonna be a good girl and be quiet?”

She nods as best she can, his hand tightening only slightly around her neck, trying to will her voice to come out between the deafening smacks of their fucking.

“Yes..”

“Say please, then”

“Please-I need it” she begs in a horse voice.

He shoves her back roughly, smacking her head against the cupboards, watching her tits as they bounce. Truthfully, he can feel himself getting close as well, but more than anything he wants to watch her come undone on his cock. Show her just how much fun she could have with him if she just let herself.

Her cheeks are pink and her chest is dotted with warmth as the air in the office is hot and thick, even more so at the pleasurable lack of oxygen his hand around her neck gives. It makes it harder for those strained moans to pass her lips.

Every drag through her hot, ridged core sends sparks of pleasure through him, crawling up his spine.

You first.

She sucks in a breath when he lets go of her neck, allowing his thumb into her mouth. She sucks on the digit greedily, using her tongue to coat it with saliva. Ettore almost moans at just the sight of her.

He'll have that mouth too, he thinks.

A string breaks between her mouth and her thumb as he presses it suddenly against her clit, hard. She gasps at the painful pleasure of his rough actions, swirling his thumb over her bud to bring her to that precipice first.

Her hands grip his shoulders, but he quickly tears them off him, "I didn't say you could touch me" he snarls in between devastating thrusts, drawing figures of eight on her clit and watching as she squirms.

Her hands brace the counter either side of her legs, needing something to hold onto, "...m sorry…"

"You will be fucking sorry. Stupid bitch"

If it's possible, he moves himself into her faster, bullying that rough patch inside her with such severity that her eyebrows furrow together, her mouth open in a silent scream. She contracts around him at the combined pleasure of his cock and his stimulation to her bud, knuckles going white at her grip on the counter.

"Such a perfect pussy…never fucking using that Box again…not when I have this…" he breathes pressing his body against hers so they are flush, his nose running up the side of her neck.

"Ettore, please…"

It's not really a request, just something that passes her lips. And he knows the second he feels her clench so tightly that she's done for, when her back arches towards him and her body goes rigid for a split second.

Her teeth sink into his skin at his shoulder, muffling the scream of pleasure that threatens to escape. He knows that will be there for days and it will most definitely hurt in the morning.

A gush of arousal soaks his cock and he continues to pound into her through it, pressing his thumb into her clit, extending her little death into a devastating abyss of warmth and rapture. Her walls quiver with overstimulation around him, and he can feel the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, her desperate whines.

"Fuck-shit" Ettore pushes inside once more, hard, with a barely stifled groan, huffing a pleasured laugh at the feeling of stuffing her with his cum and the warmth that surrounds him.

He wants to stay like that forever, keeping his cum inside her with his cock. Her thighs shake slightly, and he delights in the fact that she might not be able to walk afterwards. To remind her who she belongs to, now that he's claimed her.

He calms his hurried breathing just enough to pull his rapidly softening cock from her, earning a low whine from her once she pulls her teeth from him. Her tits move slowly with her breathing, thighs still shaking ever so slightly and parted to give him a good view of the mess he's made of her.

Her arousal combined with the cum that's leaking out of her activates a primal part of his brain and he's tempted to fuck her brains out again, but knows he wouldn't be able to.

Another time.

"Look at my filthy little doctor"

He pulls her thighs close to him, teetering on the edge of the table, and all she's able to do is make a sound of surprise, eyes widening as he sinks to his knees between her legs.

"No-no, Ettore-" she protests quickly. Her hands going back to bracing the counter tightly when she feels his warm, wet muscle lapping against her soaked folds, a combination of her climax and his swirling over his tongue with such lewdness it makes her flush bright red.

After such a recent and all-consuming orgasm, she flinches when his tongue swirls over her clit, the vibrations of his low moans against it feels much too overwhelming now.

"Please-too much-"

He runs his tongue flat over her core, groaning at the combined taste of them and lapping up whatever leaks out of her. He could spend fucking days between her legs if she tastes like this all the time. Her arousal is so sweet and tart, musky when combined with his. Mixed with his cum, he thinks, she's made to be fucked by him. Made to be filled.

Fucking her with his tongue through her fluttering walls, her hand cards through his hair, tugging. To push him away or to bring him closer, she's torn between the two. The warmth of his mouth against her is just too tempting to want him to stop and when he moves his face side to side, his sharp nose nuzzling against her already over-used clit…

"Fuck! Please-"

The orgasm that rocks through her body blazes every nerve in its path, all the way down to the way his tongue is still lapping and sucking her juices, as if she's the best thing he's tasted since boarding this hellscape of a ship. He takes every bit of essence, sighing and moaning, with a grip so iron on her thighs, she can't move even if she wanted to.

Ettore rises to his feet, giving one more flattened lap over her core, sucking at her clit, which makes her twitch. Her glazed over, wettened eyes meet his, the blue almost entirely encompassed by black. He looks like an animal who's just tasted blood again after a long time of being caged. She doesn't entirely know why, but it makes her throb with desire, and it frightens even her to know that such a dangerous man, a criminal no less, is making her feel this way.

It makes her think, is she any better for enjoying it as much as she did.

He looks down at her, almost entirely bared to him, his reddened marks blossoming over her skin in early bruises. Her fucked-out face, a mix of lust and confusion, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks.

A dangerous grin widens across his face.

"I meant it you know…" he says, dark and low, "...I'm not using that fucking Box ever again"

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Ettore Taglist:

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heartofwritiing · 4 months

Text

Safe with you

paring: (siren) clinic!wilbur x fem!civilian!reader

summary: reader does stupid things to get siren’s attention.

author’s note: I am completely obsessed with siren. every couple months he works his way back into my brain and takes over. this is a little darker than my usual stuff so feel free to skip it, I just felt like trying to write something different for once. this is so shit. i found this in my drafts from a few months ago. i needed to post something so, throwing this at you enjoyyy 🫠

warnings: please read the warnings before reading. reckless regard for safety, suggestive content, unhealthy obsession, alcohol, stalker behavior (both reader and siren) no spoilers for the fic if you haven’t read it, if I forgot anything let me know, unedited!

You knew it was wrong, so, so wrong. He was a villain, a terrible person in every way. but the small voice in the back of your brain told you otherwise. You couldn’t deny the pang in your heart that told you the opposite. For once your heart and brain were getting along on one subject.

It was late on a Saturday night. People on the upper east side of the city were out after another exhausting week of work. Getting drunk, laid, whatever.

Only a month ago it was a night like this you met him.

Wandering home late from a company party with coworkers at a bar. It was stupid to walk home alone, especially in this city. With all the criminals running rampant, and the heroes and villains getting into public brawls that caused city-wide damage, it was a wonder why anyone still lived in L’manberg. For many people, it was home, including yours. You never imagined living anywhere else, you grew up in this city, and it was all you knew.

A man had followed you for two blocks and you only noticed when you could hear his footsteps padding behind you. You had never been so scared of what this person might do to you. Trying to lose him by turning down a busy street, then getting turned around and ending up in an alleyway. The man had cornered you against the wall of one of the buildings.

Then he was being yanked away from you roughly. Another figure had appeared, dragging the man away from you before he could do anything. Scrambling away and mumbling incoherent words, he didn’t even look back twice. He ran and disappeared around the corner.

Allowing a shaking breath to pass your lips in relief, you began to thank whoever your savorer was when you finally got a look. He was tall, he dawned a dark trench coat and fingerless gloves. You caught the eye of the dark blue bandana that covered his eyes and it clicked in your brain. After watching countless news broadcasts it became clear and unmistakable who he was.

Siren.

Part of the supervillain group known as the syndicate, he was the most feared apart from The Blade and Zephyrus. The ability to control minds made him unpredictable. Unexplainably, he didn't seem to frighten you like the man who was following you. Siren's odd behavior fascinated you to a degree that since then almost every night you've skipped taking the bus and chosen to walk home alone in the dark. Determined to find him. It was foolish despite something inside giving you a rush to see him again.

For two weeks, you waited for him to show up and help you in dangerous situations. You got into trouble two more times, but each time you saw him, you felt better because you knew he would be there for you.

Tonight was no different. You had purposely gone into the bar with a mission to find the sketchiest man you could. Luckily, you didn’t have to look very far since there were creeps everywhere in this bar already giving you stares, licking their lips like you were an object, something they could take. It made your stomach turn, but you sat down two seats away from one guy who was drinking what looked like a rum and coke.

He eyed you up and down, his gaze lingering on your legs. You internally grimaced but kept your act up of seeming like you liked this man's attention. You ordered a drink and began to sip it slowly through the straw when a presence sat beside you.

A knowing smirk pulled at your lips, the plan worked.

after a about a minute of chatting the stranger put his hand on your thigh. bold move.

“what do you say we get out of here?”

So you pay for your drink, slip out the door with the stranger, taking off down the road as he pulls you into a dimly lit alley way.

He presses you against the rough wall of the building, hot breath fanning across your neck as he leans in. It makes bile rise in your throat the reeking smell of rum lingering on his tongue. He tries to whisper something seductive in your ear, it doesn’t even come close to being sexy. His words slur and his hands wander down your body.

Before you could try to push him off, he’s being yanked away in the blink of an eye and shoved to the opposite building wall with a grunt.

A tall figure stands tall over the stranger, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“We just keep meeting like this, don’t we sweetheart?”

Siren had the man from the bar pinned up against the opposite wall with a hand wrapped around his throat. You could practically see the creep's face shade growing purple by the second, Siren's knuckles white with his grip tightening, all while giving you a sickly sweet smirk that made your knees buckle.

The man from the bar was still struggling to breathe as you and Siren had your little exchange. You had completely forgotten his existence until he made a strangled noise. Your eye shifted over to him before they moved back to Sirren again.

"Please, don't hurt him, he didn't get the chance to do anything."

Without even looking away from your gaze Siren released the man as he slumped to the floor clutching his throat, sputtering out coughs. The guy had taken off before you could even blink.

Siren inched closer to you with a swaggering step that made your breath hitch. You could make out his features faintly through the glow of the street light casting against his jaw, handsome, just as you remembered him. Taking him in as he towered over you. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, and a scar was healing over his cheek. No doubt from the fight two nights ago with him and Dream that was broadcasted on the news. Still, he was as handsome as ever.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to.” Siren's voice modulator makes his voice sound rough almost like he was warning you.

Your heart pounded in your ears, mainly from the adrenaline and anticipation of seeing him again, you swallowed and tried to keep your breathing steady.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you tried to play it coy, but he could probably tell if you were bullshitting.

“Don’t play dumb, you think I didn’t notice all those times I found you in a situation you couldn't get yourself out of was by accident? I know you’ve been looking for me, sweetheart.”

How would he have known?... unless.

"Have you been following me?" your voice sounding annoyed.

Siren scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief at your words.

"If you think I have time to babysit, then you clearly have no idea what really goes on in this city after dark."

"that still doesn't answer my question."

His lips were thin.

"let's just say I've kept an eye on you." he says. "weren't sure if you were hired by the heroes committee to find out information for a while, but turns out you're just a civilian with a death wish."

It seems like he was talking down to you and treating you as if you were a child. Maybe for good reason. He should turn around, and leave you in this ally like he did last time. However, there seems to be a force preventing him from moving away from standing just a few inches away from you.

“I mean what are you thinking? Don’t you know how stupid it is to get yourself into trouble like this? you could get hurt, or even worse end up dead.” his words are sharp. "There are other villains out there that would take advantage of you sweetheart, and I don't say that lightly."

He was right. You were this fucking dumb. All to get the attention of a supervillain.

“I wanted to see you again.”

You can’t see his eyes due to the fabric covering but you’re sure he’s blinking at you in surprise. His mouth parted in shock, like a fish out of water before his lips hardened into a snarl again. Never once had you noticed him falter like that. Even for a moment.

He leaned over you before he spoke.

“Forget about me. Go back to your civilian life and stop trying to find me.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Pushing away from the wall to stride towards him until you're tilting up to try and be level with him, but his tall height makes that challenging.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever since you saved me all those weeks ago. I couldn’t understand why,” you took a step closer. Siren wanted to back away, but something was keeping his feet glued to his position. “why, would a villain of all people help someone like me? maybe, I am dumb, maybe I'm insane for thinking all those times you helped me you actually cared about me in some sick twisted way."

You can feel his hard stare under the mask. He says nothing as you go on your tangent. Your breath heaving, tears streaming down your face. Maybe it was better before you knew him. At least you wouldn't feel pathetic for crying over someone who disregarded you as nothing more than a fool with misconceptions.

"I'm sorry I burdened you with my stupidity. I was delusional to ever think a person like you could ever change.”

“A person like me?” his tone was challenging.

He looms over you walking closer until your pressed back against the wall, trapped.

“You don’t understand what a person like me has to do in order to survive.” he spits.

Pushing off your toes, you grip the back of his neck and pull him into a searing kiss. You just had to know what he tasted like. Shocked, Siren didn't move. Your soft lips pressed to his, your hands threading through his hair made him lean into you. He couldn't deny how intoxicating you were.

Practically throwing yourself at him. Your hands carded through his soft curly locks, slipping under his silk bandana almost uncovering his eyes. Siren didn’t care in the moment. He kissed you back with just as much frustration and passion. His hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he groaned into your mouth when you parted your lips to let him in. The taste of him had you reeling and seeing stars. Everything you had yearned for since the moment he saved you all those months ago.

When he had separated himself from you, disconnecting your lips you couldn’t breathe.

When you finally open your eyes in a flash he was gone.

taglist: @trashcanduck @ax-y10 @mysticalsoot @idontreallyexistyet @loonalvjy

if anyone wants to be added or removed please let me know!!

#wilbur soot x reader #clinic!wilbur x reader #siren x reader #siren!wilbur x reader #my hyperfication with siren!wilbur continues #wilbur soot x fem!reader #fanfiction #tommyinnits clinic for supervillains #writing #x reader #clinic!wilbur soot x fem!reader

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axolotlwrites · 4 months

Text

"Writer's Block"

SubElliot x M!Reader

Yeah, so this one took a while. Sorry to keep y'all waiting, but good things come to those who blah blah blah. It's food to be back, and I'm proud to deliver some smut.

My next piece is undecided as of now, but I'll get back to yall soon about it. Have fun.

CW: anal sex, anal penetration, unprotected sex, anal creampie, mentions of clinical visits and implied injuries, mentions of violence, and being obscenely cheesy

To tell the truth, you hadn’t read any of Elliot’s prior, shorter works before you had actually become friends with him. It’s not that you weren’t an avid reader, nor that you weren’t particularly interested. His work was just one of those things that fell into your blindspot during the hazy, depressing Joja days. There wasn’t much time for reading when there was a “weekly” quota to meet, and you were expected to fulfill that quota in a couple of days.

But, after moving to the farm, you suddenly had a large chunk of time on your hands. Turns out, farming is just a lot of sitting around and waiting, if you don't count the occasional bouts of fishing and cutting dangerous monsters to ribbons (or, alternatively, getting cut to ribbons and having to stop by the clinic and get lectured by Harvey and Maru. You were fairly sure you could kill some of those stone golems with how thick your case file was after a couple years in the valley.)

However, after getting to know the man past a quick introduction on your first foray into the beach, you’d taken a gander at some of his work. Various stories in various genres; mysteries, sci-fis, a small fantasy novel that hadn’t been entirely finished… he was a storied author, but he hadn’t actually published anything yet. The genre that had stuck out to you the most, however, had been his romance novels. The man’s tendency for flowery prose and language fit well in such stories of love, heartache, and occasionally lust.

The latter, however, wasn’t always Elliot’s strong suit in writing. Elliot was a romantic man, and physical intimacy was always a part of that, but writing actual sex scenes seemed to be a weak spot for him. He could write smut well, there was no doubt, but as his lover you always noticed how… flustered he would become. While writing his newest novel, coincidentally about a “handsome and rugged” farmer boy and an aspiring writer, he’d cooped himself up in his room several times this week, but the start of autumn had creeped up on you. You’d been too busy to notice the way his face turned red whenever he looked out of the window of his study, watching you plant new crops and tend to the animals. Too busy to notice how whenever he greeted you after your farm work, his touch lingered on your arm as you planned out the next day’s work in your head. Too busy to notice his disheveled hair and clothes whenever you knocked on his study’s door to bring him dinner.

And quite frankly? It was driving him fucking crazy. Elliot was up the fucking wall with desire, filling pages and pages full of the most illicit smut he could think of. He spent hours pouring over those pages for typos and grammatical errors, but every time he looked at the pages he thought of you. Elliot thought of your hands around his neck, your hands in his hair, forcing him to take you deeper and deeper, his back arched as you pumped deep into him from behind… but the fantasies wouldn’t cut it anymore. He needed to feel your skin on his, needed your hands around his hips and your lips lingering for more than a chaste peck. He needed to feel you whisper, sweet and breathy, into his ear as your hand stroked him to completion. He wanted everything, everything right now… but he had a semblance of restraint. He would at least ask politely before he begged you to tear him apart.

Finally, a week into the season, he got his chance. Rain had finally come, the auto-feeders were filled, and you were free. Elliot had been draped over you in his sleep, his hand across your chest as you slept on your back. He gazed upon your sleeping face, letting the pitter patter of the rain on the window soothe his mind, as it ever wandered. Eventually, the allure of the crook of your neck was too much to bear, diving in softly to feel your warmth on his lips. He had to stop himself from grinding against you as he took deep, long breaths of your scent in.

You awoke to his hand caressing your cheek, his breath heavy and warm on your neck. You moved slowly, wrapping your arms around him to pull the rest of him flush against you. If you were any more conscious, you would have felt his length pressing against your leg. You turned your head to look at him, the smile on your face coming naturally. Your voice was soft, glazed with the sleepiness that marks the recently awakened. “Good morning, Elliot.” His hair was disheveled, tangled, and thrown about, but through it all you could still see his handsome face. Framed by the soft early morning sunlight seeping through the window, you didn’t care to stop yourself from staring.

It was quiet, despite the one-sided tension. You were relaxed, gazing into your lover's eyes, but his mind was going utterly feral. You’re always amazing to him, always, but in this light? At this moment? No words could describe his utter attraction towards you. You were nothing less than the most gorgeous being on the planet, and he knew it for a fact. Said beauty stunted his response, forgetting to remove his head from your shoulder to speak. It was muffled, but you got the gist of it; something like “Good morning, my darling.” As he fell back into your neck, his hand snaked its way into yours, as warm and soft as it’d always been.

However, your body had other ideas. It had been in that bed for eight long hours, and it needed to stretch. As you did so, tensing and relaxing and spreading your body out to work out the stiffness of sleep, you felt it. You could feel it, hard against your thigh now, and you weren’t foolish enough to believe it to be anything other than Elliot’s penis. You were about to just chock it up to morning wood, until you felt his breath quicken against your shoulder, his hand grip yours tighter, and a barely stifled moan breach his lips.

Sensitive… he was always so sensitive when he was pent up. The oddities of the week started to piece together inside your head, clicking together ever so simply. You were stiff, for a moment, painfully so… similarly, his cock was STILL pressed against you as you debated and questioned in your head what to do. A conclusion came quickly, however, and with that you turned to him and brought a hand to his face. You chased his lips with a passionate fervor, wasting no time with words that you thought would just get in the way. He breaks the kiss quickly however, proving you wrong as he straddles you.

“I need you, my love. Badly.” It’s short, breathy, lacking his usual smoothness and charisma. These are words tinged with just as much lust and desire as love and passion. “I need you to fuck me, darling. I’ve needed it all week.” His hips move feverishly against yours, a look of strained arousal on his face as he rubs himself against you. Your hands move to them, slowing his movements as you take control of the situation. He groans in protest, but you pay him no mind. After all, he’ll be feeling much better once you get those pants off of him.

Pulling off his sweatpants while he relentlessly grinds himself into you is no small task, but it’s easy compared to keeping yourself from ripping the fabric of your boxers. Truth is, this whole scenario almost had you as riled up as him, straining against your underwear while he raised his hips so you could pull his off. His shaft and balls rested heavy on your stomach, painfully hard and red, throbbing as it felt the warmth of your skin. Elliot looked down at you, his breathing heavy as he tried his best to contain himself. You were little better, your hands resting on him, one on his hips and the other on his thigh. Slowly, you slipped your hand between the both of you and pulled your cock through it’s fabric sheath, gazing into his eyes as you stroked it slowly.

“How do you want me, Elliot?” Your hand stroked his thigh, grounding him in the moment as you spoke. As he answers, he rubs his knuckles over your stomach, the other resting on his leg. “Like this, my dear. I want to look at you. I want to look into your eyes.” It's shaky, but it's said with a grin and a comforting tone. You sit up slightly, your cock resting against his ass as you look at him. He nods, and the fun starts.

You line yourself up to his hole and begin to ease yourself in, wary of how tight he is. Elliot braces himself on your shoulders as you push inside, a long groan escaping his mouth as you stop about halfway inside. You clash your lips with his as you fully push inside, muffling each other’s moans. You hold him close, lazily thrusting into his ass as you bask in his body. You keep looking up into his eyes as he looks down into yours, composure lost as he moans quietly into the air. Your hands roam his body as he shivers in your grasp, one hand resting lightly on his ass, the other gliding up his back, slowly coming to the back of his head.

Your hand rests in his hair, pulling him closer so that you could line kisses along his jaw. Elliot whined into your ear as you pumped into him, reaching the deepest parts of his body as he ground his hips into yours. He was so pretty like this. No wonder you couldn’t keep yourself from pulling his hair, giving you the perfect angle to lay kisses on his neck. He couldn’t stop himself from bucking down onto you harder when you bit his neck. You couldn’t help yourself, instincts taking over as you left your mark on his body. As you ruined him, inside and out, he moaned and cried out in pleasure, your hand still pulling his hair to get better angles to lay kisses and bites.

Elliot wasn’t going to last very long. Right then, all of his most lustful desires were being fulfilled, and he couldn’t be more satisfied. The love of his life was balls deep inside of him with no intention of pulling out, and he couldn’t be more in love. His cock was rubbing against your stomach, and he couldn’t feel closer to the edge. “My love… I’m… not going to…” If your hand hadn’t been in his hair, he would’ve collapsed into your shoulder, crying out as he peaked. He tumbled over the edge of orgasm with a loud, drawn out moan as you wrapped your hand around his cock. As you stroked him to completion, he whimpered and melted under your touch, cum splattering across your stomach in a vulgar display of love.

You, however, weren’t done. You were getting closer, every thrust becoming a monumental hurdle. He was no longer grinding against you, as exhausted as he was, so you were fucking up into him at your best pace. As you inched closer, you hesitated, whispering into his ear. “Can I… finish-” He interrupted quickly, exhaustion fading under a burst of excitement. “Inside, my dear, inside of me. I want your cum inside of me…” Your response was swift, firmly clashing lips together as you held his hips and thrusted up into him as fast as you could. You brought yourself to your climax quickly, holding him down on you as you filled his hole with a nice, thick creampie.

You crumpled back onto the bed, Elliot falling with you as exhaustion took its toll. You were sticky, tired, and covered in cum. You were also in a state of absolute bliss, holding your lover tight in your arms as the both of you recovered. He held you just the same, whispering praises and affirmations into your ear as he tried to regain strength in his legs. It was his suggestion that the both of you get in the bath, one that you quickly agreed to. Slowly, (with slightly unsteady legs on Elliot’s part) a warm bath had been set and soaped up, bubbles overflowing onto the bathroom floor.

You laid there, in that warm bath, Elliot resting against your chest as the rest of your muscles relaxed. Holding his waist, you let your face fall into his hair. It wasn’t wet yet, but just as soft as it had always been. You held the love of your life in his arms, a smile running across your face as you thought of the next time he might have such a lustful case of writer’s block.

#notforwack #stardew valley #male reader #stardew fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew valley x reader #lemon #romance #fanfiction #mlm #sdv elliot x reader #sdv elliott #stardew elliott #stardew valley elliott #elliot stardew valley #elliot stardew valley x reader #stardew valley elliot x reader #elliot x reader #axolotlwrites

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darlingshane · 5 months

Text

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

#michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #original character #michael berzatto x reader #angst #fluff #darlingwrites #sorry i used the reader tag #it's the only way to get my fic seen #salt of the earth

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nonexistent-introvert · 1 year

Text

Jealousy

Pairing: Joel Miler x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Content: non-established relationship, third party, jealousy, hurt/comfort?, fluff, Joel is one dense idiot, confessions

A/N: This was the outcome of my drinking coffee at 10pm and not being able to fall asleep after that till 3am

Being dragged to a party was enough to ruin your day. It was already a taxing day, you had gone out for patrol early this morning and couldn’t even catch a break when you returned. Since the clinic needed extra help since it was flu season. When you were finally on your way back home, ready to crash into bed early today. You bumped into Tommy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisting that you must turn up for the party that Maria organized to welcome the new people into town.

The woman that was basically glued to Joel’s side did not help matters at all. Her arm was on Joel’s bicep as she laughed into his shoulder. You stood in the corner, annoyance clear on your face as you finished the bottle in your hand. Your vision was going blurry and the room spun around you. Your body was slumped against the wall, all the warning signs going off in your head that you should stop with the alcohol.

The only thing that was still clear in your mind was the vision of the two of them. The obnoxious laughter erupting from her and how her hands traveled Joel’s arm.

“Hey hey.” A hand waved in front of your blurry vision, making your head hurt even more. “It’s Tommy.” Tommy’s hands firmly gripped onto your shoulders, grounding you to reality. Your words slurred together as you muttered a greeting to him through your drunken stupor.

“Jesus, how much did you drink? What has gotten into you?” Tommy exclaimed in disbelief over the loud music. You merely laughed in Tommy’s face, trying your best not to puke your guts onto him.

“I’ll take care of her.” Even in your drunken state, you recognized that voice immediately. “No.” You blurted out. “You don’t need help?” Tommy asked for good measure, Joel merely grunted in response. He put your hands around his shoulder to help you stand. The woman he was with appeared in your view again and you were suddenly reminded of the reason why you were in this state in the first place. “Fuck off.” You cursed, pushing Joel away from you before stumbling into a wall. Your head was spinning as you watched him get held back by the woman as you clumsily made your way out of the pub.

Joel calmly helped hold your hair back. You were bending over the grass, emptying the contents of your stomach into the field. A small hint of annoyance on his face at the fact that you had pushed him away and told him to “fuck off”. Concern was more evident on his face as he watched you. A series of curses escaped your mouth as you coughed, you felt humiliated that he had to watch you ungracefully vomit onto the grass.

Joel quietly handed you a bottle of water that he had brought. You gulped it down, the water sobering you up. Letting you comprehend the weight of your actions.Before you could do anything to push Joel away again, he swiftly bent down and wrapped your legs around his hips. “Don’t be difficult.” Joel warned, standing up to his full height with you on his back.

==================+

Joel woke up with a grunt, stretching his sore back. He really was getting on age. His first instinct was to check on you. He stood up, towering over you on his bed. He snickered upon watching you while he gently tucked you properly under the sheets. Joel should wake you up for patrol but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when you would probably wake up with a bad hangover and you’re sleeping so soundly in his bed. His eyes stared at the mattress that he had slept on, it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t share a bed before. You slept in his bed often, he would wake up sprawled out in bed with his arms around you and your chin on his head. However, he still felt that it was wrong to be sleeping in the same bed as you when you were drunk. Especially when you had muttered to him drowsily, “You’re so handsome, I want to kiss you.” He shivered slightly at the memory of it, his whole body burning up and turning red at just the thought of it.

Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t survive the night if he had slept next to you.

Joel went to Tommy first to explain the situation. Tommy only sighed in defeat, telling Joel that he and any other available men were due for a visit to the dam to ensure that everything was ok for the winter. “You could just not do it today. I’ll send a bigger group tomorrow instead.’ Tommy suggested. There was an unspoken rule in Jackson, no one does patrols alone. “I’ll look around.” Joel replied he wasn’t one to put things off, preferring to get it done to prevent matters from snowballing.

Joel went around town, Jesse was busy with the preparations for the dam. Ellie was still knocked out from the party yesterday. He was at wit's end as he contemplated if he should wake you up instead.

“Joel! You’re up early.” Joel gave Julia a polite nod. “I have patrol,” he replied. Julia grinned, putting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Stay safe.” He nodded, about to stride past her when the idea popped into his head. “Do you mind going to patrol with me?” he asked. Julia’s face brightened, a slight flush on her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah sure!” She agreed with no hesitation.

Julia was new. She doesn’t even know the route that Joel was taking today nor did she have the skills to ride a horse which was required for the longer route. It was the whole reason why Joel had told her to ride with him. “Stay close to me ya hear?” He instructed as he swiftly hopped onto his horse. “You say that like it’s a hard thing to do.” Julia smiled shyly. Julia was flirting with him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his gaze elsewhere to distract himself.

His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you. You were dressed in his winter jacket, your eyes were on him. He watched as you turned away from him and walked away before he could even call you over. Joel chewed on his lip, he will talk to you when he’s back.

=========================================

The hangover was bad. Bad enough for you to not remember a single thing after you had blacked out on Joel’s back. Bad enough to not make you want to get up. You recognised the bed, it was Joel’s considering that it was a queen size bed. Yours was merely a single. You weren’t a stranger to Joel’s bed, you frequented it rather often for someone who wasn’t even in a relationship with him. There was mattress pulled out beside the bed, you assumed Joel had slept on the mattress on the floor from the untidied blanket. You took the hangover pills that Joel had left for you at his bedside, heart warming at his small gesture.

The clock on his bedside reminded you that you woke up just in time to make it for your patrol. Despite feeling like there was someone pounding in your head, you still felt obligated to turn up as Joel’s partner. It was a responsibility and duty after all.

You trudged in the cold snow, zipping the winter jacket that you had stolen from his closet. It was times like this that you wished you weren’t such a responsible person. You wished you would just stay in the comfort of his bed and rest. Joel was already saddled on his horse, behind him sat the woman from the bar yesterday, her arms wrapped tightly around Joel’s waist. You clenched your jaw, kicking at the snow at your boot.

He could have said something. You thought bitterly to yourself. Your gaze lingered on him, he must have noticed it considering how his eyes met yours from a distance. You turned away before you could gauge his reaction, dragging yourself back into the comfort of your own home.

==============================

Joel stood at your door, holding onto a box filled with some cake. Maria baked the cake today and set Joel on the mission to bring you some as well. Although Tommy’s expression might have given away Maria’s hidden agenda. Joel likes to believe that he wasn’t dense, but he really can’t recall what he did to piss you off. However, it seems that Maria already knew from how she practically ordered Joel to bring you cake as a peace offering.

The first thing Joel noticed when you opened the door was your scowl. You usually smiled when you saw him. “I brought cake.” He announced, lifting the box in his hands. Your hand almost slammed the door right in his face upon hearing that. “Give it to Ellie.” You said, your eyebrows furrowing further. “Is this your purpose for visiting me?” You asked, Joel stumbled over his words in surprise. “Yea-” You took the box from his hands. “Thanks,” You forced out, “You can go now. Bye.” Joel's eyes widened as you closed the door on him.

“Hey!” Joel pushed against your door with his hands, stopping you. “What is your problem?” He snapped. You scoffed, “Since we are both so mad at each other, let’s just cut this interaction short.” He shook his head, “I just didn’t like how you’re treating me alright?” Joel defended, “We should be talking, stop acting like a child throwing a petty temper.” Joel scolded. You glared at him. Joel pushed past you, ignoring your glare, and sat down on your couch. He patted the seat beside him, demanding that you sat next to him and talk to him.

“The hell was that? The hell is wrong with you?” He started. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his tone. “Let’s just say I’m not interested in the stupid cake she made for you.” You snarked. Joel tilted his head in confusion, “Maria?” he muttered, not understanding you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment, it was Maria who made the cake. “No- just-” You groaned in frustration. He waited beside you while you find the words to express yourself, his eyes scanning yours for any hints of what had made you upset. “I just thought you would have at least informed me beforehand.” Joel ran his hands through his hair, trying to tell what you were referring to. His eyebrows furrowed even further, “Oh, patrol. You’re upset that I left without you?” Joel asked, remembering how he had seen you turn away from him and walk back. He didn’t chase after you then, despite wanting to. He was already late, the sun was coming up and he had to admit that he struggled quite a long time before he found someone to be his partner. You wanted to dig a hole 6 feet under and bury yourself, how is Joel missing the main point that was pissing you off? “You could have told me you were going to patrol with someone else.” You stated. He sat up, “You mean Julia?” You pushed down the bitter feeling at hearing him mutter her name.

“I thought you would appreciate the rest. The hangover must be bad.” He explained. You closed your eyes. The problem didn’t lie in him finding someone else to go for patrol with him, it was the fact that he got Julia, the woman who looked at him with literal heart shapes in her eyes. “But you aren’t just mad over that, are you? You were pretty mean to me yesterday too.” Joel continued. You panicked a little, wondering what you had done in your drunken state. “I- I just can’t stand Julia alright?” You admitted. “Come on, we both knew what she was trying to do right? And you let her.”

Joel pursed his lips, trying his best to bite back his smile. It finally clicked, you’re jealous. “What was she doing?” He challenged. In his defence, he only realised today what Julia was doing, that she was flirting with him. Your eyes widened, “Are you blind? You didn’t know?” You were exasperated, “She’s trying to get into your pants Joel, for lack of a better word.” Joel chuckled. “And that upset you.” You cursed internally, you walked straight into the stupid trap he had laid out for you. “I’m not jealous.” You lied blatantly, “It was just so attention seeking, I hate attention seekers.” You said, body relaxing. He grinned at your response and how you relaxed, he was finally getting to you. “I hate you Joel, stop playing dumb.” You shoved him. Joel laughed, “in my defense, I truly didn’t catch on till today.”

“What made you realise then? Did she finally achieve her goal?” You replied sarcastically.

“She kissed me. Everything fell into place after that.” Joel admitted. The silence was heavy, your mind was overcrowded with thoughts.

================

“Finally! The checkpoint! My feet were killing me.” Julia complained. Joel merely hummed in response, his mind going back to you. You never complained, hell you even liked the walks. Sometimes the both of you would even venture further because you liked walking while talking to Joel and he certainly didn’t mind. He flipped open the patrol book in the hut, signing his name and Julia’s into it.

His body stiffened significantly and he almost instinctively elbowed her. Julia had wrapped his arms around his waist while he was signing, he could feel her breath on his back as she leaned into him. Joel immediately turned, pushing her away gently as he pressed himself against the table, trying to put some distance between Julia and him. “What are you-“

Her lips were on his. His mind short-circuited at her sudden action. Julia's lips moved against his and he jerked away, turning his head away from her. “I- what-“ he couldn’t even find the right words to say to her as he looked at her. “Joel, I’m sorry. I just can’t help it.” She started. She ran her hands through her hair, “I really like you, Joel. I-“

“I don't. I don’t feel anything close to that for you.” Joel stated clearly. His tone was so cold while he glared daggers at her. “But- but you let me flirt. “ her words were background noise to him. That was what he got for being dense huh. He had honestly thought she was just being nice to him and so he too was nice to her. He didn’t expect to give her the wrong idea.

Everything else was a blur after that. Joel never rode so fast in his life back to Jackson. He could hear Julia sniffling behind him but he honestly couldn’t care less. Feeling extremely disgusted at her sudden gestures, that she had approached him with the agenda of something more. As though he would marry her at first sight or something. Joel is an old fashioned man, he didn’t believe in love at first sight, he firmly believed that you had to get to know someone before you could fall in love with them.

=================

All feelings of jealousy had left you already. You were bent over, cackling as Joel retold the events of today. “I don’t see anything funny.” He deadpanned. “Your face, Joel just imagine your face, the horror when she kissed you. She should have snapped a photo or something.” You laughed. Joel smiled, relieved to know that you weren’t upset anymore. “I can’t believe you got jealous.” He reminded you. You stopped laughing, “I wasn’t” “Yeah you keep telling yourself that.” He drawled.

“I don’t blame you. Thinking back, I would be jealous if I was in your shoes.” He said, his arm was over your shoulder now. Your legs were thrown over his lap while your head leaned against his arm behind you. The tension between the both of you is long gone. “A man coming to you, laughing with his hands all over you. Then riding off into the sunrise with you. Nah I doubt that, he probably won’t even survive the night at the bar, he definitely won’t be your partner for patrol the next day.” “Ok sounds like violent tendencies to me.” You joked. He smiled.

“Being jealous tends to apply to people in a relationship.” Joel pointed out. “Being jealous of people getting too close doesn’t usually apply to close friends or whatever we are.” You knew what he was getting at, the line of being just friends has been blurred between the both of you for the longest time. “Would you be my boyfriend?” You asked in a mocking voice. A voice that reminded you of a schoolgirl trying to confess to their hallway crush. He laughed, “Took you long enough.” You nudged him, “Aren’t guys supposed to make the first move?” “Well, Julia made the first move.” He teased “Fine! Go back to her then.” You rolled your eyes.

Joel cupped your cheek and pressed his lips to yours, effectively silencing you. He was gentle like he was afraid of scarring or breaking you. When he pulled away, he looked at you with a boyish smile. “You’re so handsome I want to kiss you.” He imitated your voice yesterday.

There was no way you said that. You recognised that he was mocking you but you had zero recollection of saying that. He must be just teasing you right? “You might have whispered that into my ear when I placed you down on my bed before snoring loudly seconds later,” Joel said. Your jaw dropped in horror, “You’re lying. I don’t snore.” You defended, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “That is the most attractive thing ever. I definitely wouldn’t remember it wrongly.” You hid your face in his shoulder, you wished you were six feet under now. “Please forget it.” You muttered. He chuckled.

“If I had forgotten it, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

It was weird how jealousy had brought the both of you together.

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chokepoet · 9 months

Text

Kittens & Perverts (PG-13)

GIF by @kitherondale

Summary | A month after Logan’s passing, Roman stumbles onto an abandoned kitten and seeks the help of his assistant in caring for it.

Genre | Angst, The Fluffiest Fluff

TW | animal sickness, mentions of death (no actual death), panic attacks, drug mentions, slight allusions to an eating disorder

Word Count | 3.9k

A/N | This is for all my soft hearted bitches that just need that doe eyed lil’ shit to feel held. Even if just by a hand.

I had just walked out my door when I received a call from a very frantic Roman.

“I found a kitten. What the fuck do I do? It’s like, fuckin’ shivering and oh god- I think it? Coughed? Do cats cough?” His voice gets slightly quieter as if pulled away from the receiver. “Did you just cough?”

After having me find, in his words, the Mayo Clinic of emergency vets, he sent a car after me to meet him there. The entire drive was spent trying to calm him through the phone. He kept sending me horrific screenshots of every worse case scenario he found on Google. When I entered the waiting room I found him pacing with wide eyes and fidgety hands. He’d wound himself onto the verge of a panic attack.

“It’s got fucking pneumonia. Hooked up to IV’s and all this shit. They’re like incubating it- I think? With this big ass oxygen tank. Did you know they did that for cats? Like iron lung ‘em?” His hand roughly drags back through his hair. “I dunno if some sick fuck just left it there ‘cause it was ugly as shit with lil green goo comin’ out its eyes- aw, man, you shoulda seen it. The poor little fucker was like- like straight outta Cronenberg’s wet dreams, just- oh man, fuckin’ nasty.” He laughs to himself but it’s more of a stuttering rush of mirthless air. “And I’m supposed to feed it with these like freaky fucking heroin needle things apparently? I don’t-“ Placing both of my palms on either side of his cheeks gently, I tried stilling him.

“Hey- hey look at me. Breathe with me, yeah? In through your nose for a count of 4, hold for 7, out through your mouth for 8. Just like your blowing out birthday candles.” Face bunched up, he shoves me away.

“Fuck off! Birthday candles? The fuck are you on about? I’m fine. You know whose not fine? The fucking cat! It’s so tiny and-“

“Roman! Just fucking breathe with me real quick, okay? Just for a sec-“

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I’m breathing fucking fine! Are you deranged?“

“No I’m not fucking deranged but I’m about to shove a vial of ketamine up your ass if you don’t just fucking trust me and breathe with me.”

Exacerbated, he finally follows me through the breathing exercise for three rounds. Albeit while rolling his eyes. The tension in his face had fallen slightly. Though, his shoulders remained tense as ever.

“Better?”

“Fuck you.” He shakes his head and refuses to meet my eyes. “Yes.” His reply reluctant and slightly cartoonish with annoyance. He’d been having bouts of anxiety and panic attacks ever since his father passed. He was always like this whenever I’d guide him through it. Embarrassed and frustrated. Depleted.

He sank into one of the seats lining the wall with a long sigh. Head falling back for a moment before pulling his knees up and anchoring his heel to the edge of the metal chair. Hugging himself. I take a seat next to him and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

“Is he gonna die?” His voice now small and hushed as he intently stared at a floor tile. I felt the ghost of Logan grip my heart and squeeze.

“Honestly?” His big brown eyes flicker up at me. Searching, scared. “I dunno, Roman.” He quickly stares back to the floor tile. “What I do know is you did the very best you could for the lil’ guy.” He scuffs.

“Yeah-well, my best has historically done fuck all so…” he mumbles and I gently nudge him with my elbow but he doesn’t look up.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He shoots me a look that tells me he does not in fact know it. “That kitten wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You gave it a fighting shot at life, Rome. That’s worth something.” Just then a vet walks through the waiting room doors. Roman quickly stumbles out of the chair to stand. I join him and cautiously press the palm of my hand to his back for support. He doesn’t brush me off.

“It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If it had been any later, I don’t think he would have made it.” I steal a glance at Roman, who swallows before clenching his jaw. “He seems to be responding well to the oxygen and antibiotics. You all should be able leave with him after he’s been stable for a little while longer. I’ll start filling the scripts for his medications here soon.”

The warmth of the vet’s reassuring smile was in stark contrast to the color draining from Roman’s face. He nods slowly and blinks as he processes the responsibility of this kitten’s health being placed onto him. As the doctor leaves, Roman climbs back into the cold metal chair like an anxious gargoyle. I pull the vet aside before he can walk back through the doors and ask him to go over care instructions with me. He offers me a packet instead. Flipping through it, I search out a supplies list.

I knew Roman was far too out of his depths to retain any of the information. Valid, considering he referred to a nursing syringe as a heroine needle. Upon walking back, I find he’s made the full transformation into human stress ball. Full moon be damned. He looked like one pull of an imaginary rubber band and he’d fall apart all over the floor.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the store and get everything we need. I’ll set it all up at your place so we’ll be ready when you come home.” I tried using we instead of you to let him know he wasn’t going to be tackling this alone. I don’t think he noticed.

“You’re leaving me here?” His eyes were wide and horrified. “I can’t- I don’t- what if-“

“You’ll be okay Roman. You’ve got thi-“

“Like hell I’ll be! I most certainly do not got this. What the fuck!” Sighing, I sit beside him as he continues to gape at me.

“The vet has everything under control. All you need to do is sit here, try to relax, and think about a name for the little guy, okay? You don’t wanna have to deal with shopping for all this shit once you have him.” The lines between his brows were deeply creased.

“Can’t you just send a-“

“Roman. Stop.” He does, though a silent plea remained etched in his features. “Just let me do this for you, alright?” His eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. This was important and I didn’t really trust that anyone else would get everything needed. Having to deal with a forgotten item later tonight sounded like a hell I wished to avoid. “You’ll see me again at the apartment. My phone is at full volume. You know you can call me the second I leave this building and I’ll answer.” He grumbles, refusing to look at me. “And I promise to have that boba tea you refuse to admit you like waiting for you.” One eye opens and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Sugar-free?” He didn’t need to know that the boba had been soaking in brown sugar before reaching his cup. Too elated that he felt some sense of joy in something food related and knowing full well he’d never touch it again if he knew. He still rarely allowed himself a cup of it as is, let alone finish it all. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him, so I never did.

“With extra boba.” His lips defy him as a small smile escapes. Groaning loudly and dramatically, he lifts his head.

“Fine.” He jerks his wallet out of his pocket and hands me his black card. “If that thing fucking croaks on me while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

As I walk out the doors I catch a quick glance back to find him, eyes closed, doing those breathing exercise.

Sure enough, the second I’m in the car my phone rings.

“The fuck all do you even have to get? Do pet stores sell heroine needles? Ask Kendall, I bet he’d fuckin’ know.” The entire shopping excursion was spent with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder as I picked up supplies. As soon as one call would end, it wouldn’t be a few minutes later that it’d ring again. “Do I have a humidifier? I’ve got that fuckin’ facial steamer. Is that like the same thing? I feel like- no, you know what? Just pick one up while you’re out. Someone on Reddit said it helps with pneumonia.”

Upon arriving to his apartment, I open the fridge to sit the promised boba tea inside. Lonely amongst the near barren shelves of wilting lettuce and protein shakes. Trying not to think about it too much, I return to the task at hand. I had successfully gathered all needed supplies, plus a plush heated blanket that I hoped might warm both their spirits. He rarely left his room most days so I figured it’s the best place to set up everything. As I spread the blanket across his bed, my phone rang.

“In route with Jerry.”

“The fuck you doin’ with Gerri?”

“Check your texts.” Clicking the notification, I’m met with a photo of Roman and the kitten. It’s small form curled up under the palm of his hand, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His chuckle reverbs through the speaker.

“He is kinda cute, right?” You’re both kinda cute.

“The cutest. Please tell me you named him after the cartoon and not that Gerri?”

“Of course I named it after the fucking cartoon. Why would you even- yeah. I named a fuckin’ kitten after Waystar’s legal counsel.” His voice dripping with sarcasm even though he totally did do just that.

“You fucking would.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you say I’m deranged?”

“Yeah, yeah. Call my therapist.”

“Why? You’re already on the phone with ‘em.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job.”

“Clearly.” I began setting up Jerry’s bed. A nest of soft blankets over a heating pad in a small box. “Well shit’s hard with a sick fuck like Roman Roy as my client.”

“I can tell ya somethin’ else that’s hard.”

“I’m calling HR.”

“Ooo, three way?”

“Hanging up now.” His laughter reflects off his floor to ceiling windows as I cut the line.

While finishing filling the humidifier, now resting on his side table, I heard the front door open. Roman’s light footsteps click across the pristine hardwood floors.

“Aye! Lil’ man’s hungry, did you get the goods?” I’m soon enough greeted by a softly mewing Jerry in the same spot as he was photographed in nearly an hour prior.

“Yeah, your boba’s in the fridge.” Roman rolls his eyes before scrunching his nose up and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Hardy-har har. You’re hilarious.” Sticking my own tongue out at him, I give him a wink. “Seriously, did you get- the fuck that come from?” He waves a limp wrist towards the bed.

“It’s a heated blanket, I got it while I was out. Just thought you two could use it. And yes, the formulas in the kitchen.” Roman eyes the thick white blanket before waltzing over to run a hand over it. His lips threaten a smile but he fights it off.

“It’s… nice.” He clears his throat.

“You know, I haven’t gotten to officially meet Jerry yet.” Tilting my head, I gaze upon the little creature with a small smile. A tabby that reminded me of my first cat. I carefully reach out my pointer finger to stroke his head. My smile grows even wider. I was grateful Roman had found him and that he was okay. The fist of worry I kept hidden in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. My cheeks warm as Roman’s gaze studied my face while I pet the kitten held against him.

“You can hold him.” Our eyes meet and there was something in his that made my chest flutter. He looks down quickly. “I mean-if you wanna or whatever.”

“Yeah? You sure? Y’all seem pretty cozy.” Roman rolls his eyes before carefully handing Jerry over to me. I cradle him over my heart while rubbing his side with my thumb. I can’t help but lean down to lay a soft kiss atop his head. “You are just the sweetest lil thing in the whole world, you know that?” I murmur into his fur before pulling back with a smile.

“Oh he fuckin’ knows it. He had all the nurses in a tizzy. Had to fight ‘em off with my humongous dick.”

“Oh Jesus, Roman. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?”

“Nope.” Roman smiles as he reaches to pet Jerry. His finger brushes my hand and our eyes fall to one another. The corner of his mouth twitches along with his finger. The air begins to fill with static as we stood falling into each other’s gaze. There was maybe half a foot of space between us. Out of nervous habit, I bite my bottom lip and Roman’s eyes immediately flicker to my mouth. Jerry mews against my chest.

“Should we go get the formula ready?” My voice comes out quieter than I intended, just above a whisper. He blinks a few times before meeting my eyes again.

“Huh? Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, he quickly turns on his heels and heads out the bedroom door. I follow with a blush on my cheeks and a smile on my lips.

Atop Roman’s bed, he lay on his side with me mirrored beside him. Jerry was stretched out between us with a full belly pressed to the heated blanket, sleeping peacefully. Roman had one hand propping his head up and the other holding his boba tea. My arms were crossed under one another as I used them as a pillow. Both of us watching the rise and fall of Jerry’s breathing.

Feeding him earlier was an ordeal to say the least. Roman quickly became overwhelmed. Only confident in his abilities as a fuck up. He was twitchy, anxious, and swear-y as he made a mess of the kitchen. Glancing up to his face, I notice the circles under his eyes seemed darker. He looked utterly exhausted as he chewed on the straw of his drink with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, Rome?”

“Mm?” He hums addressing me but doesn’t look up from Jerry.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay up with Jer-Bear and make sure he’s okay.” Eyes finally meeting mine, his brows stay pulled together.

“Fuck no. I’m not tired.” He lied through his teeth; quickly and firmly. I had just seen him yawn not five minutes prior. My brows raise.

“Uh-huh…” I look him over. He was still dressed for the day, though without shoes. His tie, dusted in formula powder, hung loose around his neck. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow. Once gelled hair now flung in nearly every direction.

“Hey! Stop fuckin’-“ He waves the plastic cup around. “Checkin’ me out in front of the child, ya heathen.”

“The child?” I laugh quietly while propping my head up in one hand and stealing his drink from him with the other. He gasps dramatically with a hand to his chest. “Alright, cat daddy.” His brows raise as I take a sip.

“Cat daddy?” He smirks suggestively. “What are you then? Cat mommy?” Chewing on some boba pearls, I shrug with a smile.

“Seems fitting.” He goes to steal his cup back, causing his hand to fall over my own. He doesn’t remove it. Just stares at them clasped together. His touch feels electric. The familiar static returning to the air. Roman’s thumb slowly begins to brush my knuckles. Back and forth, almost shyly. I let out a shaky breath and his eyes suddenly meet mine, startled. He pulls the drink from me and I let my hand fall. The phantom of his thumb sending small shockwaves through to my bones.

Refusing to meet my eyes, he focuses them on Jerry instead. His fingers quickly and rhythmically tapping at the side of his cup. The hand once holding his head was now scratching at his jaw. A bundle of nerves before me. I yearned to soothe them and missed the warmth of his touch. The lonely ache blossoming throughout the skin of my palm made my head feel fuzzy. I then feel my last remaining brain cell sprout something akin to courage. Reaching out, I grasp the top of his drink and take it away to place on the side table behind me.

“What the fuck? I wasn’t finished…” He trails off as I look back to him. All furrow browed and handsome. Cautiously, I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. His eyes immediately drop to them interlocking with a sharp inhale. He falls tense. My stomach flips as I fight off the flaming arrows of nerves shooting down my arm. Just as tentatively as he had before, I start to gently rub my thumb against the side of his hand. He doesn’t respond; his hand feeling limp and dead beneath mine. Dread pools down the back of my throat.

“S-sorry.” Pulling back, I try to unthread myself from his hand. Suddenly his fingers come to life and clasp around mine. Gripping tightly as if his body was silently pleading with mine to not let go. Don’t leave. His eyes finally meet mine and his brows twitch. A wash of different emotions flash across his features. Behind those stormy brown eyes, I could see the waves of doubt and fear threaten to drown out the rest.

What we were doing could be considered small. Insignificant even, sure. We were simply holding hands. Yet it felt like something big for some reason. Maybe because neither one of us could recall the last time someone held us. Even if it was just our hands.

It felt intimate.

He didn’t want it to stop but he didn’t know what to do with the feelings it was bringing up either. I pull our hands towards my face and lean forward to meet them. Softly biting down on his middle knuckle then smiling up at him. His mouth twitches before slowly smiling back.

“You’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs softly, slightly bewildered.

“Watch it or I’ll bite it off.” His smile only grows.

“Do it, I fuckin’ dare ya.” I bite down onto his knuckle once again, harder this time. He drops my hand immediately, only to thread his own through my hair and pull me into a bruising kiss. Both of us smile against the other’s mouth. He nips at my bottom lip when I pull away with a laugh. I lightly shove his head playfully before throwing his words from earlier back at him.

“In front of the child?” The near constant and crushing weight of his stress seemed momentarily absent as we giggled in bed like schoolchildren. “Ya heathen.” Jerry had continued sleeping soundly between us. Careful not to wake him, Roman begins brushing a finger down Jerry’s back, ever so gently. “You can be really sweet when you wanna be, you know that?” His eyes meet mine in an attempt to look stern. Though, the smallest hint of a smile still lingered.

“You tell anyone about this and I’m chuckin’ ya into the Hudson with cement shoes.” With a wide grin, I return to my earlier positioning. Arms curled beneath me to lie atop. The day was finally catching up and my head felt heavy. “You realize there’s pillows directly above you, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen a pillow a day in my life.” My eyes were struggling to stay open as I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Jerry’s back with Roman’s finger stroking gently.

“Smartass.” The next thing I know, Roman’s hand has slid beneath my cheek to lift my head. A pillow is nestled into the space between soon after. I hum approvingly and he mumbles. “Thanks… for today.”

“Happy to help.” I rub my face into the pillow as if it could wipe off the sleep threatening to overtake me. In a weak attempt to stay awake, my mouth begins to ramble. “I got pneumonia a lot when I was a kid. I’d have to take these breathing treatments with an oxygen mask.” Letting out a soft chuckle, the memories flood back to me. Absentmindedly, my finger begins drawing circles against the blanket as I sleepily look to Jerry’s face. “But since I was a child, they tried to make it less scary so the mask was in the shape of a fish head. Whenever Jerry was in the hospital, I just pictured this tiny kitten wearing my little fish mask.” My eyes flicker up to Roman. He was wearing a small smile. “I dunno… it just made me feel better for some reason. I guess like he’d be okay because I was okay.” As the words tumbled out in a mumble, Roman’s eyes seemed softer. My cheeks started to warm with a blush so I shyly tuck my chin in and look back to Jerry.

“That’s really cute actually.” My eyes rise back to his. The tips of his own cheeks seem to turn almost pink under my gaze. “Corny as fuck, but… cute.” Clearing his throat, he looks back at the sleeping kitten before him. “I’m calling you fish face from now on.” The corner of my mouth tugs into a smile as my eyes fall heavy with sleep.

“You did good today, Rome.” If I had the energy to look back to him, I would have caught the pinks of his cheeks turning crimson. Saw his mouth twitch in a losing battle between a smile and his lips. The smile won.

The blinding light of morning had me waking with eyes squeezed tight. A steady electric hum met my ears and I tried to mentally deduce where it could be coming from before giving up. Fighting off the violently bright assault to my vision, my eyes finally part and focus. A cloud of steam billows through a sun ray to greet me. My gaze follows the plume towards it’s source. A soft electric hum. The humidifier.

The next sight to greet me fills my heart with something so sweet and so warm, it overflowed. The feeling overwhelmed my every being and threatened to burst through my chest and coat the very walls. Taking its disembodied hands to pull the corners of my lips upwards as a soft snore escapes the sleeping form beside me.

Roman looked even messier than he had the previous night. Lying on his back with one wrinkled sleeve pulled down. It appeared to have milk dampening the expensive fabric. The formula powder, once just on his tie, was now kissing across the scruff of his jaw. Somehow, it looked to be in his hair as well. His shirt lie halfway open, unbuttoned. A tiny ball of fur lay against the bare skin at the heart of his chest. There, Jerry slept underneath Roman’s cradling palm. The two of them warming the other peacefully.

My cheeks were aching but I couldn’t stop smiling. The humidifier’s buzz seemed to morph into a familiar high strung murmur inside my head.

You fucking love me, don’t you?Dumbass.

I haven’t written fan fiction in ages, let alone for Succession. I’m high-key fucking terrified of the response lol But this was so much fun to write and turned out extremely wholesome so I had to share. Please excuse any spelling/grammar/formatting fuck ups. I did all this in my notes app and haven’t shared any writing on here since like… 2018? I think?? Anyways, to whomever might be reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡˚ ✧ ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆

#Roman Roy #Succession #Succession HBO #Gender Neutral Fanfic #Roman Roy One Shot #Roman Roy Fluff #Roman Roy Angst #Roman Roy Imagine #Roman Roy x Reader #Roman Roy x Gender Neutral Reader #Succession Fanfic #Succession Imagine #Needy!Roman #Insecure!Roman #idk what else to tag here???#help????#mine #kittens & perverts

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