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wrongplacerighttime · 4 months

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agent!harry x agent!fmc

the one where grace and harry are agents on a case, and they have to go undercover to get closer to their suspect. however, tensions come to light when they’re undercover in a sex club, and harry just can’t take it anymore.

little bit of plot, mostly smut slcksxkskc but i LOVE IT ANYWAY. don’t come for me. 😤

wc: ~5k.

tw: MDNI 18+!!!, talks of murder, drinking, sex club, dom!harry, stubborn!oc

part two here // little bunny masterlist

little bunny

The club Grace stood in front of was designed to be discreet to any unassuming passerby. Her coat was pulled tightly around her, hiding the expensive lingerie set she had bought specifically for the occasion. She had never been somewhere like this, and she felt out of place. The building sat flush with the rest on the block, the architecture of history’s past was accentuated with up to date brick and mortar, black metal accents adorning the doors and tinted windows. She was nervous, and walking into a somewhat dangerous situation. She stepped into the darkened club after showing her ID to the security guard in the foyer. She almost refuses to take away her only barrier between her dignity and indecency, reluctantly handing her coat over to the man standing by the coat closet, but she does, acknowledging to herself that she needed to play the part of a cheating wife here to find a man to satisfy her in a way her husband can’t.

She moves on light footsteps further into the building, the stench of sex diluted by cigarette smoke filtered into her lungs. She puts on a face of false confidence, taking all her strength to not hug her arms tightly around her body to hide her figure from the prying eyes in the room. There are men surrounding the bar, some of them sporting tan lines where wedding rings are missing, a detail often overlooked by most. They’re only here to get an easy, quick fuck while their wives are home not suspecting a thing. She wrinkles her nose before correcting her expression and runs a hand through her hair, looking around the area as she inhales and tries to shake the nerves away while pulling on the dreaded collar that her female coworker insisted she should wear to “help get into character”. “It’s just part of the costume,” she reminds herself while making her way to a bar stool.

“Weston, are you alright so far? We’re about to send Styles in.” She hears Aaron, her boss, in her earpiece, static interfering with their signal. She discreetly adjusts the position of it in her ear before answering.

“Yep. Just peachy.” She sarcastically answered under her breath, silently wishing she were anywhere else. She feels exposed and the fake wedding band is uncomfortable and feels tight, like it's holding her finger in a vice. She moves further into the club, making sure the ring is visible to any patrons that may be watching her.

She didn’t want to be here, but realistically, she knew she was the only chance they had to catch the suspect they’d been hunting for just over a week now. They have concluded that the suspect is a recently divorced man who is using surrogates for his murders, dumping them on the streets of Seattle and somehow hasn’t been caught yet. All of the victims were last seen at this club. They haven’t had any reason to arrest him yet, because otherwise he’s a perfect law abiding citizen, and unless they have proof beyond a reasonable doubt, they can’t get a search warrant issued. The only thing they’re going on is that the women he’s kidnapped from this club look eerily similar to his ex wife, and he takes a souvenir from them every time. Their wedding rings.

Grace lifts her gaze from her glass to look around the room, and her eyes briefly catch as the man beside her looks her up and down before turning back to his drink. She feels her cheeks redden slightly, thankful that she was wearing a decent amount of makeup to hide the stain of embarrassment. She would never be seen in something like this, even with her sexual partners. And she never wanted to admit but her sex life was pretty vanilla compared to this. She was dreading that Harry, of all people, was going to be seeing her like this. She only saw one of her coworkers before she had to go inside, and if she had a choice she wouldn’t have seen any of them. There was a knock on her hotel door that interrupted her just as she was putting on her coat to cover up. When she answered the door she expected it to be one of the other women she worked with checking on her, so she didn’t button up. To her dismay it was Sean, their tech guy. She needed to be hooked to an earpiece so she had to suffer through the breath catching in his throat and his endless stutters as he helped her hook with the new technology she was unfamiliar with. And of course, because it was Sean, it was more awkward than it needed to be.

“I’m inside.” She hears Harry’s voice through the speaker hidden in her ear behind her hair as she swallows down the martini she ordered, thankful that they were making an exception to the no alcohol on the job rule. She had a feeling she’d need a little bit of a buzz to deal with Harry tonight, and there was no telling how much time would pass before they got what they needed. Her boss told her to only accept drinks that she had watched be made, as if she didn’t already possess the common knowledge and she wasn’t a federal agent. Her eyes flitted around the room and she caught sight of Harry as he passed the bar and made his way to a location that wasn’t in her line of sight from where she was sitting.

The plan that she and Harry would be the ones undercover wasn’t her own. Harry had suggested it, and because it was his idea, it was the best one and it needed to be executed. Grace would be playing the part of the married woman here to cheat on her husband while he was at home not suspecting a thing. Harry just had to be the one she seduced and left with. They had no way of knowing for sure if the suspect would be there tonight, they were just betting on his timeline being the same as it has been for the past three murders. If he was there, there was no way to know if he would actually set his sights on her. As fucked up as it sounds, Grace hoped he would so she didn’t have to do this again, and she really wanted to be the one to cuff this scumbag. She glanced around the bar, hoping to see his face in the sea of sleazy men. She studies every single patron sitting within her line of sight, and finally, her eyes land on him. Jesse Baker. His dirty blonde hair was greasy on top of his head, and he was sipping on a glass of beer. She stares at him for a moment, willing him to look her way as if he could read her thoughts. After a beat, his eyes meet hers and she feels a shiver up her spine. She doesn’t react, she just makes sure her left hand is in view so he sees the gold ring adorning her finger. She knows he’s seen it when he scowls at her, and if looks could kill she’d already be dead.

“He’s spotted me.” Grace says quietly under her breath, looking away so he doesn’t see her mouth moving. “I’m on the move.”

“Did he see the wedding ring?” Aaron asks. Grace stands taking her glass with her and walking away from the bar.

“Yeah. He saw. Where are you, Styles?”

“Back corner.” His voice is low in her ear and she shivers again, this time for a different reason. There's always been some kind of tension between them, and Grace is no stranger to the way he looks at her when he thinks she doesn’t notice. But he’s never approached her that way, and all they do is bicker back and forth about the correct plan of action on every single case they work together. To him she’s always wrong and he’s always right, and when she is right he doesn’t even acknowledge it, just grumbles something about a ‘lucky guess’ and walks away. She saunters around the bar walking right past their suspect, spotting Harry in the far back of the club. A woman seems to be eyeing him from her table so Grace quickly makes her way to him before he’s stuck in a situation that would be counterintuitive to the reason they were here in the first place.

His eyes meet hers before trailing down to the black lace that covers her from her chest to the tops of her thighs, leaving little to imagination. And he has imagined it. Every time she juts her lip out in concentration, or everytime she gives him her endless attitude he so desperately wanted to put in its place. He shifts in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek before leaning forward and setting his glass down on the small table in front of him. She smiles nervously at him as she moves closer and when she’s within arms reach, he grabs her wrist and pulls her onto his lap.

“H-hey.” Grace stutters and catches herself on the back of the booth, caging his head between her arms. She tilts her head slightly and she wraps one arm around the back of his shoulders after she steadies herself. He lightly drags the tip of his nose up her neck before bumping it against her ear and she swallows a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Just playing the part, don’t want him to get suspicious.” He mutters and she nods, making herself comfortable, and while he was the one to pull her into his lap, he doesn’t touch her any further than that. Movement catches the corner of her eye and she notices Jesse moving closer to them. She watches him from her peripheral as he takes a seat at the booth behind them, facing them with his legs spread out and resting his drink on his knee while he holds the glass by the rim. She buries her nose in Harry’s hair, breathing in the delicious scent of whatever product he had in it and placing a kiss against his temple, her lips barely brushing over his skin.

“He’s behind us.” She mumbles, moving to straddle over his hips without thinking, just wanting to be able to keep her eye on Jesse. She hears him clear his throat, keeping his hands beside him on the seat and she’s sure they’re about to give away their guise because Harry is way too tense for someone who would’ve been expecting this. She brings her lips to his neck, taking his skin between her teeth before kissing over the spot. She hears him curse under his breath, clenching his hands into fists on the booth. “Do something with your hands, you need to make yourself a little more convincing.” She breathes against his ear and he nods once before placing his hands on her hips and squeezing lightly. Just as she was about to say something else, they’re interrupted by a woman dressed all too similarly to Grace. She’s tall, at least 6’ in her heels and she has long fiery-red hair cascading down her back, her neck adorned with a black leather collar.

“Look at you two getting all cozy.” Her eyes flick between Grace and Harry before narrowing. “There’s private rooms down that hallway over there,” she gestures with her hand, Harry’s gaze follows and he nods at her, flashing a wide smile her way.

“Thank you.” He croons and snakes his hand down from Grace’s hip to the swell of her ass, palming and gripping onto her as the woman’s eyes follow his touch.

“I’m not sure if we’ll need one tonight, I’m trying to teach her how to control and behave herself, she’s a bratty little bunny, aren’t you?” He turns his head and mutters the last few words against the skin between her breasts, his hot breath billowing outwards as he licks a stripe upwards to her collarbone. She whimpers and grinds against him purely out of habit from the pleasure building, and when she does she’s surprised to feel him hard under her. She nods shyly and his finger hooks under her collar, pulling lightly and tilting his head.

“Words, baby. Be polite.” He purrs at her, and it takes all of her mental strength to not widen her eyes at him.

“Y-yes sir.” Is all she can answer, her cheeks reddening slightly and she buries her face in his neck. He brings a hand up, trailing it down her spine with featherlight fingertips. He pushes her to stand, spinning her around before pulling her back down onto his lap, except she’s facing away from him now and he brings his hands over the expanse of her thighs before squeezing there, dimpling the skin. The nameless woman still standing and watching the interaction, clicks her tongue once and her eyes look back to where Jesse still sits. Grace watches her, noticing the way her eyes are narrowing at him and the way she shakes her head, like they’re communicating with each other telepathically. She turns her head back to Harry and Grace, plastering a fake smile on her face.

“Well. If you need anything, just let me know.” She eyes Grace up and down before turning and walking away. Grace waits until she’s out of hearing range before craning her neck to look at Harry over her shoulder. His eyes meet hers briefly before he looks away.

“Little warning would have been nice.” She grumbles as he scoffs.

“Yeah, how exactly did you expect me to do that?” He whispers with annoyance lacing his tone, bringing his mouth to her shoulder blade and kissing lightly. A burst of pleasure runs down her spine and she grinds against him, causing a hiss to fall from between his gritted teeth and he grips her hips tightly, moving her so the pressure isn’t against his cock straining in his pants. She chooses to ignore it for the time being.

“Did you notice her looking at him?” She mutters and he nods, keeping his hands tight on her hips. She doesn’t know how much longer she can do this, and she hates to admit that Harry looks extremely delectable tonight, his hair styled to perfection on top of his head, dressed in black dress pants with a white button up loosely fitting his torso…unbuttoned enough to give her just a hint of the butterfly tattooed on his abs. She catches herself thinking about how it would feel to trail her tongue over it before she forces the image away from her mind and focuses on the task at hand.

About a half an hour passes of them bantering back and forth, Jesse watching them the entire time while they exchange just enough physical contact to make it believable. Grace has been drinking and it’s coming to a head, feeling tipsy now and a little more brave. She tangles her hands in Harry’s hair, the fake ring is visible to their suspect as she does so, watching as he narrows his eyes at her and Harry. She feels her arousal pooling on the material of the lingerie as she pushes her center against him and he leans his head back and lets out a soft groan. She watches his eyes flutter closed as he moves her hips over his erection. When he opens them back up to see her smirking down at him, she notices something primal in his expression. He stands abruptly, pushing her off of him in the process and grabbing her hand, leading her down the hallway of private rooms.

“Harry, what are you doing?” She whisper-yells at him, her words running together from slight intoxication but he doesn’t answer. He finds a door cracked open, poking his head inside and making sure it's unoccupied. He pulls her inside, closing the door and locking it behind them before he spins her around and pushes her against it. Grace jumps when a voice speaks in her ear.

“What's going on?” Aaron asks both of them and Harry curses under his breath and drops his head to her shoulder, both of them forgetting about the earpieces up until that moment.

“Give us a minute, new information. Need to come up with a plan.” He lies as he stares directly into Grace’s eyes with dark, blown out pupils, licking his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth

“Styles, we need to know your location in the club at all times.” Aaron scolds him and he shakes his head.

“Do you trust us?” He asks and Aaron responds with a hesitant yes. “Okay. Then give us a minute.” He says before ripping out his earpiece. He does the same with Grace’s, and then his lips crash to hers. She moans into the kiss, opening her mouth and giving him access to her. His tongue darts in and he’s running his hands up to the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling hard enough for her to yelp and he attaches his lips to her pulse point.

“You play dirty.” He mutters against her skin before pulling back and she gives him a devilish grin.

“Didn’t know I needed to play fair.” She remarks, feigning innocence and he pulls her hair again as she hisses through her teeth.

“Think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He seethes and she smiles again. “Think you can just prance over to me in this slutty little outfit and not expect me to want to shove my cock inside you?” He asks, tilting his head slightly and her eyes flutter closed at his words, a switch inside him flipping almost instantaneously. He thinks he has her right where he wants her, but she’s not going to give him what he wants that easily.

While still fisting her hair, he pulls her away from the door and shoves her down onto the sofa in the middle of the room. He flips her over, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her ass up in the air. She squirms underneath him, and he runs his hand softly up the back of her exposed thigh. She shivers, goosebumps forming at his gentle touch. He gives no warning before he pushes the material keeping her wet center covered to the side. He drags a finger through her arousal before shoving it into her and she cries out. He hums with satisfaction, feeling the way she clenches on his fingers at the intrusion.

“You’re dripping. All for me, sweet girl?” He coos at her but she doesn’t answer, instead her jaw falling slack as he pumps his finger in and out of her. His eyes flare with lust, but he stops all together causing her to whimper. “Need you to use your words or I’ll stop.” He demands, the change in his tone giving her whiplash.

“Y-you wish.” She stutters, trying to sound confident, and he knows she’s trying to put up a front, and he doesn’t like her answer. He smacks her ass, hard. He clicks his tongue, gently rubbing the area quickly turning red with his handprint.

“Want to rethink that?” His voice is low. She tries to push her hips back against him, searching for any friction but he doesn’t let her.

“Look at you, such a needy little bunny. You knew what you were doing getting me all riled up.” He croons, bending over her body and nipping at her ear. The pet name he used earlier brings a heat swirling into her belly, a feeling that she craved.

“Wasn’t doing anything. Just playing the part like you told me to.” She lies through her teeth in a breathy tone.

“Hmm. S’that why you’re all wet, then?” He pushes two fingers into her and her eyes flutter closed as she bites her bottom lip. He pumps and curls, stretching her so deliciously it makes her toes curl. He goes deeper, all the way too the knuckle and she feels the tightening of the coil inside her belly. She’s close, so close. He pulls his fingers away from her and her chest heaves at the empty feeling, tearing her away from the edge just as she was about to tumble over. He sits on the couch beside her, pulling her onto his lap and she straddles his hips. He pulls the top of her outfit down, exposing her breasts to him. In the same second, he attaches his mouth to one of her nipples while pinching the other between his thumb and finger. She throws her head back and grinds her hips down over his cock still confined behind the zipper.

“I hate you.” She moans as he lightly bites and sucks on her nipple. She’s breathless as she says it, and he bucks his hips to meet hers.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” He mumbles against her skin, reaching a hand between their bodies and rubbing over her clit. She falls forward, her head falling against his shoulder as he rubs circles at a slow, torturous pace.

“You think you’re so great? You think every woman who looks your way wants you? Like you’re God’s gift to them?” She huffs, not realizing the irony of her words and the position she’s in due to the insatiable want clouding her mind.

“And yet here you are.” He mutters, the corner of his mouth pulling into a half smile and she rolls her eyes. He grabs her face, forcing her to look at him. His pupils are blown out and he tilts his head, studying her like he’s a predator hunting his prey, knowing she’s about to say something smart again and nipping it in the bud before it has the chance to escape her lips.

“Attitude.” He says pointedly, squeezing her cheeks and she can’t help the whine that builds in her throat and betrays her. “Be a good little bunny or I won’t let you cum.” He threatens and she swallows her words down without so much as a sigh.

Her hands fall from his chest and to his pants, fumbling with the button and unzipping them. He lifts his hips and pulls them down just enough and his cock springs free from where it was confined behind his zipper. Her eyes widen and her mouth waters, wanting nothing more than to drop to her knees and take him down her throat at the sight of him. He watches her for a beat before pulling her face back to him and kissing her, shoving his tongue into her mouth aggressively.

In an instant, he’s gripping the backs of her thighs and lifting her as he stands from the sofa without detaching his mouth from hers. Her hands grip his hair, pulling at the root and he groans into the kiss, her back meeting the cool surface of the wall across the room. She feels the head of his cock at her entrance, and she wiggles her hips against him in an attempt to push him into her, begging for more contact. He holds her steady, and she’s unsuccessful in her efforts as she whimpers into his mouth. He pulls away far enough to meet her eyes, her chest heaving and her eyes pleading for him.

“Beg me for it.” He demands, breathless. The look in her eyes shifts, and she narrows them at him.

“Fuck you.” She seethes, her usual personality fighting to stay dominant over the one she wants to slip into. He holds her up with one hand, bringing the other up to grab the collar still strapped around her throat. He pulls, bringing her forehead to his, the tips of their noses touching and she feels her air supply dwindling.

“Beg. Or I’ll leave you in here, your pretty little pussy all weepy and empty.” He grits through his teeth and she can’t deny she wants him like this always. He lets go and she sucks in a breath that she desperately needed. She’s stunned for a moment, this side of him still new to her. She’s itching to provoke him further, just to see how far he’ll go. But she also just really wants him to fuck her,

“Please.” She whispers and he laughs, shaking his head slightly

“You can do better than that, bunny.” His voice is low and gravely, and she can tell he’s holding himself back. She sighs, throwing her head back against the wall. He waits, and when she lifts her head to look at him again, she gives him a look that reads mischief.

“Please, oh please, give me your cock, sir, I need it, need it so bad. Plea—” Her fake, whiny voice is cut off by him slamming his cock into her and she feels the breath whoosh from her lungs. Tears prick the corner of her eyes at the sting of him stretching her, and it’s all she knows. All she feels. Her head falls forward against his shoulder and she cries out from pleasure sparking down her spine.

“God, you look so much better when you just shut up.” He grits with annoyance, breath heavy in his lungs as she squeezes him perfectly. He tosses his head back as he sets a slow, torturous pace. Her hands find his hair again, holding the back of his head and fisting his hair for something to grip as he pulls out to the tip before driving back into her. She’s a mess of moans and whines and she lifts her head from his shoulder and arches her back against the wall. His mouth finds her throat, lapping and sucking on her skin. She knows she won’t last, and he can sense it too, the way she’s clenching him and bucking into him. He brings one hand up between her thighs, pressing lightly on her clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles with light pressure and his name falls from her lips in breathy moans.

“That’s it…cum for me. Know you want to.” He encourages her, and the sparks dancing down her spine travel right to her center and turn to flames of pleasure…desire. He presses her clit once, and that’s it, all she needs. She comes completely undone, tipping over the edge and dropping her head to his shoulder once more, her pussy squeezing him and willing him to come inside her. He groans, a single bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he slams into her.

“Feel so fucking good cumming all over my cock, bunny. So good. Like you were made for me.” He’s breathless, his hips meeting hers one final time before he’s spilling into her, bringing his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss as he rides through it, moaning into her mouth, filling her until he slides out and he drips down her thighs.

Gently, he lowers her until her feet meet the floor. She stumbles, humming as he brings his hands to her face and wipes the mascara running down her cheeks with the back of his fingers. His eyebrows pull together as her eyes meet his. He makes sure she’s steady, pulling her lingerie back into place and tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them before walking away and finding their earpieces that he threw across the room.

“Now, you’re gonna leave this room with my cum dripping from that pretty little pussy. Let it run down your thighs. Gonna be a good little bunny and let them all see who you belong to, right?” Her head is fuzzy, and she nods without thinking. She can’t think straight, forgetting for a moment why they were even here in the first place. He checks his watch, and all of twenty minutes have passed feeling like hours. He situates the technology in her ear, then moves to his, clearing his throat before he speaks.

“Aaron. We have reason to believe he’s working with a partner. There’s a woman in here that he’s been communicating with, and I think she plays a part in luring the women to him.” He speaks clearly, as if he didn’t just have his cock buried inside Grace, wishing he had a little more time, and he realized he was going to be insatiable for her, already thinking about when he could have her next.

“We didn’t profile a partner?” Aaron sounds confused, and Harry’s eyes travel to Grace still leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath without making it obvious to anyone listening.

“Grace and I went to a private room, Baker is going to assume he knows what we did in this room. He’s going to make a move, or his partner will. Need another body inside. Need more eyes on him.” Harry says, calm and collected. “It’s going to have to be a man, because I’m sure there’s no other women on our team dressed like Grace.” He mutters.

“Weston, are you there?” Aaron asks and his voice speaking directly to her snaps her back to reality quickly.

“Uh, yeah. Here. I’m here.” She makes her presence known.

“Alright. I’m coming in.” He says, and they both look at each other once before nodding. Grace feels the ache in her thighs as she walks towards the door, Harry behind her. He leans into her just as her hand reaches for the handle.

“Still hate me?” He whispers in her ear

“Always.” She mutters.

“Good. It’d be boring if you didn’t.” He smirks, his hand on her back as they exit the room. She knew she was ruined, already wanting more of him, more time with him.

But it’ll have to wait.

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zepskies · 3 months

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Being Human - Part 4 (Finale)

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: (I decided to release this a bit early.) Here we are, friends! The final chapter...

Chapter Summary: Ames White captures you, forcing Alec to his knees.

Word Count: 4,300

Tags/Warnings: Peril and violence, angst, major hurt/comfort, but also major fluff...

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: Reckoning

Terminal City is a region on the edge of the city. The chemical and biohazardous waste that was dumped there after the Pulse makes ordinary humans sick, but for the immune transgenics, it’s the perfect spot to carve out a sanctuary.

Alec has been visiting the sector frequently, working with Max, Joshua, and other Manticore escapees to build up its infrastructure. Joshua lives here full-time now, as it’s safer for the half-canine transgenic and others like him, who don’t “look” human.

Today, Alec’s working with Mole and Joshua on ammunitions. Regardless of what any of them look like, they are all soldiers, in one way or another built and trained for warfare.

As much as Alec doesn’t want to see it, the tensions between “ordinaries” and transgenics are mounting, especially in Seattle.

He checks his watch and realizes that he’s late to meet you.

“Shit. I gotta go,” he says.

“Where’re you going?” Max asks. She has a perceptive eye, but Alec doesn’t reveal anything. He revs up his motorcycle and dons his helmet.

“Just going to meet someone,” he says, purposely vague. He doesn’t want another lecture from her.

The truth is, he’s dreading this. He knows when he sees you, it’ll be damn near impossible to maintain his distance. He should’ve just met you at your apartment, but surrounded by your things, your familiar scent etched into every fiber of your place…it would buckle his resolve.

So he heads back on his motorcycle all the way home.

Something’s off.

He instinctively knows after he climbs up the stairs to his apartment. He tests the door, and it opens without him having to unlock it.

You would know better than to leave the door open.

He pushes inside the apartment, and he’s greeted to a scene that drops his heart into his stomach.

His apartment is empty, but a table near the kitchen is knocked over. Glass liters the ground where it’s overturned, and on further inspection, he finds drying bloodstains on the glass and on the floor.

His heart beats faster as he takes in everything with wide eyes. He doesn’t smell gunpowder, or find anything else that would tell him what happened here.

He does find your purse, tossed by the couch in the living room.

Alec whips out his phone and calls your cell.

“Hello, 494.” A man’s voice—one that Alec would know anywhere. It prickles his skin with unease and makes his blood boil all at once.

“Ames White.” Alec’s teeth grind. “What game are you playing now?”

“This isn’t a game. It’s business,” White claims. “I have something you want. How much are you willing to pay to make sure she stays alive?”

Alec forces himself to calm down, even though his pulse is racing.

“What do you want?”

“You. And 452. With no bullshit on your end,” the agent replies. “Or this girl is going to pay that price for you.”

Alec’s breath becomes unsteady. “And if I comply, you’ll let her go. I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Oh, I won’t lie to you. She’s on her way to the lab as we speak. You see, they’re gonna want to analyze that abomination she’s carrying,” White says.

That steals the breath from Alec’s lungs.

His eyes grow wide as he puts together what the man is saying.

“But if you do comply,” he says, “I’ll make sure they let her deliver to term, at least.”

Alec’s throat tightens. Oh, God…

“You let her go, you son of a bitch!” he grinds out. His white-knuckle grip pops a few springs in the couch. He releases it and covers his face, pressing hard between his eyes. “She’s not part of this!”

“It seems she is, 494. I’ll send you the time and the place. Be there with 452.”

The line clicks. Alec’s breathing is harsh. He grips his phone so hard it nearly shatters, but he tosses it onto the couch and pushes his palms against the burn in his eyes. His jaw locks with the strain of clenched teeth. No, no, no, NO!

His phone chimes with a voicemail message. Alec grabs the phone and listens. It details coordinates and a meeting time: tonight, at midnight.

Alec makes another call with what remains of his phone.

“Max,” he says shakily. “I need your help.”

Alec barely resists pacing throughout Logan’s apartment while the latter types away, researching the coordinates Ames White provided for the meeting point. Their forced surrender.

Max perches on the corner of the couch with her arms crossed. She’s concerned for you as well, but she gazes at him with sympathy.

“We’ll find her, Alec,” she says.

Alec shakes his head.

“He could have her anywhere,” he gestures widely. “He could’ve already handed her off to whatever shady government agency he works for. Or with that damn cult, that in case you’ve forgotten, hates us. Like everyone else in this city.”

“Not everyone,” Max reminds him pointedly.

“Yeah, and look where we are now,” Alec retorts. “I told you this would happen!”

“Do you want to be right, or do you want to save her?” Max shoots back. “Now think. We’ve found bases of White’s operations before. Both for the agency, and the breeding cult.”

“I’m cross-referencing old locations,” Logan says. He’s been typing away at his computer for several minutes. “I can ask Asha and her people to join the search. And I can do an Eyes Only broadcast, encourage people to keep an eye out.”

Alec nods, but any outcomes of those plans will take time. Time you might not have.

They’ve been following anonymous tips for hours. Joshua and a few X5s and X6s joined the search for Ames White, and more importantly, for you.

Alec and Max have been working together without stopping even for a breath throughout the night. They only have one hour before they’re meant to be at the agreed meeting point: an abandoned building near the edge of the city. No doubt for their easy extraction.

Logan eventually calls Alec to tell him about a lab within a mile of the scheduled rendezvous point. There have been reports of late-night transports—locals calling in about strange noises, and in one case, what someone thought was a muffled gunshot.

Alec and Max agree to check it out, but they’re going to cut it close with the meeting time.

“Josh. Where are you, buddy?” Alec asks after calling his friend’s cell.

“I’m here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Here,” Joshua replies. He’s turned the corner and found his friends on the crossing of Avalon St. and Broadway, via his elite sense of smell.

“Good,” Alec smiles in relief. He pats his taller friend’s arm. “You’ve been a big help so far, but I need you for this. Wanna be part of the rescue party?”

“Yes,” Joshua nods, but his tone suggests he’s offended that Alec has to ask. “Help save your mate.”

Alec’s smile weakens. He doubts you’ll ever want to be that with him, ever again. But he’ll be damned if the government, or some damn breeding cult, is going to lay a hand on you.

Logan agrees to meet them there in his van for backup, while Josh hitches a ride on the back of Alec’s motorcycle. The three of them haul ass to the location of the suspected lab.

They approach a large, three-story dilapidated building. According to Logan, it used to be a mental health asylum. When the government bought it out, the facility was turned into a private lab.

Great, comes Alec’s sardonic thought. Hopefully the ghosts of whoever was tortured here won’t cause them any problems.

He and Max communicate silently through the militaristic hand motions they learned in their training to scope the place’s security, its entry points, and the best way for them to infiltrate the building. Although Manticore made Joshua, he hasn’t gone through the same training as most transgenics have.

He’s fortunate for it, but it means that Max has to direct him more carefully. He covers her and Alec as they approach the back entrance, which seems to be where they most often transport both cargo and people. Right now, there’s a large van waiting on standby.

Alec rips out the driver first, while Max and Joshua take on the other guards who start shooting. Alec comes around the back of the van, and when the first guard opens the back door, Alec tears the gun out of his hands and yanks him out. Alec uses the man’s body like a Kevlar vest as his two companies unload a clip or two. He punches them both out hard enough to hear the crack of bone.

The van inside is empty, but he sees a cot and several machines already ready and waiting to transport someone. He grits his teeth and slams the door shut on his way out.

“She’s not in there,” he tells Max. “If she’s here, she’s gotta be inside.”

Max and Joshua have taken out the outside guards, no problem, but he’s sure there’ll be more where that came from.

The three of them enter the building and race through the long hallways, slipping by lab technicians, doctors, and other staff. Anyone who attempts to stop them soon regrets it.

Alec is especially brutal and efficient with the federal security guards. Max watches him out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t yet warn him to pull his punches. The stakes are high, and she understands his anger and stress.

“There’s a file room,” Alec points to a door that’s labeled: RECORDS.

“I doubt they’ll have a file on her yet, especially if White’s trying to keep this under wraps,” Max says.

Joshua looks around and points across the hall. “Cameras?”

The other two look in the direction he’s pointing to, and they see what he sees—a room labeled: SECURITY.

Alec slaps a companionable hand on Joshua’s back, and they head for the security room. The guards are dealt with swiftly, being knocked out and piled against the back wall. While Joshua keeps a lookout, Max and Alec scan the many different camera feeds: focused on various hallways and lab subjects.

Alec scans each of them rapidly. He’s always been good with TV.

He finds you on one of the camera feeds and he points to it. “There she is! Room 204.”

You’re in a small, cell-like room, sleeping on what almost looks like a hospital bed. Except there’s a breathing mask held over your face, probably keeping you unconscious, and you’re attached to several monitors. It makes his heart sink and his spine tighten with rage, simultaneously.

“Let’s go,” Max says, but it’s not necessary. Alec is already halfway out the door.

They’re stopped at a four-way crossroads in the hall. In the center is Ames White.

“You’re smart, I’ll give you that,” he grants with an incline of his head. He takes a radio clipped to his belt and clicks it on, speaking into it. “Transport the girl. Make sure she’s sedated.”

Alec seethes. Before he can sprint headlong into a fight, Joshua stops him. Alec looks up at him in askance.

“You go. Find her. Leave him with me,” Joshua says. His blue eyes are sharp with predatory anger at the man who killed Annie Fisher.

Alec softens a fraction and nods in understanding. He shoots Max a look.

“Go, I’ll catch up with you,” she says.

Alec nods and races on ahead. He dodges bullets with the help of superior speed and crashes into each guard, taking them out with brutal force. He steals a gun off of one of them, and that saves him a lot of time and energy. He tries not to kill anyone, but he can’t think about holding back. He just needs to get to you.

He reaches the second floor, and finally to Room 204.

Two men are already in the room. He doesn’t want to open fire—the room is too small, the risk of ricochet too high. He grabs a knife from his belt and hurls it at the first man, who was poised to inject something into your arm. The second guard turns with his gun, but Alec is already moving too fast for human eyes to follow.

He breaks the man’s arm, followed by a swift uppercut. He takes the gun and hurls the man into the far wall, knocking him clean out as he slumps to the floor.

Alec breathes hard in the aftermath, but he begins to soften after his attention turns to you. He sets down the gun and takes in the sight of you, still dressed in jeans and a blood-stained shirt.

You’re heavily sedated and restrained by your wrists and ankles. You have a bandage wrapped around your forearm, along with brain and heart monitors attached to your forehead and chest, and an IV drip in your other arm.

Alec takes a breath, and he starts with the wires, removing the small suction cups from your body and disconnecting all the monitors. He takes off the mask and unclips the leather restraints.

The fury builds back up inside him at what they’ve already done to you. He doesn’t want to think any more on what they’d planned to do.

You must’ve been terrified, he thinks. He touches your cheek tenderly. His free hand hesitates, before it rests gently on your belly. He calls your name.

You don’t stir just yet. Your body is still under the effects of the sedation. So he carefully lifts you into his arms. He hears Max approach, and she’s there in the doorway by the time he turns around.

“Let’s go,” Alec says. His face is hard and angry while he carries you out.

They regroup with Joshua in the lobby, though even Alec stops short when he sees the carnage. Ames White’s body lays on the floor with unseeing eyes. His throat is torn out.

Joshua has blood in his teeth. He wipes at his face with the back of his arm, his eyes veering away from Max and Alec. Max blinks through her shock and tries to keep her mouth from falling open.

“Time to go,” Joshua says. His voice is heavy, but matter of fact.

“We’ll need to take his body, get rid of it later,” Max says, when she recovers. “We can’t let the police find him.”

They’ll blame us, is understood by them all. The police won’t have the full story, but it won’t matter. Appearances are everything.

Max finds a black body bag in a nearby storage closet and Joshua collects White, later hefting the full body bag over his shoulder.

They make their escape out the back of the building, where Logan is waiting with his van. Joshua deposits the body in the back, where he also climbs in. Max takes the front passenger seat while Alec carries you into the middle seat bed.

Nothing else feels right but to hold you in his arms. To stroke your cheek and wait, both desperate for, and yet dreading the moment you’ll open your eyes.

Because when you do, there’s a good chance that he’ll find your fear. Or worse.

“She’s going to be okay,” Max says to him, quietly. She’s twisted towards him in her seat.

“Maybe physically,” Alec counters. “I don’t know, Max. How did being held up in a lab affect your mental health?”

Her lips purse. “One step at a time, okay?”

Alec shakes his head and looks down at you. He tries to commit your peaceful face to memory, because he doubts that he’ll ever see it again after tonight.

Slowly, you start to wake.

At first, all you see is shadows and shapes of someone looming over you. Unconsciously you whimper and push at whatever holds you down, but the hold is gentle, the voice soothing.

“Shh, it’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s me,” he says.

Your eyes clear and focus as you blink…though they soon flood with tears. Relief takes over your fear. You see his concerned, handsome face, and your lower lip trembles.

“Alec,” is all you manage to say. You still have some trouble moving your heavy body, but you grab a fistful of his shirt and wince as you pull yourself up, just enough to bury your face into his chest. Your body shakes with the force of your sobs.

Alec gathers you up against him and shushes you gently, even as his heart clenches. He soothes a hand over your hair and your back.

“I’ve gotcha. It’s okay, you’re safe,” he says in your ear. He meets Max’s concerned gaze, then Joshua’s in the shrouded end of the car. Even Logan glances back through the rearview mirror as he drives.

Alec tries to block them out and focus on you. He holds you and comforts you for as long as you let him.

Eventually, you pull away to look at his face. You still have tears in your eyes, but now, it’s with a hue of uncertainty.

“The man…the agent who took me. He was looking for you,” you say. Your voice is weak and a bit coarse. You try to clear it.

Alec wishes he had some water for you.

“He’s gone. You don’t have to worry about him,” he says.

You let out a shaky breath, but you meet his gaze. “He said that you’re not…Alec, are you…”

He sighs; he understands the question you’re trying to ask.

“Yeah. Those freaks you hear people talking about on the news?” he says. “I’m one of ‘em.”

Your eyes widen as your breathing becomes more labored.

“I was made in a lab,” Alec confesses. “At Manticore, bred and trained to be a soldier.”

A transgenic.

Your hand falls away from his chest, and you take that in with an unblinking stare. He can see you trying to process all this.

You glance over at Max, who had been facing the front to give you and Alec the semblance of privacy. Feeling your gaze on her, she turns around and gives you a half-hearted smile.

“Hey, girl,” she greets. “Glad you’re okay.”

“You’re like him too?” you ask. Max nods.

Suddenly, everything makes so much sense. Why she and Alec have always seemed to share history and bickered like siblings. Why Max was friendly, but never truly your family. Why Alec had been so much of a mystery to you. Why he’d broken your heart.

“Joshua too,” says a deep voice from the back.

You turn your head and gasp as your eyes fly open wide again. Alec gives his friend a look over your head, but he tries to reassure you with a warm hand on your lower back. He hopes you can’t see the dried blood on Joshua’s snout.

Joshua breaks into a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he says, gesturing to his wolf-like face. “Bit of dog in my cocktail.”

You shake your head slowly. Your mouth opens and closes, but you try your best to get through your shock (and a lance of fear). Your head tilts as you consider his kind, very human blue eyes.

“You, um, your name is Joshua?” you say at last.

“Yes, Joshua,” he nods. “Rescue party.”

You blink at that. “You…helped get me out of there?”

He nods again, with a smile that flashes a few canine pointed teeth. You rest a hand over your wildly beating heart.

“Thank…you,” you manage.

Joshua bobs his head. “No problem. Saved Alec’s mate.”

If possible, your eyes widen further at that one. You turn back to Alec with raised brows. He offers a wan smile and a nervous chuckle. You notice, however, that he hasn’t let go of you. You’re also still sitting across his lap.

“This is what you were hiding from me,” you say, perhaps stating the obvious. Your heart clenches with pain. “Why you…”

He brushes his hand along your arm.

“I was trying to protect you,” Alec says. His brows furrow as his green-eyed gaze veers away from your face, with shame. “But I failed, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. None of this was supposed to happen—”

Some instinct has you reaching out to sooth your hand along his cheek, stopping his lips with your thumb. You stare up into his eyes, and they’re no longer guarded or distant. They’re the eyes you remember.

Whatever you are, you’re mine.

You lean up and press your lips to his.

After a beat, Alec’s eyes close, and he answers you in kind. His fingers sink into your knotted hair. You grip his shirt by the collar, and he wraps his arm securely around you.

With each new kiss, you feel more relieved. You don’t realize you’re trembling until he clasps your shaking hand against his cheek, to steady you.

Alec gives you one more searing kiss before he pulls you into his arms. It’s a hug you both need.

His eyes shut tight as he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. His lips find the mark he’d left weeks ago on your skin. It’s faint by now, but it’s still there. He takes deep breaths to calm himself, and you rub his back through it.

He realizes you’re comforting him now; a fact that makes him smile.

You’re mine, instinct tells him. And this time, he just can’t fight it.

Logan houses you and Alec for the night (or the morning, since dawn breaks by the time you all get back).

You’re exhausted, but you still force yourself to shower. You’ll have to remind yourself to thank Logan for the spare clothing, though you don’t bother with the sweatpants just opt for the large shirt as you roll into bed.

Alec isn’t far behind after he takes a quick shower. You force yourself to stay awake, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. His skin glistens when he eventually leaves the bathroom, and you watch him cross the bedroom with just a towel low on his hips. He shoots you a smile before he starts getting dressed.

“Logan says he’s help us find a new place to live,” he says.

You slowly smile at that. “Us?”

“Well, you know, both of our apartments are compromised.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you reply. When he slides into bed next to you, you swim through the covers and inch closer to him. “I’m just glad it’s a together thing.”

Alec gives you an amused look, but there’s warmth in his eyes. He thumbs at your lower lip. Soon, his smile begins to fall.

“I didn’t want to get you caught up in this. In my crazy fucked up life,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. “But I’m in it now. I’m in this with you. You realize that, right?”

He nods, though he doesn’t think he deserves it. Or you, for that matter.

He slips his arm around you, just the same. You rest your head against his shoulder and tap his chin.

“Alec, I don’t care what you are,” you say. “Transgenic or not, you’re the man I’ve always known.”

He lets out a subtle breath at that, chuckling.

“For better or worse, right?” he asks.

You smile. “I have something to tell you…though I’m pretty sure you already know.”

Despite a tremor of nerves, a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Tell me anyway,” he says. “I love surprises where I know the answer.”

You giggle. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” he nods with a smirk. “Just tell me, woman.”

Your hand drifts down to rest against his chest, and you tilt up your face so you can meet his dancing eyes. The fact that he seems genuine gives you enough courage to just…say it.

“Alec, I’m pregnant,” you tell him.

His smile grows.

“…Really?” he teases. “You sure it’s mine?”

You gasp, laughing, and you shove against his chest. You twist away from the cage of his arms, but he laughs and doesn’t let you so easily escape. You realize then how truly strong he is when he rolls you under him on the bed.

He dips down and claims you with a kiss. He shakes his head, because he never thought this would be his life. His hand sneaks under the sheets to rest over your lower belly, through the shirt. In turn, you cover his hand. You bite your lip with slight anxiety.

“You’re really okay with this?” you ask. “Even after everything we…this is a lot for us. Really soon.”

Alec gradually sobers, and he acknowledges that with a nod.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Honestly, I didn’t see this coming.”

You have to laugh a little at that. His lips tug at the corners, but as he squeezes your hand back, he stares directly into your eyes.

“But I’m not letting you do this alone. I… I love you,” he admits. “Sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

Tears burn in your eyes, but only one finds its way down your cheek. You take in a tremulous breath and nod.

“I love you too,” you reply. Though you can’t hide a different uncertainty when you look at him. “But if you leave me again…Alec, I can’t.”

He looks more vehement than you’ve ever seen him when he shakes his head, meeting your gaze.

“That’s not happening. I promise,” he says. “You’re stuck with me, baby. So much that you might just get sick of me.”

You utter a laugh through your tears, and you nod in acceptance. Alec smiles and wipes your cheek dry before he gathers you tighter into his arms, and presses a kiss to your forehead.

You relax against his chest with a sigh. His heartbeat thrums steadily under your cheek.

And you finally rest.

AN: And there we have it. 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Being Human.

I might come back to add bonus one-shots to this, if you guys are interested in seeing more of their story. 💜 But I hope you'll let me know what you think about how it all shook out here!

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#Reckoning #Being Human #Part 4 #alec mcdowell #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x you #Being Human finale #alec mcdowell x female reader #logan x max #max guevara #original cindy #logan cale #ames white #Dark Angel #Jensen Ackles characters #Jensen Ackles #zepskies writes

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smartycvnt · 7 months

Text

Lucky

Title: Lucky

Pairing: Addison Montgomery x Reader

Prompt: "Thanks to you, I know what it means to love again."

WC: 646

"Addison, I don't know where we are, but I'd rather be on solid ground," Y/n said as she allowed Addison to walk her through the docks. She knew it was only a matter of time before she found herself either on some sort of boat or something. They were coming up on their anniversary, and Addison had been talking about going all out for the big day. Y/n had been apprehensive at the sound of it. Addison's version of "all out" and Y/n's tended to differ by several thousand dollars. Y/n was all for a good time, but she didn't want to break the bank doing it.

"Shh, relax. Trust me, this will all be worth it," Addison assured her. Y/n took a deep breath as continued to follow Addison. Their trip up to Seattle together had been a big enough deal, and Y/n had no idea how Addison managed to arrange some special little trip for just the two of them like this one. Y/n came to a stop in between some sort of railing and Addison, who had moved behind Y/n and started to press a few kisses against the back of Y/n's neck.

"Can I take the blindfold off now please?" Y/n asked. Addison hummed as she thought it over.

"Not yet, we aren't there yet," Addison told her. Y/n pouted as she turned her head towards where she assumed Addison was. Addison smiled as she looked out at the ocean beyond Y/n. "There's something I want to tell you that I think is going to come easier like this."

"If you did all this to dump me, I'm throwing you overboard," Y/n threatened. Addison laughed as she squeezed her arms around Y/n's waist.

"No such thing. In fact, I am going to tell you how much I love you," Addison said. "There have been so many guys that have come so close to being the love of my life. I've lost so many great friends and partners because things kept going wrong. With you, I don't have to worry about that. I've learned from my past mistakes enough to know how to not fuck us up, but I didn't think that I deserved love anymore. I gave up on it after this last divorce because who the hell am I to expect someone else to waltz into my life? Thanks to you, I know what it means to love again. I can't imagine having any other person in my life other than you. And that's why I can't ask you to marry me."

"All of this for a non-proposal?" Y/n let out a small laugh. Addison pulled the blindfold off of Y/n's eyes, surprised to see the lightheartedness in her eyes. "That was beautiful, but you had asked me to marry you, I would have called you an idiot."

"That's not very nice, maybe I take back some of my words," Addison pouted. Y/n rolled her eyes and took Addison's hands in hers. "Now you have to say something sweet or the whole night is ruined."

"You always knew what it meant to love Addison. You always knew how to open your heart, even when you thought it was hopeless. You opened up your mind and let me into your mind because deep down, I think that you knew we were meant to be in love with each other. I don't know if this will last the rest of our lives or not, but I know that when I die and go to heaven, I'll be seeing you," Y/n said. Addison leaned against Y/n just enough to pin her against the railing while they kissed. "I love you, Addison Montgomery, and I'm the luckiest motherfucker on the planet because you love me too."

#my writing #grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy #private practice x reader #private practice #addison montgomery x reader #addison montgomery #one shot

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f3mme-f4tale · 2 months

Text

☾ bound by bloodshed ☾

part three

⇠part two word count: 6.2k potential warnings: needles, stitches, sexual content (mdni pls!), brief sub!ellie, mild odaxelagnia, explicit language, praise kink, cunnalingus (r recieving), fingering (r & e recieving) pairing: seattle!ellie x female reader ☾ mood board authors note: the middle section is a flashback that takes place right before part one, which is indicated by italics. also, i don't really write smut so pls keep that in mind lmao. also this dynamic is literally i don't smoke by mitski

FREE FREE PALESTINE!

It’s a few hours later when the sun is deep below the horizon and you’re just under fifty miles east of Jackson. You’ve made residence for the night inside what appears to be remnants of an office building. Ellie tries to stay still as you unwrap the bandage, keeping her jaw clenched tight. She focuses on taking deep and even breaths, and she finds it painful whenever you apply pressure and tug on the wound.

She does her best not to make a fuss, but you can see her wincing in pain and fighting to stay still as you treat her. A bead of sweat falls down her forehead, and her skin is flushed. You know she's not having the best time right now, but she's just trying to get through it.

A sewing needle is mocking Ellie from its place on the table, your hands fumbling through your supplies for any sign of thread. Finally victorious, you use your teeth to cut the material, tongue wetting the end to make it easier to work through the needle.

"Ellie, have some water" you lecture, dumping the remaining alcohol from earlier over her arm, which causes the girl to hiss at the pain. "No use in me fixing you up if you're going to die from dehydration." Ellie shakes her head, despite the thirst that fills her throat. She's trying to be as strong as possible, not wanting to let you see how much discomfort she's in right now.

"I can keep going without water," she says, her face flushed a little bit. "It's alright." But Ellie isn't actually as sure of this as she makes it sound. She knows she probably should drink some water, but she doesn't want to admit it.

"God, you're so irritating sometimes" you mumble, grabbing your own container of water and forcing it into her hands. Ellie snickers slightly at your comment, the first little smile escaping her lips in the entire day.

She takes the water and takes a sip of it, feeling the cold, refreshing fluid slide down her throat. Ellie lets out a deep sigh of relief and takes another sip. "Thank you," she says quietly. You can tell that she really appreciates it, but she also doesn't want you to know just how exhausted and tired she's feeling.

"’Course," you smile at her. Ellie smiles back, though it barely reaches her eyes. You're just patrol partners, she reminds herself. She's not allowed to have feelings for you. And yet, she can't help but feel something. She keeps drinking from the water, not letting go of it yet. Just a few more sips, she promises herself.

You’re clueless to the sight above you, fingers working diligently to make the process go by as smoothly as possible. You push the edge of the needle deep into Ellie’s arm, skin ripping and exiting from the other side. The yellow spongy tissue is speckled with pink, pulling as you attempt to knot the thread.

Ellie watches as your eyes stay focused, the way you hold yourself as you line the tip of the needle to the edge of the opening of the wound. The sight of you – hands covered in her blood and knees between her legs – has her so turned on that she has to dig her nails into her palm, fingers turning white at the pressure. “Am I making you feel sick?” She prods, pushing your leg with her knee.

You scoff at her, using some of your water to attempt to clean off the blood that has stained your fingertips, shaking your head at her insinuation. Admitally, you’re attracted to broken people.

“Wanna see something?” Ellie asks sheepishly, avoiding your gaze as you wipe your hands on your pants, handing her a clean bandage to place on her arm. You rarely see her like this, your interest immediately piqued.

“Uh, sure? As long as you’re not planning on flashing me or something,” you jest, shoving your shoulder against hers. She doesn’t respond to this, instead throwing her bag in her lap and dumping out its contents.

Curious, you lean in closer, your eyes widening as you realize what she's holding – a Walkman. It's a relic from a bygone era, something that of course Ellie would have. "Where’d you get that?" you ask, unable to hide your surprise. Ellie's grin widens, a hint of pride in her expression.

"I had it when I was living in the Boston QZ, before Joel and I came out here," she explains. "It broke a few years ago and finally, after some tinkering, I managed to get it working again." She slides a tape in, presses a button, and the familiar click of the cassette tape being engaged fills the air. A moment later, the tinny sound of music pours forth from the worn headphones, the melody faint.

Soft acoustic guitar chords accompanied with a man’s voice enters your ear and you realize you almost forgot what music sounded like. You immediately sigh at the welcomed calm that overtakes you.

"Do you mind if I just rest for a few minutes?" she asks, sounding a little exhausted. "I know we have to move soon, but just for a few minutes so I can..."

"We got the whole night here, Els," you whisper, taking the walkman from her. She smiles softly as she leans her head against your shoulder, finding herself comfortable in your presence. She glances at you, noting the weariness in your eyes but also the kindness and empathy in your expression.

Despite all this, she can't help but take notice of how close you two are right now. Her head resting on your shoulder. Her body pressed up against yours. Just friends just friends she chants, but she can't deny how comfortable she feels with you right now.

She closes her eyes, attempting to let sleep wash over her slowly. Your heart aches for her. This closeness is something you’ve ached for these past few weeks. You have to remind yourself that she doesn't want you, no matter how much you long for her. "Oh, Ellie,” you mumble, just above a whisper.

"Hmm?" Ellie hums, her eyes still closed.

She's half-asleep now, and the weariness is slowly creeping up on her. But she can hear your voice so faintly, and she wants to listen. She adjusts her position slightly, wanting to lean against you completely. She can't deny it – being this close to you is addicting.

"What is it?" she asks quietly. "Did you say something?"

"O-oh, no sorry. Just um, thinking is all," you sigh. "Go back to sleep." Her headache is starting to get worse again. But she doesn't seem to care much. She can't stay awake much longer. She tries to ignore her fatigue and discomfort and leans into you further, wanting only to rest, just for a few minutes.

Her eyes are shut tightly, but she hopes to hear you again before she falls asleep. Without even thinking about it, she curls herself onto you and wraps her arm around you.

You lean your head against hers, clutching the water bottle in your hands. Your eyes wander over to the door, suddenly aware of the fact that just anyone can barge in. You force myself to stay awake – despite the pain. You have to protect her. As Ellie sleeps, you can feel the pain in your side worsen.

You can feel her heartbeat through her chest, and you are both so close that you can feel her breathing on your face. You let her engulf you, afraid that you’ll never experience this closeness again. Your eyes suddenly feel very heavy, and it was no use; not when the exhaustion and the warmth of Ellie were so convincing.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

The echoes of multiple string instruments echoed throughout the hall, a few folding tables lining one end of the large room. Orange fluorescent bulbs were string to the rafters, the quaint scent of roasted meat and the soft humming of the generators making your chest swell.

Pew bunches have been pushed to the back and against the wall, allowing for a group of townsfolk to congregate in the middle and dance along to the folk music playing from the speakers. You’re humming along to Little Sadie by Crooked Still as you watch Dina maneuver across the dance floor with another gentleman, who she is clearly showing off in an attempt to garner attention from her ex-boyfriend – to which you roll your eyes at. You make a bet with Ellie that they’ll be back together in two weeks, as you both laugh at Jesse’s failed attempts to not drool at the sight of her.

So when Dina makes her way towards the three of you, you’re caught off guard when she takes Ellie’s glass of whiskey and downs it, proceeding to pull the woman towards the middle of the room. As you hear Ellie call Dina a dick in response to her mocking the man, you feel a twinge of jealousy in your gut. You’re aware of Ellie’s obvious crush on her best friend, as is half of the town, Joel included. Yet, that doesn’t help the gnawing bitterness that forces its way up your spine and through your fingertips.

"Looks like Dina's pulling out all the stops tonight," Jesse remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, she's really laying it on thick," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant. You force a smile in response, but inside, your heart feels heavy. You've known Ellie for years, and though you've never admitted it aloud, you've harbored feelings for her that run deeper than friendship. But seeing her gaze fixed on Dina, the way her eyes light up when they're together, it's a painful reminder that you may never be more than just a friend to her. You can't shake the feeling of being left out, of watching from the sidelines as Ellie's attention is drawn elsewhere.

Jesse nudged you, breaking your reverie. "Hey, you alright there?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You forced another smile, nodding. "Yeah, just enjoying the music," you replied, though the words felt hollow even to your own ears.

But Jesse knew you well enough to see through the facade. He gave you a sympathetic look before turning his attention back to the dance floor. "You know, sometimes it's okay to admit when things aren't okay," he said softly.

His words struck a chord within you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for his understanding. "Thanks, Jesse," you murmured, appreciating his silent support. Despite this, loneliness blankets you, wrapping you in.

You find yourself retreating into the background, music and laughter of the evening fading into the distance as you wallow in your self-pity. And then, unexpectedly, Ellie breaks away from Dina and makes her way over to where you're standing, her expression soft with concern.

"Hey," she says softly, reaching out to touch your arm. "Are you okay?"

You force a smile, though it feels brittle and fragile. "Yeah, just... lost in thought," you reply, unable to meet her gaze. But Ellie isn't fooled by your facade. She studies you for a moment, her eyes searching yours for answers. And then, with a sigh, she takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. She nudges your shoulder with her own, raising her own glass in salut and you both take a sip.

“‘M just feeling sorry for myself and whatnot,” you mutter, awkwardly switching the weight on your feet.

Ellie's expression softens, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. "I get it," she says quietly. "But you can't keep wallowing in self-pity."

Her words hit you like a slap in the face, the sting of truth cutting through the haze of your emotions. "Easy for you to say," you shoot back, your tone sharper than intended. "You're the one who's always the center of attention, while the rest of us are left picking up the pieces."

Ellie's brows furrow in surprise at your outburst, her expression shifting from concern to frustration. "I'm just trying to help," she retorts, her voice tinged with annoyance. "But if you'd rather stew in your own misery, be my guest."

The words hang heavy in the air between you, tension crackling like lightning. You both know that this argument runs deeper than just tonight's events; it's the culmination of years of pent-up frustration and unspoken resentment.

"I don't need your help," you seethe, the bitterness in your voice palpable. "I've been fine on my own this whole time. I don't need you or anyone else telling me what to do."

Ellie's features harden, the hurt flashing in her eyes like a spark igniting a fire. "Fine," she snaps back, her voice sharp with anger. "If that's how you want it, then maybe you're right. Maybe you don't need me at all."

The words hit you like a dagger to the heart, the realization of what you've said sinking in like a heavy weight. But before you can apologize, Ellie turns on her heel and storms away, leaving you standing alone in the midst of the chaos. You can feel eyes on you, a few townspeople whispering to each other. You fold in on yourself, slouching your shoulders and hands death-gripping your glass.

And as the echoes of the argument fade into the distance, you're left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret, knowing that you've let your anger drive away the one person who's always been there for you, the night before you’re both assigned to be on patrol together.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

The two of you sleep beside each other comfortably in the ruined building, not a care in the world, at least for the moment. It's a few hours later when you blink away the sleep, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. You find yourself stirring awake in the early hours of the morning. Your body is stiff from sitting so still all night, and you can feel the effects of the injury on your side.

You can feel Ellie sleeping next to you, warm and cozy. She's got her arm wrapped around you, her head nuzzled against your shoulder. Silently, you scold yourself for falling asleep. You see the light of the early morning beginning to shine through the broken window of the building and feel a strange comfort in knowing that the two of you are in safety together with the sun slowly peering in.

As you carefully unwrap yourself from Ellie, you make sure not to wake her. You silently exit the room and find a closet down the hall. It's picked through – crumbs from the last residents. A half empty bottle of gin sits on one of the shelves, practically calling your name. "Eh, it's 5 o'clock somewhere," you joke to yourself.

The sound of a door opening quickly penetrates Ellie's consciousness. She stirs away and sits up in the darkness of the room, her eyes still closed. Her head is pounding. She can feel the exhaustion and pain coming back now.

Her voice is still soft and sleepy when she glances towards the door. "Hello?" she whispers quietly. She can hear you rummaging around in the hallway.

You turn around, not expecting Ellie to be in the doorway. "I’m sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," you defend, holding up the alcohol. "I found a friend." Ellie rubs her eyes, still trying to wake up.

"It's okay," she says. She's resting herself against the frame of the door, the headache coming back in all its glory. "A friend, huh?" She lets out a small, weary chuckle. "Do you mind sharing?"

You let out a long exhale, still a little drowsy and nod your head. "What time is it? I'm pretty tired still, to be honest." Ellie looks over at you, and you can see she's still half-asleep.

"No clue, almost dawn maybe?" you say, sitting down on a beat up mattress that is pushed against a couch, a large cut in the faux leather cushion exposing the filling. She wobbles over to you and not so gracefully joins you. "Here you go, m’lady," you joke, handing her the bottle of gin. Ellie smiles, snatches the alcohol and takes a small sip.

"I don't think dawn is the right time to be drinking," she says jokingly, before taking another sip. She lets out a long sigh, the alcohol slowly relaxing her muscles and numbing the sharp pains in her head. "That's a lot better," she says softly. She glances at you, trying to hold it together. She knows she's being weak and pathetic, but the exhaustion is getting to her. "I'm so, so tired."

"You don't have to stay awake with me, I'm a big girl. I can drink by myself." Ellie lets out a quick laugh and takes another sip of the alcohol.

"Well, I am thirsty," she teases, smiling.

She glances at you and smiles again, but you can also see the exhaustion setting in. Her eyes are slowly closing, and the room is beginning to spin. Ellie yawns, but manages to stay awake.

"Up to you, princess," you jest, letting your hair down. You take the bottle from her and take a sip, letting the liquid numb the pain. "If you're up to it, we can play a game to pass some time?"

"Oh, a game huh?" Ellie's eyes are half-closed now. She's trying to fight it, but she can feel herself relaxing. “I'm up for it," she says despite a yawn escaping her. You shake your head and roll your eyes, typical. "What kind of game we talking?" She gives you a little wink.

"Hmm, how about never have I ever?" you ask, taking another sip, frowning when you realize how little alcohol there is left in the bottle. Ellie's eyes sparkle as she lets out a small laugh.

"Really?” she quips, raising her eyebrows as if to say are we thirteen? “Haven't played that in a while," she says, but smiles at you and shrugs. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts and then looks back at you. "Okay, let's play."

You move your body so you’re sitting across from one another on the mattress, bottle of gin in between. "Ok, never have I ever…," you trail off, thinking. "Gone skinny dipping." Ellie's eyes widen when you say this, and she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh, I definitely have," Ellie replies, almost instantly. "I was, like, sixteen," she says. "Me and my buddies just decided to go for a swim in the lake at night." She takes another sip of the gin and looks you in the eye, smiling curiously.

"My turn, now," she says, trying to change the subject. "Never have I ever ... uh, eaten an entire jar of peanut butter in one sitting."

"Oh, c'mon." You take the bottle and take a swig, practically downing the remaining liquid. "I told you that in confidence,” you sigh, shaking your head. "Ok.. never have I ever.. kissed someone I shouldn't have." As you take a sip of the alcohol, Ellie once again raises an eyebrow at you.

"Someone you shouldn't have, huh?" she asks with a grin. She's not the one to judge, that's for sure. "Can't say I have," she replies with a small smirk. "So, you've got a juicy story behind that, eh?"

"Not really, it's kind of pathetic really. I'm surprised Jesse hasn't told you." you snicker, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I had a crush on him when I was younger, before he and Dina got together, but I knew she liked him. Someone dared me to kiss him – so I did,” you continue, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Needless to say, he did not feel the same way." Ellie chuckles quietly as you let out a groan of disappointment.

"Sounds like you were younger and more foolish, if I'm being honest," she teases. "Which... I mean, I really don't think I can talk – I'm not the smartest person, or the wisest." Ellie is not planning on drinking much more, but she's finding the pain in her head a little more bearable now.

"Okay, my turn," she says, and she's already got a good idea of what she wants to ask.

"What's your question?"

"Never have I ever ..." Ellie pauses and glances at you, but you can tell the alcohol has made her a little more bold. "Never have I ever ... uh, slept with a girl before."

You take the bottle from her and finish the dingy bottle of gin, letting her stare at your lips. "Just because we haven’t slept together doesn't mean I haven't had some fun before," you say slyly. Ellie doesn't look away, she just keeps looking at your lips and your face. Something about you just makes her smile, and the alcohol isn't helping.

"Well. What about you? Have you ever slept with a girl before?" You ask, voice jumping down to a whisper. You’re suddenly a lot closer to her than you realize. Ellie doesn't say anything, but you can tell the question makes her flustered even more. She takes a moment to think as she glances towards your lips yet again.

"Yes," she replies quietly, finally. "I have." She looks at you again, but this time, she doesn't look away. She's staring at your eyes, and her face is still a warm shade of pink.

"Really? Was it good?" you ask, voice low.

"Good?" Ellie replies quietly. “Hmm, you’d like to know wouldn’t you?” she pesters, eyes dropping down back towards your lips.

"Yeah," you reply quietly. "I would."

"Keep it up and I might just have to kiss you," she says just above a whisper, dangerously close. You’re staring into her eyes, the weight of the world fading away.

Your lips meet in a gentle, tentative kiss, the taste of gin lingering on her tongue. It's a moment filled with a mix of nervousness and desire, a forbidden sweetness that neither of you can resist. As your lips part, Ellie's heart races, her mind buzzing with a million thoughts and emotions.

But then reality crashes down upon her like a wave. Ellie pulls back abruptly, her eyes widening with shock and regret. "I'm sorry," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have—"

But before she can finish her sentence, you silence her with another kiss, this one more urgent, more passionate. Your hands cup her face gently, your fingers tracing the curve of her jawline as you deepen the kiss.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as you lose yourselves in each other, the world around you two fading into the background. But eventually, you break apart again, breaths coming in ragged gasps as you stare into each other's eyes.

"I'm not sorry," you murmur, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and defiance. "I've been thinking about kissing you since Jackson."

Ellie's heart skips a beat at your words, her chest tightening with emotion. "Me too," she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper.

And in that moment, as you sit there in the dim light of the abandoned building, your hands intertwined and hearts racing, both knowing that nothing will ever be the same again. You may have started as just friends, but now you’ve crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. But for now, you push aside the doubts and fears, allowing yourselves to simply be in each other's arms, cherishing this stolen moment of intimacy and connection.

Plus, you thought, you’ve been dying to know how soft her lips were.

“God…” you mumble against her lips. “You taste so..." you begin but are unable to finish as she swallows the rest of your sentence, a flush spreading across your cheeks. And then you’re pulling your face away again, pushing her against the front of the couch and moving to straddle her. Her arms go to hold your waist, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. You’re taking in the way her hair frames her face and bunches in the back, the strong muscle of her stomach peaking out from under her thin top.

You can feel her gaze burning into you. "Oh really?" she asks, her voice filled with amusement. She seems to see right through you and it’s almost too much to bear, your body seemingly trembling with lust.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself,” you manage to breathe.

Ellie laughs softly, "Maybe I don't want you to stop yourself.” She is practically devouring you with her eyes and you can’t stand it.

Ellie moves in closer, pushing her knees up slightly and placing a supportive hand on your ass and the other on the small of your back. She smiles softly, "I mean, that is the idea after all," she murmurs against your neck, feeling confident as she slowly makes her way back up.

You weren’t that close of friends anyways.

Your hands are cupping her cheeks, fingers brushing against the freckles that dance across her face. You place a tentative finger on her lower lip, opening her mouth immediately to encase your thumb. She is staring at you from beneath her lashes and you can feel your thighs tighten at this.

The hand on your ass moves to your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you ached for her touch. Your breath hitched, Ellie smirking with a finger still in her mouth, tongue lapping at the skin. Despite being situated below you, she was in control. With no hesitation, she slid her cool fingers underneath the hem of your shirt.

Sensing her want, your hands grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. Ellie noticed how your skin was soft, warm to the touch. An oval gold locket rests between your breasts, ain't it warming you, the world going up in flames? The sheer material covering your chest left little to the imagination, Ellie practically drooling at the sight; no going back now. Unable to keep her eyes off of you, her nimble fingers trace your lower stomach, drawing out a soft whimper from deep inside your abdomen.

Her fingers graze the skin under your breasts, breath hitching. She bites your fingers softly, which are caressing her face. The action has you involuntarily bucking your hips against hers, egging her on further. You are torn between wanting to run and giving yourself over fully.

Ellie’s eyes sparkle with sick laughter as she suddenly is picking up the weight of your body to push you down into the mattress and position herself above you, her legs trapped between yours. Her strength and confidence are both evident in the way she holds herself. You can't help but feel a bit of guilt when you stare at her, her body so close and yet so far. She takes in the sight of you below her, the way your hair is spread out beneath you.

You want to let go, to let all of your inhibitions go as she pulls you deeper and deeper into the heat of the moment. She pauses for a moment as she stares straight at you with those bright green eyes, her expression unreadable. You wish she would press her chest against yours, a hot and hungry mix of skin and sinew.

You shudder again as her fingers continue their gentle trail, this time trailing downwards from your abdomen. You feel your cheeks heat as a shiver runs through you at the subtle change in her touch. She continues to trace her fingers across the curves of your stomach, her touch still light but teasing. Her fingers come to a halt again just below your stomach, and you feel the familiar tug in your abdomen.

She lowers her head as her weight is supported by her right forearm, which is resting above your head, while your hands get lost in her hair. Her lips leave soft kisses along your neck and down to just above your breasts, her left hand palming your exposed side, fingers dangerously close to your pants.

She bites your skin, tongue soothing it afterwards. Your hands instinctively tug at her brunette locks, forcing a moan out of the woman above you. She is marking your chest, left hand snaking under your back to find the clasp.

“This ok?” she mumbles, words slurring against the heat of your skin as she is kissing up your neck. You nod eagerly, but Ellie isn’t satisfied. “Use your words, princess.”

“Yes,” you croak out, one of your hands leaving the now tangled mess of her hair to run down the front of her. You help her out of her shirt, pulling her back down by her belt loops, an action that has Ellie soaked.

You’re smiling as you catch her lips in a passionate kiss, both hands fumbling with the button on her jeans. She’s laughing at your keenness. You didn’t care, you just wanted her. You struggle to slide the tight jeans down her legs, getting increasingly frustrated as Ellie’s hands explore your back. “Fuck,” you complain, pulling away from her mouth, irritated at her stupidly attractive half-undressed thighs.

She shakes her head at your foolishness, thoroughly enjoying how worked up you’re getting. She sits back so she’s sitting on her heels, pulling your own pants down agonizingly slowly, wanting to drink all of you in.

She collects your fully discarded jeans and stands to finish taking hers off. A pair of boxers are fitted tightly against her thighs – because of course they are. She’s staring down at you, something animalistic taking over her eyes. You suddenly feel very exposed, dressed in only your undergarments. However, you hold her gaze, not wanting her to realize just how anxious you are. You lean forward on your elbows, chest fully exposed. Ellie’s eyes have become saucers, salivating at the shape of you.

“Are you going to stand there staring or are you going to fuck me already?” You bite, opening your legs ever so slightly, her gaze dropping down to the space between your thighs. And that’s all it takes for Ellie to drop down to her knees, pull your body forward by your waist, and swing your legs over her shoulders. You’re a bit taken aback by the speed of her actions – I guess she has been with other women. She’s careful to avoid the injury on your side, peppering small kisses around the surrounding area.

She lowers her mouth to the fabric of your underwear, tongue running a stripe between you. You tremble at the gesture, shutting your eyes.

“Look at me sweetheart,” Ellie says sweetly, voice laced with honey, to which you oblige. “So wet and warm for me, hmm?” She's praising, her voice against your heat sending you into a frenzy.

Her tongue is back between your thighs and you're bucking your hips up to reach her face, not wanting a barrier between you two. With one hand supporting her weight, she uses the other to push the garment aside, burying her nose deep into you. Her hands are squeezing your hips, her thumbs no doubt leaving bruises.

Her tongue moved in and out, in and out, in and out as you squeezed your thighs around her head. If you weren’t so pussy drunk, you��d be embarrassed by the sounds of her mouth against your clit. At one point she bit down on your inner thigh, hard.

You’re squirming underneath her, the sight of her staring at your sopping cunt almost too much to bear. “Ellie,” you’re whimpering, hands back tangled in her hair. With her help, you shimmy out of your underwear, now completely bare. She’s sitting back again, just staring, your doe eyes looking back up at her.

At this moment, Ellie is ravenous. She is desperately trying to show that she’s in charge, pushing down her word vomit to keep from truly expressing how she’s feeling. She peppers kisses up your legs, right hand teasing your cunt. Without warning, she slides her pointer and middle inside you, a soft gasp escaping your plump lips.

“C’mon,” she coos, free hand rubbing circles into your thigh encouragingly. “Take it for me, baby.” She slides in another long finger, stretching you out even farther. Your eyes water, the pain almost overtaking the pleasure. But then her mouth drops down again and the sight of her mouth against your pelvis almost sends you over the edge.

The sudden urge to kiss her becomes immense, your hands desperately pulling her face up. You can taste yourself on her, tongue invading her mouth. As she continues to pump her fingers, thumb rubbing vicious circles, you pathetically moan into her mouth. This gets her off even more.

With a hand placed on the small of your back, she shifts your weight so you’re on top again, her back resting against the wall. With you straddling, you ride her fingers, her mouth latched onto your chest. As she guides your hips with one hand, yours goes to wrap around her neck, her hot breath against your throat. As you bounce against her hand, her teeth sink into the soft skin of your shoulders, eliciting a noise from you that could only be described as pitiful.

“Lemme,” you breathe, your hands fumbling down her body. “Wanna feel you Ellie.” Her name rolling off your fucked out mouth has Ellie nauseous, her heart hammering against her chest. And so, your free hand plunges deep into her boxers, fingers immediately covered in slick. This time she's moaning into your mouth, speeding up her own actions. She shifts her position slightly to give you better access. Your tongues meet, teasing and delighting as the air fills with the scent of each other's breath.

As you ride out your orgasms, Ellie swears she’s been to heaven and back. Your breathing quickens as your bodies press together, swept up in an ocean of heat and desire. She locked eyes with you, searching for some secret, hidden meaning in your haunting gaze. Unencumbered by the expectations of the world, like shadows merging into one, you melted into each other, losing yourselves in the intoxicating embrace of your passion.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

The next morning breaks with a crisp chill in the air, the early light filtering through the foggy windows. As you stir from sleep, you're met with a mixture of emotions; a lingering warmth from the night before intertwined with a sense of unease.

Sitting up, you glance over at Ellie, who's already awake, her expression unreadable as she stares into the distance. There's a tension in the air, palpable and heavy, like a storm brewing on the horizon. Despite the woman being knuckles deep inside you, she can hardly meet your gaze, fidgeting with the straps on her backpack.

"Morning," you say tentatively, hoping to break the silence that hangs between you. Ellie's response is terse, her gaze flicking briefly in your direction before returning to the task at hand – packing up with brisk efficiency. "Is everything okay?" you ask, unable to ignore the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach.

Ellie's jaw tightens, her hands pausing in their movements for the briefest of moments before resuming their task. "Fine," she replies curtly, her tone sharp. But you can tell it's anything but fine. The tension between you is like a live wire, crackling with unresolved emotion.

"Is this about last night?" you ask quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within you. Ellie's shoulders stiffen, her movements becoming more abrupt as she avoids meeting your gaze. "There's nothing to talk about," she retorts, her voice sharp with defensiveness.

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "That's not true, Ellie, and you know it," you say, your voice rising slightly with emotion. "We can't just pretend like nothing happened."

Ellie whirls around to face you, her eyes flashing with anger. "What do you want me to say?" she demands, her voice raw with emotion. "That it was a mistake? That I regret it?"

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the sting of rejection cutting deep. "No, Ellie, that's not what I want," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to understand what this means – for us, for our relationship." You place a hand on hers, which causes her to freeze.

Ellie's expression softens, the mask of anger slipping away to reveal a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. "I don't know," she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I've never been good at this kind of thing." And then Ellie pulls her hand away, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and fear. "I don't know if I can do this," she confesses, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm not sure I'm ready for... this."

Your heart sinks at her words, the weight of disappointment settling heavy in your chest. You had hoped that last night had meant something, that it had brought you closer together. But now, faced with Ellie's uncertainty, you can't help but feel a sense of doubt creeping in.

"I understand," you say, forcing a note of acceptance into your voice, even as your heart aches.

taglist: @seraphicsentences @onlinelesbo @yumimak @elliewilliamsblunt

#ellie williams #lesbian #wlw #fanfic #tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #the last of us 2

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discount-shades · 1 year

Text

Sleepy Baby Part 6

a/n: It’s a little less fluffy.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1500 ish

Summary: Jake and Kisses talk about their pasts.

Previous Masterlist Next

Netflix’s ‘are you still watching’ screen had long since timed out and was now flashing through images of the various shows on the streaming service. Tucked under Jake’s arm and wedged between his body and the back of your couch you watch the changing light from the TV flicker across his face. He is gazing down at you as he runs his fingers up and down your back

“You know, I’ve been with you every evening for the last two weeks,” Jake said, breaking the silence. “When did you stop going to your therapy mandated one hour weekly bar socializing sessions?”

“When some weirdo I met at a bar three months ago tracked me down at work two weeks ago.” you grin up at him as his eyes light up.

“He sounds like a creep, you should stay away from him.”

“Yeah I should, but unfortunately he is really good looking so I went and gave him my number and my address.” You shrug, “I can’t get rid of him now.”

“Good looks are a blessing and a curse.” Jake sighs dramatically and you lean up to kiss his chin.

“It’s ok that you stopped, though, right?” Jake looks down at you, “I don’t want to… I don’t know, impede your progress, or something.”

“It’s ok, she wanted me to go out and meet someone.” You grin up at him, “When I see her tomorrow she will probably be more excited than you were when I gave you my number.”

“Not possible.” he declares. “That was the best day of my life.” You snort at his response.

“Do you want to know why?” You shift so you can rest your chin on his chest. “You can ask, you know.”

“You’ll tell me when you are ready.” Jake shrugs, “I’m in no rush and you’re worth waiting for.” He goes back to running his fingers up and down you back.

“I want you to know. Long story long?” You ask, “or long story short?”

“Long story long,” he replies. You take a deep breath. You want Jake to know, but sharing always gives you a weird feeling, like you are looking for pity. Part of you wants to just info-dump the story and move past it. You are also unsure of how he will respond.

“I started dating my high school boyfriend, Ian, at seventeen,” you tell him on your exhale. “We lived outside Seattle and almost our whole friend group ended up moving there for university.” His eyes are searching yours and you turn your head so your ear is pressed against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing and it is easier to talk without looking at him.

“We got engaged at twenty-three and had the whole wedding planned for when I was twenty-five.” Your breath is shaky as you inhale again. “My mother got really sick about four months before the wedding.” You blink and a tear hits Jake's shirt. “Breast cancer, it was already Stage 4 when they found it and she died about two months later.” You sniff and wipe your eyes. “My father was devastated. He had a heart attack and died about a month after my mom.”

“Oh, Kisses,” Jake wraps both arms more firmly around you and holds you close. “I’m so sorry.”

You relax into his arms, allowing yourself to be held. “They were pretty good parents as far as parents go.” you look up at him. “They had rules and all, but everything was done with humor.” You smile in memory. “Every rule had some kind of dire and completely unrealistic consequence if it wasn't followed. They would tell me to wear my coat in the winter or I would freeze solid and they would turn me into a Christmas lawn ornament and leave me out there until spring, stuff like that. There was a lot of laughter growing up.”

“Must be where you get it from," he says.

“Yeah,” you say sadly. “Not gonna lie, you brought some of that back.” You put your head back on his chest. “We postponed the wedding for a year. The vendors were surprisingly good about it.”

“Ian and Beth, my best friend since the second grade, got me through their deaths.” You laugh humorlessly. “I remember feeling so lucky that my fiancé and my BFF got along so well.” I started seeing Jenn, my therapist, and I was doing a lot better.

“A month before the second wedding date Ian and Beth were killed by a drunk driver when Ian was driving her home one night.”

“Oh, Kisses–” Jake goes to speak but you cut him off.

“That's not the best part.”

“The best part?”

“I mean you could also call it the worst part,” you sit up and look at Jake. “She was giving him a blow job when they were hit.” Jake’s jaw drops and he is staring at you with a horrified expression. “Yeah,” you say wryly. “It turns out they had a little thing going on since high school. All our friends knew but no one told me; I don’t talk to anyone from home anymore.”

“How did you find out?” Jake sits up too, arm resting on the back of the couch.

“The police told me. I was with his parents when I found out and I just started laughing hysterically. They were so mad at me for laughing. I just stood up and walked out of their house. Didn’t help cover the funeral or anything, just left and cut contact.”

“Is that when you moved here?” Jake's eyes are searching your face.

“No, I stayed in Seattle for about a year.” You tell him. “The really funny thing is that it turns out I was the sole beneficiary for one hell of a comprehensive accidental death insurance policy, and since the other driver was speeding and three times over the legal limit when his truck hit their car it paid out in full.”

Jake whistles under his breath. “At least you got something out of it.”

“That’s the way I choose to see it. His parents were upset that kept it all, but I feel like I've earned it.” You shrug, “Money doesn't buy happiness but it did make me feel a little better, it paid for lots of therapy in any case.”

“So after a year of me complaining about Seattle, Jenn asked me why I didn't just move. So I applied for every library position I could find in the country and got hired here and moved to San Diego. We do video call sessions now.”

“For what it is worth, I am so happy you ended up here.” Jake takes your hand in his, kissing your palm.

“Me too,” you grin shyly at him. “I was here for four months before Jenn talked me into going out to bars to socialize. I had been going every week for about two months when I met you. And I played our song.”

Jake makes a face. “In the Navy is not our song, we can’t dance to In the Navy at our wedding.”

“Wow…. You are jumping the gun a bit there with your wedding talk, but we can dance to any song we want at our wedding, if you are not a coward.” You tell him with a grin.

“I’ll find a better song for us,” Jake assures you.

“What kind of experience do you have picking out songs for your relationships? I want to make sure I am trusting an expert.” You tell him.

“I’ll have you know I picked Taylor Swift's Our Song for me and my high school girlfriend.” Jake says smugly. “I’m practically the authority on relationship songs.”

“That song’s a little on the nose. How did that relationship end?” You ask, “Did the song play a role in the downfall?”

“No, with Stacy and I, it was very amicable.” Jake smiles fondly. “She was my neighbor and we started dating when we were like fourteen. We broke up after graduation when we realized that what we wanted from our future careers would not fit together. She is a professional barrel racer now and happily married to a team roper.”

“Did you grow up on a farm, Jake Seresin?” You're grinning ear to ear, trying to picture him in a cowboy hat. Maybe holding a calf.

“No, we lived next door to Stacy's parents' horse ranch.” He says, “Our families are pretty close. I even went to her wedding where we danced to Our Song for old times sake, proving that I pick good songs.”

“Then I shall leave our song choice to the professional,” you tell him dramatically.

You stretch and check your watch, it reads 2:30AM. “It’s too late to drive,” you tell him. “Do you wanna stay the night?” He looks up at you in surprise, it's the first time you have invited him to stay over.

“Yeah,” his voice sounds hoarse and he clears it. “Yes, I do.”

“Then come on,” You take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. You try to hide how fast your heart is beating, but when his fingers shift over the pulse in your wrist and stay there you are sure he knows.

“Do I get to finally see those PJs you described to me the other day?”

You laugh, “No, I’ll save that mystery for another day, you will get to see the sloth PJs. though.”

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #top gun hangman #hangman/reader #top gun x reader #topgun maverick #top gun fanfiction #topgun #topgun hangman #jake seresin x you

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idesofrevolution · 1 year

Text

The Last Possession

Yeah. That’s me. And yeah, I’m not cheap. You can’t afford to look this good workin’ a nine to five every day. Nah. I’m a freelancer. Call me a life coach for those who need some assistance finding who they really are. Sometimes you just need to have a little push in the right direction, eh? Plus, you know I’m the real deal by just lookin’ at this bod. If I do say so myself, I’m pretty damn hot.

Let’s cut to the chase. I take over the bodies of nerds, has-beens, washed ups, losers, and everyone else in between. Over the course of a few days, normally, I change them into exactly what they wanna be. Cocky, sexy, built himbo bad boys. And they pay top dollar for the privilege.

That’s exactly what Michael asked for. For whatever reason, he was unhappy with his pretty okay life. He was a game designer in Seattle, a pretty decent looking otter boy, and well off. I’m not gonna lie, I was on vacation, so I wasn’t too excited to take a job out here in the Bahamas. But the pay grade was just way too good, and I had a nice little vacancy in my bedroom since my twat of an ex dumped me. “Too many good looking guys coming out of the apartment” apparently.

Pssh, what did that fucker know? I brushed whatever dumb scraps of affection I had for him aside, and took the kid’s offer. The dude bought a ticket and flew out to Nassau, and drove to my holiday place. From the picture, I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was pretty good looking already!

My clients are usually the old creepers, absentee fathers, and middle aged former jocks. Median age: 40. So, when this guy showed up at my door, looking like an adorable little gamer guy, I couldn’t hold back my curiosity. I handed him a Mai Tai, and we sat by the pool, where I asked him his reasons for wanting a transformation. His reasoning was super simple, and it took my by surprise.

“I just wanna try something new, I guess.” It was no skin off my back if he didn’t think it through. Even if he did, I had doubts he knew the full extent of what my plans were. I asked him about his life back in Seattle, probing to see if he had a family I had to worry about, a dumb bimbo, or anything like that. Nothing. Just his dog. Just how I liked it. The more we talked, the more I started to like this guy. He just really seemed like a cool dude that was a bit… Disillusioned with his life. There was just something about him. I don’t know.

I asked him when he wanted it all to go down, and to my surprise, he shucked his shirt off and turned his back to me. This dude had a majorly casual vibe about the whole thing. I wasn’t sure how to approach it. After a few seconds of really thinking about it, I thought, “Fuck it” and dove right in.

Now to give you some perspective: this guy was like 6′3, where I was like 5′9. He was super skinny too. This was gonna be a tight squeeze, but not anything I hadn’t done before. I placed my hand on his shoulders, just starting out with a light massage. I smelled a light dash of cologne. It was so cute, he tried to impress me with some expensive Gucci-knockoff he found at Kohl’s. But, as my hands started to knead harder, and they began to sink underneath his pasty white skin, I thought about the others I had changed.

They hadn’t gone the extra mile to even put on deodorant. I’m not talking about that sexy, musky smell that I gladly add to my clients charge-free. They were stinking like the geriatric ward, or like they just got back from a burger-flipping job. All they cared about was getting me in, and becoming something else. But this dude… Michael… He actually thought about me, and my experience throughout the entire thing. It was a little thing, but it was more than anyone else had done for me…

I had sank into him at a forearm’s length. Crossing my legs around his waist, I could hear him moan a bit. I nibbled on his ear, letting my hot breath caress him, allowing him to shudder. For the first time in a possession, I smiled. This wasn’t work, this was pleasure. I felt my arms slip into place, fingers into his own as a well-fitted glove. I brought his hand to his cheek, caressing it, sticking a finger into his mouth, letting it roll onto his lips.

I was sinking ever faster into his body, his warming skin inviting more of me into him. My built, muscular body effortlessly crept inch by inch into his being, taking up every available ounce of space. Through me, his hands explored his body, stroking and prodding everywhere. I had almost all of me within him. By the end, all that was left was my head, protruding from the back of his neck. A lot of guys ask me what it feels like at this point. Imagine being submerged in a hot tub filled with heavy jello. That’s the only way I can describe it. Everything is slick, tight, compressed, yet extremely buoyant… This time was that much more intense, as I had gone the extra mile to really give him a ride. You know, let him go out with a bang.

I slowly pressed my forehead against the back of his head, feeling his hard skull give way to the same dense, gelatinous feeling that surrounded the rest of me. It takes a minute for me to adjust myself within him before I can actually see out of his eyes, but that first breath… Damn. It’s always exhilarating. I let the humid, hot air of the Caribbean into my lungs, and opened my eyes to the bright, tropical sun. Michael, for all intent and purpose, was relatively gone. Well, normally he would be.

At this point in the possession, I get the memories and thoughts of the host, and usually I just wipe it clean, for the sake of a clean slate. Though, this time, as his memories flooded me, I knew everything about him. He was a good kid. Like, unbelievably so. He cared about others, and not an ounce about himself. Yet, this deep-seeded insecurity he fostered… It actually broke my heart a bit.

Lounging on that pool-lounge, at that beachside Bahamanian mansion, I decided this was my final possession. And this was gonna be the crown jewel. My magnum opus. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but I couldn’t let this one go. He’d be mine. I mean after all, what more of a prize is there than my smokin’ hot ass?

I spent days in his body, reversing the clock, rewiring his brain, encoding his genetics. It was like shopping for a christmas gift for myself! He’d be just as cocky as I was, a show off to everyone he’d meet. Sexy, lean muscles underneath a perfectly sunkissed skin, painted with tattoos. From his mesmerizing frost-green eyes, to his gigantic, size 16 feet; this 6′3 God among men was going to be a blast to finally meet.

The last day, laying on the pool lounge where it all began, I thought about the last few tweaks. You know, the pierced ears & cock, finger tattoos, finishing up his background, changing his vocal range, making him an alpha top… I had thought long and hard about it over the transformation, and I had decided it was time. This lovable goofball would love me, and I’d love him back. As I pulled myself from his bronzed body, I left his consciousness intact. He was still him underneath it all. He remembered everything. He knew what it was like to have me within him. By the time my exhausted, sweaty body was finally detached from him, he had already opened his eyes for the first time.

He brought his inked hands to his face, smirking a smug grin. I watched him from the cement ground, flexing and kissing his biceps. Our eyes met, and the alpha bravado I had programmed oozed out of him. Yet… I could see Michael in his eyes. He pulled me into a kiss, gentle at first, then passionate and fiery. That mouthwatering musk poured into my nostrils, just as I wanted it to. I tasted that wintergreen tic-tac breath of his, just as I had intended. He groped me and bit my tongue, smiling at me. I had never been so into a guy before.

I knew that Michael would be proud of who he is now. He is truly experiencing something new. He also had a stud by his side to experience it with alongside him. I enjoyed every minute of his invading tongue in my mouth, of his strong fingers tenderly wrapped around my neck. He was perfect. This was perfect. Besides, the best Christmas gift came as he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. A sizable, delicious, musky, uncut package waited for me to unwrap it.

#male transformation #male possession #body transformation #jockification #original #transformation #musk #musky #gay transformation #male tf #male bodysuit #merging #possession

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therealvinelle · 5 months

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How long would you last if you were part of Victoria’s newborn army?

Oh, the trouble is I don't think Riley would scout me in the first place.

Riley went after young people who wouldn't be missed. Bree Tanner was homeless on the streets, so he offered her a meal. Once they were vampires, their youth and lack of prospects meant he could present himself as their savior.

I'm in my mid-twenties, I dress well, I would not be Riley's pick.

Assuming, though, that you pluck my sixteen-year-old self from the time-space continuum and dump me in Seattle in 2006, I imagine my displaced self would be having a devil of a time getting in touch with the Norwegian embassy. When a clean-looking, if intimidating, young man comes up to me to offer a free meal, I... probably don't have the situational awareness to recognise this guy is probably a human trafficker. I was not a suspicious sixteen-year-old.

I accompany him, get bit, and now that I'm a vampire I... once again don't know what my sixteen-year-old self would have done. My present day self would run for it as soon as I saw an opportunity and might actually be fine ("fine" here meaning "alive but a bloodsucking monster") provided I wasn't caught, but at sixteen...

I probably prattle about the Titanic (I can go down and see it without a submersible now! Who's with me!) to the wrong person and die within the first week.

#isekai #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #riley

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deedala · 6 months

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🚑✨Weekly Tag Wednesday🪄💫

Hello Wednesday friends! I hope you don't mind but I decided to be CrEaTiVe and try something different today. I hope it's okay!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🚑💨 Get in bitch, we're going on a mystical adventure through space, time, and reality. (in ian and mickey's ambulance of course) ✨ Name: Deanna🌱

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio♏

Personality type in enneagram, myers-briggs, or both: 2w1 and INFP 🌊

Before we hit the road, what snack are you gonna bring for our trip? popcorn!🍿

Navigator gets to pick the music so what song are you turning on? i believe in a thing called love by the darkness to get us PUMPED 🎶💥 What is a universe from a fantasy tv show you would like to visit? Pushing Daisies 🌼 it is so pretty and aesthetic i wanna eat some of ned's pie!!

And what about a fantasy movie? is it cheating to say the warcraft movie? (i ask myself in my own tag game) 😆 i wanna wander around stormwind and darnassus and ironforge and actually you know what im going on a whole gd tour of all three continents

Okay, how about a scifi tv show? ok since we're only visiting and not staying forever...The Expanse so i can ride in a space ship and explore the space stations🌌

And a scifi movie universe? i would like to go play around in the Valerian (2017) universe please that movie was so pretty 🚀

Any other tv show or movie universes you'd like to swing by before we move on? gosh...ok we gotta do a star trek. i think i wanna go to picard era star trek, good era, cool looking shit 🌠

Okay hold on to your butts we're switching gears to fanfic universes. Tell me which fanfic universe we're visiting first? i wanna visit cooperative gameplay by grayola universe so i can go watch all of mick milk and ians youtube videos 😆 📺

Cool, do you have one more you'd like to stop at before we head home? taking a hard left turn into dragon age land but the modern thedas in message sent by aicosu would be extremely cool to visit i think 🧝‍♀️🤳

Alright, on our way out of fanfic land you get to snag some tropes to bring home and apply to your own life, think fast! soulmates or enemies to lovers // coffee shop or flower shop // fake relationship or slow burn // amnesia or time loop // body swap or miscommunication // love triangle or arranged marriage // sharing a bed or drunken confession

Wow okay, hope those tropes work out for you!! Our adventure has finally come to an end, where in the world am I dropping you off? i dont live there anymore but please dump me in seattle thanks 🗻

and now to tag some nuggets to try out this game if you wanna @michellemisfit @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @heymrspatel @jrooc @mybrainismelted @suchagallabitch @sam-loves-seb @mmmichyyy @gardenerian @juliakayyy @sleepyfacetoughguy @gallawitchxx @lingy910y @sickness-health-all-that-shit @callivich @auds-and-evens @tsuga-of-mars @mickeysgaymom @crossmydna @tanktopgallavich @gofionaonthem @palepinkgoat @transmickey @rereadanon @sirrudo @creepkinginc @thepupperino @metalheadmickey @suzy-queued @grossmickey @ardent-fox @mikhailoisbaby @energievie @7x10mickey @vintagelacerosette @purplemagpie and you whoever wants to play here is you -> @💟

#tag game #weekly tag wednesday

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elliespuns · 3 months

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do you think ellie ever used dina as an outlet for her frustrations about joel or abby? obviously there's the cutscene where dina tells ellie she's pregnant and ellie lashes out and calls her a burden and dina just sat there with no retort, which makes me think that maybe that's not the first time ellie had an unexpected burst of anger. of course the only reason ellie even got mad in the first place though was because she didn't want dina to hurt herself or now apparently this new baby. so i am conflicted.

to add onto the thought of ellie using dina as an outlet, do you think they were ever intimate during Seattle? their relationship is still fresh during the Seattle era which is typically the 'honeymoon' stage for most couples and they were just kind of thrusted into this tough situation after realizing their feelings for each other and i feel like that would be tough to balance out, which also makes me think maybe ellie neglected dina of things like sex or kissing.

regardless if ellie really did use dina as an outlet of any kind, she would definitely regret it in a short while simply because that's not who ellie is. after the cutscene you can find dina curled up on the couch under a blanket and im pretty sure ellie sighs at the sight. even at the winter dance when she had her outburst with joel she immediately regretted it and you can see it on her face. because she is not the kind of person who wants or has any desire to be mean to the people she loves.

sorry this is so long i love yapping 😭 i'd really love to hear your thoughts!

I remember watching the scene where Ellie called Dina a burden, and I was like, 'Girl, that was harsh!' and then, when I could see the regret in her face and her body language, I could see that she didn't want to be so hard on her, but the emotions took over.

I think the main reason for her first reaction being this bad was the fact that Ellie was aware all along that she was putting Dina at risk by dragging her along on this mission. I think she didn't want Dina to go, but Dina was insisting. Ellie was a bit selfish and low-key wanted her to go even though a huge part of her didn't, so she agreed after all. This alone was already hard on her, putting Dina's life at risk. So when she found out Dina was pregnant on top of that, it just piled up; it was just too much for her to handle, so she snapped.

Maybe a part of her was even a little bit jealous of Jesse. (Remember that scene where Jesse came along and started taking care of Dina? Ellie stood there, feeling stupid for not being able to offer the same to her). I always thought that Dina and Jesse staying close, even after Dina dumped him and started dating Ellie, must have felt a bit strange for Ellie. She used to be in the middle of the love triangle when they were dating, and now she's the one who's dating one of them while the other is the third wheel. Not ideal.

When they are at the winter dance and Jesse talks to Ellie about Dina, Ellie jokes about giving them two weeks before getting back together. Which means that Ellie did not believe for a second that the two of them would actually break up. I think this must have stayed with her when the two of them stayed close even after the breakup. She also must have felt bad towards Jesse at some point. Feeling bad for 'stealing' his girl. He might have said he was okay with it, that he 'didn't care' but I think Ellie still felt bad regardless. I think all of this led to her snapping at Dina about the pregnancy.

I don't think Ellie would willingly use Dina as an outlet, though. As you said, Ellie is not that kind of person. She loves Dina; that's also why she would fight her feelings about wanting and not wanting Dina with her. She cared so much about her to have that 'burden' with her.

To your question about whether they've been intimate during the Seattle time, I'm not sure. But I think they weren't. Unless by 'intimate' you mean snuggling while sleeping. Let's think about it.

Joel died in the winter. We don't know which month, but I am guessing January (maybe even December) because of the amount of snow and the Christmas lights hung in Ellie's room. Ellie and Dina traveled to Seattle in the spring (it was more likely spring based on the sunny/rainy weather). So it must have been a few months—like 2 or 3 or 4 at least after Joel. Plus, Ellie's hair is longer when we see her in Seattle.

Knowing this, I dare to say they might have been intimate during this period of time (before Seattle, I mean). I don't believe that Ellie would get over Joel that quickly to have sex (she didn't get over him until she let Abby go at the end of the game after all), but she must have felt sad, emotional, and lonely at some point in the span of this time and Dina was there for her. People tend to cling to other people during such times, searching for comfort in being intimate. We're not talking about 'fucking' here, of course. What I mean is something more than a cuddle, but less than fucking. Something comforting in between.

Although, in the Seattle era (on her way to find Abby), I find it hard to believe they were intimate. I think they would snuggle in the theater when they slept together, being there for each other. But I don't really think Ellie had sex in mind at the time. Especially after what she did to Nora. She was pretty shaken after that. I think Ellie's sex drive must have been at zero.

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #dina nolastname #dina tlou #ellie and dina #ellie x dina #dinellie #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #joel miller #joel tlou #elliespuns answers

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barkbarkbeauvillier · 1 year

Text

i won't say (i'm in love)

pairing: jamie oleksiak x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: sickness, swearing, vince dunn is an asshole,

summary: 4+1. the four times everyone else knew you and jamie liked each other and the one time you both figured it out yourselves

word count: 2.8k

a/n: 1. shoutout to my bestfriend for the title (i was shook). 2. this was written for @antoineroussel winter fic exchange. My giftee is @jxmieoleksiaks it was an honor to get to write for you! I hope you enjoy the fic!

[1.]

Your best friend pointed it out first.

Jamie was going home for Christmas. You were bummed when he first told you he’d be back in Canada for the break, but you knew not all of your friends could stick around for the holidays. Not everyone in your life was born and raised in Seattle, unfortunately.

“You’ll be at the game on the 22nd right?” he asked.

“Don’t I come to all the home games?” You teased. You were a season ticket holder after all.

When Seattle got a hockey team, you were quick to snatch up season tickets thankful to finally have a professional team in your hometown. You never thought you’d end up friends with one of the players–actually multiple players thanks to Jamie dragging you to just about every Kraken function in the last three years. At the beginning of this season, Jamie insisted he give you one of his free tickets to the home games so that you wouldn’t have to pay for tickets, but you declined.

“Do you think you could take me to the airport after?”

A frown tugged at the corners of your lips. Because, no you really didn’t want to take him to the airport. You wanted your best friend to stay in Seattle with you for the holidays.

“Sure Jame,” you answered.

“You’re the best,” Jamie sighed. “Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

The team had just gotten back from a roadie. You were settling into bed when Jamie called, him doing the same. You hadn’t seen him for a week. You did text every day, and you facetimed once after a rough game. He also called you twice, once because he was bored on his day off and the other one because you got off work late and wanted to be on the phone with someone while you walked from your office to your car.

“Yes! I work in the morning, but my evening is free.”

“We’ve got optional morning practice so I’ll probably go to that tomorrow. Come over after work?”

Not that anyone could see, but you had the biggest grin on your face. “Sounds like a plan.”

Almost immediately after hanging up with Jamie, one of your girlfriends called. You’d been promising to hang out with her for the last two weeks but neither of your schedules had lined up.

“Ok we need to do something before Christmas. Give me the days you’re free.”

“Tonight and the 23rd,” you answered her.

“Dammit!” She swore. “I’m free tomorrow and the 22nd.”

“Jamie and I just planned to hang out tomorrow. And by just planned I mean literally I got off the phone with him not even a minute before you called.”

“Ugh,” she grunted. “Fuck him. Oh wait… you’re trying to right?”

You giggled nervously. “Shut up.”

“You’re probably hanging out with him on the 22nd too huh?”

“There’s a game that night and then I’m taking him to the airport after.”

“Oooh taking him to the airport… that’s a big step Y/N.”

Even though she couldn’t see you, you rolled your eyes at her. “I’ve taken him to the airport multiple times.”

“Yeah you suckered yourself into being his ride. It starts with just one quick offer and then pretty soon it’s just a given that you’ll be taking them.”

“And then they leave you two years later for their intern?” It was a low blow but you didn’t mean it in a hurtful manner, nor did she take it that way. She’d gone through the grieving process of her last boyfriend dumping her and immediately getting with his intern and now you were able to joke about what an asshole he was.

“Exactly!”

“Good thing me and Jamie aren’t dating then,” you added.

“You could be though. It’s pretty obvious you two like each other as more than just friends.”

You decided to change the subject. “What are you doing on the 24th?”

[2.]

Penny pointed it out next.

Jamie’s family was at the game. You recognized Penny almost instantly, it’s not every day a multiple Olympic medalist goes to a Seattle Kraken game– that and you’d been with Jamie on a few occasions when he’d FaceTimed her. It took you a minute to recognize his parents, but you’d seen photos of them at Jamie’s place and on his phone and figured the two people walking with Penny had to be them.

You didn’t hesitate to introduce yourself when Penny joined you at the glass, likely waiting for the team to come out for warmups.

“You’re Jamie’s sister right?” You asked. You held your hand out, giving her a big smile. “I’m Y/N. Jamie’s best friend.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” she said and shook your hand. “Nice jersey. I’m sure it gives Jame an ego boost to see you in it,” she teased.

“He won’t let me wear anyone else’s number. Says it goes against the best friend code.”

Penny rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“So, what are you doing here? Jamie said he was going home for Christmas.”

“We wanted to surprise him. He comes home every year. It’s about time we go to him.”

“Hey Pen.” Jamie’s mom had met you both at the glass, smiling at you the whole time.

“Hey mom. This is Y/N,” Penny introduced for you.

You swore his mom’s smile got bigger. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Jamie’s so grateful for your friendship. I’m Allison.” She stuck her hand out and you shook it.

“Jamie’s gonna be so excited to see you guys.”

And he was. When Jamie saw the four of you at the glass during warmups, his smile grew ten times its original size.

“Hey, come find us after the game, ok? We’re gonna hang out and wait for Jame and you should stay and hang out too.” Penny asked, just as they were all about to make their way back to their seats as the game was about to start.

“I will. I’m technically his ride anyway,” You laughed. “I was supposed to take him to the airport tonight.”

When you’d met up with everyone after the game, Jamie insisted you come back to his place with him and hang out even longer. And you couldn’t tell him no when he practically begged you to come over.

After their parents went to bed, Jamie suggested a movie night with you and Penny. Except thirty minutes into the movie he laid his head down on you like he did during most movie nights and it wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep.

“You can’t tell him I told you this but he totally has a thing for you,” Penny spilled suddenly.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You think so?” you asked, glancing down at the man in question asleep with his head on your lap.

“I don’t just think, I know so. You should give it a shot.”

Your cheeks felt warm at her words. Jamie was your best friend, but of course you always wondered if there was something more there. There was for you, but you never wanted to put your friendship in jeopardy by admitting it.

“I know you like him too,” Penny added.

And maybe she was right.

[3.]

Schultzy nagged Jamie about it for weeks.

“Come on man,” Schultz groaned, eyeing you across the room. “You mean to tell me you haven’t hit that once?”

They were all at the new years team party. You were busy chatting with a few of the girlfriends that had come tonight. Jamie figured you must’ve just been complimented on your outfit tonight as you had glanced down at yourself and turned side to side just slightly, showing off more of the attire.

Jamie shook his head. “And don’t say it like that. Have some respect, man,” Jamie scolded.

Justin put his hands up. “Sorry.”

“So can I hit that?” Vince teased.

Jamie glared at him. “No. And not because I like her, but because she deserves better than some horny hockey guy.”

“It was a joke,” he defended.

“It wasn’t funny.”

Vince nodded his head. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“And you’re positive you don’t like her?” Justin asked.

“We’re just friends,” Jamie swore. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you though, and the guys he was sitting with caught on.

— —

It was the same during warmups when Jamie had caught your eye. You hardly ever missed warmies during home games and it had now become part of Jamie’s routine to skate by you and place his hand on the glass, you doing the same. It started as a high five, but your hands began lingering longer and longer each time.

“If you don’t like her, why do you always look at her with those lovey dovey eyes?” Schultz chirped, giving Jamie a slight check when he had skated away from you.

“I don’t,” Jamie defended.

Schultz rolled his eyes.

“I don’t!” Jamie yelled after Justin as he skated off.

— —

“Hey, drinks at my place tonight.” Brandon caught Jamie just as he was leaving the rink.

“Sorry man. I can’t tonight. Y/N’s got car troubles.”

Jamie was on his way to pick you up. You’d had a bad day at work, but the icing on the cake was that your car wouldn’t start so you were stranded there. You called him in a fit just shortly after he’d gotten to the locker room.

“Ditching us for Y/N again?” Schultz asked, throwing his arm around Jamie’s shoulder. “You’re sure you don’t like her?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Let it go.”

“Dude, you’re ditching out on guys night for her. It’s pretty obvious you like her as more than just a friend.”

“She had a bad day, man. I’d do the same for you if you had a bad day. If you were having car troubles, I’d come jump ya, or pick you up.”

Schultz snorted. “Yeah ok. Even if that was true, you gotta admit that it’s different with her.”

And Jamie didn’t want to admit it, but he knew that was true.

[4.]

It was Jamie’s mom who actually got him thinking about it though. Of course it had crossed his mind multiple times and he always felt some pang of guilt when he told his friends he didn’t like you like that. He felt jealous when guys would flirt with you, extra jealous if it was guys on his team.

Whenever you two were alone, he sometimes wondered if there was something more there than just friends. He tried not to let the thought overwhelm him though.

“So, why do you want my soup recipe again?” Allison asked.

“Y/N is sick. I was gonna make it for her and bring it over.”

“Are you two dating yet?”

“No,” Jamie laughed. “No, Ma. Just friends.”

“Your dad says you look at her the way he looks at me.”

Jamie smiled to himself. “She’s my best friend though. What if I go for it and it doesn’t work out? I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“What if you go for it, and it works out better than you ever expected?” she countered.

“So that soup recipe?” Jamie changed the subject.

Allison wouldn’t let him. “How many of your friends would make you homemade chicken soup when you’re not feeling well?”

“Y/N would,” Jamie answered quickly. “Oh.” He realized then what his mom was hinting at. Maybe there was something there. Something more.

“It’s obvious to everyone else, but oblivious to you two,” Allison laughed. “Alright. You got a pen ready to write this down?”

When his mom has finished repeating the recipe, Jamie brought up something he never thought he’d ask, or at least didn’t think he’d ask so soon. “Hey Ma… when did you know that you were falling for dad?”

— —

[+1.]

The knock startled you. Even though you weren’t expecting anyone, you knew who it was before you even opened the door.

“Hey,” you rasped.

“Hey,” Jamie greeted with a smile. “Brought ya somethin’” he said, holding out the large container. “Made it this afternoon. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

You tried to get out a thank you, but started coughing before you could. You turned away from Jamie, coughing into your elbow. Your chest hurt, your head ached, being sick was absolutely the worst.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said when Jamie closed the door behind him and toed his shoes off.

“I want to.”

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

You laid down on the couch, pulling your blanket over you. You’d spent most of your day in the same position you were currently in, that was after you had slept until almost 2pm.

“Are you hungry? I can warm up some soup for you,” Jamie asked. He frowned at you in your miserable state. His heart ached.

“Ok,” you said. “But only if you eat some too.”

“Deal,” Jamie chuckled. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be here.” You tried to smile at him, but couldn’t muster up much. Damn flu.

Five minutes later he was back with two bowls of warmed soup.

You groaned as you sat up. Your whole body ached and from nothing in particular, just the flu bug you’d caught that had run rampant through you. You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, but still shivered. You’d had a hard time staying warm all day, although the fever would beg to differ.

Jamie placed both bowls on the coffee table and then sat down beside you.

“Seriously, Jame. As much as I want you here, the team will kill me if you get sick.”

Jamie chuckled. “Nah. They’ll kill me for being careless and irresponsible.”

“Exactly! And I like you alive. I don’t know how I’d function with you dead.”

“I’m not gonna get sick. Eat your soup.”

“You’re so demanding,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him.

Jamie handed you the bowl when you were all situated. You hummed around the first bite; the hot broth soothed your sore throat and warmed you right up. And the taste was delicious. You could tell it was his mom’s recipe as it felt like home with every bite you took.

“Wanna watch a movie?” You suggested. Jamie wasn’t going to leave—you didn’t exactly want him to anyway— so you might as well make the most of him being there.

“Sure. Is it still my turn to pick or do you get to this time since you’re sick?” You could never come to an agreement on who picked the movie whenever you’d hung out so you made a deal to just switch off every time. It worked a lot better than anything else you’d tried—which included everything from rock paper scissors to whoever’s house you were at.

“Rules are rules. You pick.”

You grabbed another blanket from your bedroom as Jamie found a movie to watch. You laid down with your head on the armrest and Jamie sat roughly in the middle, letting you rest your legs across his lap. You had one blanket to yourself but shared the second one you’d brought out and you both settled in for the show.

You were nearly asleep when Jamie cleared his throat. You turned to look at him just as he asked, “Hey, do you ever think of us as more than just friends?”

He hoped you couldn’t feel the way he was physically shaking as he asked the question. Little did you know that he’d tried to ask it about a million times since coming over. He’d played it over and over in his head, what words he was going to use, how to phrase it, when the perfect moment to ask it would be, how you would respond, if you felt the same way, and if this would change everything for you both. So yeah, he was shaking and terrified.

But to his surprise, you seemed totally calm as you responded. “Often, yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You know other people think of us that way too? Like they think we should be a couple ya know.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, I know.”

“How come you’ve never brought it up?”

You sat up from the couch, your legs still thrown across Jamie’s lap. “Truthfully, I didn’t think you liked me as more than a friend. Well, until Penny brought it up when she was here for Christmas, that you did like me more than that. Since then I’ve wanted to ask but just been too nervous to I guess,” you shrugged.

Jamie nodded, taking a few seconds to process your words. “So do you like me more than just a friend?”

He was suddenly so shy. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, Jame. I have for a while.”

Jamie smiled too. “Y/N, when you’re feeling better, will you go on a date with me?”

“I would love to.”

His smile only got bigger. “You have no idea how bad I wanna kiss you right now. But I’m not going to because I know you won’t let me, because you’re sick.”

You laughed. “You’re exactly right. That too is just going to have to wait until I’m feeling better.”

#the winter fic exchange 2k23 #jamie oleksiak #nhl #seattle kraken #jamie oleksiak fic #jamie oleksiak x reader #jamie oleksiak fluff #hockey #hockey fic #nhl fic

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lemotmo · 9 months

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Listen, everyone has a right to their opinion and I'm in full support of that. Love the book, hate the movie, hate the book, love the movie, hate both, love both... it's all valid.

That being said, I've read quite a few posts and reviews that talk about the lack of realism in the movie (and even partly in the book, but less so). But isn't that kind of the whole point of a good romantic comedy? A romcom is all about escapism. You travel to this fantastic world where it's possible to fall in love in 15 minutes. It's all about soulmates and perfect romantic love. Sure, there are some hurdles along the way, but nothing that can truly stop the lovers from being together in the end.

If you think about all the great romcoms: Sleepless in Seattle, You've got mail, While you were sleeping, Never been kissed, Serendipity, Notting Hill, The Proposal, 8 weeks notice, Leap Year, Chasing Liberty... and many more I can't think of right now. All of these movies are completely unrealistic. I mean, a guy gets together with the journalist that actively stalks him and his child (Sleepless in Seattle)? A woman lies her way into a family by telling everyone that she's romantically involved with their family member who is in a coma (While you were sleeping)? A female police officer goes udercover in a school and gets involved with a teacher, while this teacher actively falls in love with someone he believes to be a minor (Never been kissed)? A man and woman meet during Christmas and spend one evening together, the guy gets obsessed with finding her again, going so far as to dump his long-term loving girlfriend to find the woman he doesn't really know anything about, not even her name (Serendipity)? And the list goes on and on.

The point of a romcom is not what happens after they officially get together and have conquered all the hurdles in their path. That would be boring. The point is that you see two people fall in love over and over again in the most unrealistic, but very romantic ways. And because it's a fantasy, it transports you into that world for a moment where magic like this happens and true love ALWAYS reigns. This in contrast to our own reality where true love like that doesn't really exist, because relationships take time to grow and develop and maintaining them takes a lot of work.

So yeah, to briefly live in a world where the son of the US president and an English Prince get to live happily ever after, is great fun. Realistic? No. But it was never meant to be. It's simply a great romantic love story that makes you sigh, cry and smile. Escapism of the finest sort. Just like all the other great romcoms that went before.

#red white and royal blue movie #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #firstprince #the point of romcoms

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writeshite · 2 years

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Infatuation

Summary:

Seattle Grace is like school, if you miss a day, you’ll miss out on a lot. Unfortunately for you, you’d missed several days, and returned to the masterpiece that is Doctor Mark Sloan.

Pairings:

Mark Sloan x Male!Reader

Tags:

Fluff | Inaccurate Medical Aspects Probably | First Meetings | Wee Bit Of Smut

Words: 3021

Author's Note:

I started watching Grey's Anatomy mainly out of curiosity, and now I'm hooked. I haven't gotten that far into the series, I'm on season 3 but as it always is I have gotten attached to many of the characters, most notably Mark. Anyway, I hoped on here and found a lacking number of male!reader fics for him (I didn't find any 😭) , so I've decided to solve that problem. 😃 Also, when I tell you I scoured the internet for medical cases to pop in here, I scoured the goddamn internet, even went as far as cross referencing.

Seattle Grace is like school; you’ve got the gossip, the drama, the learning, and like school, if you miss a day, you’ll miss out on a lot. Unfortunately for you, you’d missed several days after catching the flu, but now you were back, you were back and mindlessly wondering to yourself when the chief hired god to make him a new surgeon. You don’t often get the chance to interact with other surgeons outside your group, but today was a slow day, and with nothing else to do, you and the others had started shit-talking discussing your colleagues. Christina was in the middle of another tirade on Burke; you’d rolled your eyes at her, turned, and made eye contact with a man you could only describe as sex on legs. He tilted his head slightly at your staring, smirked, winked at you, then walked off.

“Oh my god, you’re drooling over McSteamy?” Christina’s voice drew you back, your mouth flapping open and shut for a few seconds. Alex scoffed before breaking into laughter; you kicked at his leg, muttering curses at him as Christina joined in. “Of all the men, McSteamy?! Really?”

“Ok, first of all, I’m not drooling over him; I don’t even know him,” you corrected, “and second, I just happen to admire his features.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t bother with him; he’s Meredith's new squeeze,” George chimed in.

“He is not my squeeze!” Meredith had been mostly silent, barely paying mind to the conversation, but Geroge’s statement had burst through her bubble. She attempted to curve the conversation away or correct the statement but was unable to after Izzie and Christina teased her.

“Come on, Mer, McDreamy dumped you, so now you’re rebounding on McSteamy,” Izzie said, sipping her coffee with a side-eye cast on Meredith.

“No, he’s not; we’re just…I…it’s complicated!” she muttered, slumping back in her chair.

You all chuckled at her expense as she threw pieces of her sandwich at each of you; the relative peace of the moment was broken not long after when Dr. Bailey walked into the room. Hand on her hip, her eyebrow raised, you raised your hand to ask what she needed but were beat to it when she began delegating tasks to all of you. She directed you to shadow a doctor Mark Sloan; you glanced at her in confusion, inquiring on who that was. Dr. Bailey sighed, already appearing irked with you all, when Alex burst into laughter at your question, muttering something under her breath; Alex patted your shoulder and left. The others didn’t answer your question either. All of them, especially Christina, chuckled as they went; George stopped in front of you, taking you by the shoulders; he apologized before running off.

“What was that about?”

“God, if I know, I’m not invested enough in the gossip mill to care.” She responded, “Well, what are you still doing here? Go! Dr. Sloan’s waiting for you in room 306.”

You nodded. Speed walking away, holding the folder close, you rushed up the stairs, reading the room signs as you passed them. You let out a sigh of relief when you found room 306. The room was mostly empty - the sounds from the bathroom indicated the patient was busy - a man, doctor Sloan you presumed, had his back turned to you. His arms shuffled a bit as he noted something down.

You cleared your throat, “Uh, Dr. Sloan, Dr. Bailey assigned me as your intern for the day.” You opened the folder, “sorry I’ve never really heard of you until today; I was sick for–a–while—” The sentence died in your throat when you glanced up; Dr. Sloan had turned around as you’d been speaking, a smirk on his face as he took in your speechless composure. McSteamy was standing in front of you. McSteamy was also checking you out, rather blatantly.

“Damn, you’re even cuter up close.”

You smacked your head repeatedly against the lobby desk to the entertainment of Alex and Christina.

“Why does the universe hate me? I vowed I wouldn’t end up falling for my boss, but he’s so fucking hot,” you whined.

“Oh no, bad move. Never make a promise like that, especially here,” Christina told you.

“Yeah, everyone above us is pretty hot,” Alex added.

“Not helping, guys.” You carried on banging your head against the desk, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Fuck him.” Alex and Christina replied in unison. You gawked at them, eyes wide at their suggestion.

“I can’t fuck him; he’s my boss!”

“So? Crack a quickie or two; then you should be fine.”

“I—”

“Hey rookie, get up here, now,” McSteamy called out.

You pulled the finger at Christina and Alex as you walked away; as McSteamy came closer into view, you schooled yourself into some form of indifference. “You called Dr. Sloan.”

“Mark.”

“What?”

“You’re my intern rookie; you might as well call me by my name.”

You tried very hard not to fawn over the slight hint of dominance in his voice, “Alright, Mark, what do you need.”

“Our patient’s done with her bathroom trip; come on.”

The patient - Sylvia Cole - was a sweet older woman, practically loved by everyone at the hospital, even in her short time. You’d only known for barely an hour, but she was practically an angel; the poor thing had been in a bit of an accident and needed a full oral rehabilitation - dental implants requiring mandibular reconstruction. She couldn’t really speak much without inducing pain in her jaw, so she’d been writing words in her native German and showcasing them to the doctors. The surgery would present multiple complexities but should work out fine. You relayed this news to her; she scribbled something on her board, turning it around to you and Mark.

“Bitte,” you told her.

“You speak German?” Mark inquired, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I took it as a minor in university.”

“Hmm. You sound sexy.”

You glanced away, avoiding his gaze as you continued to explain to Sylvia about her upcoming procedure; it didn’t help that Mark stood there, body leaning close to you as he watched you speak. His smirk grew wider when you fumbled over your words after he moved closer; Sylvia erased her board, furiously writing something on it. Mark didn’t understand what she’d written, but he could pick a hint. The stammering that poured from your mouth as you gestured between you and him was enough for him to patch the puzzle together.

“Frau Cole, wir sind nicht–”

Sylvia waved her hand giggling. For the second time that day, you found yourself smacking your head against a hard surface - the wall - as the rest of your friends laughed at your expense. Sylvia Cole managed through surgery; of course, that didn’t mean you stopped being her doctor. That meant you spent more time with Mark as you informed her family, dummed things down, and translated things, and each time the words came out of your mouth, you could practically feel the horny stare from Mark. Sylvia’s family - her daughter, daughter-in-law, and grandson - were all equally as sweet as the older woman; they also immensely enjoyed the board she communicated on. The grandson especially.

“Verstehen Sie das?” you asked after a long relay on Sylvia’s improving condition.

“Ja. Danke, dass du dich um meine Mutter kümmerst.” the daughter - Mila you remembered - thanked you. She shook both your hands, thanking you profusely.

“She’s thanking us, right?” Mark whispered.

“Yes,” you chuckled.

The grandson - Tommy - turned his attention on you and Mark then, “Mama, sind sie beiden verheiratet wie du und Mutti?”

You practically dropped your pen then, glancing between you and Mark once again, you conveyed that no, you were not married but were met with looks of disbelief from the family. Mark’s eyes darted between you, confused as he demanded to be privy to the conversation.

“Es tut mir leid,” Mila apologized; you waved your hand dismissively, assuring her it was alright. Mark didn’t let go of that once you left the family. He blocked your path, demanding to know what got you so flustered once again.

“Sylvia’s grandson thought we…were married….like his mothers.”

Mark’s expression beamed once he processed the words; side hugging you, he leaned his head down, “Well, rookie, I wouldn’t be against it. What say you and I get down to the chapel unless you’d rather a Vegas-style wedding.” You untangled yourself from him; you didn’t look back as his laugh boomed down the hallway; you found an empty patient’s room, placed your belongings down gently, and screamed your lungs out. Later at Meredith, Izzie, and Geroge’s, you screamed into a cushion, Mark Sloan was going to be the death of you.

Thankfully, you weren’t tied to Mark’s hip like Meredith was to Dr. Shepherd; unfortunately, though, that meant when you did get assigned to him, he was far more adamant about keeping at his side. It was both a blessing and a curse, a blessing because it meant you didn’t have to do as many coffee runs as Alex, and a curse because none of them would quit the teasing. It also meant you got a lot of alone time with him, which resulted in him doing things like leaning ever so close to you, like unnecessarily close, close enough for you to feel him breathing down your neck, and if you were standing, close rough for you to feel the hard-on he had around you.

You were actually in such a situation at the present moment, trying very hard not to pay attention to it, as Mark guided your hands on making coffee. How something simple as making coffee required the attention of an expert surgeon like himself, you didn’t know, and you weren’t going to question. The universe managed to give you some form of reprieve; it was three in the morning, the canteen was completely empty, and you were ninety-nine percent sure Mark was starting to hump against you. Actually, he was definitely humping, and you were definitely rocking your hips in response.

“Coffee goes there, milk’s already out, that’s good, you want something frothy, this time of night,” he muttered in your ear, “Slow down, sweetheart. We still gotta turn the machine on, don’t want something cold in your stomach, do you? You need something to warm you up.”

“I thought you were doing that, sir,” you breathed out, biting your lip to contain any moans that might come from you.

“Say that again. Call me sir again, sweetheart.”

You dropped the spoon in your hand and clutched onto the counter; Mark’s hands also dropped, one to your pants, palming your cock on the outside, the other up your shirt, twisting your hard nipples. “Come on, sweetheart, say what I wanna hear.”

“Yes, sir.” Your breaths came out in short huffs; you leaned back into Mark, and his other hand moved from your cock to your mouth. His fingers plugged your mouth shut as he continued to hump against you.

“Can’t have you waking whoever’s still here.” He whispered. After the hand on your nipples descended to the inside of your pants, he gripped your cock, squeezing it as he pumped it in quick succession; it wasn’t long before you cummed into his hand; he turned you over, hand still in your pants. “Good boy.”

“My locker’s got a few spare pants; they should fit you pretty well; there’s a belt in there if it doesn’t.” He told you, moving away, he smacked your ass as you left the canteen. The pants did not fit snuggly, so you were forced to take the belt, shoved your cum stained pants into a plastic bag, and tossed them into your bag. Your legs felt like jelly. You weren’t really walking all that funny; more so, you were trying to get your legs to wake up again.

“What are you doing?” Meredith asked.

“What? Nothing, I’m….strolling?”

“Was that a question?”

“No. Maybe. Yes.” You responded, “I may have had a sort of nighttime quickie with McSteamy in the canteen.”

“In the cante–people eat there, you know that, right? People eat there.”

“We didn’t make a mess; most of it was in my pants,” you admitted, “fuck.”

“Don’t feel bad. Derek and I once had sex in a patient’s room.”

“At least that would’ve gotten clean if Dr. Bailey found out I had sex in the canteen, she’ll have my head.”

Meredith chuckled, “You’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t blame you; McSteamy is pretty hot.”

You agreed. You made the mistake of not swearing Meredith to secrecy before you left the hospital; Izzie practically congratulated you when you returned. You glared at Meredith, who shrugged her arms in response; you groaned in frustration, laying your head in your hands, and grumbled. Your moment of grumbling was cut short when a finger poked you in the shoulder, you looked over to the culprit, George pointed ahead, Mark stood by the lobby, kissing the air at you, he lifted the coffee in his hand in the air a bit. When he lowered it down, he patted his pants and winked before leaving you there with five surgeons with a lot of questions. Your prayers for escape were answered when Dr. Shepherd called for your assistance; you practically jumped at it despite your lack of time in the Pediatric Unit; you practically jumped at it.

“Thank you, Dr. Shepherd; you have no idea how much a lifesaver you were.”

She laughed, “I can guess. I saw the look Mark gave you this morning, the pat on his pants, cocky little smirk; you’re practically craving him, aren’t you?”

You glanced away, “I–well–yes. God, he doesn’t make it easy.”

“No, he does not.” You side-eyed her, unsure of her last statement; now, granted, you didn’t know what relationship Mark and Dr. Shepherd had now, but you were silently hoping it was of the romantic variety as you would like to have the chance for that yourself. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in chasing after him again; even if I was, I doubt I could compete.”

“Now, are we done discussing Mark Sloan?”

“I suppose we are.”

“Good, because Angie over here needs our full attention. Angie here’s got a collapsed lung, and her mother’s down in ICU after an intense C-section; we’re scheduled to drain the air in a few hours, so keep your head clear and avoid Mark. Believe me, when I say, you don’t want to scrub in with him running through your head.”

“Yes, Dr. Shepherd.”

She smiled, “Good.”

If the rest of the day had gone by as nicely as your interaction with her had been, you’d have been on cloud nin regardless of whether or not you got a date with Mark. But good things don’t always happen. Angie’s mother started bleeding internally when you were in the OR; you and Dr. Shepherd were busy celebrating and congratulating each other that you barely noticed the grim look on the nurse who ran in. She lamented Angie’s mother was not doing so well and was touch and go at the moment, Dr. Shepherd delegated you to the care of Angie as she went to check on the baby’s mother. Angie was adorable, a little tiny, but adorable. Her hand curled around your finger; her progress had been excellent in the past hour. You sang the german alphabet to her, cooing words of encouragement in between the letters. Her grip wasn’t firm, but it would get there one day.

“You know she can’t understand what you’re saying?” You shrugged at Mark’s question as he entered the room.

“I find it comforting, so maybe she might too; besides, I didn’t want to sit here in silence.”

“Silence can be good,” he retorted.

“Mark Sloan, we are in the Pediatric Unit; if you so much as think of uttering anything along the lines of flirtation, I will have Dr. Shepherd on your ass.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them.”

“Alright, sweetheart, you win.”

You sat side by side; Mark’s eyes were glued on you, his chin in his hand - he leaned forward to admire you as you repeated the song from the beginning. Dr. Shepher returned with Alex during your fifth round of the song, glancing between you and Mark with curiosity; she excused you both and took over. Alex gave you a thumbs up as you left; his left hand formed an ‘o’, and he pushed his index finger in and out of its center. You signaled his death with angry faces and a swiping motion across your neck - he chuckled to himself. You and Mark walked down the halls together; he led you off the path to a broom closet. “Wow, this reminds me of my high school days, making out with the hot guys in the closets.” And make out you did. Mark, had you shoved against one of the walls as you kissed, the breaths between you becoming steamy. His hand gripped your ass tight, fingers just on the hem of your, well, his pants.

He shoved his leg in between your legs, moving you up and down in an effort to have you ride his thigh. You held onto him, warning him these were his pants, and you were not stripping naked because he made you cum in the only pants you had. He grunted, putting a stop to the impromptu thigh riding; he opted instead to go for your neck. You clutched onto him, mewls and moans spilling from your mouth as he bit his way around your neck; your hands weaved through his hair, tugging at it lightly when he bit particularly hard. He ventured down a bit to your chest but left it alone and returned to your neck. He moved back to rest his head against yours sometime after; you panted alongside him, arms holding desperately in fear you might collapse on jelly legs.

“That–that was–”

“Hot?” Mark supplied the word.

You nodded, “I hope you realize that I need a date first if you want me in your bed.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

End Note:

I have a soft spot in my heart for Mark Sloan, so if I have to write the fanfics for him myself then fine, imma do it.

#mark sloan x male reader #grey's anatomy imagine #feel free to correct me on the inaccurate medical aspects if there be any #mark sloan x reader

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ms-nesbit · 8 months

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Sleepless In Seattle (chapter 5 of Empire Records)

Summary: Y/n has a guest at her place, and things go better than planned.

Rating: 18+ (minors, fuck off)

Warnings: smut, FINALLY smut, masturbation, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), swearing, trauma

Note: this is the final chapter of Empire Records. Lmk if you like it or if you want a different fic or some kind. I enjoyed this.

Previous Chapter

ao3

It was winter now - clouds loitering in the sky, over welcoming their stay, bringing grayish drab to the rancid city below them. Gothamites acclimated, as always - they were, after all, residents of Gotham, one of the most dangerous places in the world.

Y/n left her window cracked, welcoming the cold breeze as she lit her carefully placed candles. The wind tickled her skin, and she smiled when it did - her loungewear was underwhelming considering the climate, the band tee and black track shorts failing to cover what was now being touched by the cold air.

And she cleaned her apartment to prepare for company. Jason visited y/n’s flat before, usually to stop by for a chat (which turned into hours-long debates or dabbles), but in their exchange, it was clear this time was different. Her boyfriend hadn’t explicitly stated this, but given the tone of his voice and counsel provided by her horoscope reading, Jason was going to sleep over and - sex or not - it was important for y/n, who otherwise would have left her habitat a comical mess.

The apartment doorbell buzzed, followed by a static-distorted voice: “Hey, y/n? Could you, uh, buzz me up here? I got my hands full.”

Complying, y/n shook her head and giggled, pressing the button on the intercom. She wiped off her kitchen island, half-surprised by the spaciousness of it. She forgot the material of her countertop, and she reminded herself to look elsewhere for an apartment when her contract ended.

Then, a knock in the form of words. “Y/n?”

Jason. Y/n unlocked each lock before opening the heavy door to find the tall man grinning down at her, his arms holding a couple of vinyl and a reusable grocery bag, its contents unknown to y/n. Was this his sleepover bag?

It seems not, based on Jason’s answer after y/n’s thought. “Sorry for the wait. I brought some albums we could listen to, and some ingredients to make food in case we get hungry.”

He stepped in, and y/n closed the door, eyes on Jason’s ass in his dark jeans. She relocked the doors - a move critical to Gothamites - and pointed him in the direction of the island, where a pair of chairs were pulled out. Jason commented on the cleanliness of the apartment with a zest, “Oooh, dressin’ this dump up for me?” And y/n, too proud to admit she was falling in love with the ex-Robin, she quipped easily.

“Why did you bring food, anyway?” Y/n questioned when Jason was removing the ingredients, each in their own container, bagged or rigid. She noted the eggs and paprika first, then the bagged fresh cilantro, onion, spinach, and…cheese? Bagged cheese, at that? “Jason, do you have the rest of Whole Foods in here? I didn’t think there is one in Gotham.”

“Too much crime.” Jason smiled wickedly at y/n. “And no, I want to make something good. You said you’ve never had shakshuka, and that was almost a dealbreaker until you sent me a pic of your tits-”

“Ah, yes, the notes of true love.”

“-and I thought, ‘Well, I can just make them for y/n.’ And we can turn it into a date or something.” Jason finished, varieties of tomatoes in hand.

Y/n read the labels of cheeses. “I thought there wasn’t cheese in shakshuka.”

Sneaking a bite of spinach, he replied enthusiastically, “There isn’t! But I think I could use the remaining egg to make you a quiche in the morning.”

In the morning. Y/n was right, and she made a mental note to thank her astrologist later. She would be lying if she wasn’t excited - she tried some of Jason’s creations on their picnic at the cemetery, and wondered why he decided to pursue sexwork and not cooking - he was a rebel, one after y/n’s heart, at that, and y/n kissed him after that.

She walked across the island to meet Jason, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss. “Thank heavens for my tits.” Y/n remarked after they broke the kiss, her face still inches from his.

His stormy hazel came to a tranquil green, the branches of a tree swaying to and fro. It wasn’t that he intended for the storm to brew - it was in Mother Nature’s hands indeed - but something in him stirred, something y/n spotted on their previous dates. Either way, she was thankful for Jason, and his arms securing her body close to his was a reminder.

“I love you.”

The words left Jason quicker than he wanted them to… or so y/n thought judging by the remorse-ridden expression he wore. Y/n’s eyes darted, the first time since their first date that she did so out of avoidance, and she opened her mouth, but nothing came of it.

Did she love him? Wasn’t it too soon to love someone? And if she did love him - theoretically, of course - why would he say it while she wore her period outfit (it was laundry day, an unfortunate time for y/n)?

Certainly, y/n loves Jason. But the hope in his eyes dropped, and the storm reeled back in, this time in full swing. Y/n hesitated.

“I love you too.” Y/n pushed out, her hands clinging to Jason’s shirt, praying to Aretha Franklin that he wouldn’t slip away from her. The sincerity in her eyes were burning, far greater than any hatred she felt, and Jason knew.

It was all he needed to calm the thunder in him, and the corners of his mouth twitched, turning into a grin, one that…it was endearing. Reassured, at ease, as if he avoided a nasty collision at a traffic stop. His arms loosened around her waist, unafraid of losing her. He has her, in his arms, and she wanted him.

Y/n wanted Jason, too, in a way that was softer than the sumptuous comforter she slept in, and quieter, her shouts and anarchistic demeanor maturing, aging into a keened elder, empowered by the experience in her wrinkles.

It was love that brought them to each other, despite the miscommunication; it was love that brought Jason’s hands underneath y/n’s band tee, his cold hands causing her to shiver; it was love that allowed Jason to remember y/n’s scent, her smile, her signature cackle; it was love that y/n chose when her hands instinctively traveled south, just above his jeans, all while staring at him for approval.

Jason nodded, a thousand proclamations of love in a silent room. He hissed when y/n hooked her index fingers on either hip under his dark jeans, and hauled them, revealing his erection. Having been familiarized with his line of work, y/n knew how he looked nude through a screen, but when Jason threw his shirt behind him, and presented himself vulnerable to her in her apartment, she teared up.

Still clothed, y/n guided them back to her bed, and laid him down, before removing her band tee, exposing her breasts to Jason. He shifted, cock filled with blood, and it twitched with each inch he allowed his eyes to wander. Instead of removing her shorts, y/n laid beside him, and threw a leg over his toned waist, burying her head in his chest.

Affirmation. It was validation he needed most of all, that he wasn’t an object to be used, and tossed into a closet, thrown with other forgotten memories webbed in ultraviolet tragedies - y/n told him she wanted him, not his body, all with a motion. She could have easily stripped herself completely and ridden him, no matter how tempted they both were, but she chose him.

Again and again.

Jason bit down on his lip at the sight before him though, and he was the one who broke the wholesome intimacy, darkening the mood into an amber as he lowered a hand to y/n’s chest and began kneading her breast. He heard a stifled noise from y/n, and she ground down on his waist, face still buried in his chest.

He chuckled. “Really, Princess? This is your weak point?” he pulled at y/n’s nipple, causing her to lift her face from him, as she yelped in a mix of pleasure and pain. “You look so much better in person, too. Feel incredible.”

Closing his eyes, Jason focused on the softness of her skin, and the suede, perked bud aching for attention. He wondered if her clit was the same.

“Sit on my face.” Jason blurted, both hands on y/n’s breasts as she leaned toward them, welcoming the attention.

“Come again?” Y/n asked.

“I didn’t come yet.” Jason joked, voice low in lust. “I want you to sit on and ride my face.”

Y/n processed his request quickly, and kicked her shorts off just as much. Before settling on his face, y/n eyed Jason’s cock - neglected, dripping with pre-cum - and gave his head a lick, causing Jason to moan loudly in surprise. He bucked his hips and groaned, annoyed by the tease.

“I hate you.” He said while y/n was positioning herself over his face.

“No you- oh.” Y/n lowered herself, her snide comment cut off by a moan as Jason anchored her legs with his arms, which gripped her thighs. He lapped at her wet cunt impatiently, tongue searching for the right pattern to set y/n off.

Y/n was in such a state of bliss that it took her a moment to realize Jason was spelling his name against her clit, her hips shaking when Jason signed a ‘J’. She looked down and saw Jason’s eyes, pupils blown in filth, as he ate her out, signing his initial over and over, until y/n met the constellations.

And she spotted the Big Dipper behind her eyelids when she shut her eyes, orgasm rapidly approaching. “Just like that, Jason!” she gasped, gripping his hair and riding his face. Y/n reached behind her with a hand to jerk Jason off, and when her hand grasped his cock, the moan he let out into her pussy sent vibrations of pleasure that drove her over the edge, her climax hitting her recklessly.

Jason guided her through it, stifling his moans despite y/n’s hand pulling at his needy erection perfectly, and he felt his balls tighten before he met y/n in the deep space, eyes screwing shut as senseless curses and explicit, long groans left his mouth.

Still straddling his face, y/n looked down at Jason to see how his face looked. It was so much different in person, the hues of flesh on his skin so tenderly painted with the cascade of the lighting and euphoria he experienced. “So beautiful…” doesn’t even cover what she stared at in the moment, and although it was inappropriate and greedy for her to remain, pussy hovered over his face, like that, she didn’t want to move.

Until, with his inhuman strength, Jason did, slipping out from underneath y/n so that he could sit beside her on her bed. Instead of rushing to get dressed, he laid her down, kissing her shoulders as he did so, and after y/n’s head hit the flat pillow, Jason pulled a comforter over her, excusing himself to the bathroom to clean himself off. In that time, y/n blinked at the ceiling, plucking thorns in the rose of their relationship and cutting herself, so nervous about what would become of their relationship after this shared experience. She feared she would be disposed of, so awkward in her own mattress.

“Here.” Jason returned and kneeled beside the bed, taking y/n’s hand in his. “How about I make you something to eat? Like that shakshuka, if you’re willing?”

The sharp prick of the thorns at her sides eased with Jason’s healing touch, a superpower he could never bring himself to see. Y/n nodded, grinning weakly at the handsome man tending to her.

She sat up and watched Jason as he whisked away in the kitchenette, involved in the meticulous cooking. “You know, you can take a picture. It’ll last a lot longer.” Jason leaned over the island, cutting board in hand, and winked at y/n, clearly calling her out for staring too long at him.

What could y/n say though? She loved it. She felt the comfort that only domestication could bring, something she believed, until this very moment, she was allergic to. And to be proven wrong by a twenty-something-year-old man with the body type of a linebacker?

Y/n had to be dreaming. Either that, or the fairy godmother enriching her Gotham experience was soon to be waving her wand and pulling the rug from under her.

“Depends. If I put music on, would you shake your ass for the camera?” Disney princess or not, y/n wouldn’t dare to lose her sharp tongue.

Jason stopped his chopping and stabbed the cutting board with the paring knife, walking over to the threshold between the living space and kitchenette, hand on his naked hips. “Darling,” he began with a long, dragged out Southern drawl, “you know you don’t have enough money to afford that.”

Y/n giggled, the first time she did that night, and watched as Jason dramatically swayed his hips as he strut his hips back to the cutting board. She shot up from the bed with a grunt, stretching her arms overhead before she walked to her record player, fingering through her stack. She picked one from the stack and carefully placed the vinyl on the platter, gingerly setting the needle before flipping the button to ignite its power.

A series of percussion and guitar immediately began playing through the speakers, the distorted voice tying the sounds all together. Y/n walked to the kitchen and rested against the wall, waiting for Jason to finish placing the eggs on the skillet so she could invite him to dance with her.

After washing his hands, Jason offered his hand, immediately pulling y/n close to him as they held each other. In a space where she usually felt like a stranger, Jason was the key piece to make her feel at home. “How do you get all this music, anyway? Employee discount?”

“Used to steal from FYE before they fired me.” Y/n replied without missing a beat, a shameless smile rising on her face.

“Fuck, I love you.” Jason cupped the back of y/n’s head and brought her to a deep kiss, their lips tangling.

And that was how their night was spent - bodies intertwining in an attempt to display affection in various ways. Y/n hummed along as she kissed along Jason’s torso, her lips wrapping around the head of his dick before swallowing what she could of it, pulling her head back with a pop;

Jason scooped up a forkful of shakshuka, feeding it to a sleepy y/n. He lowly sang Nancy Wilson as he did so, the voice warmer than the spiced tomato sauce, and smoother than the cashew milk Jason brought to wash down the meal with (so considerate, y/n purred after Jason slid his cock into her cunt, walls pulling him in deeper).

They exchanged vows in forms of stolen kisses and laughs, Jason falling asleep first on the brink of their honeymoon as the sun shone through the gaps between the curtains. Y/n didn’t want to fall asleep; her boyfriend was gorgeous even in his sleep. Gracious was how she felt as she gazed upon the beauty.

The darkness suited him, moon reflecting in his werewolf face (a daunting secret eating at him, only to be exposed by the climax of the lunar phases); however, the sunlight, when he was fearless enough to immerse in the innocence of it, called to him. It was a dear old friend of his, surely, as they reconnected with such familiarity: the warm colors of the bright sky dyed his hair, its ethereal tones complimenting the cool brown, green, and gray hues in his eyes (when he did wake up).

“I love you.” his mouth moved, voice sleepy and hazy, plump lips moving to a grin, the stretch of his lip curling up enough for her to feel its embrace. And if it wasn’t for the formality (curse those - who hadn’t heard of a morning kiss?), y/n would have reached over and connected their lips, united them by a twizzler of wanton and affection.

Yet they sat, eyes fusing in a tunneled stare. Y/n didn’t want to look away; Jason was afraid this was the dream, and falling back to the sheets would snatch him back to the nightmare he lived.

The indie mix sounded in the background, blended together with the chitchat of the Gothamites rising in the dangerous world just outside of y/n’s and Jason’s, and the everything they didn’t care about in that moment. Y/n now comprehended the campy cheeriness of Peter, Bjorn, and John’s hit - I only care about you and me. You and me.

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spann-stann · 4 months

Text

Setting Blurb Map: Viceroyalty of Eurmerica

CorpEmp Macrocommunities:

Anglia et Cambria - Contains England, Wales, and the "Reconstructed Strathclyde" region of southern Scotland.

Arkassouri - A small Macrocommunity made up of Arkansas and. Missouri.

Benelux - A united Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg. Less weed under Imperial rule.

Calizona - California (sans it largest three cities but most consider that an improvement), Arizona (with bits of New Mexico).

Cascadia - British Columbia, Idaho, Oregon, Washington. Once an anti-Imperial stronghold, now used to house veterans.

Deseret - Utah, with bits of its neighbors.

Dixica - Deep South and bits of Georgia, the Texans and Virginians cemented their alliance by conquering this area.

Eurmerican Arctic - Alaska, Yukon, NW Territory, Nunavut, and Greenland make up the homeland for the Eskaleut speaking peoples.

Gaelia - Ireland, Isle of Mann, Scotland (minus Strathclyde).

Germania - Germany, Austria, German Switzerland, Liechtenstein (plus bits of Poland and Czechia).

Grand State of Virginia - A reunited Virginia, Delaware, Maryland, and the Carolinas. Virginia was the first Warlord-era state to ally with Texas.

Greater Quebec - Quebec, bits of Ontario, Newfoundland and Labrador.

Ibero-Atlantic Islands - Azores, Canary Islands, Madeira.

Laurentia - The Rust Belt plus New Jersey.

New England - New England, the Maritime provinces, and eastern New York state. Another anti-Imperial bastion turned into veteran colonia.

Scandinavia - Denmark, Norway and Sweden (minus territory given to Eurasia's FennoSapmi).

Texan Tribal Federation - Texas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico. The homeland of CorpEmp's Rotthey dynasty.

The Plains - The American Midwestern states, and Canada's prairie provinces.

The West Latins - France, Italy, Portugal, and Spain. The Nouvelle Droite movement sought to reestablish the Roman Empire following WWIII. They managed to take the western half by the creation of CorpEmp.

Transappalachia - Kentucky and Tennessee. A Virginian vassal.

Non-Imperial Polities:

The Cordons Sanitaire - Berlin, Bremen, Chicago, London, Los Angeles, Toronto, and San Diego. These metropolitan areas were walled off and then used as "dumping grounds" for anyone that didn't want to be a part of CorpEmp. Rival political factions fight for control over each Cordon, but CorpEmp never allows them to have enough control to become a threat.

Green Consensus - Long Island. Eco-Socialists managed to takeover this Cordon Sanitaire during the War of 2100.

United Markets - Nevada, Seattle, and Vancouver. The Vegas casinos bribed the Texans to not invade their state, and MicroBucks were allowed to govern their own Cordon after Portland was given the Carthage treatment.

World Congress of Freedom - Iceland, San Francisco, Svalbard. These Cordons managed to get their shit together and wage war against CorpEmp in 2100 and force the CorpEmp into recognizing their legitimacy.

Macrocommunities with high Reserve presence - The Plains, Laurentia, Deseret.

Macrocommunitites with high Common Prosperity Coalition activity - Laurentia, Calizona, Anglia et Cambria, Benelux, West Latins.

#my setting #setting #worldbuilding #setting map

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masterwords · 6 months

Text

every day is a start of something beautiful

Summary: It's time for the leaves to be cleaned up. When kids are involved, you have to be ready for anything.

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: a few casual mentions of Hotch's childhood not being idyllic, a reference to Foyet, and references to Hotch having chronic pain/ailments.

Words: 2.3k

Notes: Comfortember Day 3 - Leaves. I couldn't resist Hank here. As with everything else this month, this is part of the Chicago Times universe. I hope you enjoy!

Hotch couldn’t actually remember the last time he raked up autumn leaves.

Maybe because the last time he raked up leaves was when he was a teenager. That was an awfully long time ago, judging by the faded edges of his memories.

He could vaguely remember waking up in the morning to the sound of his father hollering about the damn leaves. “Why in God’s name do we have so many damn trees?” It never failed, he’d be shouting about Hotch cleaning them up before he’d even wiped the sleep from his eyes. It would be a quick breakfast and then out the door with a thermos of hot cocoa for a long day of hard work. The icy breeze would bite at his fingertips through his wool gloves and his hands would be bleeding and blistered and bright red by the end of the day. During the course of his time outside, he would have picked up three or four more jobs – neighbors who were older and couldn’t do the work or simply wanted to outsource. He preferred those, they got him away from his house for days at a time. His weekends would be occupied with what he considered easy money during that lull between the glory of football season and the horrors of basketball – a sport he was truly terrible at. He was hardly more than a bench warmer or someone whose shoes squeaked on the court only when their team was so far up in points that they could put their third string kids in, but it was better than the nightmare of wrestling and it kept him busy and away from the house. He would rake for free, but everyone paid him. It kept his gas tank full and he was able to buy Haley flowers and snacks and maybe even one nice date without touching the money his parents gave him.

After University, they lived in apartments, never quite settled. A nice condo in DC when he was appointed as a Federal Prosecutor, and a grungy little dump in Seattle when he took a steep paycut to pursue his dreams as an FBI Agent. While the trees planted to line the streets had falling leaves, he never had to touch them. He only watched them flutter to the ground and be scooped up by city trucks, that was the same no matter which side of the country you inhabited. The type of trees might have changed, but the behaviors never did. When they moved back to D.C, they hired a lawn care service, and again when they moved out to Alexandria. Haley didn’t want to do it on her own and he didn’t have the time. They installed sprinkler systems, did all the mowing and all of the cleanup while Hotch worked his long hours and never saw any of it. Then came two apartments back to back, and lawn care services that would come and go in an hour, sucking up all of the beautiful decaying leaves in their big riding mowers and move on. It was impersonal and loud, and when it was all cleaned up he missed the joy of the colors the leaves brought. There were children who lived in his building who would play in the leaves until they were cleaned up, and the sound of their laughter and the rustling got him through a lot of long lonely days after Foyet’s attack.

Now, he and Derek had a house. Well, Derek had a house and was kind enough to open his doors to Hotch and Jack, inviting them to move in rather than see them go back to Virginia when they were released from protective custody. They were still taking things a little slow, poking along, living together but not saying words like love too often. (Even if it was always heavily implied.) Derek’s divorce was still fresh enough to be a wound and the year of witness protection, the loneliness and fear and physical decline, were still wearing on Hotch in ways he couldn’t cope with some days.

But then the leaves fell, and he felt grounded and connected and useful just thinking about doing something mundane and simple. Something people just did at a certain time of year. Something that meant he belonged.

The front lawn was not just scattered with leaves, it was covered. At least a foot existed between the crisp upper layer and the damp, darkness of the bottom layer that was killing the small patch of grass they called a front lawn. Maple leaves and Oak leaves married in a sea of velvet orange and yellow and brown. The acorns pelted the sidewalk and made walking a hazard. He hadn’t even bothered to look at the backyard yet, those trees were still dropping leaves. They had another week or so before he could look at it as a project.

“I’ve got the riding mower,” Derek said, kicking his feet up with a beer in front of the TV. He was ready to watch some football and relax, and Hotch was about to join him. At least for the relaxing bit, he couldn’t tell you who was playing in the game. It was more about settling in beneath a blanket with Derek, resting his cheek against the mound of his shoulder, and maybe even falling asleep. “I’ll just take it out.”

“Too many leaves and acorns, it’ll clog it all up. I don’t want to lose a window to an acorn. I’ll do it, I have tomorrow off.”

Derek eyed him and scrunched his nose, shaking his head no. Like he’d considered the offer and instead of making a counter was outright refusing it. “I’ve used that mower the last two years. It’ll be okay.”

“I’d like to do it,” Hotch said, recanting his previous offer and rewording it. He was a lawyer in another life, he could do this all day until he found a loophole to exploit. Derek wasn’t an idiot, he knew what Hotch was doing and he kind of liked it. This sort of back and forth almost always led to sex, and it had been a few days since they’d had any...he was ready for that outcome. He’d even give up watching football for it.

“How about we wait until the weekend? We’ll get the kids out there playing and it’ll go quick if we work together. Then we can walk down to Lem’s and grab a bite to eat.”

“You don’t have to help, it’s a small yard. This football season has been exhausting, you deserve a break.”

“I got all winter, bud. I’m not coaching wrestling or basketball, just overseeing. Don’t worry about me.”

“But you’re worrying about me.” Hotch could feel his upper hand slipping away as his feelings crept in, knowing now that Derek was only concerned about whether he could do it at all. They went out running most mornings together, went to the gym, played all sorts of sports with the kids and Derek was worried his body suddenly couldn’t handle raking leaves? It hurt a little and he didn’t bother to hide it.

“Of course I am. I know we’re pretty active as a family, but that’s exactly it. As a family. You’ve had ticker problems since Foyet, don’t you dare pretend you haven’t. I know we don’t talk about what’s up with your body after Foyet much, it’s your business, but I think about it all the time. Plus your back’s all jacked up, you’ve been walking like an old man all week. I’m not letting you do it by yourself.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m an invalid.”

“No, I’m preventing a reasonably healthy middle-aged man from putting himself in the hospital because he’s stubborn. There’s a difference.”

Hotch scoffed at that, but when the weekend came and they were all bundled up under the bright morning Chicago sun he was glad for the help. And the company. The yard looked larger than he thought as he stood on the porch scanning the job with the last of his coffee warming his hands, and the sound of Jack and Hank playing catch with a football nearby made him feel instantly warmer. Derek was right, loathe as he was to admit it. This was a task better suited to the whole family.

He and Derek began at opposite ends of the yard, raking big piles of leaves, smelling the sweet decay, that smell of fall that’s so intrinsic and almost cathartic it was hard to put into words. It signaled to Hotch that it was time to hibernate, to hunker down in a way nothing else could. He imagined another night on the couch, probably with his heating pad nestled against the ache in the small of his back (because Derek was right about that too), a mug of tea or a nice dark beer and a movie – sharing a blanket and a laugh with Derek. This was the good stuff.

It would be the reward for a job well done.

They managed four giant piles in the front yard. “Not bad for a days’ work,” Derek announced, grabbing Hotch triumphantly by the hand and walking him back toward the garage for the carpenter bags to stuff the leaves into. They spent a little extra time in the garage, kissing in the shadows beside the shelves of fertilizer and tools. Warm lips and cold hands, safe from the biting wind for just a few minutes. “Aren’t you glad we did it together?”

“Yes,” Hotch smiled into another kiss before insisting they get back to the yard and finish up because he was starving. When they returned to the front yard, they found Jack throwing Hank wildly into the piles. Screaming and squealing, arms in the air, hair flying wildly where a knit cap had been moments before. That knit cap was now in the mess of leaves, what remained of their nice neat piles. Hotch couldn’t find it in him to be angry, even if they had undone much of the work he’d effectively destroyed his body for. He’d be in pain for the next few days, and it was worth it, but it would have been nice not to have to do it all over again.

“Again! AGAIN!” Hank was squealing with delight, throwing his arms wide, giggling madly when he hit the pile on his belly and sent a spray of leaves around him up into the air.

Hotch stopped and folded his arms, just watching with the ghost of a tired smile. Derek, on the other hand, dropped his bags and rushed forward, diving right into a pile himself. He didn’t need an invitation to the fun, and he certainly wasn’t going to be upset at work wasted. Jack tossed Hank down on top of him and soon they were both laughing and throwing the little guy, taking turns. Hank’s appetite for flight was insatiable.

“Come on Aaron!” Derek yelled and Hank rushed, covered in scraps of leaves and dirt and grass, toward Hotch. The leaves in his hair caught the sunlight and gave the impression of a golden crown, Hotch thought as he watched the kid run toward him.

“AGAIN!” Hank shouted, raising his arms like Hotch knew exactly what he meant. And, in spite of how badly he wanted to preserve the piles because of all of their hard work, he couldn’t resist playing. He looked at Jack standing there, a brand new teenager, and realized he’d never done this with his own son. He’d never thrown Jack into a leaf pile. Had Jack ever played in one? He didn’t know, but he thought maybe not. And when had he last done it himself? Those memories were faded sepia and silent and slow. His grandfather had tossed him into one, he thought. Yes, his grandfather played with him in the leaves, long before Sean was born. Never his father (or his mother). His father hated the trees, hated the leaves, hated it all. And he’d always been too busy with teenager things to play with Sean. What a waste, he thought.

Resigning himself to the fate of doing the work all over again, he lifted Hank into the air, gave him a kiss on the nose that made the kid giggle and launched him toward the pile. Derek raised his arms and caught his son, burying them both in the leaves quickly while Hotch walked up behind Jack and shoved him in. Just toppled him right over into the last fresh pile, watching him sink in with a look of surprise that eventually melted from teenage too-cool-horror into a smile.

So, they would have to rake again. Maybe Hotch would let Derek get the riding mower out for the second time, make short work of it. Hotch did like watching Derek out on that thing, he had to admit. There was something about it that felt so domestic and sweet he couldn’t help it. He always managed to sit on the porch and watch Derek looking so pleased with something so silly. But when he and Derek began throwing leaves at one another, he didn’t think about all the work they’d put in or all the work they’d have to do again. It wasn’t easy to take his mind away from it, he had a way of getting on a loop of work done before fun, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. “You never have the fun,” Derek would remind him when he got so caught up in the work that he couldn’t see his way out. “Sometimes fun before work is fine.” That attitude was infectious. His smile managed to pull Hotch in and get him playing too.

He’d be itchy, would definitely have to suck down some benadryl when all was said and done, but even he wasn’t immune to ending up in a pile of sticky wet leaves and enjoying himself.

“AGAIN!”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #jack hotchner #hank morgan #criminal minds #fanfiction #chicago times universe #comfortember 2023 #day 3 - leaves

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