#shaw x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ginnsbaker · 2 months

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (1/?)

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat. Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.” Or the one where you fall in love with the widow of an ex-lover you never knew was married.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6k+ | Warnings: None for now | A/N: I wrote about 30k words of the Succession Wanda but hit a wall in terms of plot progression. So that's on hold. Allow me to apologize with this two-shot. P.S. I've always wanted to write for Leigh, and this idea came out of nowhere. Loosely based on canon.

Masterlist | Next Part

Leigh wakes up in a bed that’s not hers for the first time in months, and the unfamiliar scent of freshly cut grass and cedarwood almost immediately overwhelms her senses, suffocating her with its cloying sweetness.

“Jules?” she croaks out, her mind clawing its way through the fog. When it lifts a few seconds later, Leigh realizes where she is and what she’s done.

And how she’s very, very naked underneath the sheets.

The person lying next to her in the bed starts to move. Right away, she knows it's not her sister, unless she's somehow caught up in a prank she doesn't find amusing at all. And so, she braces herself for her dead husband’s brother's voice to shatter the silence.

But it never comes. Instead, an arm drapes itself across her stomach, pulling her towards warmth. Leigh gets the sudden urge to vomit, except she skipped dinner and there isn’t anything to bring up. Last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Matt's absence, she had reached out to someone she shouldn't have. Someone Leigh didn’t even like to begin with. A knot tightens further in her stomach as she considers what her husband’s ghost would think.

Would he approve? Would he feel betrayed or disgusted as she does?

Careful not to disturb Danny, who still sleeps soundly beside her, Leigh slips out of bed with the grace of a cat. She gathers her clothes from the floor and dresses herself with heavy limbs, each garment reminding her of how Danny had taken them off her body.

As messed up as it sounds, Leigh can't help but draw parallels between him and Matt. They share the same blood, but there's not a single trait in Danny that triggers memories of Matt. With Danny, it's all about his own desires, his movements reflecting his wants. But with Matt, it's like he's always bending to Leigh’s will, submitting to her.

It tears Leigh’s heart anew.

As she finishes dressing, Leigh glances around searching for her watch. She second-guesses whether she even wore it last night, the disarray of her thoughts mirrored in the disarray of the room. Her eyes scan the bedside table, the floor, and the dresser, but there's no sign of the timepiece.

A sudden sound from Danny startles her, and she freezes in place. She doesn't believe she can prevent herself from literally bolting out of the house if he so much as breathes her name. She’s rooted in her spot however, waiting for his breathing to steady, her heart pounding in her ears. Only when she's certain he's in a deep slumber does she release a pent-up breath, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. In that moment, she mentally curses herself once more, acutely aware of the mess she's created, before tiptoeing towards the bedroom door and abandoning the search for her watch altogether.

As she considers her options, she entertains the idea of escaping town altogether. Maybe if she leaves, she can avoid Danny for the coming days, possibly forever. Leigh wonders if she ever made Matt feel this trapped, inadvertently pushing him to leave in the only way he knew she could never follow.

Several days after ignoring Danny’s calls and attempts to talk to her, he retaliates by telling her the most absurd thing about his brother.

He tells Leigh she wasn’t the only one. There had been two others in the last year.

And the last one, he fell for hard. Or at least that’s what Danny believes.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her eyes beginning to sting a little. “If you think making me hate Matt would change my mind about us, then—”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Leigh,” Danny interrupts calmly, shaking his head. “I just believe you deserve to know the truth. Maybe it'll help you stop blaming yourself and move on.”

“It just seems a little too convenient that this 'truth' works in your favor to tarnish Matt's reputation, doesn't it?” Leigh points out with a humorless smile. She’s always thought the worst of Danny, but she never imagined he’d go as far as fabricating a story just to get her on his side.

“I understand your skepticism, I do. I couldn’t believe it at first either,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the transgression he’s confessing were his own, not Matt’s. “But think about it. Have you ever walked in on Matt just as he's ending a call? Noticed how he's suddenly started spending more time at work, consistently twice a week? And what about his sudden interest in going to the gym and being conscious about what he eats? These are all signs, Leigh.”

His words push her to think about it, even though she doesn't want to. Leigh starts to reflect on how Matt had stopped leaving his phone unattended during showers, how he had suddenly logged off his social media accounts from her laptop, or the noticeable enhancement of his physique—all juxtaposed against a lingering decrease in his appetite for intimacy with his wife.

“I…” Leigh hesitates, searching for a rebuttal but finding none. Then Danny gives her a look—one of pity and longing that makes her want to crawl out of her skin—and suddenly she finds herself vehemently denying all of it.

“I still don’t believe you,” she says, desperately clinging to the last shreds of the illusion she had crafted around her marriage.

Danny's expression remains unreadable and it drives her further up the wall. “Fine. Believe what you want, Leigh. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Leigh's jaw tightens. “Regardless of what you say—whether it’s real or not—I know what I want, and it's not to be with you.”

He keeps up the stony facade, opting instead to pull a card out of his wallet and hand it to her. Leigh accepts the card, her fingers quivering, as a solitary tear finally breaks free and trails down her cheek.

Danny begins to reach out, intending to brush away her tear, but hesitates at the last moment, withdrawing his hand.

“See for yourself. Goodbye, Leigh.”

Just two days later, Leigh finds herself in front of the small animal clinic you own, situated a short walk away from Beautiful Beast—the fitness studio her mom owns and where she works.

Though the sun hangs low in the sky, she's been awake long before it began to rise. She waits for the receptionist to flip the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Come in, we’re open,” ignoring the curious glance directed her way when the receptionist notices she isn’t accompanied by a furry companion. With a determined smile on her lips, Leigh pushes open the door and steps into the clinic knowing she'll leave it with answers—whatever they might be.

The receptionist looks up from her computer, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern when she sees the look on Leigh's face. “Can I help you?”

Leigh clears her throat, trying to steady her voice. She tells her she’s looking for you, her words coming out in a rush.

The receptionist furrows her brow. “Do you have an appointment?”

Leigh shakes her head, blinking rapidly as she comes up with an excuse. “No, it's... it's urgent,” she stammers. “I need to speak to her right away.”

The receptionist appears mildly annoyed, but it doesn’t faze Leigh in the slightest. “I'll check if she's available. Please take a seat,” she says.

Leigh nods mutely and sinks into one of the chairs. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, trying to quell the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She imagines Matt’s ghost watching her this very second, frowning at her doubts about their relationship by coming here in the first place.

And what if she’s wrong? What if Matt wasn’t cheating on her after all? But Leigh had to come here to put the issue to rest. Matt would understand why she needs to do this. He always did.

A few moments later, the door behind the reception desk opens and the receptionist emerges from it, motioning for Leigh to enter.

Leigh finds you standing behind your desk, your back to her, arranging a stack of medical records on the shelf.

“Dr. Y/N?” Leigh calls out softly.

You turn around at the sound of her voice, and when she sees you for the first time, Leigh immediately knows.

Danny was telling the truth. It takes everything in her not to break down in front of a stranger her husband fell in love with.

You, however, don’t recognize the woman standing before you, thinking perhaps she's simply one of your past clients. You offer Leigh a contrite smile. “You wanted to see me? Miss…?”

“Leigh Shaw.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell either, but you keep a friendly smile on your face.

Leigh hesitates for a moment before continuing, her voice sounding fragile. “I need to talk to you about my husband,” she says, studying your clueless face. You're stunning and accomplished—a doctor and a businesswoman. You have a smile that could brighten even the darkest room.

Matt never stood a chance, did he?

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat.

Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.”

After leaving your clinic, Leigh heads straight to Matt’s grave, stomping angrily on the sparse sheet of grass that has begun to sprout from his resting place.

“You're such a fucking liar!” she spits out at the unsusceptible headstone, the heat of fury spreading through her veins and to every molecule in her body. The cold wind lashes through her hair as Leigh drops to her knees, feeling like the entire world is bearing down on her. She reaches out to touch the cold marble of the headstone, still seeking solace from the one who caused her so much hurt.

“Why, Matt?”

She knows there will be no answers—only the cold silence of death.

Leigh feels a surge of anger rise within her once more as she recalls the way you looked at her—the pain in your eyes when she revealed to you that Matt had died. What you two had was real, as real as what she had with him. She had been hoping it was at least just a fling, but alas, she couldn’t be further from her assumptions.

“I can't believe I ever loved you,” Leigh mutters bitterly. She wants to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. But all she can do is clutch at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the earth as if trying to anchor herself against the torrent of pain crippling her chest. Tears stream down her face as she finally collapses to the ground, assuming a fetal position, whispering, “I can't believe I still do.”

You continue to stare at the space that Leigh previously occupied for a good ten minutes, not moving an inch from where you stood—shocked, hurt, confused. Matt, the man you had been seeing, was dead. And not just dead, but married. Married to someone else, someone named Leigh Shaw, a name so important but he managed to hide from you for weeks.

Matt had never mentioned a wife, never wore a ring, never hinted at the existence of someone waiting for him at home. If he had, you would never have let him get as close to you like he did. You've always respected boundaries and families—and now you've discovered that unwittingly, you've destroyed one.

Leigh's departure was swift, just as soon as you confessed to having feelings for her husband and how Matt reciprocated those same feelings. Leigh, ruthless in her questioning, demanded to know if you had slept with Matt. You swore you never did, detailing how Matt abruptly ghosted you after your first kiss, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and missed calls.

You wanted so badly for Leigh to believe you, and you think she did. However, none of it mattered in the end. He cheated all the same. He hurt the woman he made a promise to love and stay faithful to.

Because of you.

You feel sickened by your own naivety; by the way you have allowed yourself to be fooled by his lies. And yet, amidst the anger and self-recrimination, there is a profound sense of loss. Despite the circumstances of your relationship, you had cared for Matt deeply. Maybe even loved him.

But how much of it was real? How much of it was not about him running from his problems with his wife and using you as a distraction? The ease with which he slipped out of your life suddenly fits into place.

While his passing deeply rattled you, it's now largely overshadowed by thoughts of his widow.

Leigh Shaw.

Earlier, even though you said sorry over and over, it felt like it wasn't enough, and you wanted to do more to make her feel better. What stopped you was the realization that you're likely the last person she would want comfort from. A sense of helplessness washes over you as you come to the conclusion that there's nothing you can do to undo the damage that's been done. Matt is gone, and Leigh's world has been shattered in ways you can't even begin to imagine.

Moving on from Matt is something you know you could do. He wasn’t the first person to break your heart, be it through deceit or demise. But the situation with Leigh is unfamiliar territory.

How do you fix this for her?

Will she even let you?

When Leigh tells Jules about Matt’s infidelity, her sister fixates on the detail that she slept with Danny. It’s not the response Leigh expected. She anticipated shock, and maybe even a bit of outrage on her behalf. But instead, Jules latches onto the one detail that seems to pale in comparison to the enormity of Matt's betrayal.

“But how could you?” Jules asks, her voice incredulous as she chews on a dumpling. “How could you sleep with Danny?”

Faced with her sister's disapproval, Leigh finds herself clamming up. “Are you kidding? I just told you that Matt was cheating on me, and your response is to judge me for hooking up with a single guy while I'm single?” Leigh retorts, hastily wiping her lips with a napkin.

Jules just shakes her head, putting down her chopsticks. “Leigh, I get it. Matt’s betrayal is awful, and you have every right to be angry. But the ‘single guy’ you hooked up with isn't just any guy, and you know it. You don't think it's weird? What would people think? That all this time, sleeping with your husband’s brother has always been an option?”

Leigh's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she's speechless. She hadn't—didn't want to entertain the idea of what sleeping with Danny would imply. She was chasing a feeling; any feeling that wasn’t emptiness. And with Danny, she did feel something, even if it was regret and shame. At least it proved she was still capable of feeling at all.

“It… just happened,” Leigh murmurs, rubbing her temples. Hollowness and migraines, she's almost forgotten.

“And? Is it going to be a ‘thing’?” Jules probes, eyebrows raised.

Leigh lifts her gaze, biting back a defensive retort. Instead she simply says, “Absolutely not.”

Jules seems satisfied with that, knocking back the rest of her beer. “Good.”

But as Jules moves on, Leigh’s left stewing in her own thoughts. Telling Jules felt like yelling into a void—exhausting and utterly pointless. Now she’s dreading the thought of breaking the news to Drew. If Jules’ reaction was any indication, she’s in for another round of disappointment.

Being a young widow already sets her apart, but nothing makes her feel more alone than her family's inability to truly grasp her grief. She guesses she's been feeling alone for years, long before Matt came into her life and subsequently left it.

Jules, catching the tail end of Leigh's distant look, leans in and asks, “So, what's the plan now? You still going to that grief counseling group? Danny's been showing up there, right?”

Leigh's gaze sharpens, a bit taken aback by the sudden shift back to practicalities. “Are you asking about my plans with Danny? Because I already told you, that's over. I'm never seeing him again.”

Jules raises her hands in a placating gesture, mindful that one wrong move could tip Leigh over the edge for good. “Not really, no. I'm asking if you're still keen on processing your grief. Now that it turns out Matt was... well, a snake.”

Jules calling Matt a snake doesn't sit well with Leigh even with his cheating coming to light. But she supposes it's Jules' way of being on her side every once in a while. It's a clumsy attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm still going,” Leigh finally says, her gaze dropping to her lap before meeting Jules' eyes again. “Not for Danny, not for anyone else, but for me. Turns out, finding out your rotting husband was living a double life does a number on you. Who knew, right?”

Jules cracks a small, rueful smile at that and says, “Who knew indeed.”

Leigh thinks back to the time when she believed she knew Matt inside and out, a belief so deeply ingrained it felt like a cornerstone of her identity as his wife. She prided herself on their connection, convinced that they shared everything—every thought, every fear, every dream. It was a pride rooted in the belief that she knew him better than anyone else could, and he, her, in the same intimate manner.

It was the kind of recognition that’s not only about knowing his favorite color or the way he took his coffee. It’s deeper and more layered. She knew the exact tone of voice he'd use when he was about to apologize, the look in his eyes when he was holding back tears, the subtle shift in his posture when he was trying to be braver than he felt. And she thought he knew her just as intricately—the silent language of her sighs, the meaning behind her quietest smiles, the small, everyday details that they believed only they could understand about each other.

“It's hard, you know? Feeling like you're mourning someone who never really existed,” Leigh mumbles after a long pause.

“Yeah, I can't even imagine,” Jules responds, reaching across the table to give Leigh's hand a brief squeeze. “But I'm here, okay? Even if I don't always get it right.”

Jules, Drew, Danny, her mom—all of them—rarely get it right. It has always been Matt.

He has always been all she has and needed.

Even if Leigh wasn't aware that she was probably just getting his scraps.

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps thinking over the next several days. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It doesn’t help that there’s a new member who has also been widowed, and she’s sharing about her late husband who had quite a number of mistresses throughout their eighteen years of marriage.

Leigh listens, her fingers twisted together in her lap, as the woman talks about the signs she missed, the lies she believed.

“I just keep thinking,” the woman's voice breaks, “if I'd been more attentive, more... I don't know, less demanding, maybe things would've been different.”

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps screaming inside. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It took Leigh a long time to return to the apartment she shared with Matt after his passing.

Mostly, it's because Leigh found it difficult to confront the scattered remnants of him that would remain untouched in his absence. No longer would he be picking up his favorite shirt or completing another page of his crossword puzzle book. Yet, these belongings would remain his, just as Leigh felt she still belonged to him.

So it’s ironic that now, surrounded by the same belongings in her bedroom at her mother’s home, she's being overwhelmed by the impulse to turn them all into ashes. In a sudden frenzy, Leigh grabs a box and begins to throw everything inside. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, only matched by the soft thuds of objects landing in the cardboard.

“Stupid fucking toys!” she shouts, tossing a figurine with more force than necessary.

“And this shirt—what were you thinking?” She grabs a garishly patterned fabric, shaking it at the empty air as if expecting an answer.

Her voice cracks, “You're not even here, and you're driving me crazy!”

As Leigh's wrath burns through the remnants of Matt’s life, her thoughts take a dark turn. The things he owned, the pieces of his life flying from her hand—it all leads her back to the one person who had a piece of him, a piece that was never hers.

The thought of your face, the one that belonged to him too at one point, flashes in her mind, and she's on the edge of losing all control.

If only Leigh could throw you into the box too.

Finally, she finds the book he gave her for her last birthday, the one she never read, and for a moment, her movements pause. Then, with a cry of anguish, she tosses it in as well. When the box is full, she kicks it. Once, twice, thrice—each kick releasing a burst of pent-up fury until she's gasping for breath.

A knock at the door startles her. It's soft but persistent, making it obvious that whoever is outside has heard the commotion in her room. “Leigh, honey, are you done in there?” Amy's voice seeps through the wood.

Leigh wipes at her eyes. “Almost. I, uh… just give me a minute,” she calls back. She’s not done—not really. But she’ll probably set the house on fire if she doesn’t stop here.

Pushing herself up, Leigh opens the door. She knows the sight she presents isn't pretty—eyes swollen red, nose a mess, and those dark circles. But her mom has seen this look more times than either would care to count.

“You okay?” her mom asks, though the answer's written all over Leigh's face.

Leigh shakes her head, no energy to pretend.

“Want some breakfast?”

Again, “No,” slips out.

Then, “Need a ride to the studio?” her mom tries again.

“Yes,” Leigh finds herself saying, clinging to the offer like a lifeline, a small acknowledgment that life, somehow, must go on.

The following day, Leigh looks at the box, then at everything around her. She mutters, “Screw this,” and starts pulling everything out of the box, putting it all back where it came from.

Leigh's back at running, not because she loves it, but because the sun insists on poking her awake before the rest of the world stirs. It's an old hobby, dusted off to fill the gaping mornings before her first yoga class.

It’s easy to do because she realizes she’s good at it. Leigh’s only been at it for just a couple of weeks and already she's feeling fitter, faster. She likes the pain too, not being aware before that there are different kinds of pain, and some of them do feel good—addicting even.

Mid-thought, her routine jog takes a wild left turn: stranded in the middle of the bustling traffic is a French Bulldog, looking decidedly out of place. Ignoring the honks and the near misses, Leigh bolts across the street. It's a bit of a mad dash, dodging cars that are swerving and braking hard. She scoops him up in her arms and doesn’t stop to think about the close calls.

It hits her then—she's surprised at her own gutsiness, not even pausing to think that she could've been clipped by a car not paying attention. Maybe all this time spent wrestling with thoughts of death has brought her to a strange peace with it and is no longer scared of it. It's like she's danced with death so much, it's just another shadow she passes by—not something that paralyzes her in place anymore.

Leigh’s not sure if being this fearless is actually a good thing though.

After cooling her heels on the sidewalk for half an hour, with no owner in sight, she shrugs and decides he’s coming home with her.

Jules gives her a scrutinizing look the moment she walks in. “What, you went out for a run and decided to get a dog?”

“Rescue mission,” Leigh shoots back, setting the dog down. “Found him in the middle of Second Street. Seems he’s lost.”

Jules doesn't miss a beat, heading straight for the newcomer. She kneels, her hands gently petting the dog, her eyes softening in a way that Leigh rarely sees. The dog, clearly pleased with the attention, wags its tail vigorously. Her eyes are practically giving her away, so it sounds almost funny when she looks up at Leigh and says, “Just don't get too attached, okay?”

“I won’t, which is why I named him Visitor. It’s temporary,” Leigh says with a smile, looking very proud of the name she came up with.

Jules chuckles, standing up and brushing off her knees. “Nerd. Matt would've gotten a kick out of that.”

The room just freezes at the mention of his name. Talking about Matt is like walking into a glass door you didn't see.

Jules tries to backpedal, “Hey, sorry, I—” But Leigh's quick to brush it off with a shrug.

“Don't worry about it. Let's just figure out where Visitor here belongs, okay?”

As they refocus on Visitor, Jules can't help but notice the way the dog favors one leg as he trots over to sit snugly between Leigh's legs, looking up at her with those big, trusting eyes. “Looks like he's got a bit of a limp,” Jules points out.

Leigh frowns and leans down to get a closer look, her fingers gently probing around Visitor's leg until she finds a tender spot. The moment she applies a little pressure, Visitor yelps, pulling away sharply and retreating a few steps.

Jules winces at the reaction. “Yeah, that's not good. Maybe we should take him to a vet?”

Leigh can barely hold back a grimace as her brain immediately links you to the situation.

“What's wrong?” Jules notices the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood. “There's St. Mary's Animal Clinic nearby. I heard they're great.”

That's your clinic. Leigh's throat tightens at the thought, the memories of her visit flooding back. “Are there others around here?”

Jules looks puzzled at the question. “I mean, I can look it up, but what's wrong with St. Mary's?”

Leigh considers whether she should tell Jules about meeting you. Part of her really knows it’s unfair to dislike you, especially if you genuinely didn't know Matt was married. But she knows Jules too well—tell her, and it'll turn into a whole thing. Leigh's not sure she's up for that drama.

Despite her reservations, Leigh decides to bite the bullet, her curiosity getting the better of her. Besides, if she can’t be brave enough to talk about this in her counseling group, she should probably at least tell Jules.

“Actually, Jules,” Leigh begins, “St. Mary's Animal Clinic is where... where she works.”

Jules's eyes widen in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait, you mean... you mean her, as in…?” she stammers, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yup,” Leigh confirms, smacking her lips forcefully.

“Oh my god—that bitch,” Jules spits out, her voice dripping with disdain before Leigh can even brace for impact.

“She didn’t know Matt’s married,” Leigh clarifies quickly.

“And you bought that?”

“I had a feeling she was telling the truth. Besides, I can’t imagine Matt being that brazen to pursue someone while married. He can be a little self-righteous sometimes,” Leigh says, only half-sure of her statement. Recently, she has to remind herself that maybe she never really knew him at all.

Then, an idea sparks in Jules's mind. “You know what?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe this is a good opportunity. After all, she owes you one, right? Maybe she'll treat Visitor for free, to make up for being... well, you know.”

Leigh rubs her nose, skeptical of the idea. “I don't know, Jules. I don't want to impose…”

Jules leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if she's the reason you're hurting, maybe she should make it right?”

She isn't hurting because of you, not directly. That's why Jules’ suggestion hangs in the air, unappealing. Leigh remembers the pity in your eyes from that morning, and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything from you at all. Her resolve instantly hardens like ice.

“No,” Leigh finally says. “I don't want her charity. I'll pay for Visitor's bills myself. And I'll keep the receipts for when his real owners show up.” It's a decision that feels surprisingly empowering, a small reclaiming of control in a world that's felt off-kilter for too long.

Jules merely sighs; she knows better than to push Leigh when her mind’s made up.

“Have it your way.”

Leigh brings Visitor to St. Mary’s the very next day.

There's a certain set to her jaw, a readiness for something less than pleasant. She doesn’t need to go through reception this time because she spots you right away, escorting a client to the door, cradling their puppy in your arms. Seeing you with a pet makes Leigh realize why you’ve chosen this profession. You fit right in among the animals, she muses bitterly.

It's with a sense of satisfaction that she watches your smile dissipate as soon as your eyes land on hers.

She strides confidently towards you, dog in arms, forcing you to quickly hand off the puppy back to its owner. Yet, you recover with a swiftness that's begrudgingly admirable as you give her a look that’s equal parts professional and friendly—like you were actually looking forward to seeing her again.

“Good morning, Leigh. How can I help you?”

Without a word, Leigh extends the dog she’s carrying towards you, a silent transfer of trust, or perhaps, necessity. You gesture towards the consultation room, an invitation she accepts with a terse nod, following you into the space where you effortlessly shift into doctor mode.

As you begin to charm her dog, she can't help but narrow her eyes. It irks her, watching Visitor take to you instantly, as if you were old friends. “What's his name?” you ask, looking up at Leigh.

“Visitor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the name, just in time for your irises to capture the light seeping through the office blinds. They glow a hazel-brown, disarmingly so. Leigh forces herself to focus back on the purpose of her visit.

Leigh continues, “He’s limping on his left hind leg. I’d appreciate it if you can prescribe him something. I'll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Ignoring the undercurrent of Leigh's insinuation, your attention remains undividedly on Visitor. The well-being of the dog before you eclipses any personal sentiments, as it always does.

“I'm sorry, but before we can consider any medication, I need to examine him thoroughly. It's possible he might require some lab tests to rule out anything serious,” you tell her. Despite sounding apologetic, Leigh interprets it as your polite way of telling her to fuck off and let you do your job.

As you palpate the dog's leg carefully, you begin your routine questions. “Can you tell me his birthday? Any vaccination history?”

They’re basic, but they seem to catch Leigh off guard anyway. “He’s not mine. I found him on the street yesterday,” she reveals with a reluctant sigh.

The news prompts a more detailed response from you.

“I see. In that case, we should definitely line up some tests for Visitor. We need to ensure he doesn't have distemper or any other airborne virus that could be affecting his mobility,” you suggest, already mentally cataloging the necessary procedures.

You start detailing the tests you intend to perform, explaining their purposes and associated costs. Leigh is clearly deluged by it all and you decide to take pity on the poor woman by adding that it’s still up to her which tests to proceed with, if any at all.

“Your call, Leigh,” you tell her.

Leigh can't shake off the vibe that you're throwing a gauntlet down in front of her. It's like her inner competitor wakes up, refusing to back down. “Do all of them,” she declares, tipping her chin up towards you. “Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s a good decision. We’ll take care of it right away,” you say, already picking up the phone to call the reception for assistance.

Leigh's still trying to get a read on you. Was her arm twisted into this choice, or did you genuinely have Visitor's best interest at heart? She's not about to hand out trust like free samples, especially when she could end up misjudging you. It’s a tricky spot, especially because she’s clearly been wrong before.

The tests take their time, roughly an hour, after which Leigh finds herself pacing the lobby. An additional quarter-hour trickles by before the receptionist finally calls her back into the consultation room.

“Good news,” you start, making sure to catch her eye. She meets your look briefly before her attention shifts to Visitor. “It's only a sprain. The X-ray revealed no breaks or other issues. But,” you pause, checking to see if she's still fully engaged, “his blood tests indicated a low platelet count and evidence of an infection.”

Leigh listens intently, nodding along.

You explain what this means in a clear, concise manner, avoiding medical jargon as much as possible. “It's something we can manage with medication. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for the infection and pain medication to help with his discomfort. It's important that he completes the course of antibiotics to clear the infection completely.”

You watch Leigh closely, gauging her reaction and ready to answer any questions she might have. “We'll need to keep an eye on his platelet count, so I'd like to schedule a follow-up visit next week. This will also give us a chance to check how his leg is healing.”

“Will he be okay?” she asks without looking up from Visitor, busy scratching behind his ears.

“He'll be just fine,” you reassure her, adding, “Any questions about what we discussed?”

Leigh stays silent and you take it as your cue that she doesn’t have any thoughts on the matter. As she wraps up without saying much more, you realize it's time to wrap things up too. But there's something niggling at you, something that's been on your mind since the last time she was here. You're about to let her go, but then, out of nowhere, you feel this urge to clear the air about that whole mess with Matt.

“So, uhm, about the other week when you…” you trail off, suddenly feeling like you're balancing on a tightrope without a net. You’re not so easily spooked by confrontations, but Leigh makes you nervous in a way you can’t explain. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry… for your loss, and for—”

“Does he really need to take pain medication for seven days?” Leigh cuts you off suddenly. It’s sharp enough for you to shut your mouth and abandon your attempt to get personal.

“Yes, the full course is important to ensure he's comfortable and that the inflammation goes down properly. It's just as crucial as the antibiotics for his recovery…”

Leigh nods, carefully scooping Visitor into her arms, preparing to leave.

You try one last time. “Leigh, I really am sorry–”

“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Y/L/N,” she says dismissively and then she’s gone.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

582 notes · View notes

sad-endings-suck · 1 year

Text

There is a certain type of ship dynamic that simply cannot be created or replicated artificially and it’s called “this couple was never meant to be a canon ship but their chemistry is just so incredible we had to do it anyway” and I love it more than anything.

2K notes · View notes

jokeringcutio · 11 months

Text

DRABBLE/ Insomnia!READER X THE GRABBER

Fandom: Black Phone 2022

Pairing: The Grabber/ Albert Shaw x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dark!, Non-con/Dub-con, Forced!Blowjob, Smut, Insomnia!Reader, Kidnapped!Reader, Victim!Reader. Implied age gap/ older man/younger woman, somnophilia, use of Little/good Girl.

AN: for @ninakuli How would the Grabber react if the reader couldn’t get to sleep? Well, this might be one of the ways.

“Can’t sleep?”

The rough voice made you look up from your position lying on the moldy mattress. You wondered how anyone could sleep here. A stranger’s house, a damp basement, an unknown environment. The walls were bare except for the painting peeling down. The tiny barred window that let in the only light, whether it was day or night because of the lamp that hung in front of it, was up too high. The walls absorbed any sound. It was a prison made with hellish barriers.

And then there was that stranger who came watching. You never knew when he would be down here. Never knew what he would do next. It had you on edge. How could anyone ever sleep when he was around?

So far, he’d mostly been down to watch you, talk to you, work on your mind until his words confused you and you started to believe you’d ended up here all because of your own doing. That you deserved being here.

But there had been that one time when you had pretended to have been asleep, eyes closed, in hopes he would become bored and turn away. But instead of leaving, you had heard his breathing deepen. And then you had felt his hand between your thighs, fingers pressing deep into your clothed skin until one finger curled against your covered cunt. You could still feel his fingertip press against your sensitive bud. The touch hadn’t lasted long, for you’d shot up instantly and his hand had been back by his side almost just as fast. But you were certain it had not been a dream.

And now you were scared of him. Frightened, that if you were to go to sleep, he might take you in it. That he might claim your body as his own when you could not fight back.

Anxiety ate you, piece by piece until it wrecked your nerves and made you shiver with fearful anticipation. Any sound would trigger a panicked reaction and would have you sit up and open your eyes. Because he is here again, isn’t he? Even when he wasn’t. You were constantly alert, ready to shy away from any advances he might try to make.

And so, you blinked up at him fearfully while you wondered what he would be doing next. He’d commented on your lack of sleep the past few times he’d been down there, annoyed that he couldn’t watch you sleep like he had the others. You didn’t know how many had been here before you, only that he somehow seemed to enjoy observing them when they weren’t awake.

Creep, you thought. You wondered if he got off of it. And why he couldn’t just enjoy you while you were awake?

Perhaps that had been a wrong thought to have, because what he said next made shivers run down your spine.

“I know just the thing.” Just the thing for what? To make you sleepy? You wondered for a moment if he referred to some kind of drug, or if he might just knock you out with one of his fists. But he did neither.

He cocked his head to the side, the mask’s chin pointed at his right shoulder. He was observing you, his stance pensively. What was he thinking? But then you regretted that thought when the man came over to you, coming closer than he had in the past few days.

“An ancient old medicine,” he said, voice low and gruff, while he started to unbuckle his belt. And that was the moment you realized what he might be implying. What he might want from you. He probably had wanted this all along.

Your eyes grew wide with fear as you tried to crawl back on the mattress until your back hit the wall and you couldn’t back away any further. “It has proven to be very effective over time,” his husky voice sounded. Then a chuckle emerged from behind the mask as he pushed his pants and underpants down to reveal an achingly hard cock, pre-cum dripping from the tip and glistening in the faint light that fell in from the window above.

The belt was wrapped around his right fist, the end of it dangling in front of you.

You tried to shield your eyes with your hands. “Please,” you begged when you noticed he’d stepped even closer and completely ignored the fact that you had tried to get away. “No, please,” his hand was upon your wrist, yanking it away to uncover your eyes. You looked up at him, tears glistening in your eyes, while you pleaded for him to spare you. “I’ll go to sleep,” you said, voice choked by tears. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll go to sleep. You don’t need to do this.”

He paused in his actions and there was that tilt of his head again as he studied you through the hole-eyes of the mask. The belt dropped from his hand and fell to the basement floor with a clank.

His right hand came up to your cheek and you flinched, afraid he might slap you there. But his touch was gentle, his palm lightly upon your skin. You opened your eyes again to look up at him mistrustingly and wished you could tell what kind of expression he held behind that darned mask he was wearing.

You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he was taking his time, standing there, only inches away from you. He was gently caressing your cheek, his thumb tracing circles. The motion was soothing as if he was trying to comfort you. It worked as well, for you felt your shoulders relax somewhat, despite your brain being on full alert.

His other hand was holding his cock. The aching hard member twitched in his grip as a new spurt of pre-cum droplets emerged from the tip. You tried not to look at it, which was hard as his shaft was on eye-level with you, ready to be brought to your lips.

Would he do it? You wondered how far he would go. He hadn’t touched you before like this. He’d been mostly at a distance. Except for that one time. But it figured he would eventually succumb to these primal desires. Why else had he taken you? If it had been just to kill then he would have done so already. Why keep you alive if not for this?

You whimpered, slightly trembling under his caress. A low hum escaped the masked man, then he stood straight again and you saw him move his upper body. The vest he was wearing fell open, his naked stomach showed. Round, you thought, pudgy. Yet, the muscles that showed on his chest betrayed your kidnapper was a man of strength. A strength that was confirmed almost instantly when he suddenly reached for you.

You felt your head being yanked towards him, and his shaft that had been angled at your lips was now pressed against them, begging you to spread them wide. He kept pushing, roughly, until the meat was between your lips and the head of his cock was upon your tongue. The salty taste of flesh mixed with the bitterness of the pre-cum filled your mouth and you hollowed your cheeks. And then he started to thrust.

You looked up at him, pleading silently for his mercy. But at the sight of your tear-stained eyes, his thrusts grew even fiercer and his grip on your head even tighter. You were left with no alternative but to suck, accepting his cock deep inside your throat.

Low, deep rumbles came from the depth of his chest when you started to cooperate. He was pleased, humming and moaning ‘oh yeah’ and ‘just like that’. Sounds that vibrated through his cock until you felt them in your mouth.

Dirty, your mind provided you while he moved you up and down his shaft. The salty and bitter taste of him filled you completely. The curly hairs around his manhood pressed into your nostrils when he pushed your head forward, blocking off your chance to breathe. You sputtered around him, feeling the tip at the back of your throat, feeling his cock spasm between your lips.

You gurgled and sputtered, trying not to choke. A moment of respite when he slid your head back again and his cock nearly left your lips, but then he pushed forward again until his hips met your cheek and your nose was nestled deep within his pubic hair.

You gasped and tried to claw at his hips, but all you felt was how he kept a tight grip on your head and stilled his movements, leaving his cock deep between your lips, the head pushing the back of your throat.

The process repeated itself a few more times, until his cock finally slipped from your lips and you were left gasping for air. A trail of sperm and saliva dripped from your lips and ran down your chin. You moved your hand up to wipe it away, but he caught your wrist before you could get there.

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you heard a chuckle derive from behind the mask. “Na-ah,” the man tusked, his low gravelly voice making something twist deep inside you. A longing, a tingle that had you squeezing your legs together. A foreboding feeling washed over you, that he wasn’t finished just yet. That this was only the beginning.

“Leave it there,” the man hummed. The pause that followed felt too long, making you writhe uncomfortably while you waited for him to either speak or let go of your hand. In the end, he did both, nearly at the same time. “I think I will have to cover your face in a layer of my spunk next time,” there was that rasp again. You had heard it before, how he could slide from a normal, almost gentle tone, into a demonic rasp that was usually used when he was angry and full of curses. “Paint your face a nice white with my cum,” he clicked his tongue behind the mask. His voice became lighter again.

“But for now, there’s another way I have in mind to tire you.”

You shivered at the promise and tried to back away again. The man in front of you got hold of his throbbing cock, wrapping his left hand around it. You saw how his fingers curled around the glistening shaft, still covered in your saliva, and watched how the veins throbbed when he moved his hand up and down at a firm but gentle pace. The ring on his finger glinted in the weak light, skin rippling as he pumped his hand up and down his throbbing cock. Still hard. Balls underneath heavy with cum.

“Undress, sweetie,” he cooed, voice soft like honey. But when you refused to do as he said, his tone turned drier and more menacing again.

What happened next was much of a blur. He made you undress for him, tweak your nipples for him, rub your hands up and down your bare chest for him while he watched and laughed and licked his tongue past his teeth at the show. His hand never ceased moving up and down slowly, hardening himself underneath his touch until he thought it was enough.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” it took only one command and you were back on your back on the mattress. Your bare back scrubbed along the mold. Even covered in the dark shade of the mask, you could see the glistening of his eyes, pupils wide. You hesitatingly spread your legs for him.

He crawled over you, cock still in his hand, and pressed your legs apart to fit himself in between. His right hand was on your thigh, palm pressed against your soft skin. His left hand guided his cock to your quivering cunt until you felt the head kiss your labia. A wet feeling against your pussy lips and you realized he was smearing his pre-cum at your entrance, deliberately rubbing the head of his cock up and down your entrance while some of the pre-cum came seeping out.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders and your lips parted in a gasp. “Please,” you begged, knowing it to be futile. Then he dipped in, just the head. Careful fingers pressed the tip in. Not enough to hurt yet, just enough to tease.

He paused in his actions just to bend down, his hair brushed against your cheek as he whispered near your face. “That’s my good girl.”

Then he thrust forth without mercy.

You were speared upon his cock that night, in the basement that was your prison. He left you sore and tired as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling body beneath him.

He’d been right. You closed your eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber afterward, relieved when he finally rose from the bed and left you alone. You were too tired to notice when the Grabber returned for you in the midst of the night to get some more relief. Until you faintly awoke to wet sounds and the odd feeling of something thrusting deep inside you.

“Hush, pretty girl,” the low voice whispered in your ear, hips moving relentlessly while he kept pushing himself inside. One hand was on your breast, squeezing it tightly while he toyed with you. His other arm was around your waist, his knee between your legs as he held you from behind, your cunt squeezing down on his cock which was covered in your mixed juices.

“I’ll make you go to sleep soon, little one. Don’t you worry. I’ll make you sleep real deep.”

#Going real deep here #the grabber x reader #dark smut #grabber x you #albert shaw x reader drabble #drabble fill #prompt fill #insomnia reader dark fic

1K notes · View notes

multific · 1 year

Text

More Than

Deckard Shaw x Reader

Warning: PinV sex

Summary: You had a tendency of avoiding your problems, but what if the problems come after you?

Deckard and you had good chemistry.

Both on and off missions.

But you didn't let yourself fall into the delusion that he would possibly want more from you than sex.

Deckard after all was a handsome man, rich and good at his job, he could get anyone, so why would he want you?

You were sent on the same mission as him and Hobbs.

Needing to go undercover, Shaw and you decided to play the part of the rich couple.

You desperately needed info from a computer which was of course in an office where they are holding a gala tonight.

What a coincidence!

So you had to play dress up with Shaw and play the part of the wife.

Of course, this was all Luke's idea because why wouldn't it be.

But you weren't going to lie, the dress that hugged your curves, the high slit which showed off your leg, it all felt a bit too much.

"Stunning." was all Shaw said when he saw you which did give you a little boost of confidence.

The way his arm held you close to his side, the way he smirked at everyone who asked about you, he looked like a proud husband.

"I got the USB let's go." you said as you were ready to dip, but then a man made a comment. The man clearly had enough champagne for that night.

Deckard immediately turned around after hearing the comment.

"What did you just say?" he let go of you as he walked towards the man.

"I said, your wife is nothing but a gold digger. A whore." the man said with probably way too much confidence.

"That's my fucking wife, no one will disrespect her!" Deckard looked mad. As if he really was your husband.

When he threw the first punch you let out a sigh. You just leaned back and waited until you heard the man's jaw and nose break and the security threw both of you out.

"Dickhead." said Deckard as he walked to his car opening the door for you.

"He was drunk." you said as you both got into the car and he started to drive.

"Yeah, now he had a broken jaw and nose on top of that."

"You know I don't care what he said right? I'm not a gold digger or a whore so..."

"He still had no right to say those things."

"Thank you for standing up for me though." you placed your hand on his shoulder as you saw him get calmer.

Mission accomplished.

The World was saved yet again.

Deckard offered to drive you home, which you agreed to.

"Thank you for driving me." you said as you turned to get out of the car but his hand on your forearm stopped you.

"Y/N... I am not good with words," he let out a groan.

"Don't do this please, we both know you don't want anything from me but sex. I feel the tension, yes, but I told you before, I'm done fooling around." his eyes locked with yours as you finally looked at him.

"I'm not-That't not-I don't just want sex from you, Y/N. I want more so much more." you looked at him but didn't say a word. "You don't believe me do you?"

"I'm sorry, Shaw."

"You have no clue how much I need you. Please just give me one chance. I can't keep going on like this. All I can see is you. Whenever I'm with someone, all I can think about is you, Y/N."

"Deckard..."

"I'm serious, I'm not saying this so I could get into your bed." you opened the door as he let go of your arm.

"I-I don't know." you said honestly before getting out of the car and you ran to your home.

You honestly didn't know what to say. He looked sincere, but you had your doubts.

No matter how you felt towards him, no matter how much you liked him, you knew his kind. You ran into this many times in your life before.

You fell for a man who never wanted you as a whole. They just wanted you for one thing and once they had enough of that, they moved on.

And you were done with that.

But if he was like your exes, why did he look so sincere?

---

Deckard punched the wheel, watching the door close behind you, he knew he fucked it up.

He should have been more honest with you. Why was he so bad with words?!

All he could do is curse himself, now he made things awkward on top of the tension.

Great.

---

Later that night, you were on your couch, thinking. Still, trying to figure out whether you should believe Deckard and jump into something that you might get hurt from?

Strangely enough, you could see yourself and Deckard having a happy life.

A knock came from your door and you stood up, finally, your food was here.

Nope.

Of course, it was Deckard.

"Look, I just-"

"Order for Y/N Y/L/N?" both of you turned and saw the guy with pizza in his hand.

"Yes. Thank you. Keep the change." you said as you got the pizza and headed inside. "Come in," you said, turning to Deckard who headed into your home.

He looked around as you went to the kitchen. Your home was very you, with a bunch of collectables on your shelves. He leaned against your doorframe as he watched you prepare your pizza.

"I didn't lie. I have feelings for you that I cannot describe. But I know they are real." you tried to decide what to do. Should you reject him? Or accept his confession and risk getting hurt again? Your eyes looked everywhere but him.

"I don't want to get hurt. I have been, way too many times in the past."

"I know that. And I can't promise that I will never but I can promise you that I won't give up on you. I would burn the world for you."

"The fact that I find your accent extremely sexy doesn't help my situation. The way you protected me when that asshole called me all those names... You make me believe in more than you should."

"You don't believe that I would burn the world for you?" he took a step towards you.

"You don't want you to. I just want you to be by my side. To help me and to be there for me."

"I can do that too. I can watch sappy movies and cuddle on the couch."

"But do you want to? I don't want you to change for me. I don't want you to realize you became someone you didn't want to be because I forced you to."

"You didn't force me. I wouldn't offer if I wasn't sure about it. Sure watching some Disney wouldn't be my first choice but it would do me good to take a step back from action." he watched as you took small steps towards him, you were still unsure but he was confident in what he wanted.

He wanted you.

In more ways than one.

So, when you finally arrived in front of him, his arms moved around you as he pulled you into a kiss, something both of you craved for a long time now.

---

Maybe, possibly, having sex as the first thing you do wasn't the best way for him to prove it to you that he was serious.

But you weren't complaining and neither was he.

You tasted so sweet on his tongue and you kept moaning as his mouth worked his magic on you.

And the fact that he had no hair which you could pull on didn't help. One of his hands was holding your thigh while the other had two fingers moving in and out of you, spreading your wetness as he now focused on your clit.

Your hand found his as you squeezed his fingers.

His name fell from your lips like a mantra.

"I'm going to make you cum with my mouth, twice, then I will pound you into your bed and after I will slowly fuck you like you deserve." his voice and promise rang in your head over and over as you kept inching closer to yet another orgasm.

Your legs shook a little as you came, he guided you through it nicely.

"Up on your knees." he said as if it was soo easy. You just had an orgasm you could barely breathe.

So, he helped you up, ass in the air, head in your pillow as his cock soon found his way into your tight hole.

"Fuck, how are you this tight?!" you heard him behind you but you were far too gone. When he started to move his hips your eyes rolled to the back and you just kept moaning.

You heard how wet you were, you heard how the bedframe kept banging against the wall and you heard his soft moans and groans as he sped up.

You felt like some kind of doll which he was using for his pleasure and you loved it. He grabbed your hair and pulled on it slightly as he moved his lips down your spine, sometimes stopping to bite on your skin.

His pace never once changed or slowed down. He kept on going and he knew exactly what he was doing.

"You good, Doll?" he asked and you could only nod. "Look at you, being so afraid I would use you for sex and now... you can't even speak. Does it feel good?" you nodded again and he smirked snapping his hips and making you gasp. "Good Girl, you feel so fucking good." at his praise you started to move back to meet his thrust. "Good girl." he growled into your hear and you felt another orgasm coming. "You are getting tighter, are you gonna come?"

"Yes." you breathed out and so he leaned back again, moving, watching his cock disappear in you.

With a loud cry, you came as he slowly fucked you through it, praising you the entire time.

At that time, all you could think about is that if he is giving it to you this good, you were okay with being used by him all the time.

"I'm still not done." he said and you nearly forgot.

He moved you to lay on your side as he moved behind you, his cock never left you as he started to move again, holding your leg up a little for better access. He really kept his promise as he was now a lot slower and softer than before.

"You feel so fucking good." he said as he sucked the tenth hickey into your neck.

"Can you come in me?" you asked in your daze, forgetting completely about the condom he put on earlier. But he decided to play along.

"You want me to breed you, Baby? Come deep inside and watch it ooze out of your fucked little hole?"

"Yes." you said and it was as if a switch got turned on in him.

He let go, his composure changed drastically as he now let himself get lost in the feeling. Moving so deliciously in and out of you he kept moaning and groaning, biting and kissing your skin.

He felt like he was melting, as if you two became one and he fucking loved this feeling.

"I'm close." he whispered and you grabbed his hand, giving him some form of leverage as he kept fucking you slowly and deep.

"Deckard, please, I'm close."

And so, both of you came at the same time. Everything slowed down for just a second.

But soon, both of you were taking deep breaths as you tried to calm yourselves.

You could barely stand but he carried you to the tub and let it be filled with nice warm water.

"Maybe, tomorrow we could go for dinner." he said as you run your fingers over his chest, he had you close to his body as the warm water surrounded you two.

"I'd like that. You think my pizza is cold now?"

"Definitely, are you hungry? Or would you rather sleep?"

"Eat, then sleep. We can reheat the pizza and eat it." he nodded.

He held you closer to his chest as he let out a sigh of relief. He certainly didn't expect for this night to end like this.

This was all he ever wanted.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

1K notes · View notes

4alarmfirecracker · 20 days

Text

"The only thing I know for sure is I... need... you."

#POI #Person of Interest #Shoot #Root x Shaw #POI*#Shoot*#POI:s4 #POI:4x09 #POI:s5 #POI:5x09 #POI:5x10 #Yeah sorry for all the other ships ... Shoot is still my fave with xena x gabrielle #and you know Rizzles is close too

155 notes · View notes

bosinclairsgff · 4 days

Text

What the slashers smell like

Warnings: this is realistic lol

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly, Amanda Young, Mark Hoffman, RZ Michael Myers, The Grabber, Thomas Hewitt

A/n yes I realize this may be just a bit weird

- He smells like grease, sweat, and a cheap cologne. Of course there’s a hint of iron on him most days buts it’s just faint enough to miss. Bo definitely washes his hair with soap.

- This man is musky I’m sorry. He probably doesn’t shower a lot. His hair is very greasy, all the time. He usually smells like a moldy basement and sweat. With a waxy smell (duh).

- This man smells like blood, sweat, alcohol and a man who hasn’t showered in YEARS. He is stinky sorry girls. He also smells like piss.

- Baby takes better care of herself than Otis does. She smells like alcohol, blood and maybe I cheap perfume she stole from one of her many victims. Something floral.

- She takes regular showers so she’s not stinky. Amanda doesn’t care what shampoo she uses so she probably smells like coconut or vanilla, whatever she found at the store. I say she most likely doesn’t drown herself in perfumes. However there’s slight irony smell about her most days.

- This man smells like a expensive cologne he bought years ago and still hasn’t used it all. Also, he DEFINITELY uses three in one shampoo, conditioner and soap.

- He smells awful. Reeks of death and literal shit. Michael kills humans and animals, he’s stinky guys. He doesn’t know how to take care of his hygiene. His breath is AWFUL to.

- Albert loves being clean and well kept. He showers regularly, brushes his teeth regularly and wears a nice cologne. His cologne smells like old spice.

- Another stinky boy! He does not shower, ever. Maybe he’ll take a bath? I doubt it though. Thomas smells like blood, human shit and pure musk. You know how in cartoons when someone stinks there’s a green cloud? Yeah, that would be him.

131 notes · View notes

fandomnerd9602 · 5 months

Text

Y/N walks in and sees Leigh’s Christmas sweater…

Y/N: oh goodness that sweater is ugly!

Leigh: you picked it out for me!

Y/N: I know. I did that on purpose

Leigh: why?

Y/N: because I wanted you in something so hideous, I’d rip you out of it the first chance I could

Leigh: you have to catch me first (laughs)

Y/N chases Leigh around the house…

#sorry for your loss #sorry for your loss imagine #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #leigh shaw #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x you #leigh shaw imagine #Christmas #christmas fluff

158 notes · View notes

funnyexel · 1 month

Text

Short Stories

A little cuddle session (Gender/Sexuality Friendly)

Potential Yandere x Abused Fem!Reader

Quiet Tsundere x Reader

Yandere Villian x Identified Female Reader

I’ve Missed You Beloved (Jack Sparrow x Gender Neutral Reader)

Newt Scamander x Black Female Reader (Oneshot)

Afraid of My Words (Request : Billy Loomis x Black Female Reader)

Give Yourself To Me (August Walker x Black Female Reader)

Second Chance (Gally x Black Female Reader)

Lets Play a Game (Albert Shaw x Black Female Reader)

A Routine (Brahms x Black Female Reader)

Yandere Blurbs

he's obsessed (yandere blurb)

loves you. hates them. (yandere blurb)

a thrill ride of obsession (yandere blurb)

its the stalker (yandere blurb)

missing items (yandere blurb)

what if your stalker loses the remaining piece of human decency he has left (yandere blurb)

102 notes · View notes

gingiesworld · 5 months

Text

Confusion

Leigh Shaw x Step Sibling GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

Since the moment Leigh had ended her fling with Danny, her dead husband’s brother, she had been in a kind of limbo. She has been moody, depressed, afraid that she can’t escape her old life, unable to move forward.

“You’ll be fine Leigh.” Jules comforted her one night as she cried, after having a dream about Matt.

“He won’t leave me alone.” She sobbed as Jule’s grip tightened around her.

“Maybe you should move on.” She tried as Leigh shook her head no.

“I tried that.” She told her as Jules chuckled.

“I mean move on away from the Greer family.” She told her. “Maybe Y/N.” She teased as Leigh shook her head.

“They’re my step sibling.” She told her as she shoved Jules away with a laugh.

“Well, that’s never really stopped their obvious crush on you.” Jules told her as Leigh raised a brow. “Ever since we have been kids, they’ve always had heart eyes for you.”

“No.” She shook her head as Jules nodded. “That can’t be.” Her words trailed off.

After that moment, she spent days racking her brain as she remembered every moment from their childhood, from the moment her father married Y/N’s mom before she passed. Every time they had done something for her without asking, helping her with homework that she didn’t understand. Even defending her in high school when she would get bullied by the cheerleaders and the jocks.

It had been weeks since Jules’s revelation, every time she had seen Y/N around her father’s home, fixing things that needed to be fixed, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander, but she never realised that she would have to see them so soon.

“Hi?” She questioned as she answered the door to them, unsure of why they’re there with their tools.

“Your mom told me she had a problem with the washing machine.” Y/N told her as she nodded, letting them inside and watching as they walked through to the utility room. Once she closed the door, she took a deep breath before following them, watching as they started to take apart the drum.

“Do you want some coffee or water?” She asked them.

“Coffee please.” They answered with a smile, a smile that had made Leigh’s heart skip a beat for the first time. As she waited for the coffee to brew, her thoughts were plagued by them, unholy thoughts as she watched them start with the washing machine. She has already seen how strong they are, seeing them work on the new construction sight.

“Are you ok?” They asked her as they entered the kitchen.

“Yeah.” She breathed out as she kept her eyes on their movements, watching as they reached under the sink. “What are you doing?” She asked them.

“Just some bicarb, it helps with the belt.” They told her. “It was full of grime so it wasn’t spinning as well as it should have been so I've cleaned most of it but putting it on a drum wash with a cup of this inside will help more.”

“How do you know this stuff?” She asked them as they shrugged.

“I guess I’ve always liked the idea of mending things that are broken.” They told her before leaving to head into the utility room, soon followed by Leigh and two cups of coffee in her hand.

“What if you come across something you can’t fix?” She asked them as they shrugged, sipping the coffee from their cup.

“I guess if I can’t repair it, it doesn't matter how much research I do but I won’t be able to fix it, I just have to move on.” They told her as she nodded, thinking of what to say next.

“Why have you barely spoken to me since college?” She asked them.

“I don’t know.” They spoke unsurely. “I never really thought about it.”

“It’s been since the moment I met Matt.” She stated as they finished their coffee before packing away their tools, wanting to get out of the house and away from the conversation. “Is it because of your feelings for me?”

“How do you?” Y/N asked her, hurt in their eyes as she raised a brow. “I have to go.” They tried to walk past her but she stopped them.

“Just tell me the truth. I deserve that at least!” She yelled as they squeezed her eyes closed.

“Yes!” They yelled, their eyes glazed with tears. “I have been in love with you since I can remember, and yes, I became distant when you and Matt started seeing each other because it wasn’t me. It would never be me so I left you alone.” Leigh listened as they poured their heart out. “So I tried to move on from you, from this hold you have on me but I can’t and I hate it!” She watched as they stepped around her, leaving the house as Leigh remained frozen in her place.

As the hours passed, Leigh remained locked in her thoughts, wanting to apologise to Y/N but they were ignoring her calls, so she decided to ask her dad for their address. Soon racing through the city towards their house, she smiled as she remembered how they always said they wanted a nice little house, never really seeing the appeal of an apartment.

“Leigh?” They spoke unsurely as she walked around to find them chopping up firewood. “What do you want?”

“I want to apologise.” She told them. “I was out of line.”

“I respected you.” They told her. “That’s why I never acted on my feelings for you, that’s why I kept my distance because I respect you, I respect your boundaries.”

“I know that.” She tried as they shook their head.

“You don’t.” They whispered as she approached them. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember, when we were kids, you used to say that you would marry me one day.” She sighed as she remembered the moments when her father and their mom dated. “You said you would always love me more than life itself but I grew up realising that everything we had felt, it was all one sided.” They sighed as they put the axe down. “You never loved me the way I love you.”

“You don’t know that!” She yelled as she now stood before them. “We’re siblings.” She told them. “We still are.”

“I never saw you as one.” They told her. “I saw you as the one who owned my heart but I guess the joke’s on me.” She watched as they entered their house, following them as they washed their hands.

“What can I do?” She asked them as they shook their head with a dry chuckle.

“You can leave me alone.” They told her. “Just let me try to move on from you.”

“But.” She tried as Y/N gave her a sad look.

“I just need to move on from you, from what will never be because I can’t deal with this.” They told her. “So please leave.”

“No.” She whispered as they clenched their fists.

“I need you to leave.” They told her in a broken whisper. “Just leave me be and move on with your life.” They opened the door for her, waiting for her to move before she stopped before them.

“You do know that you are one of the most important people in my life.” She told them.

“Just not important enough.” They told her before closing the door behind her. Sighing as they leaned against it, squeezing their eyes as they heard her car door close, but not hearing the footsteps as she climbed the steps and knocked on the door again. Y/N opened the door reluctantly, seeing a confused Leigh, watching as she cupped their cheek, gazing into their eyes.

“I just need to see something.” She whispered as Y/N remained frozen, eyes closing as they felt her breath fan over their face, sighing as they felt her lips on theirs, kissing tenderly before their hands moved to wrap around her waist, soon finding themselves lost within each other as Leigh pushed them inside the house, kicking the door closed as she pushed them down on the sofa, straddling their lap as she felt everything and more with each passing moment, every action igniting her being as she found herself beneath them, panting and moaning as they moved down her body.

The two of them lay cuddling on the sofa, just a blanket wrapped around them as Y/N’s arms held her close. She smiled as she felt alive for the first time in years, even just the slightest touch of their fingers brushing her arm softly ignited her.

“What are you thinking?” She asked as she looked up into their eyes.

“I don’t know if this is real to you.” They told her honestly. “I just need to know because I don’t think I can stay if this doesn’t mean anything to you.” She shuffled to straddle their lap, cupping their face as she looked into their eyes.

“I guess you can say that I needed to open my eyes to what was in front of me.” She told them. “This feeling I have right now is the most alive I have felt in my life, I guess it has always been you. It’s always going to be you Y/N.” She kissed them softly before the two smiled. “We should shower.” She whispered as her hands massaged their sweaty shoulders, Y/N nodded before picking her up, carrying her up the stairs as she giggled. The two happy and content.

#leigh shaw x you #leigh shaw imagine #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth chase olsen

166 notes · View notes

writing-house-of-m · 6 months

Text

Playing Games & Mischief

Leigh Shaw x GN!Reader

Summary: Leigh's sleep talking has you wondering what she could have been dreaming about

A/N: I only got this request when I asked for some ideas last week, which I'm actually grateful for lol Here you go anon, I hope you like it. It is very cute in my opinion 😌 but let me know what you all think!

You have been wanting to see Leigh all day, she was already gone when you woke up this morning. There has been something you wanted to ask her since you woke up in the middle of the night last night.

Something you think will embarrass Leigh which means you have to mention it for your own entertainment.

The sound of the front door opening and the rustling of bags indicate Leigh is finally home. ‘Finally!’ You think. You have had to wait for her all day (a few hours).

Sneaking into the kitchen you quietly walk up behind Leigh and wrap your arms around her, your voice is low when you speak. "Hello wife," you say, pressing a kiss on Leigh's neck.

You don't think you will ever tire of saying that - 'wife'.

Leigh greets you back and when you look up to see the full grocery bags she turns her head to peck you on the cheek. She busies herself with emptying the contents of said bags.

After you place another peck on Leigh's shoulder you pull away giving her some space to continue with what she is doing.

You stand by her side leaning against the counter and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Mrs Leigh Shaw, my love, my wife, the eternal light of my life." Leigh raises an eyebrow at your antics wondering where this is going to go. “I have a question for you.”

You don't wait for a response and continue, "Does 'You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them' sound familiar to you?" You ask.

Leigh squints her eyes at you confused.

To clarify, you add sweetly, "What were you dreaming about last night, love?" While grinning.

It's quick, and if you were anyone else they would not have seen it. There is the briefest look of realisation on your wife's face before she schools her features once more.

And even though you know she knows you can catch her in a lie, she still chooses to withhold the truth from you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, babe." Leigh grins back then turns around to walk to one of the cabinets to put some cans of food away. Purposely looking away from you because she doesn't want you to see the sheepish look on her face.

Oh, she wants to play. Time for a little fun.

"Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie,” your grin widens as you raise an eyebrow.

Leigh makes her way back to stand next to you seemingly unaffected.

Being with Leigh for so long means you know all the right buttons to press. So the tone of voice you use is one you know will get a reaction out of her.

You lean in close, one hand leaning against the counter, the other going to the small of Leigh's back while you speak low, “You know, I know when you're lying. Why must we play these games, Mrs Shaw?”

Leigh glances over at you from the corner of her eye then sighs, resting her hands on the flat surface in what you think is defeat.

You're so close to her now you can practically feel the effect you have on her especially with your voice teasing Leigh right by her ear, "Tell me love, what was it you were dreaming about?"

Leigh turns her head to you, your lips inches apart. You twitch your eyebrow while biting your bottom lip ready for Leigh to fall victim to your charm.

What you don't expect is for Leigh to reverse the roles.

"What if I say I was dreaming about you?" It's Leigh's turn to raise her eyebrows and bite her lip.

"I had you in the palm of my hand,” she narrates sultrily, hand on your chest to push you so that your back is pressed against the edge of the counter. “And you just wanted to," Leigh's hand slowly makes its way up your bicep,"touch me." She finishes as her hands glide up your neck and rest there.

Goosebumps flair on your skin as you sigh, affected by how close she is, her breath brushing your lips. Your eyelids droop as she takes hold of your stings and plays you like a puppet.

This is not going how you thought it would.

"Then what happened," you whisper. You're surprised you even get the words out with the way her fingers play with the hairs at the nape of your neck.

"And then," she pushes her body, if possible, even closer to yours. Her soft edges mould perfectly to you while your arms catch up to the instructions your brain is sending out to wrap around her waist. You feel heat radiating from your cheeks and the tips of your ears when she brushes her nose against yours.

When she leans in, “And then…” you blink slowly waiting for the gap to close. But Leigh pulls away, "And then I woke up!" She slaps your cheek twice then heads out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there in a dumbfounded mess.

"You can finish with the groceries, I'm going to go shower," Leigh says, her voice bright. She pauses at the doorway to look over her shoulder at you. You, with your wide eyed, mouth agape look of despair, "love." Then proceeds to walk away.

You rub the back of your neck while you scrunch your eyebrows together, "What just happened?" You sigh to yourself, looking at the items that still need to be put away. Your brain then slowly catches up with the fact you had just been played.

Freezing for a second, it hits you. What she instructed. And where she is going.

You scoff as a smirk takes over your face and before you know it you're racing off in the direction your wife just went, "Leigh Shaw, you're going to regret that!"

When Leigh hears your footsteps closing in on her she tries to run away but you are too quick for her. Leigh shrieks when your arms wrap around her, capturing her like prey.

You both fall into a fit of laughter stopping a few feet from the bathroom. Turning Leigh around in your arms, she buries her face in your neck to avoid looking at you, playing coy.

"Nuh uh, let me see those pretty eyes, baby," you say, using your hand to guide her face away from its hiding place.

When her green eyes meet yours your smile is automatic. You swear you see them sparkle with how much they seem to be shining at this moment. The sparkle you initially think is admiration turns out to be mischief.

She raises an eyebrow, "So, how exactly am I going to regret my actions?" Leigh asks cheekily.

"Let's just say, 'You did some bad things, but I'm going to be the worst one of them'." You mock Leigh with her own words from last night, making yourself chuckle.

In response Leigh rolls her eyes, pushing your shoulder.

Shortly after, the mischievous look takes over her face once again, "I want to know how you're going to punish me."

That damn lip bite is going to be the death of you, but this time you are not going to let her win.

You lift her up with ease and lean in close, your lips barely grazing hers to say, "Oh, I have a few ideas," before closing the gap between you and making your way to the bathroom.

173 notes · View notes

komotionlessqueenmm · 1 year

Note

Can i request something platonic with the grabber? like maybe y/n is one of the kids he took and he grows attached or something

Platonic headcanons here we go!!!!

Headcanon/Preference # 29

Picture & gifs NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

*I wrote this with the idea that the reader is like preteen to teen, female and comes from an abusive/neglectful home life. So ⚠️Warning⚠️ sensitive topics ahead!

✨Albert "saves" you~

• The first time Albert ever saw you, it was while you were at the hardware store he works at, shopping for house paint with your father. (Who of course was making you carry everything, despite being twice your size himself.)

• Initially he didn't really think much about it, or you for that matter. But when you were trying desperately to haul everything up onto the counter, you'd dropped a paint can, which spilled paint everywhere.

• He would have been upset with you, if your father hadn't immediately backhanded you as of you were a grown adult. The sheer force sent you flying to the paint covered floor, where you wept softly while you father yelled and berated you.

• It was then that he noticed how malnourished you looked, how pale, and the bruises on your arms and legs. The lavender sundress you wore, clearly way to big for you, and filthy long before you fell into the paint. Albert wondered subconsciously when was the last time you'd eaten, or gone outside to play?

• He kicked your father out, and begrudgingly you along with him. Because despite himself he didn't want to see you suffering. So for the rest of the day he devised a plan, and within a week of stalking you and your family, Albert kidnapped you and locked you way in his basement.

• He'd even gone out of his way to clean up the basement a little, and put clean sheets on the musty mattress down there. He wasn't planning on hurting you like all the others, no no he was saving you! You just needed time to adjust to it, before he could move you to the spare bedroom upstairs he'd decorated just for you.

• The authorities actually didn't know about your disappearance until the school called. Your parents essentially just shrugged it off and told the cops you'd run away. So no one thought the infamous Grabber had snatched you. He only kidnapped boys after all.

• When you woke up to find Al watching you, sitting on the floor against the across the room. Initially you were startled of course, I mean who wouldn't be? But he spoke softly to you, assuring you that you were safe now. And you honestly believed him.

• He promised to return in a few hours with food and soda, and he kept his word. Bringing you a meal of baked linguini, which he had clearly picked up at a local restaurant. Along with your favorite soda, how did he know that was your favorite?

• When you inquired about it in a soft whisper, Albert couldn't help but chuckle behind his grinning mask, explaining that he wasn't a very good cook, but he wanted you to have a good first meal with him. He left out the fact of how he knew that was your favorite soda.

• Making smalltalk as he sat at the foot of the mattress, watching while you ate, you absentmindedly told him about how you're a fairly good cook. Stating about how your family always made you cook, clean, and maintain the house.

• Albert asked why you were so skinny then, if you were the one cooking. And you explained that your family kept you locked in a broom closet beneath the stairs when you weren't working. And you only ever got the scraps, and oftentimes expired or stale foods.

• That fact confirmed his suspensions about your home life, and it enraged him to say the least. You are a dream, a sweetheart, why would anyone hurt you? But he contained his anger as best he could, he didn't want to scare you after all.

• As the days went by, Albert made it a point to take care of you better than any of your family ever had. Al never wanted kids, still doesn't, but you become like a little sister to him. And he became someone you looked up to for protection.

• When Max was away Albert would let you come upstairs. And he'd let you bathe in peace and privacy, and also let you watch cartoons in the living room. He also provided you with new clothes, clothes that actually fit. And eventually he took down a TV and VCR for you, and a bunch of tapes. He didn't want you getting bored down there, when you had to be confined until Max left.

• Sometimes he'd even sit down there and watch the tapes with you, even bringing popcorn and candy for you both to munch on. It didn't matter what the movie was, he just enjoys seeing you happy and now much more healthy.

• He would show you all sorts of magic tricks, especially on days when you were sad, which was usually a result of having nightmares about your father taking you back, and locking you up in that musty broom closest. Al enjoys the sound of your laughter, and he smiles when you smile.

• Sometimes when you're feeling a bit more childish, due to not having a childhood, you play pretend with stuffed animals Albert brought you, and sometimes sometimes Al will play with you. He especially enjoys having tea parties, and it's the perfect time to show off his magic tricks.

• When it nears the time for you to move out of the basement, and into the room Albert has set up for you. He finally starts to visit you without his mask. The first time he took it off, he sat across from you and actually let you remove it. He figured it would be a good way to make you feel safe and comfortable.

• He was very pleased with how comfortable you'd become with him, with and without the mask. But the real thing that made Al so proud of you, was that you never once tried escaping, or been naughty in any way. You'd been very polite and proper the entire month and a half you'd been with him.

• When you finally met Max, you did as Albert asked you, and kept his little secret. Albert easily convinced his brother that you were a runaway that he found, and decided could stay with them. (Obviously not telling him how long you'd already been there.) And Max accepted his explanation without question.

• The room he moved you into was perfect in every single way. And he was so happy about how excited you got while examining everything within the room. That was the first time you hugged him, practically tackling him in a tight hug, which initially startled him, but he relaxed and hugged you back quickly.

• He knew you still needed an education, but he couldn't exactly enroll you in the public school, considering the county still thought you were a runaway. So he opted to homeschool you as best he could, which in turn took up all of his spare time. And the disappearances had suddenly stopped after you ran away. What a coincidence.

• One day when he was feeling particularly soft, Albert let you mess with his hair, which resulted in several braids with decorative beads and rings being put into his soft hair. He felt a little ridiculous of course, but you were so happy that he didn't mind it. Thank god Max wasn't home!

• You eventually take it upon yourself to try teaching Albert how to cook, which results in quite a bit of chaos in the kitchen, and a hell of a mess for you both to deal with in the end. But he's a fast learner when he's got such a great teacher assisting him.

• You also helped Max to sober up! And helped him to find a really awesome job, both of which Albert had thought were impossible.

• Samson of course took a liking to you, and often slept either at your feet, or in your bed with you, depending on what you were up to.

• Albert's lost count of how many times he's found you curled up with his dog like he was a big ol' teddy bear. Albert is also a teddy bear with you tbh, but no one say anything okay? Okay!

*Hope y'all enjoyed! 🥰

583 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 6 days

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (9/?)

Part Summary: You get more than you bargained for on Halloween

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 7.300+ | Warnings: Light angst, R and Leigh being obtuse | Author's Note: Longest chapter so far (and about 90% of it is just Leigh and R)! I have officially written another novel length fic with this update. From a two-shot to this? Wouldn't be possible without everyone's support. Thank you, everyone. I have a little treat for you at the end.

Despite Leigh's promise to bring Logan in for his vaccinations, she missed the appointment again for the second time. Understanding that life gets hectic, you decide that rather than seeing Logan miss another round of critical vaccinations, you'll take matters into your own hands and arrange a home visit at the Shaw’s.

On the day of the visit, you discover that Logan has gained 2.5 pounds in just two weeks. The drastic weight gain might indicate that he’s not a purebred Shih Tzu as you originally thought when you got him, or Leigh has been feeding him more than the recommended serving size. You can feel Logan’s solid back as you hold him in place while you administer the vaccine on his scruff. Leigh appears nervous, and if you weren’t determined to scold her after completing Logan’s immunizations, you might have found it adorable.

“Just a quick pinch, buddy,” you murmur soothingly to the anxious pup. Logan yelps as the needle pierces his skin, but within two seconds, it’s over. You rub his neck to distract him from the sting of the medicine, then return to your insulated bag to dispose of the syringe. Leigh watches closely as you finish with Logan, a slight frown creasing her forehead. You notice she's dressed in what you figure is her nightwear—a thin olive camisole and matching capri pants. It seems too dressed down for receiving a guest.

“Why are these vaccines so important, anyway?” she asks lightly, but you don’t miss her apprehension behind it. “I mean, he'll mostly be indoors…”

The frustration from her missing two appointments sneaks into your voice as you say, “Vaccines can mean the difference between life and death for puppies. Take the parvovirus—it's lethal and spreads quickly.”

Leigh nods, taking in the weight of your words. You notice her swallow, perhaps realizing the graveness of her oversight. “I didn't realize it was that serious,” she murmurs.

You catch yourself, realizing you might be coming across as harsher than necessary. “It's alright, Leigh. That's exactly why I came here,” you say mildly. You've dealt with many uneducated dog owners before, and Leigh is no different. You know you need to be patient with her, just as you have been with others, and you remind yourself not to let your personal feelings interfere with your professional opinions.

Logan wiggles happily at your feet, seemingly forgiving you for the shot already. “And another thing,” you add, glancing down at Logan’s round belly, “he’s put on quite a bit of weight. We need to watch his diet. Too much food isn’t good for him either.”

Leigh looks slightly embarrassed. “I guess I've been spoiling him with extra treats,” she admits. “I'll be more careful with that.”

“It’s okay. I know how hard it is to say ‘no’ to that face,” you say, smiling at Logan while you rub his chin. “Just keep to the recommended portions, and he’ll be in good shape.”

As you gather your things to leave, you remember Logan's vaccine card. After filling out the final details, you head towards the kitchen where Leigh has silently drifted off. She's busying herself with breakfast on the stove when you approach.

“Here's Logan's vaccine card,” you say, handing it to her. “He needs another dose in two weeks, so don't forget to schedule that in.”

“Thank you,” Leigh says, accepting the card with a nod. “I won't forget this time.”

The aroma of coffee wafts through the room, tickling your nose.

“I've just made some coffee. Would you like to stay for breakfast?” Leigh asks.

You hesitate, considering the offer, but you’re inclined to refuse, still irked by her missing the previous appointments. “I’m good, thanks,” you say, a bit too briskly. Leigh's face falls slightly, a look of disappointment flashing across her eyes before she gives you a small, resigned smile and turns back to the stove.

You start to leave but something stops you—the frustration from Leigh’s no-shows running over.

“Leigh, can I ask why you didn’t make it to the clinic? And not even a text,” you find yourself saying as you spin on your heels to face her. “It’s not just unprofessional—it hurts more coming from a friend.”

“If you have a problem with me, it’s perfectly okay to transfer Logan to another clinic as long as you’ll follow through with his appointments,” you suggest, noting her standing there, mouth agape, her vivid green eyes sharply focused. Getting that off your chest didn't bring the relief you expected. Instead, you're left with a sinking feeling of regret. Looking back on your words, you realize how petty they must have sounded.

Leigh on the other hand, is momentarily stunned by your outburst, her eyes wide as she absorbs your words. Then, something shifts in her expression, a flicker of intrigue crossing her features before she clears her throat and apologizes.

“I'm really sorry,” she says sincerely, turning off the stove and setting down her spatula. “I didn't handle things well, and you were right to call me out on it.” Leigh takes a careful step closer, causing you to instinctively step back until your lower back meets the edge of the dining table. You weren't expecting Leigh to be so understanding, leaving you unsure of how to react. Should you apologize for getting upset?

Fortunately, Leigh doesn't leave you to dwell on your thoughts for long. She continues, “Why don't you stay for breakfast? I can whip up something nice, and we can catch up like we used to. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Feeling like an absolute fool and still grappling with the aftertaste of your flare-up, you find yourself in a quandary. Rejecting her offer would just drag out this uncomfortable moment even longer, which is the last thing you want. Besides, your stomach is growling—you haven’t eaten anything since you got here, and the smell of brewing coffee is too good to ignore.

“Alright,” you relent, glancing down at your feet. “That sounds good.”

Leigh looks relieved. “Perfect, just give me a minute,” she says, clapping her hands together as she turns back to her cooking.

You linger awkwardly, still standing. “Need a hand with anything?” you ask.

“Just sit there, be all pretty, and relax.”

That little compliment makes your cheeks burn even hotter. If you weren’t so distracted by your hunger and embarrassment, you'd swear it’s almost as if she’s flirting with you.

Wait.

Is she?

Then, as if the universe can hear you thinking, Leigh’s phone buzzes loudly on the kitchen counter. She snatches it up, and even though you can’t see her face, you can tell she’s happy he called as she chirps, “Hey, Danny.”

Right. Danny Greer. That name shatters your brief daydream. Suzie was right—you're too close, and it's clouding your judgment. Leigh laughs into the phone, and you look away just in time for her to turn slightly and steal a glance at you.

Alright, you think, that's it. After this breakfast, it's time to really put some space between you and Leigh. You need to clear your head and let her have her space too. It's the best move, for the sake of your friendship and your sanity.

As Leigh busies herself in the kitchen, you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through your phone, not really focusing on anything. The sound of her laughter while she talks to Danny floats over to you, making you regret agreeing to stay for breakfast and blame your inability to say no to her.

She ends the call with a lingering smile and soon approaches with two plates in hand. Each has a stack of pancakes and two sunny-side-up eggs with the edges just crisped up how you like them. The fact that Leigh remembered leaves you speechless. It’s a small detail, but it makes you guilty for brooding and feeling all jealous.

“I hope you still like your eggs this way,” Leigh says as she sets the table.

“Thank you,” you say warmly as Leigh pours coffee for both of you. Recalling her preference, you offer to add two sugars to her cup, and she rewards you with a small, appreciative smile. She then grabs the syrup from the fridge, along with two sets of utensils, and places them on the table.

You take a bite of the fluffy pancakes, perfectly cooked and deliciously light. “These are amazing, Leigh,” you say enthusiastically.

Leigh beams, standing a bit taller with pride instead of dismissing the praise. “I'm glad you think so! I've been working on perfecting the recipe.”

“Seriously, Leigh, you could sell these.”

She laughs. “Keep the compliments coming and I might just make you breakfast more often.”

You almost choke at her words. You really should take a little break from Leigh until you can get this crush under control. Even simple remarks are starting to feel like a tightrope walk.

Leigh tilts her head slightly, a coy look crossing her face. “So…” she drawls, leaving the word hanging as she waits for you to look up from your plate.

You stop chewing once you sense her heavy gaze on you. “Hmm?”

Leaning in slightly, she lowers her voice as though about to share a secret. “This Sara... is she a friend of yours? Someone new around here?”

The piece of pancake suddenly feels like a mouthful of sawdust as you process her question. You grab your coffee and take a quick gulp to help wash it down. “I, uh, met her on a dating app, actually,” you say.

Leigh's eyebrow arches. “Oh?”

There’s a short, tense period where you repeatedly stab your pancake and tap your foot rapidly against the leg of the stool you’re sitting on, while Leigh twirls her hair around her finger, lost in thought.

“She’s gorgeous,” Leigh finally says. “I didn’t know you were into women.” That is, unless you and the person from her advice column are one and the same. She's chosen to approach what she's dubbed the “EspressoEyes conundrum” as a Schrödinger’s cat scenario, where you simultaneously do and do not have feelings for Leigh.

You fiddle with your coffee mug. “Yeah, I think I've mentioned that before,” you say, though your memory suddenly feels unreliable.

Leigh shakes her head, certain. “No, you definitely haven't told me that.”

“Well, yes, I'm into women, but obviously I like men too,” you say, deciding it's perhaps better to just be clear.

“We're the same then,” she says casually, as if discussing something as mundane as their taste in movies.

“Really?” You’re hoping Leigh is buying the faux surprise on your face, even though Jules had let slip about Leigh's college days.

“Yeah,” Leigh nods. “I had a serious relationship with a woman back in college. It's not something I talk about much, but it's part of who I am.”

“I see.”

Leigh takes a slow sip of her coffee, eyeing you over the rim of her mug with a slight tilt of her head.

“So, do you like her? Sara, I mean,” she asks.

“Yeah, she’s great. We get along really well.”

Leigh sets her coffee cup down with a small clink, not missing a beat. “Have you guys...you know, slept together?” she asks, more bluntly than before.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling a bit like you’re under interrogation. “Um…no, we haven’t.”

A quick glint flashes in her eyes before it vanishes. Her shoulders relax as she leans back in her chair. “Sorry, that was out of line,” she mumbles with a curt, dismissive laugh. “I guess I'm just being nosy.”

The way she said it doesn't truly suggest she's sorry for crossing some lines, but you’re not focusing on that. Rather, you feel like you’ve earned the right to ask Leigh some questions about her own personal affairs.

“And you?” you start, trying to sound flippant. “How are things with you and Danny?”

Leigh matches your nonchalance as she stands up to gather the empty plates from the table. There's a smooth, practiced ease in the way she begins cleaning up, letting you know she's not about to let your questions corner her.

“Things are... going,” she replies, keeping it vague. “Danny's great. We're figuring things out as we go.”

“Where'd you meet him?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“He's Matt's brother,” Leigh says flatly, without flinching. You have to give it to her for being so straightforward about it. Not that you’re judging Leigh or anything—it’s just that moving from in-laws to lovers is quite an unconventional transition.

It’s also possible that you’re just bitter.

“Did you always find him attractive?” you ask, almost spitefully, curiosity getting the better of you. Leigh freezes, her back going rigid at your callous words. There's a moment of visible tension, but then she lets out a slow breath and lets it slide. She had been quite direct in probing about your dating life, so perhaps this levels the playing field.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Leigh says slowly. “I—”

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!”

Neither of you heard the front door open. Jules bursts in, holding Logan who's wagging his tail wildly at the sight of familiar faces, both oblivious to the cutting atmosphere they've just entered.

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!” Jules exclaims. She looks between you and Leigh. “Am I interrupting something?” she asks, noticing the residual stiffness in the air.

“Y/N was just leaving,” Leigh says.

You don’t need to be told twice. “Hey, Jules,” you say with a short wave. “I just came to give Logan his shots.”

Jules frowns slightly as you start to leave so soon after her arrival. You reach over to give Logan a quick pat on the head. Turning to Leigh, you manage a tight smile and say, “Thanks for the breakfast.”

As soon as you're out the door, Jules turns to Leigh with a worried look. “What was all that about?” she asks softly.

Leigh shrugs, her expression inscrutable. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replies evenly, turning away to busy herself with the dishes.

You get into your car but instead of starting it, you just sit there motionless. Your hands rest aimlessly on the wheel as you lose yourself in thought.

Here’s the truth about Sara:

She's exactly your type on paper—blonde, blue-eyed, stunning. But despite all that, she hadn't managed to hold your attention. Her beauty just couldn't pull your mind away from Leigh, from her vivid green eyes that always seemed to see right through you.

The silence in the car allows you to realize what an odd question you had thrown at Leigh about Danny. You realize just how inappropriate it might have seemed, how it must have sounded coming from a place of jealousy rather than concern.

Why did you even ask that? The answer is uncomfortably clear: you can't be just friends with Leigh. Not anymore. You’ve been lying to yourself, hoping things would just sort themselves out. But they won’t. Not like this. You can’t keep doing this to yourself—or to her.

Because right now, this friendship, if you can even call it that, is doing more harm than good.

“It’s not working.”

Suzie looks up from her clipboard, startled. Her red locks tumble across her face as she tilts her head, brushing them back with a quick flick of her hand.

“Seeing other people, you mean?” she asks, already guessing the root of your distress.

You run a hand through your hair, messing up your low ponytail. Frustrated, you decide to let your hair loose from the tie altogether.

“I thought if I met someone like Sara—someone who’s practically a checklist of everything I find attractive—it would make things easier. But it’s just... not.” You massage your temples, as if trying to rub away the spell Leigh seems to have cast on you. “She's perfect, but she's not Leigh. And no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about Leigh.”

“You're right about one thing though,” Suzie says, getting back to her task.

“Which is…?”

“That Sara’s perfect,” she chuckles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “Look, you can’t force these feelings. If your heart’s not in it, it’s not in it.”

“So…Should I keep seeing her? Maybe she’ll grow on me or something.”

Suzie stops and gives you a serious look. “Maybe. But love shouldn't feel like an obligation, you know? It’s not fair to either of you if you’re just waiting to see if you’ll catch feelings.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” you acknowledge with a sigh. “She’s everything I thought I wanted. And I think she likes me.”

“Sometimes what we think we want isn’t what we really need,” Suzie answers. “Why not take a break? Give yourself some space to think. It might help you figure out what really works—whether it’s Sara, someone else, or just time to yourself.”

“You think so?”

Suzie gives a small shrug. “Look, I don’t have all the answers.”

Hearing that makes you feel a tad embarrassed. You’ve been leaning on her for advice a lot lately, and it’s probably awkward for her, especially since you're her boss. Maybe she’s just being nice because she has to be.

“Thanks, Sue,” you say, standing up from your chair to head back to your office. “I appreciate you listening to all this.”

She smiles back, and you can tell she’s relieved to move on from the subject. Suzie might not have all the answers, but maybe there’s another place you can find them.

That night, in your bedroom, you settle in front of your laptop, the cursor blinking expectantly on the blank submission form of the advice column. You type in your handle—EspressoEyes—a moniker you’d used before, thinking it would increase your chances of being noticed again. Quickly, you type out your query and hit send, watching as it disappears into the digital ether. No sooner have you shut your laptop than your phone rings. It’s your mom.

“Hey, Mom,” you answer, shifting to sit against your headboard.

“Hi, sweetheart! Are you coming home for Thanksgiving? We’re starting to plan the menu and would love to have you,” she says. Your chest tightens. Just hearing her voice makes you feel like you’re already home. You pretend to think for a second, considering your rather empty social calendar.

“Yeah, I’ll come home,” you decide, realizing it might be nice to get away for a bit.

“Oh good! It’s been too long. We’ll make sure to have all your favorites,” she chatters on, already listing the dishes that would normally make you salivate. But these days, you just don’t have the appetite for food.

“Sounds great, Mom. Really looking forward to it.”

You hang up with a promise to send your flight details soon. Setting your phone down, you feel a slight relief at the thought of escaping to a place where no one knows about the mess you’re in.

Leigh can’t sleep. She lies wide awake, staring at the ceiling while Danny's snores fill the room. The weight of his arm draped over her stomach feels stifling, trapping her in place. She can’t breathe. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slips out from under his arm and tiptoes out of the bedroom. In the hallway, she grabs one of his shirts hanging over a chair and slips it on. It smells like sandalwood and something uniquely him—comforting yet somehow off-putting at the same time.

She pads into the kitchen to boil some water, the soft click of the stove burner igniting a comforting sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. With the kettle on, she wanders into the living room, pulling Danny's shirt closer around her. Even with the windows closed, the crisp chill of autumn seeps in.

Sitting on the couch, Leigh pulls her knees to her chest. The post-sex cocktail of oxytocin and vasopressin usually knocks her out, but tonight they fail her. Instead, her mind is filled with doubts and the urge to flee from any kind of closeness.

She remembers the last conversation with you, the disapproval on your face when you finally mentioned her relationship with Danny. It troubles her more than she expected. Were you right? Is she just scrambling to fit someone, anyone, into her life, even if it means ignoring the screams inside her head telling her to run?

The kettle whistles, snapping her out of her thoughts. She makes her tea and settles back into the couch, stirring slowly as she thinks about what it might mean to step back from everything—Danny, you, all of it.

With nothing but time until sleep takes her or the sun rises—whichever comes first—Leigh picks up her phone to distract herself. She scrolls through social media, news articles, anything to keep her mind off the spinning thoughts. Eventually, she wanders to the advice column inbox to check on the latest submissions.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees another entry from EspressoEyes, a handle she recognizes—possibly yours. It reads:

“Is it wise to pursue other relationships if you have strong feelings for someone else? That someone is a friend, and staying just friends is becoming increasingly difficult. My feelings seem to be putting a strain on our relationship. Should I give myself some space?”

Leigh reads the message two more times. She sets her phone down, her thumb instinctively finding its way to her mouth where she nibbles at the nail, a nervous habit when she’s thinking long and hard. And the more she thinks about it, the more obvious it becomes. Of course, she's the friend you're talking about. This is you, openly struggling with your feelings for her. She had hoped things might change, might become less complicated when Sara came into the picture, but she was mistaken.

When she asked about Sara, Leigh was trying to gauge your feelings for her, wondering if Sara's presence meant she didn't need to worry about whether you were EspressoEyes or not. In her mind, if you were involved with Sara, it would imply you weren't interested in Leigh. But she surprised even herself by asking if you had slept with Sara, unsure why she needed to know that detail. Deep down, she couldn’t openly admit just how relieved she felt when you told her you hadn’t.

Leigh picks up her phone again and starts typing out a reply to the submission. When she’s done she tosses her phone somewhere on the couch and goes back to her tea. Sitting there, she watches as the sky outside shifts from dark to a wash of pastels.

A week later, Leigh’s phone vibrates incessantly on the table, the screen lighting up with Danny's name again. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she turns it off and sets it aside. They've been cycling through breakups and makeups so often it's exhausting—a twisted routine, one that's leaving her more drained each time.

It's Halloween, and since she and Danny are off again, Leigh decides to take the night for herself. She picks Matt's favorite restaurant, which is fully decked out for the holiday, with jack-o'-lanterns lining the walls and eerie candles flickering on each table. She orders a pumpkin-spiced latte and a small plate of appetizers, settling in to enjoy her evening solo. Later, she’ll have that tiramisu that her late husband so adored.

Matt always loved this holiday because it was the one time of year Leigh would indulge him by dressing up as whatever comic book character he was into at the moment. They'd start the evening here for pre-dinner celebrations before meeting up with friends and family later on. But tonight, there are no costumes for Leigh; she's dressed simply in jeans and a cardigan, her face free of makeup, her hair tucked behind her ears to keep it out of the way while she eats.

As she waits, she watches families and couples in costumes come and go, a bittersweet creeping up at her.

Then, you walk in. You’re dressed sharply, scanning the room like you're meeting someone—on a date. Leigh catches her breath. Were you aware that this was Matt’s favorite restaurant? Moreover, it’s been almost two weeks since that awkward morning when you left in a haste. You haven’t noticed her yet. Leigh watches you for a moment, debating what to do. She’s torn between going over or staying put. The last she contributed to the advice column, she’d left a message she hoped you'd find useful if you were indeed the person she’s been advising to. From the look of things, maybe you were taking that advice after all.

Taking a deep breath, Leigh stands and walks over. As you turn and notice her, a small, tentative smile appears on her lips when your eyes meet.

“Hey.”

You return the smile, though it's imbued with a bit of wariness. She appreciates it nonetheless.

“Hey,” you say.

Leigh doesn't beat around the bush; she gets straight to the point of why she came over. “Look, I'm sorry,” she says, the words coming out almost demandingly. “About last time. I crossed a line asking about Sara.”

There's an unmistakable assertiveness to her apology, carrying the same confidence and directness with which she usually addresses any issue. She doesn’t bow her head or wring her hands; instead, she holds your gaze steadily, expecting her apology to be taken as seriously as she means it.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly in line myself when I brought up Danny,” you say, looking up at her. Then, searching for something else to say, you ask, “So, are you here to meet Danny?”

Leigh seems unfazed by the mention of Danny, yet again. You feel a bit silly soon after, realizing that after just acknowledging the awkwardness of digging into each other’s romantic lives, here you are, doing it again. You just can’t help yourself, can you?

“No. I’m on my own tonight,” she replies. Then she mirrors your earlier question, a slight tilt to her head. “And you? Here with Sara?”

“No, things didn’t push through with Sara. I’m meeting someone new,” you say, the words feeling strange as they come out. It was a simple yes or no question, and you're not quite sure what compelled you to open up about the specifics of your dating life.

Leigh just nods, her face neutral, not giving away anything in reaction to your news. “I should let you get back to your, uh, date,” she says, then quietly returns to her seat.

Having a date with a stranger just a few feet away from the woman you truly care about is about as ironic as the universe can be.

You’re on your second americano, the bitter taste barely registering as you glance at your watch for the umpteenth time. It's been thirty minutes past the time your date was supposed to arrive, and there's still no sign of him.

The restaurant has filled up around you. Families are tucked into booths, laughing and sharing plates piled high with food. Groups of friends clink glasses in cheerful toasts, and couples lean close, whispering and smiling over candlelit tables. Sitting alone at a table set for two, you start to feel conspicuously isolated.

The last two texts you sent within the hour remain unanswered, their blue bubbles on the screen marking the time you spent waiting. Determined to find some explanation, you open the dating app where you met him, your fingers tapping nervously. There, his profile pops up, showing that he is currently online. Relief washes over you for a moment—maybe there's a reasonable explanation. He might still show up. But as you tap the message icon to send him a query about his whereabouts, a sudden notification stops you: you can no longer message this user.

Feeling disheartened and embarrassed, you can’t help but feel all kinds of ugly for being stood up by someone who doesn’t even mean anything to you. Did he see you waiting and decide not to meet? What about you turned him off? You find yourself scrutinizing everything about your appearance. Was it what you were wearing—perhaps not feminine enough for his taste? Your hair was pulled back, exposing your forehead; maybe he didn't like that look. Or was it your posture—too slouched or too stiff? You even wonder if he might have passed someone else on his way here, someone he found more attractive. It's unsettling to realize how quickly the self-confidence you've spent years building can be shaken in just one evening.

You signal the waiter for the check. Although your stomach is growling, the thought of eating anything seems impossible right now. You're just focused on getting out of there as quickly as you can. Just as you finish paying, Leigh appears at your table. Without a word, she slides into the seat across from you. You're surprised to see her, and although you're not really in the mood for company or conversation, her presence is somehow less intrusive than you would expect.

“I couldn't help but notice your date never arrived,” Leigh comments with an amused smile, inadvertently adding salt to the wound. You think to yourself, Way to rub it in, Leigh, but you're too drained to actually say anything confrontational, so you just mumble a small, “Yeah.”

Leigh leans in a bit closer, lowering her voice as if she's about to let you in on a secret.

“Want to get out of here?”

It’s definitely not a date. Far from it.

It’s just two friends winding up spending Halloween together by chance.

It’s what Leigh keeps telling herself.

Leigh didn’t know what came over her when she went back to your table. She hadn't thought she'd be asking you to ditch the restaurant and wander the city for the rest of the night—together. What she did know was that she had been eating unusually slowly, glancing over at you occasionally to see how your evening was unfolding. But as it became painfully obvious that your date was a no-show, she couldn’t take it; seeing you left to handle the disappointment alone was more than she could bear.

Turning to Leigh in your car, you ask, “Do you mind if we stop first at the 7-Eleven on Main? I haven't had dinner yet.”

“What kind of dinner can you get from a 7-Eleven?” she asks.

You shrug and say, “Donuts.”

At the 7-Eleven, you grab a box of assorted donuts, and on a whim, you also pick up a few cans of beer to go along with them. With snacks in hand, you drive to a spot that overlooks the city—the same one where Leigh took you after getting takeouts the first time around. It’s not secluded—there’s a small crowd, with several cars parked and groups of people lounging on their car hoods.

“I wasn’t always attracted to him,” Leigh murmurs, after finishing her first beer. You both sit side-by-side with the trunk of your car open, swinging your legs while Leigh’s are crossed over the edge of the trunk.

You glance over at her, a curious ‘Hm?’ escaping your lips, though they're still full of donuts.

Leigh chuckles at your reaction, finding the sight of your cheeks stuffed with food more endearing than she probably should.

“Danny,” she clarifies with a sigh. “I actually used to hate him. He was always such a burden on Matt. Always dragging him into trouble.”

You think about what she's said, then offer a perspective, “You know, they say hate isn't the opposite of love, it's indifference. So maybe there’s always been something there, something more than just annoyance.”

Leigh leans back, stretching her arms out behind her for support as she considers your point. You find yourself wondering what's going through her mind. Is your honesty drawing her even closer to Danny? You could have exploited her past feelings, suggesting that maybe she's always disliked Danny and is confusing her loneliness for love. But you choose not to manipulate her emotions, even if it might be easy to sway her. You won't take advantage of her vulnerability just to get what you want.

Though you can’t deny that the temptation is there.

“Leigh, can I ask you a question?” you say, watching her closely.

She nods, her face open and expectant as she pops open another can of beer.

“How did you find out about me and Matt?”

Leigh takes a sip before answering. “Didn’t I mention it before?”

You purse your lips and shake your head, maintaining a neutral expression as you encourage her to elaborate.

“Danny told me,” Leigh reveals after a brief pause.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

Leigh hesitates, her eyes flickering to the side before meeting yours again. She sets the can down, her fingers drumming against the aluminum in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

“He just flat-out told me one night. I didn't believe him at first, so he mentioned your name to prove it, and I pieced together the rest. I tried to learn everything I could about you, where you lived... and that’s how I discovered your clinic in the city. And I... well, you know the rest,” she says. From what Leigh said, you easily conclude that Danny hadn't come clean to her about his role in facilitating your relationship with Matt. He had conveniently removed himself from the narrative, leaving out his involvement entirely. Lost in thought, you don't realize you've grown quiet until Leigh's voice pulls you back.

“Why do you ask?”

If you answer that question, you don’t believe you can continue hiding the truth about Danny any longer. As you watch Leigh, relaxed in the back of your car, her hair tousled by the gentle evening breeze, you're torn. You're afraid of disrupting her peace. The truth, as it often has, seems only to bring her pain. So, you buy yourself some time to think.

“Do you ever wish he had just kept it to himself? That you never knew any of this?”

Leigh appears briefly disconcerted by the question. She takes some time to think about how to respond, and you give her the time she needs, reaching for another piece of donut from the box. At this rate, you're on track to polish off half a dozen all by yourself.

“Knowing the truth hurt—a lot. It felt like I was suddenly a stranger to my own life,” Leigh says, looking somewhere distant before her eyes return to you. “But then again, knowing has changed how I see things, how I see him—and even how I see you. It’s given me a chance to see things as they really are, not just how I want them to be.”

“You never would’ve met me,” you say with a light-hearted grin, almost suggesting that maybe it was better she hadn’t. But Leigh gives you a look, a gentle sadness in her eyes that makes it clear she doesn’t entertain the thought of not having met you.

“What about you? Do you wish things had stayed hidden?” she asks, turning the question back on you.

A part of you—a very significant part—trembles on the edge of laying bare your feelings for her.

Fiddling with the edge of the donut box, you let a small smile flicker across your lips, but it doesn't reach your eyes. “There's something to be said for not knowing everything. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss,” you say softly. “I mean, not knowing can save you from a lot of unnecessary heartache.”

As you speak, you’re still weighing whether knowing Leigh is turning into an unnecessary heartbreak.

Leigh nods slowly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a bittersweet smile. “Well, when you put it that way, maybe not knowing some things is for the best.”

It feels like a silent agreement on that fine line between knowing everything and being happier not knowing. Perhaps what you can do for now is spare Leigh from her own unnecessary heartbreak. If what she has with Danny is working, why ruin it?

“You know what's missing here? Music,” Leigh muses, reaching for her third beer. “Oh, and you better keep up,” she adds, glancing at the single beer you’ve had.

“Or how about you pace yourself? I'd hate for the party to end too soon for you,” you quip slyly.

Leigh grins, unfazed by your warning. She leans closer, and her breath, warmed by the beers, brushes against your cheek. “Speaking of parties, I actually got invited to this Halloween bash tonight. Everyone's supposed to be in costume, and there will definitely be music. We should go. What do you say?”

You pretend to think about it, but you’re already clearing out your trunk and hopping off it as you reply, “Well, you did say you needed music.”

A party isn’t really your scene.

Leigh is already tipsy by the time you both arrive at it. People are either clad in bulky costumes or barely dressed at all. Halloween decorations dangle from the ceiling, a foot or two above the faces of the revelers as strobe lights flash in erratic bursts. You weave through a crowd of zombies and sexy nurses, the bass from the DJ's speakers vibrating under your feet.

As you're both making your way toward the bar, a co-worker spots Leigh and pulls her aside excitedly. “Leigh, over here!” they shout over the noise, grabbing her arm. She turns back to you with a slightly apologetic grin. “Just a sec, I'll catch up!” she promises, before being swallowed by the crowd, her hand slipping from your arm.

But that was half an hour ago.

Now, you're feeling dizzy from the alcohol that's been keeping you company in Leigh's absence, and the sea of masked and painted faces around you is starting to merge into a blur. You round a corridor that brings you back to the main room and finally, you spot her. Leigh is near the dance floor, laughing with a group dressed in characters you don’t recognize. She sees you and waves excitedly, her movements a bit too exaggerated. You make your way over, dodging a particularly enthusiastic witch.

“Found you,” you say, as you reach her side.

Leigh grins, her eyes bright. “Dance with me!” she yells over the music, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the throng of sweaty bodies. Too exhausted to argue, you let her lead you into the chaos. As the music takes over and you both start to dance, the rest of the party fades into the background. Leigh's hand is warm in yours, her other hand reaching up to loop around your neck. The music swells, and the crowd presses in, pushing you closer together. Her breath is sweet with the tang of alcohol, and her cheeks are flushed.

Leigh’s movements become less and less coordinated as she leans into you, her body heavenly against yours. Her lips come dangerously close to yours, barely brushing against them, and for a moment—surrounded by her warmth and scent—you're tempted. You want her, deeply, irrevocably—

But not like this.

You firm your hands on her hips, pushing her slightly away. “Hey, let's get some air, yeah?” you suggest calmly despite your heart going crazy in your chest.

She looks up at you, a bit confused but nods, her smile unfaltering. You take her hand again and guide her off the dance floor. Moving through the crowd proves to be a challenge with Leigh's unsteady steps. She stumbles, laughing as she clings to your arm for support.

“I almost ate it back there!” she exclaims, still giggling.

“Yeah, you did,” you mutter distractedly. As the festive sounds of the party fade behind the closed door, reality slaps you both with a sobering chill. Leigh is simply too drunk, and you’re almost a fool for nearly taking advantage of that. You can't concentrate on anything but what nearly happened back there.

You feel Leigh’s hand slip back into yours, slotting in place like magnets that just fit together. Her laughter has quieted, and she leans into you slightly, resting her head on your shoulder. It's then you realize that a drunken Leigh is more affectionate and less aware of physical boundaries—dangerous.

“You know, maybe we should call it a night? I can take you home,” you suggest, making an effort not to lean into her, even though the intoxicating mix of her shampoo and the faint scent of sweat beckons you closer.

Her reaction is immediate and surprisingly lucid. “I can’t go home like this,” Leigh protests, straightening up. “Jules has her own Halloween thing tonight, and I can't show up drunk and be seen like this by her. She’s been sober for a year now; I can’t just...” Her voice trails off, filled with worry.

You glance at your wrist and see it's already 2 AM. A sigh escapes you as the reality of your early morning responsibilities begins to weigh in. You have to be up in four hours to open the clinic at 8 AM, and staying out to make sure Leigh fully sobers up is far from feasible. Leigh appears exhausted, her eyes heavy, even as she tries to muster a smile.

“Listen, Leigh,” you say, eyeing a practical solution. “I have an early start tomorrow, and you look like you need some rest. How about you crash at my place tonight? You can sleep it off and head home in the morning when you’re feeling better.”

Leigh seems to consider this for a moment, her gaze drifting towards the street where groups of men glance their way as they pass by. Finally, she nods meekly, looking relieved.

“That sounds really good right now. My head feels heavy, and I just want to go to sleep,” she mumbles, letting out a weary sigh and rubbing her eyes. You help her to her feet and steady her as you both walk back to your car, which is fortunately parked nearby. Leigh curls up in the passenger seat, and you crack the windows to let in some fresh air.

Once home, you give Leigh some clothes to change into and then start setting up the couch for yourself, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from the cupboard. As you turn back a while later, you see Leigh, in her slightly tipsy state, misinterpreting your preparations. She gives a small, tired smile and plops down onto the couch. Reacting quickly, you catch her just before she falls completely into it.

“W-What are you doing?” she whispers, surprised as she finds herself practically in your arms, half-carried in a bridal style.

You feel the heat rise from your cheeks to your chest, aware of how close she is. “This is for me,” you say, nodding towards the couch, “you’re taking the bed.”

To avoid any further confusion, you slowly lift her up, wrapping an arm securely around her waist as you guide her to your bedroom. Leigh’s head remains tucked in your neck, her body relaxed and yielding as you move.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she mumbles against your skin, though her tone suggests she’s grateful for your care. You don’t see the blush that has crept to her own cheeks, your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assure her as you gently set her down on your bed. “Make yourself comfortable. The mattress’ much better for a good night's sleep.”

Leigh nods, pulling the covers around her. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft and more sober now.

“Anytime,” you respond with a reassuring smile. “Good night, Leigh.” You close the bedroom door softly behind you and retreat to the couch.

“Good night, Y/N…” Leigh whispers to herself, a faint smile touching her lips as she nestles deeper into the bed.

306 notes · View notes

karatam · 2 years

Text

Greta's letter to Carson in 1x07

From Desta Tedros Reff (one of the writers and executive producer)

#carson x greta #a league of their own tv #aloto spoilers #carson shaw #greta gill #a league of their own #that sound you hear is me SCREAMING #'I will miss your lips'??????#'I will miss your touch'??????#'I can't see you hurt'#how dare they tbh

2K notes · View notes

jokeringcutio · 3 months

Text

The Grabber x Female Reader “Just as Dangerous” (Explicit/Smut)

Fandoms: Black Phone | Pairing: The Grabber (Albert Shaw) x You (F identifying) Reader Rating: Explicit (see all warnings!)

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Consensual Rough play, Chocking/Belt-play, Daddy-kink, older man/younger woman, Reader is a brat, Reader is just as bad, reader wants it badly, Reader is in true control here, (probably more tags but you know what it is just pure filth and you’ve been warned) fucking the Grabber. For @likoplays

Just as Dangerous

The creaking of the heavy basement door signaled his approach and you quietly listened for his footsteps to come down the stairs.

There he was, finally. He’d left you here on your own for a good while. Too long, in your opinion.

The door closed behind him, his presence filling the space with an electric charge. The mask he wore was a grotesque caricature, its exaggerated frown setting a macabre tone for the encounter. His clothes were either to be called outdated or quirky, with flare pants and an unbuttoned jacket above it, revealing a smooth and nearly hairless chest.

You remained on the worn mattress, your coat underneath you for comfort and isolation, your arms resting on your knees as you stared ahead.

Your pulse was a steady drumbeat in your ears.

He came to a halt in front of you, content to just stare at you before he knelt to be at eye level with your seated form. The man then cocked his head inquisitively, left arm resting on his knee as he crouched in front of you.

"Well, sweetheart, it seems you’ve got something to tell me," his voice sounded muffled, but the urgency of his statement was unmistakable.

You met his gaze, or at least the dark eyeholes of the mask, and watched him in silence. How long would it take before he would snap, you wondered. Would he be easy to rile up?

But his gaze was unwavering and the silence between you stretched longer and longer. Seeing how he remained in front of you, unmoving, his gaze full of expectation and heavy upon you, made your skin crawl. He was resilient, you had to give him that.

"I wouldn’t know what," you responded, injecting a note of nonchalance into your words.

He chuckled—a sound devoid of humor. "Well, I don’t think you’re being honest with me.” A click of his tongue as he stretched his arms in front of him. You noticed the glinting of the silver rings on his fingers. No marriage bands, just ornaments.

“In fact,” his voice lowered a notch, “I don’t like girls who don’t tell the truth. They’re naughty.” You could hear the sharp intake of breath, how he started to struggle with it behind his mask, as if he was getting excited by all this. Did the idea of you being a bad girl get him going? It wouldn’t explain why he’d mostly captured boys till now though.

Oh yes, you knew about the missing children in this area. You had no doubt who you were dealing with.

The Grabber.

“And you don’t want to be a naughty girl,” the man in front of you murmured, “do you?”

His words could have been seductive, his voice low and carrying that dangerous edge that always got you going. Even now, you had to squeeze your legs together at the sound of him. But you knew the game he was playing, how he tried to lure you into a punishment.

You had to force back a chuckle when you saw how the devilish mask tilted to one side as he looked at you questioningly again. Like a puppy pleading for an answer. Yet, you knew it was all a game to him. He must be one of those manipulative men then, you thought. Luring you into a false sense of security, playing the good guy, making you doubt your own brain.

You knew the type and decided not to grace him with an answer, not knowing anything that wouldn’t instantly make you a brat in his eyes. Was it a good thing if you talked back? Or would it spell your doom? No matter how much you liked it when men got rough with you, you were keen to survive. You had your own agenda and no time to die.

If he was looking for a good girl he should look elsewhere. You just weren’t the good girl he was hoping you to be.

“Tell me something,” the man now hissed, his voice still obscured by the mask but low and deliciously dangerous. “How did it feel when you got rid of them?”

Oh.

Now that sparked something in your eyes, like fires that started to burn. It became increasingly hard to suppress your smile when he brought it like that, a simple statement nothing more.

“Delicious,” you purred.

The black coals of the mask started to shimmer, a reflection of the look in your own eyes. The Grabber repositioned himself in front of you.

“So you admit it was you,” a dangerous low growl while he rested his hand against the cold concrete floor, like a predator ready to strike its prey.

You feigned ignorance again, well aware of how you had dropped your guard. But you were smaller than him and you could do the cute look. Most men fell for that – if you played your cards right.

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me,” the Grabber instantly rasped when he saw the look you gave him and deduced what you were trying to do. “You’re no innocent lamb.”

A laugh escaped his throat, heartily and raw. It sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. Then he ran a hand over his head, feeling if the hair was all still strapped behind the bands of his mask. Shoulder-length hair, you noted. Either a dark color, or perhaps already starting to turn grey. It was hard to tell in the artificial yellow glow of the basement’s one little bulb.

But the veins on those hands betrayed age and strength. Strong hands with long, thick fingers. You could feel your juices flowing, moist collecting between your folds as an ache appeared between your legs. Gosh, you were feeling empty.

“I noticed a few familiar names in your contacts list. Made me curious,” he started, but you could hear the grin in his voice despite the mask hiding his expression. You cocked your head and listened to him, curious about how far he had gone and what he had found – but also hooked on the lowness of his voice. You felt a slight throb inside your core, your nipples growing hard against the fabric of the clothes you were wearing.

“Had to dive in a little deeper,” and the way he said it sparked dark fantasies in you. “Found some more. Some deleted conversations. Others only connected via profiles on sites. It made me think.”

"Did you browse my phone?" you asked, staring at him with what you hoped was as little emotion as possible. “That is incredibly rude.”

"Merely happened to find a few names that sounded familiar," he returned casually, as if discussing the weather rather than the contents of your personal communications.

"Can't say I'm sure what you're on about," you lied smoothly, your mind racing as you tried to gauge how much he knew. But you had an inkling. It didn’t take a genius after all.

"No?" He leaned forward slightly. "Let me show you."

To your surprise, the Grabber fished out his own phone from a back pocket. You had half expected him to either reveal your own confiscated cell phone, or to see some printed newspapers. But he was opening Google and had been looking things up. Your gaze flicked to the screen before you could stop it, just to check, but there were no bars. The signal was dead down here, just like everything else that crossed the threshold into this forsaken basement.

"Look," he said, swiping through the device with a careful finger. The soft glow illuminated his mask, casting shadows that danced across the frown etched into its surface. The headlines he showed you were no surprise – men found dead. Murdered. Each face that scrolled past was a victory, a wrong righted by your hands. But seeing them there, in his possession, felt like a noose tightening around your own neck.

Not that you minded a little choking. Made things more thrilling.

He stopped on an article, the face of the last man you had seen alive staring back at you from the screen. "Not willing to admit it yet?" His voice was low, the words slithering through the cold air between you.

"Admit what?" Your heart hammered, but your voice was steady, cold. "So that you might turn me in? Go ahead. Who's going to believe the Grabber?"

His laugh was a low rumble, circling you like a predator. "Why would I go the cops? I am not gonna risk that, love," he said, his voice a taunt, his eyes behind the eyeholes were fixed on you. “Won’t risk you telling on me.”

"Me?" You tilted your head, feigning confusion, even as your mind spun furiously. "Why would I do something so foolish?"

“It doesn’t matter,” the Grabber said, shrugging as he made himself once again comfortable in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice how behind the mask, his eyes kept drifting toward your bound hands. And your cleavage.

"You thought you’d get out of this alive, darling?”

"Hope dies last," you quipped, your tone laced with venom you didn't feel. "But I suppose you wouldn't know much about that, would you?"

His hand moved faster than your eyes could follow, striking your cheek with a force that whipped your head to the side. The sting of the ring on his finger made the hit all the more special. Pain radiated like spider webs across your face, but it was the moan that slipped from between your lips that seemed to freeze the moment, hanging thick in the stale air.

"Fuck, you're a twisted little cunt if you loved that," he hissed. His voice had somewhat changed, became rougher, coarser, and took on a sinister tone. As if a devil was unleashed within him.

He stood in front of you now, panting rapidly. You could see the rise and fall of his naked chest. The way his belly moved, how you longed for him to strike you again.

"Maybe I am," you taunted, even as the ache bloomed into something darker, something forbidden. “Maybe I am so fucked up, I need a good fucking to set me right.”

For a moment it looked like he was going to hit you again, raising his hand in the air until the light reflected on his ring causing a shimmer. You mentally prepared, got excited about it even, sat up a little straighter. But then he reached for you and you felt his fingers grasp your chin tight, holding it in his hands, squeezing your lips together as he chuckled down at you.

“You want it badly, don’t you?” His voice was dripping with sin, his thumb gently brushing past your lips, fingertip pressing down roughly on your tongue until you tasted salt and grime before he roughly let go. Your head snapped to the side but your eyes were still upon him.

"Why don't you hit me, Daddy?” you said, a grin spreading on your face. “I know we both want it."

Another slap hit your cheek instantly, this time, the ring wasn’t present. Not a backhanded slap but he must have used his palm. Your skin grew red and tingled, and you brought up your bound wrists so that you could brush a hand past the soreness.

"That's all you got? I know you can do better, Daddy." Okay, so perhaps you got a little overexcited. But you just loved to tease.

Another slap, this time harder, and while you moaned he was already upon you, his hands firmly on your shoulders. He pounced, testing your limits, his weight pressing you into the musty mattress. His hands slid from your shoulders to your neck and you felt him press his thumbs into your skin.

"Look at what you do to me," he hissed, his arousal unmistakable against your thigh. His hands were iron bands around your neck. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body betraying you with its own treacherous heat.

“What’s that?” His voice was low but you recognized the tease as his hands took away your airflow completely and only choked noises escaped your lips. He pressed the mask closer to your face, the wood brushed against the sensitive skin of your red cheeks.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

He sat up a little straighter and you heard the chuckle behind the mask as he put his weight on you with his hips and legs alone, trapping you effectively underneath him. His hard cock pressed against your stomach through the layers of clothing, but he made no effort to hide it, bumped his hips against you so you were made extra aware.

“Aren’t you a little fuck doll for me?”

You thrashed underneath him, trying to nod, but his grip was too tight. Your throat started to feel deliciously sore, just as he let go.

“Beg me for it.”

The way he said it made tingles run down your spine. Your walls clamped down feebly around nothing, so eager for his cock.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you rasped as you tried to lean up on your elbow and stare the masked man in the eyes. “Now.”

A moment of silence passed as the Grabber stared you down, then he moved up, away from you.

“Not good enough,” he muttered to your irritation, and you instantly sat up, core aching to have this man’s cock inside of you now. You noticed he had started to undo the lower strap of the mask and watched with bated breath how he slowly removed it, the ugly devil’s chin and grin were disposed of, the straps loosely falling to the sides as it hit the concrete floor.

The man removed his belt next, rolling it around one fist until his knuckles turned white and the grin on his face imitated the one you’d seen earlier on the mask.

“Seems like I’ve got to learn the brat a lesson or two about how to suck up to someone.”

He took a step closer to you again and you felt the slick gather between your folds. God, you were wet for this man. How dominating he was, how forceful as his hand curled behind your neck, grasping your skin and forcing you with your head to look up at him.

“Open up,” and you did. You parted your lips and watched as the Grabber spat a big glob of phlegm straight in between your lips, then forced your mouth closed.

“Swallow.”

You made sure your eyes never left his as you did as you were told. The right reaction.

“Hmm, you swallow nicely. Makes me curious…” You felt how he gently rubbed circles with his thumb against your sore cheek, massaging your skin as he seemed to take you in, studying you, before he let go again.

“Stay just like this,” The low rasp came, and you weren’t surprised to see how the man eagerly disposed of his clothes. With hunger, you watched how his erection snapped free from his pants and smacked against his naked belly. His cock throbbed, globs of pre-cum gathered at the slit.

Daringly, you glanced up at him, seeing his smirk as he leered down at you. “Oh, this is no surprise to you, is it, sweetie?”

And then he guided the head of his shaft to your lips. “Open up.”

The salty taste felt like a relief, but it wasn’t enough. You encircled the head of his cock with your lips, sucking greedily and taking pride when he let out a throaty moan. Bobbing your head to take him deeper, you took pleasure in feeling his fingers on your shoulder, fingertips digging deep. It spurred you on, and you only let the cockhead slip from your lips so you could ask for more.

“Hurt me, Daddy.”

Your words set off a new glint in the Grabber’s eyes as his hold on you became more forceful. With his other hand, he gripped the back of your head, forcing you down on his cock until the head bumped against the back of your throat, going so deep it took your breath away.

He held you there, unable to breathe, while he wrapped something cold and hard against your throat. The belt, you recognized. So he hadn’t put it down?

With a rough movement, he bucked his hips, allowing you a moment to breathe before his belt was around your neck, constricting and guiding your movements. Your hands shot up instinctively to try and loosen it, but you lowered them again when you realized what he was up to and smirked at him instead.

“Na-ah,” he teased you, clearly enjoying the sight of you being choked by his belt and his hard cock. “You’re gonna suck Daddy’s cock and you’re gonna like it, sweetheart.”

And that was exactly what happened, as he gave you no other option but to move along his shaft. It only took a tug at the belt, gripped in his fists, to bring your lips closer to his hips. You felt his hot cock deep inside your mouth, the head bumping the back of your throat a few times before he pushed you back until the head nearly popped from between your lips. But then he tugged the belt again, forcing you closer and spearing you on his cock whilst the belt cut off your airflow.

The process was repeated a few times, with you struggling to take him in and to breathe. Low moans escaped the Grabber’s lips and you felt his hips bump against you while his cock hit the back of your throat, sliding in deep. His juices coated your tongue, pre-cum richly flowing from the tip as he made you hum and gurgle around his hard erection. And then he pressed in so deep that your nostrils were pressed against his pubic hairs, taking in his musky scent while he kept you there for a moment too long, enjoying the feel of your throat working around his cock.

“Hmm, lovely,” he murmured as he finally let go, his hands slipping over your head like a caress, allowing you to breathe again. You slipped from his grip, falling onto your ass, hands still bound, while you struggled to catch your breath. You glowered up at him, pussy all wet and excited, wishing he would just fuck you now.

He seemed to catch your silent wish, licking his lips with the tip of his tongue, pausing while he took himself in his own strong hand. You watched, enchanted, as he tugged at his own cock, hand running up and down his wet shaft a few times. It looked delicious, the way he was teasing his cockhead, pushing and pulling at the slit until new pre-cum bubbled out the top, streaming down the side of his shaft.

“Oh, is the poor pussy sore? Does it to milk my cock?” He teased, but you could tell his balls were heavy and loaded. You could see his cock twitch at the prospect of finally getting into your tight wet heat.

Your eyes turned wide at the suggestion. Apparently, he saw the internal struggle in your eyes, how you craved his cock, as he cooed you mockingly. “If you want me to fuck you, you must beg nicely.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, your bound hands in front of you, fingers digging into your own thighs to keep some form of control in this situation and stabilize yourself. “Fuck you. Stop stalling," you dared, your voice a husky whisper, throat deliciously sore after having deep-throated the Grabber to the full of your capabilities. "Show me what you've got."

"Brat," he spat, but there was a grudging respect in his grip, a recognition of equals in this twisted dance of dominance and desire.

His hands were rough as they seized the fabric of your shirt, ripping it away with a violence that sent shivers down your spine. Each tear echoed in the hollow basement, a symphony of destruction that sang to the darkest part of you.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you taunted, a smirk playing on your lips even as he stripped you bare.

"Shut up," he growled, but there was no malice in his voice – only hunger, raw and unbridled. He grabbed your pants next, yanking them down with an urgency that left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest like a caged bird desperate for release.

"Can't wait any longer, huh?" you whispered, a challenge laced with desire. Your pulse raced, adrenaline and arousal mingling in a potent cocktail that made the world seem sharper, more vivid.

"Neither can you," he shot back, his eyes locked onto yours. You could feel him, hard and insistent, and you arched your back, inviting him closer.

"Then what are you waiting for old man?" you urged.

With a moan that sounded like it had been torn from the depths of his being, he complied. He sank into you, rough and unyielding, and you gasped at the intensity of it all—pain and pleasure intertwining in a dance as old as time.

Fuck, it felt good. The man’s cock was definitely one of the bigger ones you’d ever had. His thrusts were raw and powerful, the sound of your arousal slickening the way reached your ears while the scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

His hands, strong and large compared to your frame, captured your breasts, wasting no time as he started to fumble with them, roughly knead them, his thumbs ever so often flicking past your nipples until they started to feel sore.

His touch was just right, the balance of pleasure and pain exactly what you needed.

And then, his lips were capturing your nipple, sucking so hard it would surely bruise. You couldn’t withhold another moan as you arched your back, pressing your breasts closer to his face while he tugged with his teeth, biting your nipple before lapping at it with his long wet tongue.

If you had known the Grabber had been like this, you’d have crossed paths with him sooner. Because the man was amazing.

He moved his head to the other side, grey hairs tickling your skin, the cold material of the mask brushing past your naked chest as he repeated his motions with your other nipple, nibbling on it like he was hunger for more of you.

You felt his hips press against yours, felt his cock hit you deep and hard. Your whole body was filled with desire, like hot flames licking inside your core. Your walls pulsed around his cock, begging him to take you deeper, to be rougher.

He was.

His hips moved more brutal, the wet and slick sounds reaching your ears as the hot stench of sex filled your nostrils. He drew his head back, one of your nipples still caught between his teeth, and you watched as he let go. Your nipple deliciously sore and erect as he kept pumping.

You could tell he was gritting his teeth and you tried to move your head closer to his so you could nip at his lips, biting gently until he let out a raw moan.

Deep inside of you, his cock hit that magical spot that made you see stars and you felt your orgasm was near. Just a few more thrust and he would chase you over the peak.

And then he moved angles, hooking one of your legs over his arm so he could hit you deep and hard and you cried out as you reached your peak, walls fluttering around him, milking him for all you were worth.

He didn’t come yet, though.

His thrust were firm as he kept up the pace. A low guttural moan escaped his lips. Your pussy sensitive around him as you came down from your high.

“Thought you were done, love? Think again, doll. I am just getting started.”

You whimpered when he retreated without a warning, his cock slipping from your sopping wet core with shaming ease. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed, still in the afterglow of your orgasm. But then he flipped you over, pushing your chest down on the filthy mattress and forcing your cheek down.

Another cry of pleasure escaped your lips as his cock slid back inside with ease. You felt a hand on your back, gently tapping, as he positioned himself with shallow thrusts. And then there was a rough smack against your ass before he started pounding harshly again, taking no pity on your poor cunt.

You gasped and moaned, trying to support yourself while you felt his hands roam your body, gently brushing past the nape of your neck before roughly squeezing down again.

And when that familiar belt encircled your neck, tightening with each thrust, you did not resist. Instead, you let him maneuver you up to your knees and leaned into the constriction, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps that fueled the fire within you.

In this angle, he was so deep inside, you could feel all of him inside of you. The hardness of his pulsing cock, the veins and all the ridges.

The loss of oxygen made your body squeeze tight around his pulsing shaft, your pussy clamping down like a vice on his hard cock. You tried to move your hips back, riding him as he rode you.

"Fuck, you really do love this, don't you?" he panted, his grip firm yet calculated, knowing just how far to push before it became too much.

"More," you managed to gasp out, riding the razor's edge between suffocation and ecstasy. His pace quickened, desperation clawing at his movements as he neared the precipice of release.

He was battering you now, your insides hurt so much that it felt so good. You weren’t going to be able to walk straight for days. Just the right kind of rough fuck that you had needed.

The man above you grunted as he buried himself balls deep. You could feel his cock pulsing, his balls tightening as he was close to tipping over the edge, His thrusts became rougher, harder, stroking you even deeper inside while his hands squeezed your breasts hard.

"Going to pull out," he warned, voice ragged with the effort of control. But you wouldn't have it. It wasn’t as if coming inside would have any consequences and so, you gave the command.

"Inside," the word a siren call that shattered his last semblance of restraint. With a guttural groan, he spilled himself within you, the act marking you in ways that went beyond the physical. You felt hotness flood deep into your core, felt how his cock hit you deep inside, balls pressed against you tight. It tipped you over the edge and you came again, not noticing he was squeezing one of your breasts tightly in his hand until you started to slowly come down from your high for the second time.

Had you really just done that? Had you really had one of the best fucks in your life?

As you both fought to catch your breath, an absurd bubble of laughter escaped your lips, the sound seemingly out of place in the grimness of your surroundings. He joined in, the chuckle muffled against your skin as he rested his forehead—still masked—against your naked shoulder.

"Didn't know I could enjoy something like this," he murmured, almost reflective amid the panting aftermath. His fingers worked quickly, deftly twisting your bounds until they had loosened. You flexed your fingers before you started to rub your wrists to try and get the blood flowing again.

“So,” he started, his voice a low murmur. “Those men…”

“Exes, almost lovers, men who cheated on my friends or were complete assholes.”

Although he was silent, you saw the slight movement of the mask as his chin tilted. So he had to think about that, huh?

“Like a little angel of justice,” he finally said, but you couldn’t tell if it was meant as a compliment or if you had disappointed him with your explanation.

“More like an angel of terror,” you matter-of-factly replied, brushing your hands past your thighs. “Dang, that was a good fuck though. I could get used to that cock of yours.”

A low hum escaped from behind his mask and you saw his hips jerk slightly. He seemed to like the compliment.

"Could keep you," he mused, the words hanging heavy between you. “Would be nice to have someone to share this all with. Talk to. Work together. Blow some steam off once in a while.”

A hum vibrated in your throat, noncommittal yet laced with dark intrigue "Yes," you whispered, the word slicing through the tension. "I could grow to like this... arrangement."

"Then I’ll better keep you alive, won’t I?" His voice was rough with amusement, the complete opposite of the frowning emotion on the mask.

“If you want to do this again,” you said.

He leaned closer to you and for a moment you feared what he was going to do. But when you felt his chapped lips press against your forehead you had to suppress a chuckle, because you had not expected for him to show this much sentiment.

With a push, he slid himself off the mattress. His bare feet sounded on the dirt floor like dull thuds. He turned, reaching for his discarded clothes.

A mistake.

With a grin, you revealed his belt from behind your back where you had kept it hidden while you had talked in the afterglow, the leather cool and smooth in your grip.

Carefully, you slipped from the mattress, naked feet on the floor, trailing after him. He was kneeling to pick up his pants when you, as silent as a ghost, came to stand behind him. He didn’t notice your presence until the belt was looped around his neck, catching him by surprise.

"Well, I really enjoyed our night together,” you said airily, like you hadn’t been his prisoner until a moment ago. “But I really got to be going. There’s a man waiting for me. Can’t disappoint a friend.”

You tightened the belt, the knuckles of your fists turning white by the sheer force while you enjoyed the sounds of him gasping. His hands reached for the belt, fingers unable to wiggle their way in between and relieve the pressure. Too thick, you thought as you watched the man struggle in your grip from above. Nice fingers to feel scissoring your cunt. But nope, you had to store that thought away for another rainy day. Perhaps next time when you visit him, you could get him to do a little foreplay on you.

The fact you even considered returning to this criminal was perhaps telling enough.

“I’m sure you’re clever enough to understand that next time when I come around, we’re gonna be fucking on your bed… or your couch or your kitchen. Any place that is not your creepy little basement.”

Then, you smirked, allowing him a little more space to breathe again. Which reminded you…

“I’m sure you’ll think twice about upsetting me,” your grin grew as you leaned forward, the belt tightening around his throat again while you whispered near his ear.

“Don’t forget,” you breathed, voice a low murmur, “You're only breathing because I allow it."

A serpent's hiss escaped your lips as you rose to your knees. The belt slipped away from his throat, falling to the floor with a clatter. His choked laughter bubbled up, the sound echoing off the concrete walls as you wrenched his phone from his pocket.

"Go ahead, try me," you taunted, the thrill of control sending shivers down your spine.

With a swift push against his chest, you sent him stumbling back. Not waiting to see if he recovered, you picked up your coat so you’d at least have something to cover your nakedness, and ascended the stairs, his laughter chasing you, a mad symphony to accompany your escape.

You stepped out of the basement, coming eye to eye with a large dog. With a grin, you flung the Grabber’s phone aside and onto the kitchen table, the bars finally popping up onto the screen, a freshly sent message illuminating the screen.

“Sit,” you told the dog, ignoring his growling as your eyes caught sight of something much more important. You stepped over to the kitchen counter, globs of sperm dripping down the inside of your leg. The dog seemed to have noticed it and stopped growling, curiously coming closer with his snout to brush past the inside of your leg – probably smelling his own master and being confused by it - while you picked up your own phone from the kitchen counter.

The Grabber’s phone number flashed on your screen and you grinned. You added his number. It would forever be embedded in your list… another name among many.

The man’s laughter still rang in your ears when you left his house, pinning the location on your phone and saving it for later.

Oh, you’d be back. And he’d better not break your heart.

AN: Hello lovelies. There's more fics to come, another Grabber one, a bit of Stu Macher. Bit of Afton. You'll see. For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

#albert shaw x reader #the grabber x you #the grabber x reader #brat reader

151 notes · View notes