#she lit up the whole fucking sky
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Been Watching Weird Fruit Explorer(?)... and I just...
W-Who let Bored Danny have BooTube?
Sorry, YOU-Tube. He has TWO Apps now. BooTube is bigger. Way more random, yet... somehow more niche? Meh. It's what happens when you get billions of billions of people who all have their own Obsessions to rant over, on a site.
Ember's channel is pretty lit, tho, ngl.
He stopped using YOU-Tube almost overnight. Too many ads, weird algorithmic pushiness. No thanks. It was too small and too "trying to take my money". You know?
Buuuuut? See.... TUCKER is the Tech guy.
Coding and that sort of stuff. HE does hands on work. You want a toaster? He can MAKE you a toaster! With LAZERS! Runs off The Goo! But a program? Eeeeeeeh? Hit it with hammer maybe? Monkey make fire? Hit with stick? Blergh.
Yeah, he can SORTA push through.
But he suuuucks.
And like... he had a headache, okay? His project had just, quiet literally, exploded in his face. So when he looked at his phone? All the apps were blobs. He clicked the one that LOOKED kinda right. Shoved his arm in his phone and brute forced a channel set up.
He figured he could ramble about Space!
It's not like he cared is anyone LISTENS or not! It's a "for him" thing, you know? Like a diary. But more... putting on a ☆~show~☆?
So he rambles from the floor of his Lair's Lab, crashs and wails in the distance, green sky occasionally visible as he lazily floats by windows. Dropping... juuuust past human knowledge understanding of Space. Talking like he's STUDYING somewhere. Referencing PAPERS no human will ever be able to find.
But a few they WILL.
Some of which, are currently? Only half written.
But then? Oh YEAH... he should eat! You know... Sam keeps bringing him fruits and veggies and stuff from her internship at that Botanical Lair. Stuff never seen before of Earth. Or hasn't been seen in centuries.
Again, like, a FEW that? Randomly? Have???
He picks up something sharply purple, bright orange insides. Crisp crunch. He makes a face. And starts to ramble about it, distracted from Space. "Weirdly mushroom-y" he notes. "Kinda bubblegum sweet? But like... CHEAP bubblegum. Like it hits you all at once and is kinda chemically. But it disappears real fast? Huh. Spicy too..."
It's the first video on the Playlist. One of hundreds. Two of the green Lanterns RECONIZE that fruit ad HIGHLY toxic to humans, can't recognize what planet they're seeing. Or how this alien teen got himself on YouTube.
He seems... unaware of how incredibly famous he's become.
But his strange techno Pharoah friend has not. HE is both perfectly aware and apparently amused. Has taken to feeding him rare and hazardous flora and fauna, to see if it tastes good.
....there have been an alarming number of plants from dead planets.
And the comments the kid makes? Alarming as hell.
Sam's just pleased everybody's getting their greens. Danny's glad him n tuck get to hang and do "try weird foods and fuck around, bro time". They've made lazers! Talked about stuff! Debated why Martian Manhunter is THE superior Justice League member.
Danny understands. Wonder Woman is a BAMF. But he's biased, Tucker. He doesn't CARE if she has a sword and flowy, impressive locks! Shape-shifting telepath! From MARS!!! *imaginary mic drop*
And Tucker? Is conquering the YouTube scene with this charming, weird, relatable young alien. Who rambles about Space, debates nerd stuff, eats weird plants and describes them, and makes sci-fi technology! Theme? WHAT THEME? Phantom is a weird channel, man. You never know what you'll find!
And no one can get rid of it.
Believe them, governments have TRIED. Censorship? Not possible. Not without removing the whole SITE.
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heyyyyy
could you do a Tommy shelby fic?
in which he fucks Ada's bestfriend when she is 18!
hii, love this idea xx I have been writing this all day, time to celebrate with a jam sandwich:) xx
Finally mine
warning: agegap!, Thomas lusts after her while she is underage, grooming, virginity loss, virginity kink, innocence kink, unprotected sex, Tommy being a softie, possessiveness
pairing: Thomas Shelby x Innocent!Reader
summary: ever since he came back from the war, Tommy found himself wanting his sister’s lovely and sweet best friend, too bad he has to wait until she is 18
(Y/N) was the sweetest girl in the whole of Birmingham, always polite and kind. Thomas was smitten with her from day one. She and Ada met in school, she felt sorry that Ada was always alone, because everyone told their kids to stay away from the filthy Shelby’s. So, one day she gathered the courage and sat beside the sad girl, who was very excited to finally have a friend.
It was the age of war, so everyone was always on the edge of a meltdown. And money wasn’t exactly falling from the sky. While (Y/N)’s family weren’t considered aristocrats by any chance, she never had to worry about not getting fed, or not having a warm bed to sleep in. That was something that the Shelby’s couldn’t exactly relate to, there was little money and quite a few mouths to feed. Aunt Polly tried her best to feed the hungry children at the table, but she was failing more and succeeding less. Her sister-in-law’s three big boys were away at war, but they were always talked about.
One day, the thirteen year old (Y/N) plopped down beside her best friend Ada with a full lunch box in hand. She always had lunch packed with her, but Ada never did. For a long time, she just assumed that the malnourished girl was not hungry in school. While she was munching on her apple, she heard the growl of a hungry belly and Ada turned her head down in shame. While a girl is naive at 13, (Y/N) immediately knew that her friend was hungry, and that she probably didn’t get as much food at home as she did. When Ada looked back at her, she reacted with a wide smile to the outstretched hand towards her, holding a big red apple.
For the rest of the break, they just sat under their tree, silently chewing on their apples, with a smile on both faces.
That is how Ada knew that (Y/N) was going to be her lifelong best friend. She opened up to her when they were sharing a cigarette on the edge of the forest.
“We had more money before the war, if Tommy was here he would make sure that we have food.” Ada explained.
(Y/N) just blinked at her friend. “Who’s Tommy?”
———-
Three years later, the girls were now sixteen and the war was finally over. Because (Y/N) herself didn’t have any brothers, or sisters, she didn’t know how many families waited for this day to come.
It was a pretty summer day, and she made her way to the Shelby household, where she was always welcomed by Aunt Polly. Except, when she walked into the house, there was only one man sitting at the table. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she blushed heavily, he was very handsome. For a moment she believed that she walked into the wrong house, but the photographs on the walls proved otherwise. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall blankly, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear her come in.
Thomas just wanted a moment to himself in his childhood house before going back to the Garrison, he was not the same man anymore. Suddenly, he saw a figure in the corner of his eye. A second later, the two pairs of eyes met. His previously sad eyes lit up at the sight of her, but he tried to conceal it. She was so beautiful… Slender and weakish frame, something that made him eager to protect her. Her long and soft looking hair. And that face, oh god, that pretty face.
“H-Hi… I’m (Y/N).” She walked closer to him and stuck her hand out for him, she recognized him from the pictures, he was one of Ada’s brothers.
He heard about her, Aunt Pol always told him what was happening on Watery Lane in the letters she sent to Tommy. She had mentioned Ada’s lovely friend, multiple times. She told him that the girl was pretty, very kind, and that she went with her to church on Sundays when no one else wanted to, just so Polly didn’t have to go alone.
Tommy smiled at her, and she felt herself get lost in those bright blue gems of eyes. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips and planted a little kiss on it. Her hand was soft and warm, it was a while since he felt the touch of a gentle female. He smiled when she blushed more at his kiss. “Thomas Shelby.”
—----
From that day on, Miss (Y/L/N) was under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas always had one of his men following her and Ada to school, and then back home. It killed him knowing that he couldn’t touch her, make her his, not yet anyway. That would have been immoral and awful, and he knew that aunt Pol would have broken his hand in two and cut off his cock. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent too many night fucking his fist to the thought of her. Everyone in the Shelby clan could see how soft he was towards her, always making sure that she stays out of the bad things, and whenever she came over and he was working, his eyes basically formed into hearts and followed her everywhere. The family loved her, she enjoyed baking and she always made sure that at least once a week she turned up to the office with home-baked treats. Those kinds of sweet treats calmed everyone down, business was blooming after all.
Ever since Tommy came back from the war, he only let himself be pleasured by whores, the one girl he wanted was the one he had to wait for. He always hired prostitutes that resembled her even the slightest bit. He imagined that he was burying himself inside her wet and warm walls, he overheard her and Ada and he was very well aware that she was untouched, a sweet little virgin. In Small Heath, the girls started sleeping around in their teens, but she, at 17, didn’t care about the boys her age. She wanted a certain gangster, who was nearing his thirties.
He didn’t even claim her yet, but wherever she walked, everyone knew she was Tommy Shelby’s girl. He sent her gifts, and always a handwritten note. Her heart never failed to warm up when she saw the little T.S on the bottom of the cards. Flowers, chocolates, exotic spices that she could put in her sweet treats, jewellery, dresses, everything a 17 year old girl loves. She was spoiled by him. When she wore one of the dresses that he got for her, she always sent him a shy smile and a little nod.
—-----
Tomorrow was going to be the day when she would finally become 18 years old, a young lady. She felt so antsy getting to bed, knowing that she would wake up as an adult. She also deeply hoped that Tommy would do something, after 2 years of gifts, protection and lustful gazes from distance. It was safe to say that her standards were very much heightened.
When she woke up, she noticed a big box on the chair of her vanity, tied up in one of those big ribbons. Her mother must have brought it up for her, as she always did when her daughter’s name was on the box, written by the familiar handwriting.
She was smiling widely when she opened the box up, it had a beautiful silky dress and a gold locket necklace. She marvelled at the divine fabric, but quickly blushed when she looked into the box again. There was a set of white lingerie and a note.
Tonight, I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7pm, be ready.
~T.S
She melted at that, and she felt her lower tummy warm up. This evening, she will finally be claimed.
——-
By the time 7pm rolled around, she did everything she could to make herself look pretty for him. She took a long hot bath, made sure she smelled good everywhere. She washed her hair and tied up half of it with a bow. She put lotion all over herself, sprayed herself with perfume and put the lovely dress on. Sitting in her vanity, she put on some makeup. She felt beautiful.
She got her light coat on, along with kitten heels and she was waiting for his car to come. When it did, she sat in the backseat and greeted the driver.
She got driven to Arrow house, which she only heard about before. It was so huge, and overwhelming, but very nice.
A maid took her coat and escorted her to the dining roomom. Just like the rest of the house, it was quite big, both the room itself and the table. It was decorated elegantly, the candlelight flooded the room. Just as she stepped in, Thomas walked in the room on the other door. He looked so handsome as always, with his muscular frame and his tailored suit.
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest, she looked like an angel, and she was standing in his house, wearing his gift. The maid left, now there were only two of them in the room, he walked up to her. With a gentle hand on her waist, he pulled her closer so he could plant a kiss on her cheek and whisper in her ear. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He got even closer, her head was spinning with him so close, his masculine scent sent her hormones into overdrive. “I hope the dress isn’t the only gift of mine on you.”
He felt his dick twitch when she looked up at him like that, a gentle glint in her eyes. She shaked her head, too lost in his eyes to answer with words. To shake her out of her trance, he guided her to her seat, with his hand still on her slender waist.
He sat next to her, the maids kept on serving the finest of foods. Thomas also brought out a bottle of red wine. Both of them were surprised how easy it was for them to talk. They talked and ate, and Tommy even found himself laughing. He also found out how innocent she was, she wasn’t stupid, just inexperienced, and he was more than happy to give her experience. She also had a big heart, and a gentle soul, she was everything he needed.
While everyone in Small Heath tried to warn her about Thomas Shelby, she never understood why. He was just trying to protect his family and give them a chance at a better life, he was also an absolute softie for her. She could see that he had a lot of love to give, he enjoyed being the leader and defeating other gang leaders, but he must have been craving someone who could take care of him for once, she knew that she wanted to be that person.
When they finished dessert, he pulled her chair closer to his and cradled one of her blushing cheek into his palm.
“Are you aware of my intentions towards you?” He asked in a serious tone, she knew that he wasn’t fooling around. Now or never. She nodded as much as she could with the gentle hold on her face, but he wasn’t having it. “Answer me with words, I want to see if you really want this.” She felt dizzy by hearing his dominating tone.
“Yes, I know your intentions with me.” She replied shyly.
“What are they?” His fingers started to move her hair out of her face, caressing her in the process.
“Y-You want to make me yours.” She spoke lowly, it was hard to speak when he was looking at her as if he was seconds away from ravaging her.
“Yes, and do you want that, (Y/N)? Do you want me to make you mine?” He was even closer now, he whispered seductively in her ear, his full lips were nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I will give you everything you crave. Please, let me give you the world.” Thomas Shelby barely used the word ‘please’, but he was nearly begging for her. She almost giggled, as if she really needed much convincing.
“I want it, I want it so bad, Tommy…” She was getting impatient, and he saw it on her.
“Shh, sweetheart… Don’t let your pretty head worry, I’m going to take care of you so nicely.” He stood up and stuck his hand out for her to take. “Come.”
He walked with her to his bedroom, she was walking behind him so she couldn’t see the wicked grin on his lips. When they stepped in the door, he just kept on walking, which caused her to walk backwards, until her knees hit the bed and she had fallen down on it.
He didn’t waste a second and crawled on top of her, his lips slowly finding hers. Their kiss started out slow, he guided her lips with his own. After a few minutes, noticing that she was starting to become more and more confident, he slipped his tongue into her open mouth. His hand wandered to her back, where the zipper was, his head pulled away so he could ask for silent permission. Once he got it, he helped her sit up and he removed the dress. Sitting back on his heels, he admired the sight in front of him, her young body was just begging to be ruined. She was wearing the lace, she looked exactly like an angel. His lips glued themselves to her neck and they sucked and bit, her noises were proof that she was enjoying his touch. He made sure to really mark her up, she wasn’t going to leave his mansion for a while, he needed his time with his new prize. She bit down on her lips to hide her moans, something he growled at.
“Don’t you dare. I want to hear you, don’t hold back, sweetheart.”
He went down to her breasts, he also reached under her arched back and unclasped her bra. She tried to cover herself, but he was having none of it. He slowly unpeeled her arms from her chest and kissed all around her breasts. “How beautiful! Such a nice pair of tits you have, the best I’ve seen.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she mewled loudly, she didn’t expect to feel so aroused while getting her nipples sucked at. He made sure that he gave both of her tits the same treatment before going lower.
Before he could do more, he stood up to remove his shirt and pants, her presence was making him hotter by the minute. He hooked his fingers into her panties and his cock nearly tore his underwear when he saw how the crotch was stuck to her entrance. She was already so ready for him. He yanked harder and they finally parted, he brought her panties up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mhm, so sweet… But, I think I need to feel this from the source.” Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her spread legs, her mind was making her doubt herself. What if she looked ugly down there? What if it smelled or tasted b—
“OH— Tommy!” She moaned loudly when his tongue licked a long stripe up her slit. He just chuckled into her pussy darkly, then he moved on to her pleasure. His mouth was sucking her throbbing clit, his fingers slowly circled her entrance, teasing her.
“Fuck… Your cunt tastes divine, and it’s only for my mouth to taste.” It wasn’t even a question. She was unable to form a coherent sentence, she could only moan and thrash on his tongue. He took one finger and he slowly eased it into her, she was so wet that it slipped right into her, he didn’t hesitate to add another one. “You’re going so good, I cannot wait to feel this tight virgin pussy on my cock.” He curled his fingers and rubbed them right into her spongy spot, her fingers grabbed his hair and tried to push his face more into her heat. He felt her clenching more and more, so he sped up his movements and grinned proudly when she came undone with a whiny moan and a desperate call of his name.
He kissed his way back up to her heaving chest and looked up at her flushed face. He talked her through it, until her breathing evened out again. He slowly slipped his underwear off, his back straightened out for her to see his big cock. It was veiny and thick and it made her nervous. He kept her legs spread, while he kneeled between them, one of his hand smoothing her face and the other one gripped himself at his base. “Want to give a little touch? Don’t be scared, I’m going to make this very pleasurable for you, my sweet girl.” He hissed when her fingertips made contact with his dripping tip, he was so pent up and her soft touch nearly made him blow his load all over her juicy tits, but he had to stay patient. “Are you ready? Ready to become mine?”
“Yes, Tommy, please, I want to feel you. I-I waited for you.” This caused him to grin and give her a deep kiss.
“I know you did, little one.” He positioned himself at her entrance and he slowly began pushing in, he felt a bit of resistance, but with a sharp thrust, he managed to break through it. He wrapped her up in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear soothingly. “I know, I know. It will feel better in a minute, your pussy just has to adjust to my cock. Relax.” It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but it still did, the girls in her class made it sound worse, or maybe their boyfriends didn’t take the time to prep them properly. That made her so proud, her Tommy made sure she was ready. She tried her best to relax her muscles and she felt the pain lessen. She planted a shy kiss on Tommy’s neck at which he chuckled at. “Good girl. You’re mine now, only mine.” He slowly began moving in and out of her.
Her walls gripped on him like a vice, he didn’t need any whores anymore, he had her now. His hands lifted her hips up a bit, so his cock was hitting her spot at every thrust. He went more and more faster, his fingers also began rubbing on her swollen clitoris.
“AH— Tommy, I’m going to—do that thing again.” His innocent little girl, so good for him.
“Good… I can feel you squeeze me, come on, sweet girl, come for me. Come on my cock. Let me fill you up. Let me make you mine.” With a shout of his name and a cry, she came around him. When he felt her walls pulsing around him, he let go too. His warm cum painted her walls, and it was such a delicious sensation. He stayed inside her for a few minutes, both of them trying to catch their breaths.
When he pulled out, he sat back so he could watch his cum leak out of her spent hole. He looked down proudly at his softening cock, which had some of her blood on it. Shit, he really filled her up with his load, there was so much of it. And the whiteness of him and the dark crimson of her virginity made such a lovely contrast together.
He took a rag from his bedside table and cleaned her up, making sure that he was gentle with her, the girl just got fucked and she was sensitive both physically and mentally, he had to be gentle.
After he made sure they were both clean, he once again brought her into his embrace. He smiled at her lovingly, which caused her to do the same. Her hair was all puffy from his touch, but he loved it.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He cradled her cheek, and caressed her under eye area with his fingertip.
“I’m good, I feel a bit sore, but it’s okay.” She nuzzled into his neck and left little kisses. “I’m so happy to be here with you.��
He smiled in a way he didn’t for a long time, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wanted to give the world to the girl in his arms, and he felt the primal urge to protect her and keep her away from all the bad. “Me too. I’m happy to know that you’re finally mine.”
taglist: @your-nanas-house
#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy angst#cillian murphy fluff#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy fanfics#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy fanfic#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy daddy#cillian fanfic#cillianmurphy#cillian x reader#cillian fic#cillian murphy#tommy shelby#tommyshelbysmut#thomas shelby#thomas shelby smut#peaky blinders#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby smut#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders smut
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fuck yes wandanat!!!
Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti
Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff
Wordcount: 3977
Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.
Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.
[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]
[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]
Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests
The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.
No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.
No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.
Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.
Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.
This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.
Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.
Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.
Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.
You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.
And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.
“What the fuck?!”
It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.
“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.
“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”
“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”
He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”
“Do I look like a zombie to you?”
“A little,”
“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”
He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.
You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”
“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”
“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”
“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”
You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”
It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.
You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.
“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“
His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.
Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.
You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.
Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.
“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”
You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”
“You’re deflecting.”
“Perhaps.”
“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”
“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”
Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”
How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.
“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.
“A plan?”
“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”
Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.
“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”
Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.
If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.
Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.
Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.
The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.
Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.
Brains?
Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.
Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.
Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.
Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.
Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.
The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.
You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.
There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.
You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.
In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.
You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.
Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.
“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.
“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”
“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”
“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”
Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”
You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.
Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.
“How is this happening?”
“I don’t know,” You rasped.
And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.
“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.
“Yeah, well, I was dead.”
Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”
You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”
She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”
But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.
“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”
She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.
“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”
Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.
“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”
She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”
Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”
“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”
“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”
You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.
“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”
“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.
The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.
Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.
“aw, fuck.”
Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.
Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.
Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”
“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”
They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.
“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.
“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”
“In air.”
There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”
You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.
Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.
The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.
Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.
Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.
The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”
Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”
Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.
Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Taglist: No one yet :(
#natasha romanov#Natasha Romanoff#Natasha Romanov x reader#Natasha Romanoff x reader#Wanda Maximoff#Wanda Maximoff x reader#Black widow#Black widow x reader#Scarlet witch#Scarlet witch x reader#Wandanat#Wandanat x reader#Marvel#Jennifer walters#She-hulk
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getting high with lando and u somehow end up on his lap and u kinda accidentally grind down on him and he moans and says that feels rlly good and ur just like yeah? and u end up riding him
I WANNA RIDE・｡♪ LN4
( lando norris x fem!reader )
WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI, getting high (as per), p in v unprotected sex (practise safe sex guys!!), semi public sex, riding, a little bit of body worship, high!lando x reader being hot (as per pt. 2)
NOTE. anon prbly wanted this as a small thought post, but i had to write a proper fic coz planete.exe 404 error: BRAINROTTING! so plz enjoy my first ever smut (sorry if it sucks i tried), and remember, don't get high!! or do wtv u please.... ok bye 🫶
SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc about high!lando 🤍
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all in the name of needed getaways, y/n and lando find themselves in the aforementioned's car, basking just behind the local park, where the sunset could perform best. clocks are just shy of 7pm, the wind a couple of degrees cooler than hours prior, and sitting in their adjacent seats with doors wide open, both lando and y/n have lit and inhaled their spliffs by second nature.
lando's beyond glad that the vehicle is out of plain sight, veiled by thick trees and bushes, because he was completely struck, dazed with not a thought in mind, and the sight would make a journalist's field day. yet, it's the thrill that keeps him flippant to all seriousness and discretion. the presence of y/n, uncaring and completely liberal in nature, gives him a second identity to just let it all go and succumb to the skewed vision and thrumming fingertips.
seats reclined by a bit, lando's foot rests just below the dashboard, y/n the same but with both instead, and lando can't feel a thing.
it's light conversation that carries the mood, punctuated by the aux that y/n has complete control over, and the rest of the world simmers away as they let the high take them before the ombres of the sky. it gets chiller, and it knocks y/n into partial sobriety slamming her side of the door shut.
"shut the door, lan', it's fucking cold now."
he groans, "nah, can't move."
he hears her sigh, mumbling a disappointed 'dickhead' beneath her breath, and he smiles before zoning out again. a few seconds of shuffling commences, then weighted friction lands so heavily on his thighs that it excavates a vehement puff of air out of him, red eyes snapping open. he can't say anything, not when y/n leans to grab the door shut and grinds on him with so much force that it has to be intentional.
lando knows he accomodated a semi throughout the whole car ride. something about seeing his best friend in her element turns him on so much that he could probably cum untouched.
but now, he feels too much, there's pressure on his dick, accompanied by warmth only y/n could emanate, and the moan that flies out of him rumbles in his chest.
"fuck, that feels good."
y/n freezes as she settles again, but then she's smirking, and no matter how more shut than open his eyes are, he can see it blatantly.
"yeah?" her voice sounds light and airy, and it runs lando mad.
"mhm." his chest is heaving up and down with a quickened velocity, and he feels far from being at the peace he was just seconds before.
the girl leans in, lips tracing along the skin of his neck with a phantom touch, and lando can feel every single inch of his resolve melt away. his hands rest on her hips, teasing a slip beneath her hoodie, and he squeezes, hard.
she goes higher, and higher, stopping at his ear, "let me ride you."
then it's all gone. composure complete in lack, his hand reaches up to her nape and slams her lips against his for a gratifying kiss. his eagerness is matched instantaneously, y/n combing her hands through lando's curls and tugging so hard that he nearly fears that some would rip out of their roots.
nothing amounts to the all encompassing sensation of y/n everywhere. her grinding turns more frantic, and he pushes her down hastily, hands crawling upon the skin of her back.
"get your dick in me, lan'," she says, with no room for more words, and he does just that, welding their lips together again as he fumbles with the knot of his joggers.
y/n finds a way to free herself of her hoodie, leaving her in nothing but her bra, and lando, pushing down to free his hard, aching dick, expresses his distaste for that.
"take it off, y/n."
she's smirking, and lando's losing it even more, "what? you're gonna suck them out here?"
he almost finds it offensive that she doesn't think he'll worship her anywhere. public be fucking damned, he'd be at her mercy whenever he could.
"and you'll fucking love it."
"damn right."
just as she unclips her bra, she grabs lando's dick, and, unprecedentedly, sheaths herself in.
everything is hot. god, he can't do anything but moan and moan again, shutting his eyes and going completely limp. it doesn't deter y/n, in fact, her wet, tight cunt squeezes and grinds upon lando's dick without mercy and the pleasure that soars through him burns and tickles.
"oh fuck fuck fuck," lando's mouth rains profanities, and as he goes to open his eyes, y/n moans and they roll back shut again. he's red all over, feels his t-shirt sticking to his skin with sweat, and the girl keeps on bouncing and grinding. he can't survive with it on, and so he yanks it off, coming skin-to-skin with y/n's naked chest.
"fuck lan'."
she can say nothing more, and neither can he, his hips thrusting upwards to meet hers. she lets out a high pitched moan, and lando's ears ring as he brings his hands up to cup her breasts. they fill them so perfectly, and his mouth waters like it aches for honey, attaching it to her left nipple and sucking it like he was running mad. he's drunk off her essence, a complete goner, and y/n throws her head back as her grinds slow down.
"feels so fucking good."
she's so deep in euphoria that she's on the verge of tears, and lando decides to let himself do the work, grabbing her hips and grinding upwards frantically.
the car smells sharply of sex, humid and steaming up the windows, and y/n hazily complements the scent with a drag of weed, eyes rolling back, and mouth puffing out pouts of smoke and moans. she feels the knot tighten in her gut and her toes curl just as lando sloppily licks wet kisses up her chest and neck, then into her mouth.
the kiss is barely one, filled with clashing teeth and the exchange of sighs, but lando keeps their mouth attached, sneaking a hand into hers to steal the spliff. y/n lets him, jaw slackened and too tired to engage in the tangle of tongues either.
"fuck, i'm cumming— shit shit shit!"
"cum with me y/n, cum on my dick," lando slurs out, taking the roll into his mouth before inhaling and exhaling the white smoke. his dick spasms sporadically, sensitive and completely throbbing as he spurts right into y/n's cunt, feeling her own coat and pool at the base of his dick.
they can barey ride down their high, exhausted and completely satiated, and all y/n can do is rest her head on lando's shoulder, rubbing her hands up and down his chest as he does the same.
#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.thinks: high!lando#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando norris fic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris scenarios#formula 1#f1#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#f1 smut
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Jessie Fleming
Reader is a physiotherapist at Chelsea, and always spends time in the physio office. :)
regular visitor II j.fleming
getting to work that day you hustled to grab your bag out of the car and hurry inside, well aware that due to some shitty london morning traffic you were running twenty minutes late.
it wasn't a game day thankfully but you knew this would set you back as you had appointments lined up all morning back to back, emma wanting all of the girls to have a quick check up and check in since most of them had only just returned from international break.
"morning!" you sang out with a rushed smile, swiping your card at reception and almost sprinting off toward the physio's office, arriving with a sigh of relief seeing there wasn't a line of disgruntled players yet.
"emma called a squad meeting so everythings been pushed back, you're fine. breathe!" linda the other physio on today assured as you collapsed at your desk with a groan, limbs on fire from running. "thank you!" you gestured up to the sky making the woman laugh and sit down across from you, running you through the schedule for the day.
"so peter and will are in for the afternoon too?" you clarified, the check ups having been moved to after lunch as linda nodded. "makes it smoother to go through the whole team without having to rush anything." the woman explained as you nodded in agreement.
a knock at the door gained your attention as you looked up to see a familiar face hovering in the doorway. "morning jess!" linda greeted them, taking her copy of the schedule and gently sliding past her, off for a meeting with some of the training staff.
"ahh first day back from break and you're the first face i see fleming, how unusual." you teased as the canadian gave you a sheepish grin. "you know maybe i should just get you your own personal bench at this point." you continued with a wink as jessie blushed.
"are you here for help or for a chat?" you asked, half serious and half joking, the midfielder rolling her eyes playfully. "strictly a professional visit, but we always chat anyway." jessie pointed out which you couldn't deny, but the footballer also had no leg to stand on as she did often find herself hanging about in your office in little bubbles of free time.
"tape time?" you laughed knowingly, a flurry of nods greeting you as you gestured for her to take a seat, the girl frequently in the same position. "so how was being back home?" you questioned with a smile, grabbing out what you needed as jessie hauled herself up onto the bench.
"cold. you think this is bad? canada is fucking freezing man! the icicles have icicles." the canadian shook her head making you laugh, missing the way she lit up at the sound. "so whats troubling you today then?" you asked moving to stand over her as a panicked look crossed her face.
"what? what do you mean?" jessie stammered out nervously. "with the tape. what do you need taped?" you chuckled, jessie exhaling with a nervous chuckle. "oh! right. left knee, took a wild slide tackle and its felt a little tight since." jessie shrugged.
"mm yeah its feeling okay, there is a little tension but have you done much in the way of cardio since you;ve been back?" you asked, massaging her knee and thigh between your hands as jessie opened and closed her mouth.
"jess?" you asked with a concerned frown when she didn't answer, the midfielder shaking her head for a moment. "oh! not really. i only landed two days ago and i've been trying to fix my sleep schedule." the girl admitted with a small smile.
"mm the joys of jetlag! did you see your family when you were home?" you started to tape up her knee, jessie recounting a few stories, brightening up anytime she managed to make you laugh.
"-so you made her eat snow? harsh!" you shook your head with a smile. "not eat it! the snowball just happened to accidentally, maybe a little on purpose, hit her in the mouth." jessie held her hands up in defence as you playfully rolled your eyes.
"poor cloe. never knew you were such a sore loser fleming." you teased, tapping her thigh to let her know you were done, taking a step back as jessie frowned already missing the contact of your hands against her skin.
"i am not!" jessie huffed, crossing her arms. "sure." you drawled sarcastically with a smile. "now go! if you're late for strength training emma will have my head." you chuckled as she hopped down and you sat back at your desk.
"hey would you maybe want to-" you looked up with a quirked eyebrow and the eye contact seemed to suck the question from her as the canadian shook her head, waving it off and hurrying out of the room.
you'd just finished taping up a few more of the girls later in the day when you saw the familiar face pop back in. "again! what can i do for you jessica?" you laughed, turning around and missing the way both guro and niamh shot her a knowing look, shoving the canadian as they left the room.
"my calves are really locked up." jessie pulled herself to sit up on the bench again as you hummed, grabbing out a bottle of massage oil and gesturing for her to lay down.
the girl breathed a sigh of relief as you began to massage out the knots and tension in her lower legs, and though that wasn't the reason she'd really come here it was a bonus.
"so how was your break?" jessie asked, propping herself up on one arm to look at you. "well i'm not a footballer so i didn't have one!" you reminded with a laugh, the midfielders face flushing bright red in embarrassment.
"oh shit i'm sorry i didn't-" you waved off her apology as you moved onto her other leg. "it was much more quiet around here with only a few of the girls needing treatment. caught up on all my paperwork!" you smiled with a wink, jessies head thumping back down onto the bench as she looked to the roof.
"alright! all done." you squeezed her ankle and moved to wash your hands. "oh wait! my uh, my shoulder is a little tight. we were doing...throw ins!" jessie sat up as you narrowed your eyes.
"mm well we can't have that." you gestured for her to turn around as you gave her shoulder a squeeze. "higher or lower?" you asked, the canadian guiding you to where her 'pain' was.
"okay, shirt off." you nodded as jessie quickly stripped off her training top leaving her in only a sports bra, and you caught the red which coated her cheeks before her head faced the wall.
"so what are you doing after work?" jessie asked, wincing at the awkwardness in her tone. "going home." you answered with a smile, working through the small knot in her shoulder. "oh! cool, cool." jessie nodded, pulling a face which she was grateful you couldn't see.
"you know, if you have something to ask me, you can just ask." you encouraged, unsure if you were misreading the situation but having a feeling she was dancing around her true intentions. "no no i don't want to bother you." she shook her head, knee bouncing nervously.
"okay. because you know if you wanted to ask me out you can just do it. instead of making up all of these injuries and excuses to come and hang out with me in here during work hours." you spoke casually but the words caused jessie to choke on air as she spun around and pulled her shirt back on.
you watched with amusement as the canadian opened and closed her mouth clearly in shock. "you're cute jess, but we gotta work on your confidence!" you patted her leg with a smile, stepping back a little.
"i'm free tonight, if you were wondering." you sat down at your desk and pulled out millies file, seeing her for a one on one next. "okay! would you like to get dinner?" jessie hopped down and played nervously with her hands.
"i'd love to." you answered softly, watching as her face lit up. "okay. awesome! great." jessie nodded happily, making a beeline for the door as you cleared your throat. "would you like my number so we can make a plan for dinner?" you asked, her face paling as she nodded.
you held your hand out for her phone, saving your number in it and handing it back to her. "better text me fleming." you warned playfully as she backed out of the room. "i will! promise." you melted at the grin on her face as she left, hearing her footsteps thud away.
"oh hey! you look beautiful today by the way." your head lifted up as hers popped back in, sending you a charming smile before running off again.
"see you're already getting better with the confidence jess, keep it up!"
#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso#woso blurbs#woso community#jessie fleming x reader#jessie fleming
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TOOTM zero. old beginnings
! go kyungjun x fem!reader
# relationship lore, first meeting, heavy infatuation, mentions of kyung jun having daddy and mommy issues
a/n. chill yall i swear im putting my whole authorussy on this
months before the school trip…
rain pours on top of the bus stop's roof. although tiny, the cover is enough to prevent kyung jun's clothes from getting even wetter.
if only he had brought an umbrella. he was in such a rush to get out of his house after yet another fight with his parents, he didn't even hear the water falling from the sky before it was too late and was already running around the streets.
kyung jun had no idea how long had passed since he stormed out, not that he cared anyway. he considered this ten times better than all the yelling at home. when he managed to ignore the cold, the little bus stop was peaceful; quiet.
or it was.
he dug in his pocket to take out a cigarette and put it in his mouth when the sound of hurried footsteps stepping on puddles distracted him. he turned his head towards the noise, immediately setting eyes on the figure sprinting towards him: a girl in winter clothes held a bag above her head as a shield from the rain while she ran in his direction. she stopped right next to him, breathing heavily and drenched in water.
kyung jun turned his attention back to his tobacco. he paid her no mind. why would he? he had enough to deal with seeing as he also fell victim to the pouring rain.
he felt the weight of the stranger sitting at the other end of the bench as he took out his lighter. however, rolling the flint wheel was useless as only a spark came out. he tried again. and again. and again, but still no flame. kyung jun's breath rose erratically and his pent-up frustration with it.
"fucking piece of shit", he sent the thing flying with as much force he could manage, making it break into pieces. was nothing supposed to work in his favor? he can't stop misbehaving like he promised his mother, he can't be the top of his class like he promised his father, he can't stop himself from lashing out right in their faces; for fucks sake he can't even light a cigarette. maybe they were right: he was worthless.
out of the corner of his eye, he saw something being handed to him. the stranger had reached her arm out with a lighter in hand. kyung jun's eyes varied from it to the face he'd been ignoring: drops of water were falling from her hair to her cheeks, she wore headphones around her neck and a lit cigarette between her parted lips, with eyes that stared at him through wet lashes, waiting for him to accept the offer.
he reached for the lighter, brought it close to him, and finally took a puff of his cigarette.
"you okay?", asked the pretty girl.
he looked back at her, seemingly taken aback by her interest but nodding nonetheless.
their interaction was cut short with a quick smile from her as she put her headphones on.
in his mind, kyung jun caught himself juggling feelings from shame to disappointment, realizing maybe he wanted somebody to ask if he was alright. he wouldn't have minded an opening to more conversation, even if it was to forget his troubles for just a few minutes. but he understood. i mean, who would care about a stranger on the streets anyway? who would care about him anyway?
the time passed as quickly as did his pack of cigarettes and now, with an empty box in his pocket, kyung jun's anger was rising once again. not because of the distress of his mind though but because of the loud music disturbing his peace.
after what felt like hours of trying to ignore the noise, he decided he had enough and aggressively waved his hand to catch the girl's attention.
"mmh?", she looked at him and removed one of the speakers.
"turn that shit off."
"excuse me?" she scoffed raising her brows.
"i said," kyung jun pointed at the headphones that were now around her neck, "turn it off. it's fucking annoying me."
she let out a teasing chuckle. was she... laughing at him right now? "fuck off. i'll listen to my music however i want."
...the fuck? his mouth opened in disbelief. this was a first. nobody, and i mean nobody, would even think of talking back to him like that.
"who do you think you're talking to?" he turned his body to her with a scowl intimidating enough to make anyone at his school go running with their tail between their legs.
"someone with no taste in music, apparently."
damn, she really was laughing at him.
kyung jun's mouth opened to fight back but no words came out. he couldn't believe it. he was stunned. did the rain wash out every threatening aspect of him?
it could be the cold, the shock, the contagious smirk of the pretty girl, or maybe the exhaustion finally catching on to him, but for whatever reason, he couldn't find it in him to say anything back. so he laughed. just slightly. some probably would consider it more of a defeated sigh. but he did.
"what?"
her smile was taunting him, provoking him to keep talking.
"nothing", yet he didn't have the energy for it, not right now. so today, he'd let it slide.
her smile shifted from cheeky to genuine when he brushed her off. as much as she enjoyed the banter, she had enough awareness not to tease any further.
"you know what," instead, she disconnected her headphones before handing her phone to the guy. "if my music is so annoying to you, show me something better."
kyung jun frowned, but a small smile graced his face, betraying his attempt at indifference.
and so he accepted her offer, for the second time that day.
minutes went by with surface-level conversation and recommended songs. it was a pleasant distraction for him, at least enough to make him miss the way his pulse merged with the beats of the tunes. they enjoyed their time together until the faint sound of wheels appeared in the distance. turning off the music, the pretty girl stood up in front of him.
oh right, the bus.
for a second, he forgot where they were.
"well, that's my ride" she announced, just seconds before said ride stopped before them.
for a second, time seemed to freeze.
the girl said something else, but whatever it was fell on deaf ears. it felt like his senses were failing him all of a sudden.kyung jun sat there, helpless and paralyzed, as he watched her walk away. a chill ran down his spine, causing goosebumps to break out all over his body. his mind was screaming at him to do something, anything, to make her stay just a little bit longer. he wanted to ask for her name, to strike up more conversation, to find out who she was and where she was going. but he couldn't bring himself to move. all he could do was see her disappear, without time to wonder what might have been.
when he came to his senses the bus was out of sight, and the empty spot on the bench felt heavier than ever.
kyung jun looked at the sky. there was not a single ray of sun to be seen, but at least the rain had finally stopped. he leaned back and just as his hands came to rest in his pockets he touched something cold. he took it out, eyes falling on a lighter. her lighter.
he could feel the beat of his heart against his ribcage. why? where did all this adrenaline come from? since when has he become so soft as to let such a flimsy little thing make his head spin and his face fire up?
"fuck", he cursed to the skies.
as the days went by, his intense but short-lived experience with that stranger remained fresh in the back of his mind. no matter how many times he tried to blur her face she was like a ghost that reappeared every time he looked away, a fading memory he couldn't fully forget.
at the back of the school's building kyung jun took the last puff of his cigarette just when the bell announced the start of classes. he dropped what was left of it on the floor at the same time his two companions dropped the innocent student they had been tormenting. they walked together to their classroom with the same enthusiasm as a kid who received a pair of socks for christmas and sat in the back row.
"good morning, class", the teacher greeted as she stood in front of the students, who immediately saluted back.
kyung jun rolled his eyes and laid down on his desk with no thought other than finding the perfect position for the three-hour nap he was about to take until his next break, wondering if his dreams would finally be undisturbed by images of the one he couldn't fail to recall again and again.
"alright," the teacher clasped her hands to get the class' attention. "before starting our lesson, i'm pleased to inform you that we have a new student coming in today and i hope you'll help them accommodate to the school."
already starting to doze off, kyung jun's eyes remained closed even after someone knocked on the door and the tutor welcomed them in. "welcome, please come in and introduce yourself."
"hello everyone, my name is yoon yn. i hope we get along well."
what the...?
his eyes shot open.
there's no way. no fucking way.
he saw the new student politely bowing at the front of the room like she wasn't the same that had been living in his mind rent free day, night, and day again.
"thank you. please, take a sit."
she walked like in slow motion towards the back of the room and, for a split second, their eyes met. the idea that he must've already fallen into a deep slumber invaded him when she sent him a subtle smile before sitting just a few sits away from him.
the teacher regathered the attention of the room and started her lesson. needless to say, his plan of breezing through the school day with a nap got ruined.
hours passed insanely slow until the bell rang through the speakers and announced a much-needed break.
having pulled up two chairs by his side, jin-ha was cracking up at something on seung-bin's phone. whatever it was, kyung jun couldn't care less. his eyes were set on the crowd surrounding the new girl as his classmates smothered her with questions and compliments.
"are you new in town, yn?"
"what school did you use to go to?"
"were you in any clubs?"
"well–", yn tries to answer in between the frenzy.
"O-M-G, you should join our cheerleading group!" interrupted mi-na.
"im not interested in any clubs, thank you" yn declined with a smile.
"oh, of course." said so-mi, "someone like you was probably on the student council, right? you can always help me and jun-hee with-"
"i'll pass. thank you, so-mi."
"woaah, the class president got rejected!" heo yool pointed out and the small crowd joined in the teasing.
in the chaos of it all, she managed to find him staring. the moment was brief, yet enough for kyung jun's heart to skip a beat.
"you know her?"
"huh?"
"do you know her?", jin ha repeated. "the new girl."
kyung jun hesitated but shook his head, "no, i don't."
"could it be?", seung bin dramatised. "does ko kyung jun have a crush?"
his friends patted his back, mocking him, and giggled in unison.
"shut up," kyung jun sighed and leaned back on his chair closing his eyes with his arms crossed, trusting they'd get the hint that his temper was better off not tested.
"he didn't say no," seung bin whispered, gaining a repressed chuckle from jin ha.
boring lessons and occasional glances between the delinquent and the new student continued throughout the day until finally the moment to get out that hellhole arrived.
by the time kyung jun had his bag over one shoulder and ready to go the class was almost empty. yoon yn was putting away her stuff without any rush as if she wasn't the only one left in the classroom.
"hey, kyung jun!" seung bin shouted from the door. "you coming or not?"
"nah," he answered without turning his eyes away from the girl. "i'll see you tomorrow."
with a shrug, seung bin left the room with jin ha following after him, not before exchanging a knowing look.
"move, nerd!" was the last thing heard from the two vandals out on the hall before they left.
kyung jun approached yn with the same caution you do a stray cat in fear it'll run away and with each step, his pulse accelerated. as the girl cleaned up her belongings, he leaned on the desk next to hers wth his hands inside his trousers' pockets.
"the uniform doesn't suit you, you know?"
she turned to him–smirking–their eyes met and, for the first time today, neither looked away.
"i could say the same for you", yn crossed her arms.
"i'd say it's better than wet clothes.", he shrugged.
"please," the girl rolled her eyes, "it was just a little rain."
"a little rain?", kyung jun repeated. "you were literally running with your bag on your head."
"you were watching me?", yn put a hand over her chest and furrowed her brows, yet her smug smile remained. "you weirdo."
"look who's talking, you fucking stalker."
"excuse me? why the fuck would i stalk you?", she pointed at him.
"you tell me," he teased, lifting his hands. "you're the one in my school."
kyung jun kept staring at yn waiting for another one of her snarky comments but instead she tightly closed her lips together.
"what?" he provoked.
unable to hold back any longer, she let out a peal of laughter which made kyung jun's eyes widen as much as his own smile. he couldn't help it, her laugh was contagious and the situation was amusing. randomly meeting someone and obsessing over them to later find out they just enrolled in the same school as you is something you would only see in movies; or fanfiction.
yet here they were.
"nothing", yn smiled, finally gathering her stuff and putting her backpack over her shoulder, ready to leave.
leave?
flashes of the day he thought he'd never see her again flooded kyung jun's mind. he couldn't bear it. to someone else, this might seem extreme; desperate. now that they were classmates he'd most likely see her every day, so why even panic in the first place? but maybe, just maybe, he was desperate. to him, seeing her leave felt devastating. like a reminder of the day his whole body failed to even ask her name. but if the universe saw it necessary for them to meet again, that meant he wasn't supposed to let her go, right?
kyung jun clumsily opened his backpack and took out the trinket he'd been carrying around since that rainy day, handing it to her.
yn stared at him with her eyebrows wrinkled.
"here", the guy insisted, slightly shoving the lighter toward her.
"why?"
"'fuck you mean why? it's yours."
"i told you to keep it. you didn't hear me?"
"oh," he felt what seemed like a heatwave run through his neck and ears. "i guess not."
"all that shit you gave me about my loud music and look at you." she mocked.
the guy lowered his head. he would have run away right then and there to avoid any more embarrassment if it wasn't for the little pride he still had.
"hey, uh..." she paused. "sorry, what's your name?"
all this time and he still hadn't introduced himself? fuck, he really couldn't do anything right, huh?
"ko kyung jun."
"right. so, kyung jun, since it's such a nice day out i was wondering if you'd be free to show me around?"
like on queue, sunshine started squeezing through the window’s blinds.
he wasn't sure if it really was the world roaring at him to see the signs or if she just happened to take pity on him, but whatever it was he felt relieved, and his anxiety washed away the moment he lifted his head to look at the girl with her arm extended.
this was it, wasn't it? the opportunity he keept missing?
how many times will she have to reach out until you take the chance, dumbass?, screamed the universe.
"sure", kyung jun uttered. "i can do that."
she offered her hand, and for the final time, he accepted.
🏷️ @flaneurpastel - @jwijii - @watamotee33
© to @divineei on tumblr; do not repost or steal
#fem reader#night has come#night has come kdrama#nhc x reader#night has come x reader#kdrama x reader#go kyung jun#ko kyung jun#night has come ko kyung jun#ko kyungjun#go kyungjun#nhc kyung jun#ko kyung jun x reader#go kyung jun x reader#kyung jun x reader#night has come kyung jun x reader#night has come kyung jun
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Do you miss me, dear? [h.c]
Summary: Stuck at a graduation party, surrounded by memories of your past relationship and your own loneliness, your night takes an unexpected turn when you find yourself dialing the number of the one person you vowed you wouldn't contact.
Pairing: College!Hazel x College!Fem!Reader
Contains: smut 18+ only, explicit language, drinking, smoking, mutual pining, slightly toxic reader I think, fingering (r! receiving), oral(r! receiving), break-up/make-up sex, idiots in love, this one gets straight-up MUSHY I’m not gonna lie
Word count: 4.1k
a/n: I just need to say I am deeply obsessed with all of you who interacted with either of my last two fics. reading your comments/ replies seriously makes me SO happy you have no idea. Got me giggling and shit fr! I don’t know why my writing always ends up including partying and drinking but maybe it’s because I just graduated college and am having an existential post-grad crisis. Anyway 💀I hope you enjoy and thank you again for reading!!!
Also, this is inspired by this song by one of my favourite bands:
“I don’t know what I’m still doing here.” You say out loud to yourself, standing up from the musty green couch you were sitting on. An empty beer bottle falls from the cushion onto the ground, shattering into pieces beside your foot.
This party sucked. Pushing your way through the crowded, stuffy kitchen, you couldn't shake off the feeling of suffocation. Tipsy couples entangled in each other's arms seemed to be everywhere, a painful reminder of what you once had and lost. The memories of being that annoying person in love at a party flooded back, amplifying the ache of your loneliness.
The thumping music in your ears only made your head pound harder. Desperate for a breath of fresh air, you stumbled toward the door, ignoring the intoxicated laughter and clinking glasses that filled the air. As you stepped outside, the cool night breeze hit your face, offering a momentary rescue from the overwhelming atmosphere inside.
The darkness of the night sky above seemed to swallow you whole, but it felt strangely comforting. Leaning against the porch railing, you closed your eyes, trying to regain your composure. In the silence outside, you could hear distant laughter and the faint sound of music, muffled by the walls of the house.
You settled into a seat around a glass table, next to a guy you recognized from one of your classes. You exchanged a quick nod of acknowledgment before reaching into your purse, retrieving a box of cigarettes. Smoking was not a regular habit for you, but you reserved it for moments like these—after a few drinks and a growing sense of irritation.
You lit the end of the cigarette, watching it crackle, and took a long drag. As you exhaled the smoke, you tilted your head back, noticing the full moon glowing brightly above.
"Full moon tonight," the boy beside you remarked, his voice carrying a note of intrigue. "They say some crazy shit can happen on full moons."
You chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, well, that could explain why I'm stuck at this party right now."
He leaned back, studying you intently.
“I wish I could be an astronaut and get the fuck out of here.” You mused, gaze fixed on the bright glow of the moon. "I only came to this party because she said she would be here." Another drag of the cigarette punctuated your words.
"Who's she?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"My ex," you replied, trying to seem nonchalant. His gaze was fixed on you, "Hazel."
-
Until today, you hadn't spoken to Hazel in over three months, choosing to cut off all contact in an attempt to speed up the process of moving on. You're both surprised that you managed to endure the silence for so long, and disappointed that she hasn't made any effort to reach out, not even once.
That was until about six hours ago when you were sitting at a coffee shop on campus with your roommate, Brittany, studying for your upcoming statistics exam.
"Don't look now, but Hazel just walked in," she whispers, her tone hushed, and her eyes widening. "And she's with another girl."
Your heart plummeted into your stomach. You were seated with your back to the door, and you watched as they both approached the corner, heading in your direction.
"Brittany!" the blonde girl accompanying Hazel exclaims, leaving the three of you momentarily stunned.
Hazel follows a few steps behind, clearly taken aback by the encounter. She looked annoyingly hot, her disheveled brown hair, baggy white t-shirt and black jeans, adorned with her signature silver chains and rings. It takes all your strength not to stare.
"Hey, Amanda," Brittany replied, forcing a polite smile. "Hazel."
Hazel offers a nod in greeting to Brittany and then to you. You feel like a middle-schooler again, awkward and unsure of how to act around your crush.
"Did you manage to finish that paper for Professor Sharpe's class?" the girl asked.
As Brittany carries on the conversation with Amanda, you can feel Hazel's gaze on you, catching her eyes occasionally.
You never anticipated the aftermath of your breakup with Hazel to be this awkward. All those nights spent tangled up together, where you both believed you could read each other's minds, now reduced to this.
"So, Hazel, are you going to Emma’s graduation party tonight? All of us are going," Brittany chimed in, attempting to steer the conversation away from the obvious tension.
Hazel smiled sheepishly, replying, "Yeah, I’m going."
"Cool," Brittany replied, her smile masking the underlying awkwardness in the air.
A beat of uncomfortable silence hung between you all.
"Will you be there?" Hazel asked breaking the silence, turning toward you, her voice almost hesitant.
"Yeah, I'll be there," you said, mustering a small smile. "Wouldn’t want to miss it."
Hazel smiled, "Cool," she said, her voice soft, "I'll see you there then."
Just as the atmosphere began to ease, Amanda abruptly intervened, her grip firm on Hazel's hand. "Hazel, let’s go, I forgot something in my car," Amanda said, her tone strangely possessive, and she dragged Hazel away before you could utter another word.
-
This breadcrumb of information has led you here. You spent the first fifteen minutes at the party searching for her like a lost puppy. When you couldn't find her, you contemplated leaving but opted to drown your thoughts with tequila shots instead. Now, you're clinging to any scrap of attention you can find, desperately trying to purge her from your mind.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the male voice beside you. "D’you have a light?" he asked, his cigarette aimed in your direction. You stare at him for a moment, deadpan, still frozen in your thoughts from the events that unfolded earlier today.
"Fuck it," you muttered under your breath, reaching for your phone. You’re calling her.
-
“You’re soaked,” Hazel says as you climb into the front seat of her car, her tone a mix of concern and annoyance. “Seriously, you’re getting mud all over the floor of my car.” While you were waiting for Hazel to pick you up from the party, It started raining, you thought enduring it outside would be better than being stuffed in that small house full of people you didn't even really know.
“You lied.” You retort back.
“What?”
“You said you were coming to the party.”
“Yeah well, my plans changed. Put your seatbelt on.” As she shifted the car into reverse, she placed her hand on your seat to steady herself. With a quick glance over your shoulder, she backed out of the driveway in one brisk movement.
You attempted to keep your composure, trying not to make it entirely obvious that you were basically drooling over how hot she looked doing that.
“I can tell that there’s someone else,” You say after a few moments of silence, trying to disguise your jealousy with innocent curiosity. “Come on, tell me,” You finally click your seatbelt into place. “I can take it well.”
"Oh, I know you can," she replied, shooting you a smug look, trying to divert this conversation from getting too deep right now.
“Hazel.” You groan at her dumb attempt at an innuendo, throwing your head backward and hitting the headrest. “Just be honest. Is it the girl from the coffee shop earlier? Or what about the girl Isabel saw you with last week at the library? Or both? Who am I kidding, there’s probably even more than that.”
“Do you have like, personal spies assigned to watch over me?”
You don’t respond right away, deciding to avoid her questions like she’s avoiding yours. You crank the window open and throw your head out. The spring wind cool on your face.
“God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”
She’s quiet for a moment.
Look, I know I wasn't where I said I'd be, but I was busy, doing stuff," she replied defensively.
"Yeah," you scoffed, your words tinged with a hint of anger. "I'm sure you were."
You sit the next few minutes in silence, wondering if this whole thing was a bad idea. You couldn't pinpoint why you had called her in the first place. The intensity of seeing her earlier mixed with the disappointment of the lackluster party had left you missing her, even though you weren't entirely sure why.
"So, where am I taking you?" Hazel asked, her gaze shifting from the road to you. Strands of her brown hair were tousled by the wind.
Your buzz had faded, and with it, your initial courage waned. Swallowing hard, you hesitated before speaking. "Can I sleep at yours? Not— not like that," you hurriedly clarified, feeling a sudden need to explain. "It's just that Brittany has her new boyfriend over, and I could go back there, but I don’t really want to."
“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
After a moment, Hazel hesitantly rested her hand on your thigh, both of you aware of the significance of the touch, even if neither acknowledged it. Her fingers gave a gentle squeeze, the subtle pressure made your tummy flip. Beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding lingered, hinting that this night might entail more than just a ride home.
-
Hazel's apartment is full of brown moving boxes, an aching reminder of why you broke up in the first place.
“Wow, this place is pretty much all packed up.” You say, slowly walking through the place, eventually landing at the doorway into her bedroom.
She nods in response, her face reflecting a mixture of anticipation and sadness, settling down at the end of her bed.
"So, when do you leave?" The question weighed heavily on your heart as you voiced it. You wished you didn't have to ask these questions, yearning for a time when you were part of her plans, not just a spectator.
“Two weeks. My Aunt is gonna meet me at JFK and help me move into my new place.”
You sighed, feeling brave, "I wish I had the date circled on my calendar, helping you move, or going with you." You say the last part quiet, mostly to yourself.
The conversation lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.
You walked over to her dresser, where a mirror was propped up, decorated with photos of you two from a photobooth, still clinging to the glass. Your heart swelled with mixed emotions.
Hazel says your name, breaking you from your trance.
“Come here,” she says.
You walk over slowly, standing between her legs. Your hands rest on her shoulders and you take a deep breath.
With both of your gazes locked, her hands came up behind your thighs, gently grabbing them and pulling them on either side of her one by one so you’re straddling her. Her hand comes up to brush a piece of hair from your face.
“You’re so beautiful, baby” Her voice is barely a whisper as she stares up at you, her eyes practically shimmering with your reflection, Her hands settle on your waist, the warmth of her touch sending a pang of guilt through you. This breakup was unlike any you'd experienced before, and the raw emotions lingered, making you hesitate for a moment.
Your hands move up to cradle her face, your thumb dragging on her bottom lip. Still maintaining intense eye contact, you slowly slip your finger into her mouth, watching her with a mix of awe and longing.
The silence as you stare at each other is anything but awkward. It was charged with the weight of shared mourning, each of you navigating the complexity of a relationship's end.
You removed your finger, and in response, she grabbed your head gently, guiding it down towards her face, her eyes locked onto yours. Your lips barely grazed each other, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear your rapid heartbeat. Hazel kissed you slowly at first, the touch of her lips sending a rush through your entire body. It quickly escalated, and there was a certain neediness to the way you both kissed, scared it could be the last time.
"Missed you," She whispered against your lips. Your mouths slid together, tongues pressing and exploring. The intensity of the kiss speaks volumes, like you were making up for lost time. Her lips found their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, lingering kisses, setting your body on fire.
“Fuck, Hazel.” It was almost embarrassing how quickly you melted beneath her touch. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” You say, your voice strained, a soft moan escaping your lips. You very much wanted to be doing this, you just thought you should at least try to seem like you had stronger breakup morals than you did. Her hands found the curve of your ass, and you instinctively started to rock your hips slowly back and forth, seeking some much-needed friction.
"Do you want me to stop? Say the word, and I'll stop, pretty girl," she murmured against your neck, her open-mouthed kisses and gentle suction on your pulse point sending shivers down your spine. You didn't reply with words, but your fingers found her hair, silently urging her to continue. "I need an answer, babygirl,"
"Don't stop," you breathed, your voice catching in your throat. "Please, don't stop." Your hips still lazily moving on her. Her mouth was back on yours, deepening the kiss as she guided you both down, her hands roaming over the back of your legs and your ass. She tugged at the hem of your shirt, helping you out of it and leaving you in your black lace bra.
"So fucking perfect. Missed you so fucking much," she confessed,
"I missed you too, Haze, every day," you whined,
"You ever think about me? she asked, breathless. "About this?" she continued
You nodded, your breath hitching as you confessed, "All the time. Couldn't stop thinking about you, your hands, your mouth."
Her eyes darken as you sit up and effortlessly unhook your bra, leaning back down, your lips finding their way to her collarbone, marking a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin. Your hands slowly creep their way up under her shirt, seeking permission. She nods, a silent affirmation, and you gently peel her shirt off over her head. Your stomach flips as you feel her arms effortlessly turn both of you over, trading places, landing on your back as she hovers over you. Her silver chain dangling above your face. It felt like your first time all over again, you felt a sense of shyness creeping over you under her gaze. Anticipation and excitement blooming in your chest.
“Fuck, look at you.” She says. The way she’s studying you makes you feel like the most beautiful thing to ever exist, as if every curve of your body is a masterpiece deserving of praise. Unable to contain your impatience, you pull her head down to meet your lips, your hips instinctively bucking up, frustration showing in the heated moment. Her fingers start to trail downwards under your skirt, meeting your clothed cunt. “You want me to fuck you? Hm?” She whispers in your ear, “Is that what you want baby?” She taunts, her fingers slowly grazing over your underwear.
You nod vigorously, your enthusiasm evident. She responds by sucking on your neck again, sending shivers down your spine, your face flushed with heat. Your hands instinctively tug at her hair.
“Yes, Haze, please, fuck.” You arch your neck, pressing it firmly into the softness of the pillow beneath, a small gasp escaping your lips as you surrender to the moment. “Want your fingers inside of me.”
She makes a noise of desperation, her warm breath fanning over your face. “Gonna make you feel so good baby” She moves your underwear to the side, running her fingers through your slick folds. You gasp and she groans. “Wanna make it up to you.”
She tugs at the waistband of your skirt. You lift your hips as she guides it down along with your underwear. Hazel curses under her breath, “You’re so wet, it’s so fucking hot.” She plants kisses all over your chest, each one feeling like it could set you on fire.
She slowly fucks you with her middle finger, the touch leaving you reeling. She adds her ring finger, her free hand snaking under your neck. Her fingers gently grab the side of your face while she fucks you, slightly tugging and grazing them against your parted lips. It's an intimate gesture, conveying both tenderness and desire.
Your hips buck up to meet her fingers. “Holy fuck” you groan as she pumps them faster into you. “Like that,” your voice is completely shot. Your entire body fizzed from the contact. You gently bite down on her fingers near your mouth while she places kisses all over your cheeks and your lips. Your head spun with thoughts of her - her mouth, her hair, her scent, Hazel was everywhere, all-encompassing.
“Fuck, you’re so good” She half slurs, her voice wrecked, pupils blown and her lips parted. “So good for me.” She whispers, keeping her pace, dragging her digits through the wetness at your core.
Her mouth makes its way down your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses until she’s on her stomach between your thighs. Pumping faster, her lips suck at your clit. Her other hand presses down on your abdomen, holding you in place. You cup your aching tits, feeling them move with every motion she makes.
“Hazel,” you whine, “Haze, I-” Her fingers pick up the pace, curling inside of you. You tread your fingers through her hair, tugging slightly, the coil in your tummy growing tighter and tighter.
“I know, honey, I know,” She says in response to your moans. “You sound so pretty baby, missed those sounds so much.” She keeps babbling, telling you how good you are and how pretty you look for her.
“Fuck, don’t stop” you moan as she continues fucking you with her mouth and fingers, her pace alternating between teasing and fast, pushing you toward the edge. The contrast in her movements intensifies the pleasure, almost giving you want you want but flaking at the last moment, it’s torture.
“Shit, you’re almost there sweetheart” Hazel swears under her breath, voice laced with her own arousal. Her words drive you closer to the edge. You swear you can see stars as the overwhelming feeling shocks through your body. Your heart rate picks up immensley, pounding in your chest.
“Gonna come for me baby, yeah?” “Want you to come all over these fingers.”
And you did. Your body clenches around her fingers, trembling, moans and curses spilling from your lips. Your eyes form with tears from the overstimulation. Her face landed in the crook of your neck, planting sloppy kisses and whispering reassurances as she guides you through the climax.
“Good girl, that’s it, honey. That’s it,” she murmurs.
Her fingers still slowly pumping in and out of you, riding out your high.
“Holy shit," you say once you've caught your breath. "Haze, c'mere." She lifts her head back up and you yank her face down to yours, tasting yourself on her lips as she lets out a soft moan. When you eventually pull away, both breathless, you lock eyes before bursting into disbelieving laughter.
“I can’t believe that just happened.” You whisper.
"I can," she says smugly. You playfully shove her before she collapses beside you. Both of you lie face to face, studying each other's features, committing them to memory, afraid you might forget what they look like. Her hand rests on your waist, mindlessly grazing up and down.
"What's the real reason you didn't come to the party? You ask. Were you with someone else?" Hazel shakes her head.
She pauses before speaking, "I thought if there was any chance of you being there, that I was gonna walk in and maybe see you with someone else. There was no way I could've handled that. I've been distracting myself with other girls, yeah, but..." Her voice trails off. "You have no idea how in love with you I still am." Her voice cracking with emotion. You can see a tear forming in Hazel’s eye, glimmering in the low light of the room.
“Hazel..” Your own voice slightly breaking. You reach out and drag your thumb delicately against her cheek, wiping the stray tear away. Your heart is breaking with a mixture of guilt and longing for the girl lying beside you.
“I still play pretend, in my head.” She whispers.
You smile, your hand resting on her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, a signal of encouragement for her to keep going.
“I picture us, living together in our apartment in the city.”
Hazel was moving to New York City to work for her aunt after graduation. The reason you broke up, neither of you wanting to do long distance.
“Waking up next to you everyday, cooking you breakfast, fucking you on the countertop for hours” You both laugh at that. “Ever since I met you, I’ve always pictured you just being there. And these past few months…”
“Absolute hell.” You finish for her.
“Absolute hell.” She agrees.
You take her hand and squeeze it, a silent form of reassurance.
She shifts slightly and hovers over you again, brushing your damp hair off your forehead with her hand, and scans your face. “I don’t want this to end” she whispers.
You wish you could capture this moment, tuck it away, and replay it whenever you wanted. You’ve been waiting for her to say these exact words for the past three months, you just never thought it would happen. The reason for your break-up still heavily taunts the back of your mind.
“I love you” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. Taking her face in your hand and capturing her in another kiss. She kisses you sweetly and desperately.
You pull away, gently coaxing her back towards you, and cuddle her into your chest, assuming the role of the big spoon.
She nestles into your arms, finding comfort in the warmth of your body. With a soft sigh, she murmurs, "I wish we had more time.”
You tighten your hold around her, "We'll figure something out, I promise," you whisper, though you aren’t even sure of the reality of your own words. You choose to let go of the uncertainties, preferring to revel in the present moment. She looks back at you, and you kiss her forehead, a silent promise to cherish what you have, even if time feels fleeting.
“God damn full moon.” You mutter to yourself, remembering your earlier conversation at the party.
“What?” She asks.
“Nothing.” You say. “Don’t worry about it.” You kiss her shoulder, settling into the softness of the moment.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
tagging @astroph1les @vster0769
#hazel callahan#bottoms 2023#hazel callahan imagine#hazel callahan x reader#bottoms movie#hazel bottoms#hazel callahan fanfic#ruby cruz#wlw#sapphic#Spotify
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Loving your fics, was wondering if you could write a Lucy/reader fic where Lucy and reader are traveling together and get stuck in a thunderstorm? And Lucy obviously knows the science behind it, but the vault didn't have thunderstorms, and she's terrified of the thunder? And reader comforts her? And the two cuddle maybe?
stormy night ( lucy maclean )
summary: you were used to the unpredictable weather of the surface, lucy, however, wasn't, and seemed to carry a terrible fear for thunder. luckily, you were used to the big storms in the wasteland so she wouldn't have to be afraid for much longer.
contents: usual fallout shenanigans, pure fluff, reader is a sweetheart, thunderstorms, lightning, slight mentions of violence, mild language, set after season one of fallout, the ghoul being a hater, one bed trope, kissing, friends to lovers, the reader and lucy being cuties, ect...
The place you were held up in for tonight was a shit hole, but it would have to do for now, you may not trust him or like him but the ghoul you were travelling with said that it would be harder to travel in a storm and so you all agreed to get some form of rest until it passed.
Which led you all to this cramped house that was barely standing, but it was the only one with a roof and so you'd all headed inside, the dog following the ghoul loyally with a whine, fearful it would be left behind again. Lucy was a little excited, for she had never experienced a real storm, only learned about them through books or documentary films she watched with her dad. It was when the thunder finally arrived that her excitement had faded and she was lying next to you flinching with each rumble that growled from the dark clouds above. It didn't take a genius to see that the thunder scared her, the flashes of lightning, you had grown used to the wasteland weather to never have developed a fear of the storms. The ghoul didn't seem to care about the weather, lying on the other bed with four or dogmeat as you'd heard him call the dog, his hat was over his head but you could tell he wasn't sleeping, you don't think he ever did.
Lucy was where your worries pointed, she was turned on her side, facing away from you, slightly shaking, you were aware the weather was what frightened her, she denied it to appear stronger and tougher than she was but it was a valid fear, especially for someone who had lived beneath the surface all her life, you had your own fears and even if storms weren't one of them, you could at least try to keep her attention elsewhere, distract her from the rumble and flashes from the sky.
"I'm scared shitless of yao guai's." You admit quietly, your voice a mere whisper compared to the rain outside, but it was loud enough that Lucy heard you and turned to face you, both of you lying on your side to face one another, a tired yet curious look crossed her features, "What's a yao guai?" She asked and you smiled slightly at her, although she had been on the surface for a while, she hadn't seen a whole lot of it yet. "It's this mutated bear, could rip you to shreds in seconds, real fucking scary, I'm being honest, if I ever came face to face with one, I wouldn't be wasting a bullet on it, I'd be saving it for myself." Lucy winced when she realised you were being serious, "Wow, that's dark." A quiet laugh made its way up your throat and she smiled a little at the sight until another flash lit up the room and an angry rumble of thunder followed, causing Lucy to flinch, gripping your hand for comfort.
You gave her hand a squeeze of comfort and listened to a patter of raindrops hitting the dirty window and then you met her worried gaze, "Hey, it's alright." You assured her, a small smile as you held her hand, "It's just thunder." A nod came from Lucy as she repeated the words back, "It's just thunder..." Another rumble and she gripped your hand as if it were a lifeline, instantly apologising when she saw an uncomfortable wince.
"When I was little my mom taught me a trick when it was stormy outside." You begin and Lucy keeps her attention focused on you with curious eyes, "She told me that you can track how far away a storm is if you count how long the number of seconds is between the flash of lightning and the sound of the thunder." Lucy smiled at this, "And then divide it by five and you can tell how far or close it's getting, do you wanna try and do that?" The vault dweller nods instantly, "As long as you count with me." You give a reassuring squeeze to her hand, "I'd be honoured, Lucy." You told her and then fell silent, waiting for the next flash of lightning to occur.
The small room lit up, the crackle of lightning giving you the go ahead to start counting, both you and Lucy count the seconds quietly and then a rumble interrupts at a five second count and you do the math in your head unsurely before meeting Lucy's gaze, but she was already uttering a confident answer out to you quietly, "It's one mile away, that's good isn't it, it felt like it was right above us a while ago." You nod, realising that she'd become distracted by the math calculations in her head, but it was better than her being constantly fearful of the storm.
Another flash and you count quietly, noticing how Lucy has shuffled closer to you, but you didn't say anything, a rumble of thunder stopped your counting and you meet her soft gaze, "That was ten seconds this time..." You tell her, "Two miles away -" Your answer was cut off by Lucy leaning over to you and pressing her lips to your own, at first you had been caught off guard, but soon joined her in closing your eyes, bringing a hand to her face to brush the hair out the way of your hold, another flash lit up the room but it didn't frighten Lucy this time as she began to break away from you with a smile as the sky rumbled on and she spoke quietly, "Twenty five." You nod and count in your head before replying to her, "Five miles."
You both laugh when another flash lights up the room, a cheerful Lucy giving your hand a squeeze before she met your lips once more and you follow her movements, she's gentle and sweet and all the things you thought that you didn't deserve and as she broke away once more, you are left staring at her with starry eyes.
"Hey, Thelma and Louise, mind shutting up and going the fuck to sleep?" The drawled yet tired voice of the ghoul is suddenly the loudest thing both of you had heard, even if he was quiet while speaking, it startled both of you when you remembered he was also present. "There's far worse things out here than a little thunder, vaultie." He stated, a wave of annoyance in his tone that made you glare over in his directions, "Worse things? What, like you?" You fire back at him and he merely sighs from under his hat, but didn't argue for once, mumbling words to the dog about how he was way too old for this bullshit.
When you turn back to face Lucy, her eyes are shut, her chest rising and falling as she slept peacefully beside you, her hand still holding your own. You smile at her and pull the rough makeshift blanket over her shoulder before you shuffle beside her, wrapping an arm around her that she's quick to lean into in her sleep and so you close your eyes, drifting off to the sound of the rain.
And the thunder, the thunder had stopped.
#fallout#fallout tv show#fallout tv series#lucy maclean x reader#lucy maclean#lucy maclean x y/n#lucy maclean fanfic#cooper howard#the ghoul
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could you maybe do something short with aitana where r is scared of fireworks but loves watching them so aitana help cover r’s ears and some people saw it so they posted it on social media and everybody is going wild
pretty lights
aitana bonmatí x reader [BLURB!]
//
"the fireworks are about to start, aitana hurry!"
"sí bebé, i've got you the perfect spot to watch the fireworks no?"
"yes yes but hurry, i don't wanna miss the pretty lights!"
you drag her out to the field where there was a new year's countdown and a firework show after. it was in aitana's hometown, her whole family and all her friends were there with you both too.
you're holding her hand tight, jumping up and down as you wait for the big screen to countdown to one. you've got your head turned towards the sky with a big grin on your face admiring the beautiful clear sky that is perfect for fireworks. aitana however, was more focused on something else; you.
she was utterly enamored by you and your childlike innocence when it came to fireworks. she wanted her first kiss at midnight with you but she knew she had another job that was more important than a silly little kiss. she watched the time go down like a hawk as it got closer and closer to midnight, wanting to make sure she did her job right.
your grin didn't falter when the clock struck one, aitana hands immediately pressed against your ears to block out the loud noises. she pressed them against your ears hard, more focused on keeping the sounds out of your eardrums than risk you being distracted. your eyes were lit up like those lights you were admiring, gazing far into the night at all the different patterns and colors in the dark sky.
she smiled wide and proud, happy to experience your favorite thing about the new year with you exactly how you needed to. what she didn't know was that her friends were taking photos and had posted them that night.
in the morning when you both woke, both your phones were flooded with notifications that included that photo. it had gone viral, comments were filled with cute messages and general adoration of the two of you together.
"are you seeing what i'm seeing bebé?" you ask aitana, putting your phone down and rolling over to her side of the bed. you pressed your head to her chest, her heart beating loud and strong in her chest as she began to read aloud some of the comments that flooded her friends instagram post.
"fuck they're so cute together!"
"aww aitana has her hands pressed to her ears to protect them..."
"about time! those two are simply made for each other."
you're blushing hard, shyly hiding your face in aitana's neck as she reads on. she reaches for your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you, lips pressing to yours with a deep adoration in them.
"i love you, cariño," she whispers against your lips. you smile softly, before replying "i love you too, tana. happy new year."
"happy new year, bebita."
#liquidation asks#woso x reader#woso soccer#woso imagine#woso fanfics#fc barca femeni#aitana bonmati blurb#aitana bonmatí#aitana bonmati imagine#aitana bonmati x reader
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𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗 - 𝚎.𝚠
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
loser!ellie williams x fem!reader
summary: ellie unexpectedly shows up to your apartment with hopes of talking to you. it's just the two of you sitting in her car. she tries to tell you how she feels, but her awkward nature makes it a struggle.
a/n: this is my first post on here and I hope y'all enjoy !! pretty short and sweet bc it's a monday night :/ (not proofread)
c/w: mention of weed
word count: 1.4k
click for palestine
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
the sky has turned dark, with no one in sight through your apartment window. A lit candle emitted the scent of pure vanilla, which gave it a snug feeling. you were dozing off in bed, fitted with a pair of silk pajamas and a bright phone screen in front of your face. you couldn’t help the feeling of nodding off as the same video replayed on your phone. just as you shut your phone off and placed it on the nightstand, there was a notification. with a grunt, you picked yourself up and quickly flicked on your phone. it was her—the person you swore to your friends was the love of your life.
ellie (future gf):
look out ur window rn
like a lost puppy, you immediately scuffled to your window. pulling away the curtain, there sat ellie’s beat-up burgundy car in all it’s glory. your eyes lit up with a smile pulling at your cheeks. it was like a ritual. at least once a week, ellie would randomly show up at any time of the day. the two of you would sit around in her car, blabbering anything you could think of. sometimes, she would bring snacks, but you always thought she ate like a grandpa. who even eats necco wafers? let alone heard of that candy? nobody but ellie.
you put on a random jacket and went down to her car. you mentally prepared yourself and fixed loose strands of your hair before opening the car door. through her window, you could see that she staring at you with a grin with her hair in a small ponytail. you loved it like that.
right as you opened the door; she quickly swept off the pile of fast food paper bags on the passenger's seat. she was so messy. you loved it.
"hey," she awkwardly greeted as she leaned back in her seat. ellie cleared her throat and looked away from you for a second.
"hi, ellie" you said, biting back a smile creeping up on you. the smell of weed that her car was lamented with filling up her nose.
randomly, she drew her hand out to you. with a lift of an eyebrow, you brought your hand out only for her to dap you up. there was pure confusion on your face the moment ellie began. what the fuck? you questioned her inside your mind. on the other hand, ellie was beating herself up for pulling a move like that. her whole body was hot and sweaty from the tension in her body. for her life, she can not flirt at all.
"sorry, that was kinda weird." the auburn-haired girl chuckled at herself and scratched her head. she was a nervous wreck, but you were oblivious to it.
"yeah, you fucking weirdo." you jabbed at her as you opened the pull-down mirror to check your appearance.
there was a couple of seconds of silence with ellie staring at you brushing off something in your eyebrows. "you look really pretty." ellie spoke up with her shoulders curled up.
"you think so?" you sheepishly ask for reassurance while shutting the pull-down mirror. she inches closer to you. the closer she becomes, the closer to death you are. ellie intensely stares at your forehead, squinting her eyes and tilting her head.
"yeah but..." her words cut off. you bit the inside of your cheeks as she continued to stare at your forehead. you felt stupid. was there really something stuck on there? "nah, I'm messing with you. there's nothing on your forehead." she admitted followed by a witch-like cackle.
you responded by shoving her shoulder away. "tsk. wowww, you should be a comedian or something. I'm fucking dying." said in the most monotone voice ever, even though you were holding in a laugh.
"yeah, you think I'm the funniest person ever." the girl in the driver's seat adjusted her shirt and leaned back in her seat. you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.
"what are you even doing here right now? don't you have the morning shift?" you interrogated her. she only looked down at her fidgeting fingers and shrugged.
"I dunno." she did know. she just couldn't spill it out.
at her apartment, she suddenly had a burst of confidence in her to confess to you. she pumped herself up, and even ran down your whole conversation to herself. but, as soon as you stepped into the car it all diminished away.
"missed me that much?" you teased her with a cheeky grin. her fast stung a color of red and she faced away from your gaze. "dude, you good?" suspicion rose in you as you observed her weird behavior.
"yeah, I'm just mewing," she said with a straight face and pointed towards her jawline. you slightly chuckled and rubbed your temples, "okay, buddy."
the two of them went silent once again. it wasn't an awkward type of silence though. it was comforting. you were just enjoying ellie's company with her doing the same. at least, you think. her ass was definitely pondering about something. her arms were crossed, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly parted, and her eyes didn't leave her steering wheel.
"uhm..." she finally spoke up and your head spun over to face her. "hmm?" you responded.
"I think I like..." holy shit, it was happening. ellie is finally going to declare her undying love for you. "this girl." she finished her sentence.
are you absolutely shitting me right now?
you thought you were about to go insane. there was no way the two of you had been flirting for the past few months, and ellie likes someone else? there was no way it all meant absolutely nothing. you practically could hear the clique audio of your heart-shattering. the pieces scattered on the floor with no broom in sight to help you clean it up.
it wasn't only you going insane, but ellie too. her words came out completely different than she meant for them to. there has never been a moment where she wanted to smack herself more than now. ellie was already planning on quitting her job, shaving her hair, getting some plastic surgeries, and moving to iceland or something. there was no way she could correct herself now. but she did, and it became even more humiliating.
"wait- no, I don't like a girl." she tried to clear up, but it only made you even more confused.
"let me start over. pretend like none of that even happened." one of ellie's hands was over her face, and the other was being waved around. you held your breath and gazed upon the panicked face in front of you.
"I think I have feelings for you. not any other girl. only you." her final statement became clear. even with that, you were still just as confused as before.
"you do?" fuck, she's going to reject me. ellie thought to herself and prepared for her execution by rejection. "yeah." she shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant.
wow, since when did your skin feel so refreshed? you don't know why, but suddenly you felt a weight wash off your shoulders. you started smiling, borderline laughing, and ellie was kind of getting spooked. not because you looked psychotic, but because she felt that you were going to poke fun at her.
"nah, I'm playing. It was another joke" holy hell you were about to murder her. "that wasn't funny." you gave her a death glare and bit your tongue so you wouldn't start cursing at her.
once again, ellie regretted taking it back and was almost on the verge of tears. the amount of embarrassment she felt is unfathomable. ellie sighed and began to try one last time to clear everything up. her stupid social skills can't get in the way this time.
"I'm sorry." she apologized and continues, "I actually do like you. fuck, I'm sorry I'm so awkward." ellie held her face in her hands.
let's fucking go! you celebrated to yourself with a cringy air fist bump.
"ellie..." you let out an airy snicker as you placed a hand on her head. "you're so adorable." this got ellie's attention with her face swinging up to look at you.
"so, do you like me too?" she asked with a needy tone. you nodded at her. "yeah," a simple response.
"yeah?"
"yeah."
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
a/n: I had absolutely no idea how to end this :{
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie x fem reader#tlou#tlou2#the last of us#wlw#wlw post#sfw#sapphic#lgbtq#lesbianism#nblw#lgbtq community#queer#abby anderson x reader headcanons#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby the last of us#tlou x reader#ellie#abby#fluff#x reader#one shot#lesbian
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a party and kisses at midnight - a new years modern!batboys drabble. 🎀🪩
(last one for this year, my lovelies, as a little thank you. I can't even describe how happy you all make my lil heart by adoring these silly little drabbles and this AU as much as I do!! love you all to bits!!! *mwah*)
"Why is it so fucking cooold..." Feyre's teeth were chattering as she hopped up and down on the spot, her breath a white cloud in the air.
"Cause it's winter,", Mor supplied, very helpfully, her voice slightly muffled from where her top half had disappeared into the trunk of her car. I snorted softly, shivering against the harsh cold wind brushing against my legs as I shifted from one foot to the other, clutching the three bottles with glittery booze Mor had handed me against my chest.
"And he really does this every year?" Feyre crunched her nose as she looked up towards the lit windows on the third flow, the star in my window shining in the dark.
"Yeah." Mor resurfaced, hair slightly tousled but triumphantly holding the bottle that had decided to roll into the depths of her trunk after she had taken a rather sharp curve. "Last year, he actually threw the whole thing in his dad's mansion, because he was out of town and Rhys had the sudden urge to be rebellious. It was a huge thing." She frowned. "How did you two miss that; the whole campus didn't talk about anything else for weeks."
I shrugged as she plucked a bottle out of my arms, tightening my freezing fingers. "We both spent Christmas at home, and then at New Years, we holed up in Feyre's apartment. We were in a severe food coma by midnight and didn't get out of bed before the next evening."
Feyre sighed happily, staring dramatically up into the sky. "The good old times."
I snorted and sent her a wide grin. "C'mon, you love the idea of an actual New Years party for a change. Rhys definitely put more effort into food than we did; he ordered some super fancy food and did some stuff himself, he basically spent the whole of yesterday in the kitchen and wouldn't let anyone peak."
"Also the view from the balcony is amazing at midnight!" Mor stretched to close the trunk of her car. "You can see all the fireworks from the neighborhood, and the ones down at the river."
"Why don't we go and see them there?" Feyre pouted.
"Because one, it's gonna be packed with severely drunk people, and two, like you just mentioned,", I climbed onto the sidewalk, bumping into her side and widening my eyes dramatically, "it's coooold!"
Feyre snickered. "Fuck off."
"If it gets too busy; I locked my room so there are no hook ups on my clean sheets, we can hole up in there." I pushed open the front door with my shoulder. The stairwell was warm, and I could hear music vibrating from the third floor.
"Yeah, because your sheets are so innocent." Mor grinned when I tried to kick at her, easily dodging my heel and raising her brows. "From what I've heard, your sheets have seen their fair share of not so clean action -"
"Oh, fuck you,", I growled over Feyre's cackling, pressing my elbow into her back to keep her from tipping over backwards from laughing while trying to fight the heat in my cheeks and the grin pushing onto my face. Mor snickered and blew me a kiss, and I flipped her off as best as possible with my arms full before beginning to push Feyre towards the stairs.
"Seriously, I always wondered; how is Azriel in the bedroom -"
"Mor, shut up!", Feyre and I called in unison, Feyre laughing so hard, I had to shove her up the stairs. Shrugging, Mor followed, flashing me a grin.
"Just curious, you know; I've heard he's quite skilled, and I mean, it makes sense, the quiet ones are usually the ones who go hardest -"
"Oh my God." I dropped my forehead against Feyre´s back as she stopped to hold onto the banister, giggling so loudly, she started hiccuping.
"Okay, fine, I'll stop." Mor grinned. "But only because I don't want Feyre to fall down the stairs before she can get her midnight kiss from Rhys."
My best friend stopped laughing abruptly, and it was my turn to snort and cackle.
Feyre's cheeks glowed pink as she glared at Mor. "I don't -"
"Sure." Mor smirked and slipped past us, sending her a wink before sauntering up the stairs. Feyre glowered at her back, beginning to stomp after her, and giggling, I followed after both of them.
Up on the third floor, the music and noise made the floor vibrate.
"How do the neighbours don't complain every year?" Feyre widened her eyes slightly, readjusting the packages of snacks she was balancing in her arms with her chin.
"Probably used to the boys being loud." I smirked.
"I think Rhys always invites the people right below you, and the ones down on the first floor usually spend New Years somewhere else, so they don't really got anything to complain about." Mor knocked her elbow against the door. "And the old folks next door wouldn't even hear a whole football team tap dancing up the stairs, so -"
Feyre and I started giggling, and Mor grinned before widening her eyes when someone pulled the door open. "Thank God, I'm starving."
Following Feyre into the hall, I sighed happily at the warmth enveloping me as I kicked the door shut. Feyre peeled off her jacket before taking one of the bottles out of my arms, and I slipped out of my coat, squeezing it onto the overflowing coat hanger next to the door.
There were people filling the hall, the kitchen and crowding the living room; coworkers of Cassian and friends of the boys from the gym, some of the guys Rhys played basketball with, people from uni and classes and a whole lot I didn´t know. It was loud and full and smelled of stale air, perfume and food.
Mor, Feyre and I slipped past kitchen, where the Christmas decorations were still up and the counter had been transformed into a bar, with lights and all. Putting the glittering booze down, I followed after the other two into the living room. The tree was glittering, lametta draped over the branches after Cassian and I had taken down all the baubles this afternoon. Streamers were hanging over the shelves, ceilings and windows, along with big floating balloons. Cassian almost ran into one when he spotted us, starting to grin widely.
"Hey!" He ducked under some silver streamers and pressed kisses to Mor's and Feyre's cheeks, the latter clearly not used to his teddy bear behavior yet, then he slung an arm around my waist and lifted me off the ground slightly in a tight hug. When he let me slip to the ground again, he sent me a shit-eating smirk. "Look at you; you know, if Az isn't around at midnight, I'd totally -"
I kicked his shin the same moment someone behind me snorted, and as Cassian winced, an arm was dropped over my shoulders.
"If you think Az wouldn't make sure he gets his midnight kiss, you've inhaled too much glitter." Rhys' lazy smirk was audible in his voice as he leaned down his head a little. I pressed a kiss onto his offered cheek and called over the noise: "Where is he?"
Rhys opened his mouth before closing it again and smirking, nodding over my head, and turning around, I followed his gaze.
My heart dipped and swerved, and my breath hitched in my throat when over the heads of the crowd, I found golden amber eyes piercing mine.
Azriel was leaning against the wall next to the fireplace. His shoulders strained against his simple black t-shirt, tattoos scattered over his arms, his dark hair tousled. He looked glowering as usual, not paying any attention to the people bustling around him, but some of his scowl slipped away his eyes dragged over mine. Then he pushed off the wall and started moving through the crowd, towards us, people getting out of his way quickly. But he didn't even spre them a glance, just kept watching me, something warm and deep and twinkling in his eyes that caused my heart to begin fluttering quickly.
Rhys slid his arm from my shoulder and moved past me to greet Mor and Feyre, sending the latter a grin that caused her cheeks to grow pink even as she huffed, and Azriel pushed past him. Something rose into my throat as I tipped my head back to look up at him, parting my lips to drop a teasing remark about his outfit that didn´t deviate from his usual in the slightest - but before I could even make a sound, Azriel dipped his head and kissed me.
A small sound broke from my chest at the firm press of his lips, my breath catching in my throat when I felt his hand slide up to my neck, and my heart swelled and pulsed under my ribs as my fingers curled into the soft cotton of Azriel's t-shirt and my knees turned to jello.
Azriel's lips curved upwards slightly against mine. I felt his tall, solid body press against mine, his calloused thumb gently tracing the line of my throat. Then Azriel slowly broke the kiss, his nose gently nudging mine as he pulled back his head just a little to stare down at me, his eyes golden in the warm pulsing lights. There was the slightest trace of a crease in his cheek, curtesy of a small smirk as he leaned down again to press a light kiss onto the corner of my lips.
"Hi." His deep voice vibrated through me, low and smooth, and I managed a breathless "Hello." that caused the crease in his cheek to deepen as he broke into a grin that was shit-eating enough to rival the one Cassian usually was sporting. I quickly pinched his side, no give to his muscles when he winced a little and glared at me.
"Hey, Az."
Cassian probably had a sixth sense for someone just remotely thinking of him, because he was smirking when Azriel straightened and turned enough that I could peak past him, just in time to see the twinkle in Cassian's eyes when he sent me a light wink.
"I was just saying - Y/N looks too pretty to not be kissed at midnight; I'd volunteer if -"
Azriel scowled darkly, and I snorted a laugh and flipped Cassian off. He pretended to catch it, sending back a kiss and grinning widely, and Azriel rolled his eyes and turned back towards me with a shake of his head, but there was a light twinkle in his iris when he gently pushed me past him towards one of the armchairs.
"Okay, only fifteen minutes til midnight!" Rhys' loud voice echoed through the apartment, answered by whoops and cheers, and I grinned into my drink when I felt Azriel's chest vibrate with a huff.
I was tucked into his side in one of the armchairs, my legs draped over his lap and dangling over one of the armrests, his arm draped over my back. His right hand was slowly running up and down my shin, his scarred skin warm through the thin pair of thights I was wearing, his thumb brushing over my knee once in a while. Mor and Feyre were lounging on the couch a little to my left, facing us, Cassian reclined lazily next to them as he grinned when Rhys moved past the coffee table.
They had kept coming and going, but Azriel and I had spent almost all of the past three hours in the same spot. Mor had dragged me up to dance twice, and I'd only let her because it meant I could stock up on snacks on my way back to where Azriel stayed lounging lazily in the big armchair, dark eyes calm and watchful on the people laughing and mingling and talking loudly around him. Everytime I returned, his legs parted slightly, and he shifted until I had plopped back down next to him before dragging my legs over his lap and stealing some of the food or a drink I was carrying. He looked perfectly comfortable, and no one dared bothering him, the glowering looks he sent Cassian and Rhys' way whenever they got too close warning enough to anyone else.
I had huddled up with Feyre in the kitchen for a while, curled up on one corner of the couch and giggling, and got pulled into conversations with her and Mor and the boys more than once. But I was always pulled back towards Azriel and the place squeezed into his side, talking quietly over the noise, Azriel's nose brushing my hair when he mumbled something into my ear, his lips curving into a light smirk whenever his words sent me into a fit of giggles. When I twisted to whisper into his ear, the scent of his cologne flooded my nose, and I could feel warmth wash over me.
It felt like we were in our own little bubble, comfortably curled up in the middle of the chaos, barely even noticing the people around us whenever the others had disappeared into the crowd again.
"Let's go outside so we get a good place on the balcony!" A coat was thrown at me, nearly landing on my head, and I jumped, my eyes darting up to glower at Rhys, but he just winked before tossing Azriel his jacket.
Sighing and grumbling, I laborously dug myself out of the armchair. I could feel Azriel's chest brush my back when he rose to his feet, towering over me, his calloused fingers gently pulling my hair out of the way when I slipped into my coat before he slid into his jacket.
Wrapping the thick scarf Feyre had gifted me last Christmas around my neck, I shivered happily as I buried myself in my coat, feeling Azriel's warm fingers sliding over my palm. My heart rose when they slipped into the spaces between mine, linking them together firmly, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. Then his biceps gently bumped into my shoulder, pushing me over to the window doors leading out onto the balcony.
The air was freezing, our breath rising in white clouds when we stepped onto the balcony. The fairy lights wrapped around the balcony were glowing in a warm golden light just like the bushes in the huge stone pots where we huddled against the stone balustrade. Mor's teeth were chattering dramatically as she slightly swayed on the spot, and Feyre's nose was pink when she huffed at something Rhys mumbled, but I could see the way she hid a wide beaming smile in her scarf. Rhys was staring at the side of her face.
There was a gentle huff against my hair, and when I looked up over my shoulder, Azriel's chest pressed into my back, his hands sliding into my pockets to link our fingers. His eyes were on Rhys and Feyre as well, and there was a knowing twinkle in his eyes as he watched his best friend stare at mine.
Feeling my heart rise and a giddy giggle pulse under my ribs, I turned back ahead, flashing Cassian a grin over Mor's head. He winked back, his wide smile causing his cheeks to crease.
Slowly, the others joined us on the balcony and at the windows. When I heard the door down on the street, I leaned forward to look over the balustrade and saw that some people had decided to watch the fireworks of the neighbourhood from down on the sidewalk.
Rhys kept looking on his watch, counting down the time. Azriel wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head as I played with his fingers, leaning back into his solid chest and feeling something thrum against my ribs. Mor disappeared back into the flat for a minute and returned with some glasses filled with sparkling, bubbling drinks she placed on the broad balustrade in front of us. I shivered in excitement, shifting giddily in the spot as Rhys started counting down the seconds to midnight.
The people around us started joining in until everyone was counting. I felt my heart rise and flutter as a stupidly wide grin spread over my face, Mor bumping her shoulder into mine and Feyre hopping around giddily on the spot.
"Four!"
Mor giggled and leaned forward to press a smacking kiss onto my cheek before looping her arm through Cassian´s, hitting his stomach so forcefully in excitement, he actually coughed a little.
"Three!"
Feyre squeezed my arm and beamed at me, and I caught a glimpse at Rhys on her other side, staring down at her like he was trying to make a decision.
"Two!"
I breathed out and closed my eyes, feeling heat in my cheeks despite the cold and the pulsing thrum of my heart against my ribs and the warmth blooming in my chest growing bigger and bigger.
"One!"
Azriel's hands slipped out of mine, his chest pressing into my back as his arm slid around my waist and turned me around, and as everyone yelled "Happy New Year!", Azriel´s hands slipped up to cradle my face, and he leaned down and kissed me.
My heart rose in a wild flutter, and I slid my hands under his coat, his chest curving into mine as Azriel kissed me, deep and heated and all-consuming, his tongue twisting with mine as a soft sound broke from his chest, and I clung to him, feeling the thrum in my chest explode like the fireworks over us in the sky, showering my body in golden glittering sparkles until it felt like I was floating, my heart rising until I couldn´t breathe.
I could hear whoops and jeers all around, a little far away and like slow motion, felt Azriel´s calloused fingers cradling my face and the slight shudder in his breath when his nose dragged over mine. Then he kissed me again, his hands sliding down as my arms wrapped around his neck and my body curved into his as his hands pressed against my back, and I felt something begin to pulse against my ribs.
"Happy New Year,", Azriel mumbled against my lips, his deep, hoarse voice causing a shudder to run down my spine, and I clung to him, feeling a ridiculously wide smile slowly spreading over my face.
"Happy New Year."
Azriel's nose nudged mine, and his eyes, dark and molten, pierced mine. Then he dipped his head and mumbled into my ear: "C'mon."
My breath hitched, and my heart rose into my throat when his hand slipped under my coat and pushed me past him, through the crowd towards the doors leading inside.
I could feel him in my back, towering over me as we slipped through the people cheering and toasting in the living room. Something was thrumming against my ribs, twisting in my stomach when Azriel unlocked the door to his door and I moved past him, turning and feeling my heart beginning to flutter against my ribs when Az closed the door. The lock clicked, and Azriel slid out of his jacket, stepping towards me. His warm, calloused hands slipped under my scarf, his fingers tracing up my neck as he unwrapped it slowly. Dropping it to the floor, he dipped his head, his nose brushing against mine as the noise outside grew, mixing with the muffled crashing of fireworks.
The pulsing feeling in my chest turned into a hurricane, and Azriel slipped his hands to the back of my neck and kissed me, deep and hard and unhurried. Then he pushed my coat off my shoulders and leaned down, sliding his arm under my backside and lifting me off the ground.
When an hour later, we slipped back into the living room, the bass was making the floor vibrate, people were cheering and dancing, and Cassian, lounging on the couch, hollered while Rhys whistled, but Azriel just rolled his eyes. They couldn't see the scratch marks on his shoulders beneath the crumpled material of his t-shirt, or the love bites littering my skin underneath my dress, but swollen lips and messy hair and the way Azriel's hand slipped under the seam of my dress when he pulled me into his lap were enough.
Enough for Cassian to smirk and Rhys to chuckle and for Mor to wiggle her brows when she dragged me to my feet only seconds later, pulling me with her towards Feyre, the both of them cackling. Flipping them off, I let them pull me towards the people dancing and looked over my shoulder, and my heart rose when for a second, my eyes found Azriel's through the crowd, watching me, his eyes molten and deep, swirling with something that made my breath hitch.
I blinked, then I slowly started to smile, bright and cheeky, before sending him a wink, and I saw the huffed laugh leaving him, something dipping in my stomach when I turned around with a beaming smile.
The flat stayed filled with people until well into the morning. I was pulled into the crowd again and again, and yet - no matter how long I danced with Mor and Feyre, played beer pong with Cassian or mixed drinks with Rhys that were so bad, he declared us unfit to ever to do it again - I always ended back in the corner of the couch, with the scent of cedar and darkness filling my lungs, an arm wrapped around me and a deep, low voice mumbling into my ear, light kisses pressed against my neck and a scarred hand wrapped around my knee.
And by the time Mor and Feyre crashed in my bed and Cassian had dozed off on the couch and Rhys let the door fall shut behind the last people, groaning happily, I was already fast asleep, wearing only a t-shirt that smelled like home, curled up against a warm, solid chest, leg thrown over a bare hip and nose pressed into warm skin as Azriel slid his arms tighter around me, dragging me up and further into his body as his tall form curled around me and he buried his face in the crook of my neck.
@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123
#modern!roommate batboys series#modern au#azriel#new years#rhysand#rhys#cassian#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar drabble#drabble#azriel drabble#azriel x reader#azriel x female!reader#azriel imagine#azriel fluff#az x reader#az/reader#az imagine#rhys drabble#rhysand drabble#cassian drabble#acomaf#acowar#lalacliffthorne
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𝖲𝗇𝗈𝗐𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 - 𝖢.𝖲.
DISCLAIMER: This is my first Sturniolo fic and I have taken a longggg break from writing so I am very rusty. Sorry in advance that this most likely sucks. I'm also not great with fluff but I thought this was cute so I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think <3
Synopsis: In which Y/n finds the one person who brings joy to her life.
Warnings: Language, broken family (deceased father, alcoholic mother, troubled youth), fluff, cigarettes, very brief mention of drugs
Word Count: 2.4k+
“I WISH I WASN’T EITHER!” You screamed at your mother before slamming the door and walking out into the cold winter night. You grabbed a cigarette from your coat pocket and placed it between your teeth as you searched for your lighter. You brought it to the tip of your cigarette, flicking it a few times until it finally lit.
I wish you weren’t my daughter. The words echoed in your head as you made your way down the dimly lit street. Light snow fell from the sky and your neighborhood was silent, the fluffy white powder absorbing all sound. The space around you was liminal. It was nights like these that were perfect for clearing your head.
Chris’s POV
I heard Y/n yelling and I immediately turned my attention to the window. I slipped my headphones off, completely ignoring Matt and Nick and abandoning the game. I watched as Y/n clicked her lighter to light up her cigarette before walking off down the street. She looked sad. That wasn’t unusual. Especially this time of year.
I’d grown up next to Y/n my whole life. I’d dare to even say she is my friend. Although maybe she doesn’t feel the same about me? She was confusing at times. She was often quiet and kept to herself at school. She was really kind. But I’d also seen her lay someone out before for disrespecting her. She was smart as hell but always managed to end up in detention and for some reason I found myself getting into situations to get detention just so I could hang out with her.
Obviously, my parents didn’t love that but she was so intriguing. The whole neighborhood knew of her situation. Her mom definitely wasn’t the most pleasant neighbor. Y/n tried to escape that as much as she could but she was still viewed as the “troubled kid” growing up. Now we are 18 and on the verge of graduating. I was beginning to fear that she’d be gone soon. She’d told me before how she couldn’t wait to get out of this town, that there was nothing keeping her here.
Where would you go? I texted her.
Idk. Maybe the Outer Banks? Learn to surf, search for treasure, live like a Pogue. Lol. She responded.
We didn’t always stay up late texting but when we did our conversations were always interesting. I was always excited to see my phone screen light up with her name. It wasn’t constant, but often enough that Matt and Nick began to notice.
“Who are you texting?” Nick asked one day.
“Yeah, you smile like a goof every time you look at your phone.” Matt added.
“No one,” I responded quickly.
“That’s a fucking lie. Who is it?” Nick asked again. Matt quickly snatched my phone from my hands and ran away with it.
“Matt, what the fuck!” I yelled as I attempted to chase him. Matt tossed it over my head and Nick caught it at the perfect time for Y/n to text me back. My phone lit up with her name and photo and Nick's jaw dropped.
“Y/n?!”
“Ew, the weird bitch?” Matt added.
“She’s not fucking weird!” I snapped, grabbing my phone back. “Don’t fucking worry about it.” I stormed off to my room and since then they haven’t brought it up. Which was fine by me. They didn’t take the time to get to know her, no one did. She was actually cool as fuck.
I thought about texting her as I watched her walk further down the street. But it just didn’t feel right. I wanted to talk to her in person.
“Dude! What are you doing?” Matt burst through my door. “You totally fucked me and Nick in the game!”
“I’m done playing for now.” I told him as I went to my closet to grab my coat and snow boots.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
“Chris!”
I hated keeping things from my brothers but this was something I didn’t feel like discussing with them further. They made it clear they didn’t care about Y/n. The only time they ever made comments is when they noticed her and her mom fighting. They knew she was my friend and that’s all they needed to know. All I cared about was catching up with Y/n and making sure she was okay. It was absolutely freezing outside.
I left out the backdoor without responding to Matt and made my way down the street.
Y/n’s POV
You let the tears fall freely from your eyes as you dragged your cigarette. One more semester until you graduate and then you could leave this god awful suburb for the rest of your life. After your dad died when you were just thirteen, your mom took all her anger out on you. The last five years had been miserable. You missed your dad. You missed when your mom didn’t drink. You missed when you were a regular family. Now you were just the girl everyone felt sorry for. The troubled one.
You made your way to the small pond near the end of your neighborhood. You were ready to sit and let the stillness of the water distract you until you heard footsteps behind you. Your body tensed, nervous for who would be out here at this hour. You reached in your pocket and grabbed your knife, quickly pulling it and turning it on the person walking your way.
“Whoa, whoa!” The dark figure said, stopping in his tracks with his hands up. “It’s me! Chris!”
“Chris?” You asked softly, lowering your knife. He stepped forward. It was indeed Chris Sturniolo. You took a deep breath at the sight of him. “You scared the fuck out of me!” You scolded.
“I’m sorry…” He said. Unsure if he should walk closer or not.
“It’s fine,” You chuckled. “What are you doing out here?”
“Oh, you know, just enjoying the freezing weather.” He said, smiling and stepping closer to you.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” You joke as your teeth chattered.
“What are you doing out here, Y/n?” Chris asks, his voice more serious now.
“Just needed some air.” You told him. “I like this pond in the summer. There are lots of frogs. I wonder where they all go in the winter…” Your face fell as you pondered the thought.
“Y/n..”
You sniffled as you looked down at the pond. Chris always knew. “What.” You responded. It wasn’t a question.
“You have mascara running down your cheeks.”
Christopher Sturniolo might have been the only person to ever see you cry. He always knew and he was always there. It was a rare occasion but as you thought back on it, he always seemed to appear when you were sad and find a way to cheer you up. Whether it be walking home with you, trying to make you laugh, or even just sitting next to you silently so you wouldn’t be alone.
“She said she wishes I wasn’t her daughter.” You confessed, allowing your head to fall. Chris wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. Normally you hated being touched but you felt so comfortable with him. He wrapped one hand around your lower back and the other made its way to your hair as he towered just above you.
“I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve so much more.” He said softly.
You cried more at his words. In what world did you deserve more? In what world did you deserve Chris?
“Y/n, you’re freezing.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll call Billy-”
“No. Come to my house.” He cut you off.
You were taken aback for a moment. You hadn’t been to the Sturniolo’s since their 13th birthday party. The only reason you were invited was because your father died. You couldn’t imagine his parents or brothers actually liked you.
“Chris, I can’t just intrude like that-”
“You’re not intruding. And I don’t want you at Billy’s.” He stated. You’d never heard the sweet Chris Sturniolo sound so serious about something. Billy definitely wasn’t the best guy but he always gave you a place to stay when you needed it. “I don’t trust him.”
Chris had no reason to trust him. Billy was a dick and often fucked people over. But having him as a connect meant a place to stay and drugs to do as long as you put out or helped him out. But to be invited to Chris’s house made you nervous. His parents were sweet. His brothers were protective. Chris bringing you home would be like bringing home a stray raccoon.
“Chris, I can’t.” You sigh.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not a good look sneaking some degenerate into your home at midnight,”
“I will walk you through the front door proudly,” He says. “Besides, my parents are asleep and my brothers are too invested in their game. Just come over for a bit to warm up? We can listen to music in my room.”
You thought about it for a moment.
“If you hate it, you live right across the street,” He smiled hopefully at you,
You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Fine.” You say. “But just for a little bit! Once my mom is asleep I’m going home.”
“Deal.” Chris agreed, throwing his arm over your shoulder and guiding you back towards the street.
The two of you walked back to his house with minimal conversation.
“Wanna catch snowflakes?” Chris asked before sticking his tongue out and letting the snow fall on it.
You giggled at him but followed his lead. The crisp flakes on your tongue felt nice. You were having fun jumping around in the snow with Chris. You even stopped at the park to make stupid snow angels and throw snowballs at each other. Before you knew it, the snow was getting heavier, almost blizzarding.
“C’mon!” Chris yelled, grabbing your hand and running towards his house.
You made it to his porch and he opened the door slowly. The kitchen was mostly dark aside from the microwave light being on and the light that shined underneath Nick’s door. You could hear him still awake, obviously yelling at a video game he was playing.
Chris put a finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet as you both slipped out of your boots. He grabbed your hand and you both tiptoed through the dimly lit house and up to his room. You made your way down the hall and followed Chris into his bedroom.
“Make yourself at home,” He said with a smile. He went to his computer and logged into his Spotify. You scanned his room, noticing all the posters of his favorite artists on his walls. You could tell he was passionate about music.
“Who’s your favorite?” You ask. He looks at you and you gestured to all the posters.
“Skies, for sure!” He says. “What about you?”
You unzip your coat to reveal the shirt you got at Grey Day last year. “$uicideboy$”
Chris smiles at you. “I’ve never really listened to them. What’s a good song?”
“A Death In The Ocean Would Be Beautiful,” You say as you slip off your coat and sit on his bed.
Chris turns on his galaxy projector so that wave-like colors flow across his ceiling before he presses play and joins you on his bed. You both lay back and listen intently as you watch the lights.
“They’re kind of depressing…” Chris admits after the song is over.
You chuckle slightly. “Yeah, they can be. But they can be helpful. They get it, you know? What I’m going through.”
Chris turns on his side and you mirror his movements as if you were his natural reflection. “I hate hearing it every night.” He admits.
Your body curls into itself, you pull your sleeves further over your hands. “I’m sorry…”
“No, not like that,” He says, propping himself up on one arm and placing his other on your shoulder, gently tangling his fingers through the ends of your hair. “I just hate hearing you guys fight and seeing you walk out in the cold every night. You don’t deserve that.”
“Trust me, Chris. I’m no saint.” You say with a sad laugh.
“Don’t have to be a saint to deserve basic respect, especially from your own family.”
“I only have to deal with it for a few more months. When I graduate, I’m out of here.” You smiled at the thought.
“You know…I’m really going to miss you…” Chris says softly.
You look up to see his eyes already on you. You wanted to tell him you’d miss him too. You wanted to tell him to come with you, although you knew he’d never leave his brothers. You wanted to tell him he was the only good thing in your life and every time you were near him you felt happy and warm and like everything was going to be okay for once in your miserable fucking life. But with every single thought your brain contained about Chris Sturniolo, your mouth could only mutter three little words.
“I love you…”
Chris’s lips parted slightly with shock as his eyes quickly scanned your features.
“Fuck! I’m sor-”
You were quickly cut off when he pressed his lips to yours. You were taken aback for a moment but quickly leaned in to deepen the kiss. He brought his hand up to cup your jaw and your fingers found their way to his hair. His lips were soft and sweet and you felt that fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
He pulled away slightly and you frowned at the loss of contact. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long fucking time…” He said, his voice almost a whisper.
“I-I didn’t know you liked me…” You said. “Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” You’re smart, you’re sweet, you know what you want, and pretty as hell.” He smiled. “Not to mention you’re like the strongest person I know. You deserve so much better than the cards you’ve been dealt.”
You felt tears welling in your eyes again but you couldn’t help but smile. You don’t know what you did to deserve the pretty boy who had his arms wrapped around you, but you hoped you never had to let him go.
“Can I stay?” You asked shyly.
Chris smiled and pulled his comforter over both of you. “Please,” He said.
You snuggled into him, resting your head on his chest while he played with your hair.
“And Y/n?” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead.
“Mmm?”
“I love you, too.”
Tagging a few mutuals! Let me know if you want to be added/removed from tag list :)
Tags: @strniohoeee @flowerxbunnie @christinarowie332 @kenzieiskoolaid @bluesturniolo333 @chrattnick @recklesssturniolo @soursturniolo @byechristopher @justangelheree @sturnimovies
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo oneshot#my writing
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Forgotten Anniversaries
masterlist
summary: beau forgets your two-year anniversary but you don’t realize the next day is another one
paring: beau arlen x female fiance!reader
rating: R for language
word count: 2.3k
warnings: language, ends with pre-smut but cuts off before anything happens
timeline: set after s3 but doesn’t really follow canon
author’s note: beau my beloved! such a sweetheart and deserves so much love!! really wish big sky hadn’t been canceled :,,(
Two years ago to the day marked your first date with your now fiancé. You had met Beau Arlen a few months before that date, and he had finally asked you out after several weeks of pining over you. You worked at a bakery in town walking distance from the station, and once you two started dating you often brought over baked goods for your boyfriend and his deputies.
Six months ago Beau had asked you to marry him, and you said yes. The wedding would be in just a couple more months.
Now, you were once again at the Sheriff’s station, Beau was taking you out for your two-years-dating and six-months-engaged anniversaries. Well, actually you were taking him out. He’d been really busy the last couple of weeks so you had planned the date; a picnic in the same spot he’d proposed to you at.
“Sheriff, Y/n is here to see you,” a deputy told him, poking their head into Beau’s office. Poppernak and Hoyt were in the office as well and they were all discussing an ongoing case.
“Let her in!” Beau beamed, covering a few gory pictures he had splayed on his desk.
“Hey,” you said when you walked into his office.
Beau’s face lit up at the sight of you; such a gorgeous woman who had somehow fallen in love with him. He felt like the luckiest man in the world as he eyed you, still smiling. You wore a summery floral dress that brushed your ankles, with a slit going up your leg and ending just below your left hip. A plunging neckline accented your breasts and the necklace Beau had gifted to you last anniversary. Your hair was done up, but not in a way that felt uncomfortable; it looked elegant but still felt laid back. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you noticed his blush.
“Ready to go?” you asked him, motioning to the door a little. His face fell and you slowly matched his expression.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
“You forgot.” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek with disappointment.
“Could you two give us a minute?” Beau asked the deputies in the room.
“Yeah, do you want us to go without you?” Jenny asked, referring to what they’d been discussing about taking down the current perp.
“No, I’ll be out in a minute,” he told her before she nodded and left the room; Poppernak followed close behind, and shut the door as he walked out.
“You really forgot?” you asked Beau, looking at him with hurt in your eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Y/n I just got caught up in today’s case,” he said. He stood up from his chair and walked over to you, putting a hand under your chin so you’d look at him. “I swear I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay, I understand,” you said quietly, smiling a little.
Beau furrowed his brows. “Why aren’t you mad?” he asked, you just shrugged a little. “Shit, you’re really mad, aren’t you? You wanna yell at me but we’re in a very public place so you’re waiting until tonight to really let me have it-”
“No,” you laughed a little. “Beau, I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed you forgot but that’s just because I was really looking forward to spending time with you! I had this whole thing planned and everything,” you said, mumbling a little by the end.
“A whole thing, huh?” Beau smiled.
“A picnic in the park where you proposed to me. I baked you a special pie, too.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry I fucked it up, hun.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him, he still didn’t seem to believe you. “You can make it up to me tonight, how’s that?”
“Oh?”
“Mhm,” you bit your bottom lip as you looked into his bright green eyes, “you can do that one thing I really like, then you’ll be completely forgiven.”
“Oh that thing,” he smirked, “yeah, I will gladly do that.”
He bent down and kissed you, snaking his arms around your hips to bring you closer as your hands went into his hair.
“I love you, Beau.”
“I love you too, Y/n.”
Poppernak knocked on the door and poked his head in, “Sorry to interrupt, but we really have to get going, Arlen.” Beau put his hand up, showing a finger to signal he’d be done in a minute.
“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” he mumbled against your lips. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Mhm,” you hummed into his mouth as he kissed you again.
“I’ll be home by eight, nine at the latest, ten at the absolute latest, okay?” he assured you, you nodded. “Love you!” He kissed you one last time before he left, putting his cowboy hat on when he opened the door.
“Love you, too.”
**
As the clock struck midnight, you sank deeper into the couch. Your tear filled eyes were glued to the screen as you watched the movie you’d picked; Die Hard. Not the perfect anniversary movie but there was a whole story behind why you’d picked it, having to do with your third date with Beau.
You took another sip of the wine you’d been working on and checked your phone. Still nothing from Beau. The nerve! The absolute audacity this man had! He couldn’t text or call you when he knew he’d be late?
You adjusted yourself on the couch, the babydoll dress you were wearing riding up your bare thighs as a few more tears slipped down your cheeks. You looked away from Bruce Willis and down at the beautiful ring on your finger. Memories of six months ago flooded your mind. How Beau had been so nervous the whole day, as if there was a chance you’d tell him ‘no.’ How he looked at you when he knelt down and opened the velvet box and popped the question. How his smile grew when you answered him.
The front door unlocked, pulling you out of your thoughts, before Beau stepped into your shared house. He walked into the living room and found you there in the dark.
“Hey, Y/n,” he said, walking to the couch and sitting down. You didn’t answer him and instead just took another sip of wine. “I’m really, really sorry, sweetheart.”
“There’s leftovers in the fridge,” you muttered, putting the wine down. “Pie, too.”
“Darlin’ I’m so, so sorry I promise I didn’t mean to stay out so late. The case ran long-”
“And you couldn’t fucking call me?” you exclaimed. “You couldn’t just let me know two hours ago you weren’t gonna make it!? You know how many fucking candles I wasted!?”
“I broke my phone tackling the guy and I came straight here after he was officially in custody,” he told you.
“And do none of your many deputies have a phone you could borrow? Not a single person near you had a fucking cell phone?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry! Hun, I am so god damn sorry!” He reached out and took your hand in his. You let him bring it to his lips and place a kiss on your knuckles. “Please, I love you so much, can we please just celebrate together for a bit before we go to sleep?”
“Our anniversary is over, Beau.” You took your hand back. “You fucking missed it.”
“Actually, today’s an anniversary too,” he whispered, you turned your head to finally look at him. He knitted his brows apologetically when he noticed your tears. “A year ago today, we were sitting on this couch and we had just finished watching Die Hard. You leaned over to kiss me, and as I was kissing you, you mumbled ‘let’s watch the next one.’ And, in that moment, something just like clicked in my brain, and I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“What?” you mumbled.
“Yep. Exactly one year ago today, I decided to ask you to marry me.” He smiled but it faded when he noticed fresh tears falling. “No, shit! Please don’t cry!”
“That is when you decided to marry me?” you asked, he nodded. “Oh my god!”
“A-Are you happy right now or are you still mad at me, because-” You cut him off with a kiss to his full, pink lips.
“I love you so much, Beau,” you whispered when you pulled away. You kissed him again, putting your hands on his face and smiling against his mouth.
“Love you so much more,” he mumbled, mirroring your smile.
“Wait,” you pulled away, worry in your eyes, “when was the last time you ate?”
“Uh, three-ish, why?”
“Oh my god, you must be starving!” you exclaimed and stood up. You held out your hand for him to take. “C’mon, I’ll reheat the food for you and relight the candles.”
“Seriously?” he asked, smiling and beginning to realize you’d forgiven him for coming home so late.
“Yeah, we’ve got a new anniversary to celebrate,” you replied. He stood up and took your hand, bending down to kiss you again. He followed you to the kitchen.
“Can I say something about what you’re wearing now or…” He bit his lip when you twirled to face him before you nodded. “God damn you’re so beautiful! Your tits look incredible!”
“You’re not too bad yourself, handsome.” You gripped his collar, got on your tippy toes, and kissed him deeply. He wrapped his arms around you so you couldn’t pull away and he could kiss you back. “I love you, Beau.”
“I love you, too.”
“Now, c’mon! Sit down,” you said when you finally pulled away and his grip loosened. He took a seat at the table and you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with his hair. You ran your fingers through it before tilting his head back so you could kiss him again.
As you turned to reheat the food he smacked your ass lightly, making you squeal a little.
“Where’s the lighter?” he asked, wanting to light the candles on the table.
“Under the left candlestick,” you told him, bending down into the fridge to get the tupperware of food.
“Wow, you’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he mumbled. He lifted up the left candle to find the small lighter hidden underneath. He lit the two candles before he put it back.
“You remember what we ate on our first date, right?” you asked him hesitantly.
“Yes, I do,” he replied, earning a suspicious look from you. “I tried cooking spaghetti and meatballs for you, but I completely botched it. So, we ordered in from that Italian place on the other side of town—this delicious chicken parmesan dish with a side of ravioli. While we were waiting for the food, you made us a salad.”
You smiled at him, biting your bottom lip a little.
“Happy two year anniversary, Beau,” you said as you brought two plates over, one filled with the same food as your first date, except you made it yourself. “I can’t promise this is gonna taste nearly as good, but I promise it was made with love.” You took a seat next to him as he took a bite of the chicken.
“Oh my god!” he practically moaned. “This is incredible, sweetheart!”
“Thank you.” You smiled and began eating the salad on your plate. (You’d already eaten dinner but you didn’t want to just watch him eat without eating a little something yourself.) “Oh! I almost forgot the champagne!”
You stood up and got the bottle from the fridge before pouring some into his glass and then your own.
“Happy two year anniversary, Y/n,” he said and lifted his glass to clink it with yours.
“Happy one year of wanting to marry me,” you replied and tapped your glass to his.
“And six months of being engaged,” he reminded you.
**
You two were back on the couch, watching Die Hard even though it was now nearly one. Beau didn’t have work in the morning so he didn’t feel the need to rush to bed.
“Remember our third date?” he asked you quietly, his breath fanning your ear. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you were leaning on his chest. He kissed the back of your head as you intertwined his fingers with your own.
“We were watching this movie outside your trailer,” you started. “We were sharing a blanket and I kissed you. It escalated when you moved your hand down…” you took his hand and lowered it toward your torso, “here.”
“Then I kissed you here,” he kissed your neck, “and here,” he kissed down to your collarbone. He turned you around so you could straddle his hips.
“It was cold outside so you didn’t want to get me naked until we were inside and on your bed,” you mumbled against his lips. “So… want to move this into the bedroom?”
“If I remember correctly, you took your bra off under your shirt when we were still outside,” he reminded you.
“I did,” you said, still kissing him, “but I’m not wearing a bra right now.”
“But you are wearing panties.”
He stood up, causing you to do the same. He sat back down and ran his hands up your legs and under your lingerie. He smirked up at you before pulling down your panties which you then stepped out of.
“Alright, now we can move this to the bedroom.” He wrapped his arms around your waist as he stood up, lifting you as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
He carried you upstairs and into the bedroom, kicking the door with his foot.
“Did you put roses on the bed?” he asked, smiling against your mouth when he noticed the petals decorating the mattress and the floor leading up to it.
“You did the same thing last year,” you reminded him, also smiling.
#beau arlen x reader#beau arlen#beau arlen x you#beau arlen fic#big sky#big sky fic#big sky x reader#by mind empty just fictional people#by jean
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ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter four
ain't no rest for the wicked series
four: no telling what tomorrow holds
series masterlist | prev chapter | final chapter
Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller
words: 5.9k
summary: Joel and Tess pay you surprise visits after work.
warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, stalking, threesome, light rope bondage, light choking with a belt, paddling, punishment, aftercare, strap-on, anal sex, rimming, light angst, orgasm denial, hurt/comfort, light description of a wound, flashbacks to outbreak day (reader), double penetration
This is the penultimate chapter.
also on ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
You don’t get any warning the next time. It’s not more than a week later, and when you step out into the dying sun, Joel’s waiting outside your office building.
You’re pissed, because when he croons, “Where you goin’, sunflower?” from behind you, your heart shoots about sixty feet into the sky.
“Cheese and fucking Christ, Joel!” You’re clutching your chest, but you can’t even pretend to be mad for more than a minute.
Not the way he’s smirking, something bright behind his gorgeous eyes. He looks fucking beautiful like this, bathed in amber, dark coat against the snow.
“I can just leave by myself,” he says.
But you break and smile. Goddamnit. It isn’t just your cunt that’s happy to see him.
Though it very much is. You’re a little concerned about icicles forming, the way you’re abruptly dripping at the prospect of an evening with them.
He can read it all over you. Of course he can. He shakes his head and pushes away from the wall, not bothering to swallow down the smug curl of his lips.
“They been treatin’ you alright?” He asks as you make the walk across town.
“Who, work? Yeah, I mean. A job’s a job.” You shrug.
He’s looking at you like he thinks he’s some kinda human lie detector.
“Nobody’s bothering me, I promise,” you say, rolling your eyes.
His jaw ticks. You don’t realize how close he’s leaned until he’s murmuring into your ear. “Watch the attitude, little girl.”
You swallow hard. He leans back, but you’re acutely aware now, that he’s stayed close the whole time. There’s not five feet between you as you scramble to follow. No, he’s been near enough that your shoulders occasionally brush.
Thinking about it makes your stomach feel a lot like your very first (and only) cellphone. It had slipped from your pocket into the lake up north when you crossed from the dock to the little motorboat, and you just watched as it sank slowly. By the time you thrust your hand below the surface to save it, it was too late, and the water you displaced pushed it deeper into the darkness.
Your daddy had been mad beyond words, not that it stopped him from lecturing, and while you sat there peering over the edge, it lit up with a call from your best friend, even underwater. It rang over and over and over until your dad started the boat, and the motor buried it in a puff of kicked-up sand.
She had been calling from back home, where you’d be in about six hours. You figured you’d stop by her dorm and see what her latest fuckboy from the neighboring floor had done now.
By the time your dad pulled up to campus, though, the world was half over. He didn’t let you out of the car, your brother holding you back while your daddy peeled away from the curb and the bodies.
He was gone by midnight.
When you blink back to the grimy streets of Boston, you can’t remember what you were thinking about before. Joel’s still looking at you, brow furrowed.
“Where’d you go?” he says.
“Oh, uh. I dunno. Just got lost in my head,” you try to smile and shrug. Silly you, as always, drifting off in the clouds.
He doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t push it.
When you get to the apartment, you’re startled to find Tess in an apron. As far as you know, Joel’s been the only one cooking when you came over. She spares you a kiss before she turns back to chopping carrots.
You kind of want to drop to your knees right there in the kitchen, watching her tuck back a loose strand of hair while brandishing a knife.
There might be something deeply unwell about you, you suspect. But it seems like the kind of thought that hampers your quality of life, so you scrunch it up and toss it in your mental waste bin. It bounces off the rim.
Damn. You can’t even make a basket in your own mind.
Joel smirks at the way you already look a little dazed. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs in your ear. His thumbs hook into the belt loops at the front of your jeans, tugging you back so you can feel him press against your ass. “We’re gonna have dessert first tonight.”
Tess snorts. “Been workin’ on that one all day?”
“Shut up, like you didn’t tell me to go pick up something sweet.”
You think maybe you’re going to die from secondhand embarrassment. “Can’t believe I used to be scared of you guys,” you say, foolishly, “you’re just a couple of dorks.”
Tess shakes her head, lip twitching into a smirk. “Baby, you just going to let her disrespect you like that?”
Oh, shit. If you weren’t wet already, well.
“Do whatever you want with her while I finish this up,” she says to Joel, meeting his eyes over your head.
Her words are anesthesia. Your whole brain seems to fuck right off, and it’s like you’ve been a mermaid turned human, the way your legs don’t seem to work anymore.
He lets go and steps around before throwing you over his shoulder, taking the opportunity to slap your ass.
“M’sorry,” you say, clawing at the back of his shirt for stability. Not that you really think he’d drop you, but all in all, you’re a little off-kilter right now.
“You will be,” he says.
It should scare you, you think. Despite your joke, outside of this apartment, these are two terrifying individuals. Together? Well, your initial tornado siren instinct wasn’t far off.
Instead, you moan.
He shakes his head. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”
“She said whatever you want.” You don’t have a clue where the boldness is coming from, but you think you like where it’s going.
“You got a mouth on you today. First thing is gonna be findin’ a better use for it.”
“Fuck,” you whisper.
He swings you down from his shoulder, and you sink straight down to your knees.
“Open,” he says, belt buckle jangling as he tugs it from the loops.
You open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out, but he doesn’t give you his cock yet. He grabs your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, and spits onto your waiting tongue.
You startle back a little but moan and swallow it, only for his hand to fly out and slap you.
“I didn’t say you could swallow that,” he growls.
“Sorry, sir,” you say, eyes wide and sorrowful.
He leans back down and spits again. You hold still, and he gives you a crooked grin. “Attagirl. Hold that for a minute.”
You whine until he brings the belt around your neck, sliding it through the hoop on the buckle and pulling it snugly around your neck. It’s not too tight, and the sight of the loose end wrapped around his fist almost does you in.
“Yeah, you like that,” he says, shaking his head. He leaves you waiting while he pulls out his cock.
You whimper when you see it, but he tugs on the belt to abort the sound and rests his cock on your tongue, thrusting so shallow that he’s barely inside the cavern of your mouth.
When it’s nice and coated with your saliva and his own, he pulls out and slaps it across your face.
The moan you let out would be humiliating if you had it in you to care. But you don’t, only concerned with getting his cock back in your mouth.
You give him your best pleading eyes, wide and sad, with your mouth still open.
“Aw,” he coos, dry and mocking, “are you not getting what you want?”
You shake your head.
“Brats don’t.” He rubs the leaking head of his cock over your upper lip, smearing precum in his wake.
You move instinctually to lick it, but he pinches your tongue between two unforgiving fingers.
“I don’t think so. You’re just going to sit still and be good. And quiet."
If you thought Tess’s words made your mind go blank earlier, then this made you think nothing. Literally nothing. The weight of his belt around your neck, the smell of him on your lip, and the rigidity of his commands are all you can handle. Like the shutdown of your old, chunky computer, your brain whirrs to a stop.
He pulls you forward by the belt, cutting off your air and leaving no room for resistance. Not that you’d have even dreamt of it. He slides in farther this time, the head just grazing against the back of your throat.
You keep your eyes and mouth open wide. The pressure on your throat eases up, not entirely, but enough to allow you air. He begins to gently thrust in and out, reaching deeper and deeper.
You whine, jaw aching for more.
He smirks. “What? You don’t like me usin’ your mouth to jerk off?”
Your cunt clenches, with nothing, nothing to comfort it. It’s strong enough that your head tips back a little, a raggedy gasp slipping around him.
“Did you just almost cum?” he asks, tugging a little on the belt.
“Uh-huh,” you try to say.
He whistles. “Damn. Don’t you dare, though.”
Easier said than done, but you manage to hold back. His cock sent sparks to your clit as he masturbated with your throat.
The door clicks softly shut as Tess comes in, apron abandoned in place of a shit-eating grin. “Havin’ fun, baby?” she asks Joel, wrapping her arms around his waist and taking in the scene.
“Y’should have a go, use her tongue,” he says. “Fuckin’ slut almost came from bein’ used as a cocksleeve.”
You moan and try to grab his thighs, but he just steps back, pulling his cock away. The whine you make is soaked with desperation and hurt feelings.
“Why don’t you tie her up, and I’ll have a turn,” Tess says. She comes close to you, a hand in your hair to tip your head back. “Same rules, sunflower. You just stay still and be good.”
You can’t do much more than blink up at her as Joel crouches behind you and tugs your arms back, binding your wrists together deftly. He moves to help Tess strip down, his movements gentle and devout. Her neatly folded clothes get set on the dresser, and he sits on the side of the bed to watch, cock drooling over his fist.
She makes use of your mouth, rubbing her cunt over your tongue. You’ve stretched it out as much as you can and your chest aches with the need to lick, to taste, to have anything more than they’re allowing. But the ache to be good for them is deeper and undeniable.
She grinds until her clit is pushed against you and rides your steady tongue until she cums. You don’t dare swallow what’s left in your mouth, remembering the scolding you got earlier.
“Good girl,” she croons, stroking your cheek. She steps back, and you jerk a little with the intense throb that seems to rattle your bones. You’re so close, and you know what’s about to happen.
You whine and give Joel sad eyes again, begging for mercy. He doesn’t grant it, but he does rub his dick through Tess’s slick where it sits on your tongue, groaning at the warmth and ease as his cock slides smoothly into your throat, pushing the taste of her with it.
Each thrust makes you whimper and plead, not that he can technically understand you, but the grin on his face makes you think he does perfectly.
“Damn, I wasn’t gonna let ya, but makin’ you cum untouched like this…” he muses out loud.
You hold back the plea, not wanting to dissuade him.
He cups your cheek, stroking his thumb up and down. “Nah.”
Your eyes are wide again, unable to stop the pout that turns your lips down around his cock.
“None o’ that,” he scolds, using his hand on your face to fuck into you. “You mouthed off. You can wait to cum on our cocks.”
You can’t help the way your head snaps to the side to look at Tess, where she’s leisurely sprawled on the bed. His next thrust was already in motion, and his cock jabs you below the ear.
He growls and yanks your face back to him, pushing inside while pulling on the belt. Your clit pulses with the beat of your heart, or maybe the beat of his cock. As if they’re any different right now.
“Yeah, you heard me,” he says. “And now that I think about it…” he trails off to look at Tess. Out of the corner of her eye, you can see a responding grin creep across her face.
She gets up from the bed and comes over to you. “Let me have another go, and you get it all out for me, baby,” she says to Joel.
He pulls out immediately, and you can hear him rustling through a drawer while she rides your tongue to a second orgasm.
“Look how sweet you’re being,” she says, bending to kiss your forehead. The praise settles somewhere in your ribs, a warm, wriggling thing.
The cock he’s picked out is smaller than the one he took last time and smaller than his own, but not by much. If you weren’t already drooling, saliva dripping down onto your tits and their carpet, you would be now.
She slips the harness on with practiced fingers, vibrator tucked snugly inside her, though she doesn’t turn it on yet. When she sets the plastic on your waiting tongue, you gasp, eyes fluttering shut.
Instead of fucking your face with it, she gives a jerk of her head to Joel. He comes around behind you and puts a hand on either side of your face, fucking your head back and forth on the cock.
“That’s it, baby,” she moans, reaching out to caress him. He presses his lips to her hand, and she pulls him in for a kiss. He doesn’t miss a beat the whole time, still using you as a fleshlight for her strap.
It’s not his roughness that brings tears to your eyes, though, or jealousy. He’s not expecting it when you break away, his firm hands guiding more than forcing.
“Please,” you beg. “Please let me touch you.” You squirm in the ropes, knocking a tear down your cheek. “Please fuck me, please something.”
Tess wipes the tear away. “Think she’s had enough?”
Joel grunts his agreement, grabbing you by the arms to help you to your feet. He hands a bottle of lube to Tess, who situates herself on the bed, one hand slickening up the cock.
He stands behind you and holds your jaw in one hand, so you watch her, not that you’d be looking anywhere else. His other hand slides down to your cunt, and he chuckles. “Y’ain’t even gonna need it,” he tells her. He pushes two fingers in with little struggle and starts working you open for her.
You writhe. It’s almost too much; it hurts a little. Somehow, you’re overstimulated, and this is the first time all day that anyone has actually touched you.
“I know,” he murmurs. “You’ve been so good. Let us both get in ya, and I’ll let you cum.”
He yanks his hand away, and you nearly sob. He unties your wrists and pulls his belt from your neck. “Go on,” he says, slapping your ass.
Tess grins at you as you climb up. She’s turned on the vibrator on her end and beckons you with open arms to crawl to her. You lean down, and she tugs you in for a kiss, her hands sliding to your hips to guide you down onto her strap.
“Can’t believe I haven’t fucked you yet,” she murmurs between kissing and nipping at your lips.
Your eyes roll back as you slide down, your pelvis angled just right so that when she bottoms out, you can grind your clit against her bush. She smirks but digs her fingers into your hips to stop you.
“Hold still and wait just a little bit longer,” she says.
Once you’re settled, Joel pushes you down by the shoulder to lay against Tess. It leaves you only partially seated, but you nuzzle into the nape of her neck, pressing kisses where you can reach.
It’s not a shock when his slicked-up fingers breach your asshole. You kind of assumed when he said they’d both be fucking you. He didn’t ask if you’ve done this before, though. He doesn’t really need to ask anymore.
You’re a little embarrassed that he’s got you pegged correctly as a slut. Before you came to Boston, you had fucked your way through the hard days, desperate to feel, well, anything.
But here, it had been harder. You made a point not to get to know anyone; it didn’t seem wise after everything fell apart before.
Then again, you think, they’re both experienced enough that they can hardly judge you for it.
You stop really thinking after that as Tess wraps her arms around you, gently thrusting up as Joel’s thick fingers work you open.
“Doing okay, sunflower?” she says.
You intend to respond, but Joel chooses that moment to stuff a second finger in you, and all that comes out is a broken, starving moan.
“Attagirl,” he says, rubbing his other hand over the dip of your spine.
When he finally deems you ready, he wastes no time.
“Oh god,” you pant as he pushes in with a strong, smooth stroke. “Oh fuck.”
They don’t really wait for you to get acclimated, not that you’re complaining. The back-and-forth rhythm is soothing, but you’re trembling, trying to keep it together.
True to his word, Joel slides his hand around and hovers his finger over your clit. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says. Blunt teeth nip at your neck as he presses firmly down, their thrusts jostling you and doing the work for him.
You cum immediately. It’s not a choice. You’d been barely holding on, and once he finally touches you, it’s like you break open. Vaguely, you’re aware of how loud you’re being, but he’s holding you tight and unrelenting. They both still and let you shake apart on their cocks, Joel’s dark chuckle against your neck as you fuck yourself through it.
You don’t think you fully come back to yourself the whole time they fuck you. You’re floating somewhere vaguely in the middle of the throng of bodies, lightheaded. Every pore feels electrified, each brush of their skin against yours drawing a gasp or cry. You know you cum again. Maybe you don’t ever really stop.
An endless wave of aftershocks, some orgasms in their own right, roll over you, and you just take it. Take them. Let them move and pinch and rub your body; just a soft vessel to soak up their attention.
When they’ve exhausted themselves and you, Joel spilling deep inside, he tugs you to the side to let Tess up. He lays behind you and tugs the sheet up as the sweat cools and leaves you shivering. His warm body presses against yours, an arm loose over your waist.
When Tess goes to leave the room, he sits up, but she’s not having it. “It’s my stew. Don’t even think about it.”
He grumbles, something you don’t catch as you fall asleep.
It feels like only a moment has passed when he shakes you awake. “Gotta sit up and eat somethin’,” he says. It’s gruff, as he always is, but there’s something that stirs you to seek him out. Instead of sitting up properly, you turn over to snuggle against his chest.
He huffs, shaking his head, but it doesn’t stop him from holding your head to him. He presses a kiss atop it before nudging you to sit up.
You can’t help the small, stupid smile that lingers. You’re too well-fucked, the pleasure still loosening your muscles and inhibitions.
Tess pushes a thick bowl of stew into your hands. You’re irritated at your own surprise. Why did you ever think it was going to be some normal canned Campbell’s shit? You literally saw her chopping fresh carrots.
It’s full of rice and tender meat, tomatoes, onion, and herbs. More than you can identify, but it’s so rich and hearty that you think you could die happy. All your senses are satisfied, and your stomach is full.
“Kill me now,” you sigh, leaning back against the pillows.
Joel and Tess exchange a look over you, but you don’t give a damn.
“Is something wrong?” she says.
“No,” you say, a soft smile settling as you close your eyes and nestle into their bed.
Joel shrugs, and they make the wise choice to ignore you while they finish eating. He wins the argument about who does the dishes, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean yourself up while he handles them.
You only try to argue once against them walking you home. You’re pretty sure everyone is aware of how half-hearted it is.
Tess jumpscares you a couple of weeks later. Well, nearly. You’ve been on high alert since the Surprise Joel Incident, but your heart gets lodged in your throat at the sight of her.
It’s so incongruous that you stand there for a moment, just blinking stupidly, hand shielding your eyes from where the sun bounces off the freshly frozen snow.
“Hey, sunflower,” she says, and kisses your cheek, leaving you flushing hot enough to melt the drifts in your path.
“Hi,” you squeak.
She doesn’t hold your hand on the walk, but she sticks close and guides you through throngs of people with a palm burning at the dip of your spine.
When you let slip your worry—not that you aren’t just as happy to see her, but that the change makes you paranoid—she fesses up to Joel’s current predicament.
She warns you, this time. “I promise it won’t be like then. I’m not gonna put you in that position again.”
You’re comforted a little, but it’s still an upsetting prospect. You don’t want to see him get punished. And she won’t tell you what he did, but she does tell you she knows you’re going to understand her point.
“Lay down over the bed next to him, sunflower, just like that.”
You obey, quietly settling your top half on the mattress beside him. He keeps his face buried in the duvet while you squirm around, trying to figure out what to do with your arms.
His are bound behind him. Should you mimic it? You tuck them under you, lay them by your sides, and clutch at the sheets above your head. Tess comes in the room and snorts at your fidgeting.
“Want some help with that?” She’s holding another length of rope, and you know it’s not a question.
“What’re you doin’ to her, Tess?” Joel grumbles, finally lifting his head. He doesn’t look at you, only at her.
Her hand cracks against his thigh before you realize she’s even moved close enough. “You wanna try that again?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles, hiding back in the blanket.
“I can do whatever I want with her, right? She’s yours, and you’re mine. You know what that means, sunflower?”
You’re suddenly a little jealous of grapes, as you try to respond but only manage a squeaky whimper. Under the focus of the sun, they get to shrivel up and hide. Instead, you automatically turn to face her.
“Well?” She prompts, but she doesn’t wait for you to respond before tugging your arms behind your back and threading the rope around.
“It means I’m yours, too, ma’am.”
At your words, Joel is finally, finally looking at you, but unlike Tess, his attention scalds.
“That’s right.” She tugs at the rope to check the fit, and when she’s satisfied, she crouches down and spreads your cunt wide open.
You jerk a little as her cold fingers swipe between your folds. “She’s wet already, baby.”
You’re burning, one step closer to your new life dream of being a raisin, when you hear what is unmistakably Tess sucking her fingers clean of you. You moan and finally turn your head to seek out Joel.
He’s fuckin' sick and tired of you seeing him like this. But there’s a good part of him that knows he brought it on himself. If she thinks humiliating him in front of you is going to work, she’s probably right.
So far, though, you don’t seem to have lost any respect for him. When he finds your eyes, they’re soft and pleading. You don’t need to say a word; he knows you’re seeking the grasp of his firm hand.
“Hey, sweet girl,” he says.
You smile, but you don’t get to respond, distracted as Tess fists her hand in Joel’s hair and yanks back.
“You wanna tell her why you’re here like this instead of fucking her tight little cunt?”
Joel does not, but he’s not stupid. It wasn’t really a choice.
Tess tugs, sharp pain blossoming across his scalp, so he has to face you.
“I made a reckless decision.”
“And?” She prompts.
“And I nearly got shot.”
You suck in a breath but don’t look away. He, however, does—still facing you but eyes looking anywhere but.
“Nearly,” Tess scoffs. She tugs him to roll a little bit, and you see the bandage on his side, stained like rust.
“It grazed me. That’s nearly.”
She nudges him back into position but doesn’t let him turn away from you.
“Now you both get to see what happens when you do careless shit, baby. Don’t look away.” She pauses for a moment, taking something out of a dresser drawer. “And Joel?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Count for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He wants to close his eyes to brace for the hit, but you’re looking a little nervous. “S’ok, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I can take it.”
But when Tess swings the paddle down, it’s on you. They’ve never used it with you, you’re not any kind of prepared for the broad, heavy stroke. You cry out, something akin to a yelp and a gasp, jerking forward into the mattress.
“No,” Joel snarls, wriggling against the ropes.
Tess clicks her tongue. “Not what you’re supposed to be saying, baby. Let’s start over.”
You’re slightly more prepared when she hits you again. It’s not any softer but a little easier to bear.
“One,” he bites out.
She catches you by the hair when you subconsciously press your face into the bed. “You keep looking right at him, sunflower. He needs to see.”
He looks at you, brows cinched and eyes wide. His lips part, but the words don’t come out.
You nod, a small duck of your chin, and he closes his eyes for just a moment.
When he opens them, they’re lined with pain, his aching muscles taut as he grapples with guilt. He returns the nod.
She doesn’t go easy on you. No, you get exactly the punishment Joel would have gotten. By the time you’ve taken 25 (or, well, 26), you’re sobbing softly, squirming to try to alleviate the burn.
“See, baby?” Tess says, setting the paddle down and running her fingers over your hot, aching skin. “This is what happens when you’re reckless. Someone gets hurt.”
Of course. No lesson in the world could make Joel more careful with himself for his own sake.
She cuts his ropes first, and he’s on you immediately, tugging the knot so you’re freed and pulling you into his lap.
He holds you against him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you sob into his chest. “I’m so sorry.” He lets you cling to him while you cry, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. He steadies you in a way you can’t explain. So does Tess.
It takes you a long time to recognize that feeling as safety.
At some point, Tess hands him something out of your line of sight. He reaches around you to unscrew the lid from the tub, and you jolt when his fingers move to the raw skin on your ass, but whatever he rubs on it instantly cools the burn.
You let out a sigh, leaning lax against him.
“You okay?” Tess murmurs, a hand on your shoulder.
You blink up at her and nod. “M’okay.” You crane your neck to kiss her hand, and she smiles.
Her other hand threads into Joel’s hair, gently this time. She gives him a kiss there. “Learn your lesson?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, barely louder than a whisper, voice like a knife on toast.
“Good. You were both so good.”
It’s the final string for you, the snap of the last tether. You mumble what you think is a thank you, but it comes out undecipherable. She gets the idea anyway.
Everything is warm and heady, your limbs like silicone, but your mind like a sieve. You’re wet enough that Joel can feel the heat where your bare cunt lays across his bare lap.
He dips a finger in and strokes gently through your folds. “Gonna make you feel better,” he says, laying you down on the duvet. You keen, fingers reaching for him, but Tess catches them and kisses you, kneeling beside you on the mattress.
“Hang on,” she says as Joel gets to his knees on the carpet. “Lay down,” she tells him, gesturing to where he’s frozen.
He obeys, and she tugs you forward to the edge of the bed.
“Sit on his face, sunflower,” she says.
Joel groans and reaches his hands up to help you down, but you hesitate.
“I—” you start, but she sees right through you.
“If you haven’t figured it out by now, he likes eating pussy.”
“Fuckin' love it,” Joel says, fist clenching around his cock while he waits.
“I don’t wanna be ungrateful,” you say to the wall behind him.
“You wanna get fucked?” she says.
You nod.
“You can ride him first if you want. Or you can start on his face, and then we’ll switch.”
“No,” Joel says, and you both look at him.
“Get down here and give me your cunt, now.”
You look at Tess, and she shrugs.
Knowing you’ll still get his cock makes you care a lot less what order it comes in—you snort out loud at the pun—so you do as you’re told. He settles you down and doesn’t wait for Tess; he just starts licking you—almost too gently.
You don’t complain. It feels good, and you think he’s still apologizing.
Once Tess helps herself to his cock, she reaches for you and takes your face in the cradle of her palms, licking into your mouth.
It’s all slow and luxurious. Dangerously so. You and Tess are content to make out while she rides him, a gentle cant to her hips, and he holds you open with both hands to eat you out. He’s careful to avoid the irritated skin on your ass, prying at the inside of your thighs instead.
You don’t know how many times he takes you apart on his tongue, but when it crosses the line between just enough and a little too much, Tess lifts off his aching cock and taps you in to switch.
As nice as his mouth was, sinking down on his cock is fucking divine. Life changing. You could start a church.
Well, not quite, but anyway. The point is your cunt had been painfully empty, and now that it’s stuffed full, you think you might cry.
Instead, you go back to making out with Tess and groping her tits.
She lets him cum when she does, after you’ve both had your fill. She holds you down on him and rubs your clit so you all share an orgasm.
She stands up on trembling legs and tugs you to do the same, even though you really want to just collapse on the floor.
Joel’s moved to the bed when you come out of the bathroom, dozing in the slice of streetlight from the window. Tess is nowhere to be seen. You’re still feeling a little fuzzy and dazed, but you take your cue and slip out of the bedroom to get your things.
“Hey,” Tess’s voice cuts through your haze.
You stop where you stand, bag over one shoulder, leaning against the door with one boot tugged just past the toes.
“Do me a favor? Stay here tonight,” she says.
“What?” Your heart stutters. It’s never been an option before.
“Stay. I know I was harsh on ya. Both of ya.”
“I’m fine,” you lie. Your body betrays you, as always. Fuckin’ narc. Your hands are shaking and it rattles the zipper of your boot like an SOS.
She steps closer and cups your face in one hand.
Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the warmth of her calloused palm.
“C’mon, sunflower. Let me look out for you. Please.”
“Okay,” you whisper, pressing your lips to her hand.
She pulls you in, and when her lips meet yours, you moan softly. It’s less from your cunt than from your aching chest. She pulls you close, tucking your head to her shoulder, and you snuggle in, arms tucked up around her back.
It ends all too soon.
“Be good and go cuddle up to him, alright? Keep my spot warm,” Tess says, patting your cheek.
You nod, brain fuzzed over with the siren song of sleep.
Joel startles when you slip back into the room.
“Is this okay?” you say.
He blinks up at you with sore eyes and nods, peeling back the duvet for you.
You strip down. No one had said to, but you don’t feel right being clothed when he isn’t.
When you’re pressed against his warm body, he wraps an arm around you, and you sigh in tandem.
When you wake, the room is silent save for the light breaths of your companions. Moonlight refracts off the fresh banks of snow and scatters through the blinds. The city holds its breath and waits for the sun.
You lie as quiet as the streets. At some point, despite her quip about warming her spot, Tess slipped into the bed behind Joel. Her arm is snug around his waist in the way that his is around yours.
The moment is not lost on you. These two predators in symbiosis, lax and peaceful. You’re ever the ensnared dinner guest. Their places here are natural, and you… you’re scared. Scared of the way your heart is fighting to escape its cage and lay itself on their plates.
You either have to let it, or you have to run.
Joel wakes when you try to extract yourself from the bed, but he relaxes his grasp when you whisper something about the bathroom. He kisses the nape of your neck and lets you free. It’s not a lie, really. You do use their bathroom, and then you turn the light off and wait until you think he’s fully asleep again before you slip out.
It’s a longer trek home, what with having to sneak around. You’ve never been out past curfew before, and you really, really do not want to know what lockup is like.
But you don’t see much of FEDRA, and before long, you’re nearly outside your apartment building.
It wasn’t FEDRA you should have been looking out for, though.
next chapter
*title from "Duality" by Bayside
pls feel free to tell me how you feel 😬
#tess x joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel x tess#joel x reader#joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos#tess servopolous x joel miller#joel miller x tess servopoulos#tess servopoulos x f!reader#tess servopoulos x you#tess servopoulos x reader#tess x reader#the last of us fic#the last of us smut#fic: ain't no rest for the wicked
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— BAD DOG. [2]
》 PAIRING: simon 'ghost' riley x f!oc
》 NOTES: taglist is open! please let me know if you want to be added or removed.
》 WARNINGS: 18+ | MDNI | hair pulling
》 CHAPTER: 3.9k | 2/? [masterlist] | AO3
Before she met Laswell, Jane did media monitoring for the DISA.
It paid well for a job straight out of undergrad. Had reasonable hours, pleasant enough colleagues. She commuted the twenty minutes from her shitty apartment in Kingman Park to the Pentagon—arrived at seven forty-five with a cream cheese bagel and a skim milk latte. Wrote reports, emails, and memos. Hours and hours of political speeches, barking rifles, and screaming civilians ingrained in her brain.
''Like a fucked up collage of the human greed for oil and retribution,'' she once called it over an almost empty espresso martini. Condensation pearled off the glass's rim and pooled on the table of an overpriced speakeasy bar, so unimpressive it was not worth remembering its name. Her questionable Tinder date had been late, his small-talk rather boring; No, she didn't like her job. Who ever did? But rent was expensive in DC, and Jane had student loans, expensive taste, and maybe eight hundred dollars in her checking account.
She covered newsstreams out of Egypt, Lebanon, and Jordan. Iraq, and Yemen. Algeria. Libya.
Ate lunch at her desk—usually a salad and a protein bar, four busy screens in front of her.
Had meetings with Cairo, Beirut, Amman, Baghdad, Sana'a, Algiers, and Tripoli.
She joined the white-collar crowd on their evening run around the Mall after work. From the Capitol steps to the Lincoln Memorial, around the reflecting pool. Two times, sometimes three. Always depending on the restlessness that hummed in her bones and tingled in her fingertips.
Jane shoved her damp hair up with a clip and hopped on the blue metro line afterwards; sweaty and breathless, body humming with spent energy. She stopped at Whole Foods on her way home; bought dinner-for-one and a four-pack of sugar free Redbull. Put on noise canceling headphones without listening to anything on her way home—spying into warm lit windows and other people's lives.
She ate in bed, crouched over her Macbook, the TV always set to CNN. She practiced Arabic. Scrolled through subreddits about zero-day exploits, but never commented on them. Went to bed late, woke up early. Got up the next day and did it all over again.
Washington is a big city, in a big country, in a big world, and nothing ever changed. Jane just sat in her gunny-covered cubicle and watched whole cities crumble to dust like sandcastles. The local newspapers only covered a watered-down version of the turmoil overseas, but the mental images were always in the back of her head—no matter how loud she turned the TV.
It's all part of a grand plan, she told herself. Just another rung on the ladder, an essential middle-step in her career. It was comfortable and disturbing. Exciting enough, but nothing impactful.
Nothing with an edge.
The job had a sky-high turnover; a bad impact on employees. Turns out, swallowing the documentation of invasions, and civil wars, and an endless flow of American exceptionalism was only manageable for a couple of months. Jane became miserable and angry. Tired and strung-out. When handing in her two-weeks notice without a back-up plan, her supervisor accepted the neatly printed note with tired eyes and an annoyed flick of the wrist.
Her therapist blamed her sense of weightlessness for everything she did afterwards: the thrill-seeking, the risk-taking. All her screw-ups in pursuit of sticking her fingers in better pies. When the agency sent her to the embassy in Urzikstan, Jane canceled her rent-controlled apartment lease early and donated most of her belongings to the Habitat For Humanity in Capitol Hill. Burning the boats, she called it.
For months, no one could get a hold of her.
Analyst positions for counter-terrorism overseas will chew you up and spit out your bones, a friend in the IOC had warned her. Jane was up for it anyway—of course she was. She had witnessed a few horrendous things through screens in Washington, but nothing compared to the situation in Sakhra. Like most soul-crushing things in life, it all wasn't real until it was.
The first time she experienced the ruthlessness of the real world, a local contractor whose family was killed by American soldiers blew up half a base with some DIY C4. 12 soldiers dead, 24 injured. If not for Laswell yanking her into the shadows behind a M1A2 when panic erupted, she would have been trampled to death under the burning afternoon sun.
Instead, Jane heaved, and coughed, then sank to the dusty ground with ringing ears. Kate towered over her with a drawn P890, yelling all-too-calmly over the wailing of sirens: You have twenty seconds to get it together.
They made her take time off two years later, after a black site she was stationed at suffered another, similar attack. Jane was resentful of it, but she wanted to keep her clearance, so she left with the next supply plane and said what she needed to say to pass the psych evaluation.
She considered moving back into her grandparents ranch in Arizona. Maybe traveling through Europe, starting a new hobby (rock climbing, pottery, crocheting); but there was no real drive or push behind it. Instead, she bled in secret. Fucked strangers on her frameless king-size mattress and worked out too much in her unfurnished apartment. She got offers; a few private-sector contracts she knew she couldn't entertain. Jane wanted to stick it out with the agency—and Laswell. Especially with Laswell.
The first question Shepherd asked her when she stepped into his office was if she had any family; a partner, kids, siblings. Parents to take care of. The General asked bluntly, but Jane was used to force as the most efficient method to get answers.
She had spent three years interrogating Al-Qatala members and contacts. Trading money, safety, and threats for intelligence. Sleeping through the sound of gunfire, bystanding interrogations, interpreting intelligence, and snooping in places Americans aren't supposed to. Jane had left her old life behind and dove head-first into a tunnel vision.
No. She had no one.
When saying it out loud she almost sounded proud.
Working for the General is different. Non-official cover work for SAD intel suits her better—scratches a certain itch, too. Like finally tasting blood after biting your tongue for years.
Laswell has been helpful, the additional training too; but nothing ever prepared her for the void between long-term missions. When the work is done and restlessness returns in weird jet-lagged hours of the fading days. When there are no objectives to sink her teeth into. No foreign streets to roam under false identities. No predictions to be made, no strings to pull.
She's stuck in Iceland now, attending debrief after debrief. Her target is dead, the missile prototypes returned to the lab, but that isn't enough. They want to know everything. First the higher-ups at the Headquarters, then the Senate Intelligence Committee. They want the process. The months of searching, the people involved, the rules she broke.
She did a good job, she got what she wanted, but she is part of Shepherd's system now, and he didn't approve of her moving forward with the operation.
Since she returned to the lab, he hadn't answered any of her calls.
Ghost is nothing but a silhouette in the low light of the crescent moon; sitting against a weathered wall of heavy concrete, a half-burned cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Insects batter against a naked lightbulb overhead—the light orange and warm against the dark of night, casting long, unproportionate shadows over the smoking area.
The sky hangs bruised and stormy over Vatnajökull, a million stars dotting the night. It's quarter to one, and the grounds of 102 are deadly still—so still, that the sound of a nearby metal door opening and closing shut remind him of gunshots piercing through the air.
Years ago, he would have flinched at the sound, but there is not much left that startles Simon Riley anymore.
Jane tips her head back in annoyance as she steps outside, cradling her phone between ear and shoulder. ''Listen—,'' she scolds into it, patting the outside of her clothes for the pack of cigarettes she bought from one of the kitchen workers yesterday. ''Louise, right? Louise, with all due respect—''
She takes a deep breath of restraint when she finds nothing but a crumbled straw wrapper in the pockets of her leather jacket. Sharp words spill on the other end of the line, and she squeezes her eyes shut, pinches the bridge of her nose. ''I'm not going to argue with some mid-level bureaucrat, get him on the phone— No, no, you listen! I need a black passport, don't— Fuck—''
Jane's grip on the iPhone loosens with the sound of a disconnected call echoing blatantly against her ear. Simon can hear her mutter a spool of curses, the sound of gravel screeching under her feet, and how all sound seizes as she pauses at the sight of him.
The smoking area is dimly lit, but there's no mistaking the broad-shouldered figure with the cramped up skull mask looming in the corner of the building. Simon appeared in her sight so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that Jane would not be surprised if he materialized out of thin air. It would suit him; Ghost that he is.
Smoke pools out of the soldier's mouth, the balaclava pulled up to his nose; exposing a sharp chin with a shadow of stubble forming its way up a jaw set tight. He is hunched over, his elbows digging into his thighs. He doesn't look up to see that the expression on her face is one of mute surprise, or that her eyes narrow at the sight of him.
''Thought you'd be gone already,'' she calls over, lounging near the door she slipped out of.
''Change of plans,'' he returns easy and low, eyes glued to the book in his calloused hands.
It's only been a few days, but his voice is as deep and as resonant as Jane remembers; it fills the air and makes her blood rush with the mental images of his fingertips digging into her skin.
There's always a certain quietness after she's been fucked good—the world stands still for a moment, and it helps to quench the thirst, to fill the void.
Jane needs to hold something in her arms sometimes. Something unattainable and distant. Something unwise. Something like him.
''Mind if I bum one?'' She nods to the lit cigarette between his scarred fingers, stepping closer.
For a split second, she thinks he's going to ignore her—then he dog-ears the page he was reading and abandons the book onto his lap.
Simon looks up all casually and unfazed, shakes his head.
''Last one,'' he says, half-lidded stare fixed on her in that particular Ghost sort-of-way. The way he always gets when you rip out the half-assed social niceties and expose the weirdo underneath.
Jane exhales through her nose, leaning against a pole holding up the roof. The urge for frustration refuses to be ignored, so she buckles, comments: ''Of course,'' like she's taking notes on the irony of it all.
''Stop pondering, will ya?'' Inhaling another mouthful of tar, Simon stretches out along the bench, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. The set of dog tags around his neck clink together when he scratches the underside of his chin. "No point in gettin' all antsy."
She shoots him a cold, hard look for it—the one that makes his blood sing, makes him remember the expression in her eyes when she told him she wanted her target dead.
''Thank you, Simon, for your unsolicited wisdom.''
The subtle fuck you isn't boarded in her voice, but it throbs under every word of hers. He doesn't bother scolding her for saying his name again, but the bitter taste of disapproval sure does coat his tongue. He's not foolish enough to argue with her when she's like this; all gutted and pent-up. Ready to hiss, bite, and lunge at his throat.
The familiarity of it all stirs something up in him. For a moment, Ghost almost believes that it's sympathy, maybe—or at least a pinch of pity. A distant part of his mind remembers the dogged woman he faced when they first met; working out of a one-room shithole in a broken-down, brutalist apartment building somewhere in the Balkans. Reviewing surveillance logs, transcripts, and maps in shorts and a sports bra because the AC was utter rubbish. He recalls her hunched figure and unwashed hair as she worked out of the tiny living room—the space a mess of cables and empty microwave meals, her tech always charging. Her curtains always closed, dust dancing in the beams of light that crept their way inside.
Two days after the exfil, he barely recognized her anymore; with fresh clothes, twelve-hours of sleep, and hair neatly cut to a shoulder-length. It was like meeting a stranger, a whole different woman. He was certain, then, that the only way out for her was the same as his: leaving rotten and zipped up in a body bag.
Simon holds his half-smoked cigarette out to her, and she lets her head roll to consider the silent peace-offer. Her expression bleeds into something less angry in the face of him, and she hates that it makes him snort in response.
Jane gives him the illusion of thinking it over before breaking away from her frozen stance and closing the distance between them. She takes the stub, and sinks onto the wooden bench next to him.
''Thanks.'' — ''Mhmh.''
Even with some distance between them, Simon towers over her. He doesn't make a sound, doesn't attempt to embarrass himself with comforting words and distracting small-talk. He's quiet—a man of few words and fewer smiles—but that's what drew her to him in the first place. There's caution behind his eyes, and his words are always cleaved off at the knee. A person weathered and hardy. A man who, just like her, has seen things most wouldn't even believe.
They both fall quiet passing the cigarette back and forth, and for a moment he thinks that the conversation has faded out completely. Simon's eyes return to the book in his lap, trying to find the spot where he left off before she interrupted him, but—
''Do you think I went too far?'' Jane keeps her eyes forward, burying her free hand in the left pocket of her jacket.
Simon hums in response, dark and low. ''Doesn't matter what I think,'' he says in a way that makes it clear he believes it, too.
''But you are somewhat capable of forming opinions, yeah?''
It coaxes a half-huff, half-laugh from him. He gets it. Logically, he gets it. Everybody is somebody's dog, hanging onto a leash; but he's military, and he much prefers to not comment on any of it.
''You ignored authority,'' he starts, then pauses. ''Whether or not it was worth it, all y'can do now is handle the repercussions.''
''That's not an answer.'' Two dimples appear on either side of Jane's frown as she tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ears and leans forward. ''Forget I even—''
''I think," he interrupts calmly, but stern, ''that your self-doubt won't help you.''
Jane keeps her gaze flat, level. Perhaps if she mimics the face of apathy, Simon won't be able to see that she's hanging onto every word of his. What he says resonates; a quiet truth echoing through the air between them. The regret in her chest strikes like a bomb and for a moment, she fears the possibility of Shepherd cutting her TS/SCI clearance once and for all. She's been ignoring the thought, avoiding any evidence of worry that could shape her suspicions into something tangible, something real.
''Just thinking ahead'' she says quietly, scuffing her boot against the pavement below. "Little catastrophizing, worst-case-scenario planning."
"Doomsday prepping?" He offers and gets a little smile for that.
His chest tightens at the sight, an aching warmth interweaving his thoughts with sympathy. He looks away then, trying to collect himself. Seeking control, reaching for reason. Better judgment. Something else.
Jane studies his side profile for a moment, and Simon suddenly feels like she's too close, too comfortable in his presence. It's only a split second, the length of a heartbeat, but it's enough for Jane to take in the way he blinks his intrusive thoughts away.
''Why are you still here, anyway?'' She asks in a change of tone, plucking the cigarette from his fingers.
''Taking a break,'' he drawls, words dripping slowly as molasses from his mouth. There is no further explanation offered, no words wasted on reasons or truths. Simon blinks languidly, his lips pressing together as he closes his book for good.
''Because of Soap?'' There's an off-tone in her voice. ''I thought he is getting better already?"
Simon exhales roughly. ''No,'' he says with a lazy shrug. ''Yes.''
It's short and curt, but she doesn't let his vague hostility deter her. Jane just stares at him, impatience reflecting in her eyes, and he's not used to it; all the questions, the curiosity.
''Do you know,'' he continues slowly, taking the cigarette back to keep his hands busy, ''the number of classifications and regulations I'd have to ignore to tell you shite like this?''
It's easier than admitting that he failed his psych evaluation for a second time in three years.
Price is doing the paperwork for him, because they apparently want to negotiate some kind of terms for him. No rumors, no records, no further questions asked. Simon would be mad about it, if he wasn't so bloody tired.
It's been years of regaining control and gripping bloody bathroom sinks. Endless hours of running, shooting, yelling over comms, and saving Johnny from the stupid, stupid shit he gets up to when nobody's there to keep an eye out for him. Simon is not a reckless man—at least not when he doesn't let his rage blind him—but you can't teach an old dog new tricks.
He's not sure why he hasn't been able to admit to himself that his life has been nothing but fear, rage, vigilance, wanting, and searching, wanting, and never finding what eases the pain.
He knows that Price goes back to a Rosewood desk with whisky and cigars in the upper right drawer, before driving home to a house and a woman that were once his. Laswell has a wife named June and a flourishing garden waiting at home. Gaz goes back to a two-bedroom flat in London, decorated by a girl he met during the siege of the U.S. embassy in Urzikstan. Simon doesn't have anywhere to be—nobody's waiting for him—so he stays. For Soap, he tells himself, and everyone who's paid to listen.
The Scot's injuries happened under his watch, so he might as well play messenger for his moms, sisters and one-thousand nephews until he can travel back home. It's what a good Lieutenant does. It's what Price would do.
''Alright,'' Jane says cold, flatly. ''It's none of my business anyway.''
She declines the last drag of the cigarette when Simon offers it to her, and he can't help but feel like he's been rude; like he just ruined something delicate. A particular flavor of guilt clings to the underside of his tongue, and he's willing to answer whatever her next question might be in order to make it up to her.
He stubs out the cigarette, and it takes a moment or two before he realizes that his guilt is the reason she gave in so quickly in the first place.
''I'm not gonna tell ya,'' he says, prompting a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth; like she doesn't fully believe it, but is willing to play along.
He is too exhausted to not condemn her for it, so he covers himself in heavy silence. Simon doesn't break eye contact, doesn't move—his dark glance intervenes with the amusement in her eyes, and when the quiet stretches on for too long, her eyes dart to his exposed lips shamelessly.
''Anyone ever tell ya' to mind yer' own business, Spade?''
It coaxes a genuine laugh out of her. Simon is not sure he's ever heard her laugh before; the way the sound bubbles out of her throat, limpid and clear, and then almost turns into a snort.
''I like you,'' she says pointedly, with purpose.
"You're just bored.'' — ''And you aren't?"
Simon remains silent, and the glint in her glance grows bright, pinning. Like she just learned a secret; an inside joke.
It's unhealthy, this habit she's developed of digging her fingers in his wounds. She feels like a parasite trying to crawl under his skin, and she should probably feel far more ashamed of how much she enjoys the thrill of it.
She has heard the stories, of course. The legends about the masked, faceless man; the perfect soldier, the silent killer. Everyone affiliated with Shepherd or Shadow Company in the slightest is aware of Ghosts' reputation, and Jane had been curious to meet the man. Dead-eyed, mass of muscle. A walking depiction of death.
The warning signs about him are written in blood, telltale stories, and that half-lidded stare of his; Stay away, they say. Keep your distance.
''Don't—,'' he starts with the exhaustive sort of contempt: the kind that says he is tired and bored of this tedious game. ''Don't look at me like that.''
Jane bats her eyelashes at him. ''Like what?''
''Like you want something from me.''
''Maybe I do—''
"You don't,'' he interrupts, tongue like a blade. ''All bark no bite, last time I fucked you.''
In some twisted ways, his fury excites her. The insistence on his dominance, too, and Jane laughs out loud at words that don't sting. She's practiced; chin tipped up, meeting his disapproving stare with a smirk.
''You ever let anyone kiss you, Lieutenant?''
He looks away, hisses through his teeth in frustration. ''That what you want?''
''I think,'' Jane retorts in a tone both cruel and tender, ''you want it, too.''
The hard look in his eyes lets something uncurl in her. Something satisfied, something real.
''You do,'' she says again, and then he's on her; hand tangled in her hair, pulling her close. His grip on her scalp is not gentle, nothing about him is, and she smiles—shows teeth—at the broad display of it.
Simon stares at her for a long moment, a frustrated hum forming at the back of his throat. She can feel his breath on her face. Almost hears the whir of the wheels turning in his head; calculating, calibrating.
''You don't know what you're getting yourself into,'' he finally says, loosening his grip.
''I've done worse,'' she spits out, pulling away.
It happens somewhere between her leaning back and him not wanting her to. It happens and it's familiar, and new all at once; the way he stops her from turning away, pulls her closer by a fist of hair. He kisses her like he does everything else: a little cocky, a little mean. Their teeth clack together, and Simon kisses Jane long and searching—like he was waiting for it to happen.
Like he means it.
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Athis wasn't really the person who seemed to be found of other humans. Eversince they got on the ship they were very helpful, kind, but quiet. Not the type humans usually are. Athis was not loud, although they liked to sing, and their voice was kind of nice to listen to, so no one had a problem with it.
They seemed to know a good variety of folk songs of a specific region on earth. Oftentimes the crew found her gazing out one of the windows of the cantina instead of talking to the other humans or the other members of the crew.
Not that they were specifically asocial or hostile. They were kind of nice to talk to. On rare occasions they even talked a lot.
I took the time to talk to them as often as possible. I liked them. I asked them about their life... She opened up slowly. One time we started talking about their home.
"Ah... Gaia is a cesspool... It has so many good things but god awful politics and the people... Fuck the people. Honesty they are so brainwashed. You'd think with the universe open to them they would finally let go of these silly things like... Them being weird about same sex relationships. Why? The whole ass universe is open to us, we literally see interspecies relationships but they get weirded out by two women holding hands? And your own relatives chew you out for not agreeing with them on politics. And the lack of spine people have there... No offense Xebie... they are awfully two faced." they seemed stressed as they hid their face in their palms.
"It really does sound horrible... I would understand if you'd never want to go back."
"Ah that's my biggest problem... I cannot tell you how much I hate it but also... I miss it. I wish to go home I want to see trees and flowers I know the name of, I want to sing toghether with people who know the songs of my region... I miss speaking the language of my mother. I really miss it. And the food is great and the people can be so nice. And the Sun is such a pretty star. The evening sky is prettier than any painting or photo of it... Oh and I love people. I hate my kind but I also love them. We go to war, we hate for such ridiculous things, I cannot stand how prejudiced we are. And even like that... People help each other for no personal gain, make art, write poetry that makes me cry, create songs that make me smile... I love that side of us". their face lit up with something I rarely seen in her. I didn't understand human expressions well enough to decode it, but my interpreter program recognised it as something between admiration and disgust... "What I really love that we are not all that different. Not even from the other species. But that doesn't mean we are great. I think humans, though strong, have a lot to learn from species like yours. You never had wars! How much more intreeging that is."
Athis smiled at me than shook their head. "I talk to much." they said as they covered their mouth. "I am so sorry."
"Oh don't worry about! It was intresting. And I think I understand your feelings a little bit. I had a friend who was very talented, but turned out to be a horrible person overall. It was a very confusing feeling." I replied.
Athis wasn't that different afterall. Soon I learned most humans on our ship seen Gaia similarly. Humans seemed to carry a type of guilt with themselves. Learning the history of their homeworld made me understand why.
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