#she still escapes from time to time make sure she’s not rusty

[kivaember]

SLAPS DOWN SOME FREUD AND RUSTY STUFF. It's just Freud being a freak and Rusty being very alarmed and then very murderous towards him.

Guess you can call this one-sided freud/rusty on freud's side??? i'll leave it for the reader to decide. enjoy!

Arquebus work functions were absolute hell on earth.

It wasn't just the fact that Vespers were paraded around as products rather than employees, it was the fact that Rusty had to stand around and smile vapidly while he had far too many people who he fucking despised talk to him and shake his hand and ask far too many personal questions that weren't relevant to his augmentions or job description at all.

Well, no, technical lie. There were many questions about his augmentations, but they were rarely about their effectiveness in improving his piloting abilities and the like. They were normally things like "is it true that these augmentations extend your life?" or "Arquebus have been advertising the Gen Tens are something that can hit the domestic markets, that they improve the human body in all qualities, is that true?" or "So I hear that one of the biggest risks to augmentation surgery is erectile dysfunction, what do you do about that?" or "Is it true you have to be sterilised?? So you can't get girls pregnant, right?"

There was a reason behind such questions. With the Gen Tens finally out of the experimental stage (as in, they managed to get them to stop killing people) and being extensively field tested in multiple roles, Arquebus had boldly began an advertisement compaign encouraging the domestic sector to invest in augmenting their employees.

Gone were the days where augmentations only benefited soldiers and pilots! With the Gen Tens, the augmentation surgeries were so safe that they could be done far more cheaply than previous generations, and offered a slew of advantageous that would make you a very productive and long-lived worker! The military sector, while booming, was still very restrictive in terms of how many people you can augment until you start scraping the bottom of the poorest barrel, so now Arquebus turned their hungry gaze on the domestic sector.

Arquebus's many subsidaries were going to fall in line, but the executives still had many questions they wanted answers to when spinning up their own advertisement campaigns. What better way to get those answers than from the source? Hence the Vespers, trotted out like good little dogs, barking to the tune that Arquebus wanted, lying through their teeth, telling the corporate vultures what they wanted to hear, all while Rusty hoped they all did get augmented and died horribly from unexpected complications.

Would serve them right.

But it made these work functions an utter horror show for him. Draining. Exhausting. As the initial slew of questioning and socialising began to slow as the alcohol levels rose in everyone's bloodstreams, Rusty was grumpy, tired and had a pounding headache. He kept his smile up only by vividly imagining blowing everyone up with his mind.

"-so the sterility isn't universal?"

"It depends on what you mean by 'sterile'," Maeterlinck answered with a patience Rusty had long ran out of. It was him and her, fielding questions from Executive... Mike Mcfuckhands of Shit Company #69. By this point most people were very drunk, but somehow he and Maeterlinck got ambushed by the one half-way sober executive before they could successfully escape without notice.

(It was one of the few times that Rusty genuinely commiserated with his fellow Vespers. The look of utter despair they had shared had been emphatic.)

"Well, you know..." Mcfuckhands waved his wine glass a little carelessly. Rusty watched with dull eyes as wine spilled over the lip and onto the floor. "You don't need condoms to have some fun, if you know what I mean."

"Well, the augmentations won't protect you from STIs, of course," Maeterlinck said evenly. She was a stronger soldier than Rusty, that was for sure, keeping such a straight face and bland voice. "They'll mitigate the worst of the symptoms, but it won't grant you immunity."

"Oh, er, of course, of course, but, you won't get someone pregnant?"

"No."

save me, Rusty begged whatever deity or demon was listening, save me from this hell.

His prayers were, amazingly, answered almost immediately.

With a chiming tune that was out of place of their swanky surroundings, Rusty's phone began to trill. Leaping upon this opportunity like a starving dog on a bull carcass, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and stepped back.

"Sorry, gotta take this. Important call," he said, ignoring Maeterlinck's dagger stare of 'you cowardly traitor'.

Sorry, Maeterlinck. It was every man for himself out here.

Preparing for it to be a spam call trying to sell him some kind of gizmo or whatever, Rusty answered the call without checking the ID as he strode with purpose towards the ballroom's doors.

"You just saved me from a really painful conversation from some dumbass executive so I'll listen to whatever you're peddling," Rusty said. "What is it this time? A roomba that'll clean your apartment and then suck you off once it's done?"

"...haven't got one of those in my toolbox, but now you've got me interested, V.IV."

Rusty froze comically.

"C-Commander?" he half-squeaked, mortified when Freud started sniggering in that low, throaty way of his. "What- I thought you were a telemarketer! Why're you-"

Wait.

"...why're you calling me?" Rusty asked dumbly. Hesitantly, he started walking again, his confusion eclipsing his mortification. "Is V.II not picking up?"

"Why would I call Snail?"

Because you're the commander and he's your deputy bitch, Rusty did not say.

"To torment him," he said instead.

"...okay, fair," Freud conceded. "But I called you intentionally. You need to ditch that party and return to HQ."

"Is there an emergency deployment?" Rusty asked, easily slipping into business mode. He exited the ballroom, the music and chatter cutting off when the doors shut behind him. The entrance hallway was far quieter and cooller.

"Emergency deployment... eh, yeah, something like that..." Freud said vaguely. "Just hurry up to the hangar. I'll be waiting, V.IV."

He hung up without much as a goodbye, and Rusty pocketed his phone with a frown. He wondered what kind of mission this was, to have Freud directly calling him and circumventing Snail. It must be pretty bad. Maybe Balam had finally managed to reclaim Pluto from Arquebus? They'd been duking it out over that planetoid's chunked remains ever since it had blown up.

(Why had it blown up? Rusty had no idea. Any details pertaining to "Pluto's Cracking" were very vague and buried under impenetrable black ink. Must've been some UEG experiment that went horribly wrong, was Rusty's theory.)

But if it wasn't Pluto... Rusty couldn't think of anything else urgent enough to warrant Freud's calling him during a work function. Well, even if it was something as mundane as acting as his punching bag in simulated spars, it was leagues better than suffering stupid questions from equally moronic executives...

And Freud was a good excuse to hold up if Snail cottoned onto his early departure. Yes, whatever Freud wanted will be worth it.

-

Two hours later and standing outside of the London's city limits in STEEL HAZE, Rusty reassessed his earlier sentiments.

Upon arriving at the hangar after switching out his suit and tie for the Vesper flight suit, Freud had all but chivvied him into STEEL HAZE and ordered him to follow him to a set of coordinates outside of London's city limits. All flight clearances had been given for them to travel in flight configuration over the city, Freud assured, and Rusty, unsure but curious, did as he was told.

The coordinates led them both to a large stretch of absolute nowhere deep in the irradiated wastelands of Earth. The ground was rocky and uneven, large fissures gaping where the crust had split open with tremendous force, and so deep that not even STEEL HAZE's sensors could detect the bottom. A flashing alert for unsafe levels of radiation blinked at the bottom of his HUD, the value registering around 7Gy - potent enough to give him acute radiation poisoning if he opened his cockpit hatch. The sky as well was an unsettled shade of rust, the reddish brown dust that coated everything hazing the air due to the constant blistering winds.

It boggled the mind to think some humans did actually live out in these wastelands, somehow, and even more boggling that the Rejuvenated cities were functioning oases where it was easy to forget the state of the world beyond their towering walls.

Honestly, looking at the wasteland around him, Rusty couldn't help but feel relief that Rubicon wasn't this bad. Yeah, the climate was stuck in the middle of an ever deepening ice age in some parts, and majority of life had been rendered extinct... but the atmosphere was irradiated, plants still grew without aid, there was still rain and groundwater and other signs of defiant life. Earth didn't have that. Outside of its fake movie sets that were those cities, the whole planet was straight up dead.

Just completely, totally, utterly dead.

"Right, yeah, this'll do..." Freud hummed. "Some good cover, wide open space, far away enough that those Peacekeepers won't get involved..."

Ominous words.

"Hey, Commander?" Rusty said.

"Yeah?"

"Are you planning on murdering me out here or something?"

Freud didn't immediately answer. Slowly, LOCKSMITH swivelled around to face STEEL HAZE, but its weapons remained inactive and the Scudder rifle was pointing downwards towards the ground. Rusty still kept his finger close to his trigger, though, his implants ready to engage his FCS the second LOCKSMITH so much as twitched wrong.

"......is that what you're into?" Freud finally asked.

What. "What?"

"Hey, no judgement on my part. I get that there's a bit of excitement at consensual attempted murder-"

What???

"Uh- no? No??" Rusty stuttered, unsure on how Freud even made that bizarre leap of logic. "I'm not- that's not why I asked! You just-"

Freud cut him off with a horribly obnoxious laugh. "You're so easily flustered, V.IV! I'm just yanking your chain. I know you're a good little tamed wolf."

Rusty huffed, his face feeling uncomfortably hot. "With someone like you, it's hard to tell, commander. You've always had unique tastes."

"Ooooh, looks like this wolf's muzzle can slip loose," Freud purred. "Perfect. That'll make this more... fun."

STEEL HAZE's sensors picked up LOCKSMITH's weapon systems coming online. Functioning purely off instinct, Rusty activated his own and snapped STEEL HAZE's arm right up, its SAMPU machine gun aimed squarely at LOCKSMITH's Core - just as LOCKSMITH's Scudder rifle pointed at him.

"You didn't even blink," Freud murmured. "Good."

"I've always been quick on the draw, commander," Rusty said lightly, maintaining V.IV Rusty's confident, airy mein all while his mind raced frantically, trying to figure out if he had slipped up somewhere, if Freud had cottoned onto his true nature. Had he really called him out here to get rid of him? Well, least Freud offered him a fighting chance - better than being vanished by the Peacekeepers in the middle of the night.

"Yeah. Your reaction times in the sims were always somewhat impressive..."

LOCKSMITH started to sidestep. STEEL HAZE matched it. They began to circle each other.

"But sims are rarely indicative of a pilot's true skill," Freud said conversationally, like they weren't holding guns in each other's faces. "It's only when they're really under pressure that they show their true abilities."

"Is that what this is?" Rusty asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. "You want to see me perform under pressure?"

"You half-ass your spars in the sims." Freud's voice went flat - almost cold. "You can clearly do better, but you don't. You pretend to be less skilled than you really are, and it really, really, really pisses me off. So this is what we're going to do."

With its free hand, LOCKSMITH gestured to their surroundings. "We're going to fight here and now. If you don't give me your all, I'm going to crack your cockpit open like an egg. What's the ambient radiation level right now? 7Gy?"

"Yeah," Rusty said flatly.

"Hm, that means you'd have about ten minutes before you start vomiting your guts out and your intestines try to escape your body through your asshole," Freud said, so matter-of-fact. "I think it'd take, what, a few hours before you start bleeding from every orifice?"

It'd be a horrible way to go. Rusty felt his pulse pick up a little. "Did Arquebus HQ authorise this 'test', commander?"

"I always ask for forgiveness than permission from HQ, and they always forgive me," Freud laughed, but there was something strangely bitter about it. "You can be replaced, anyways. Now."

LOCKSMITH's head tilted fractionally.

"Fight like the cornered wolf that you are, V.IV," Freud murmured. "Let me see those fangs of yours."

And before Rusty could respond, LOCKSMITH fired.

-

In the end, the decision was easy to make.

Though Rusty had told himself he'd try to conceal his true skill as much as possible, even at risk to himself, when his back was really pushed to the wall and he had to choose between dying and keeping his cover, or fighting back like a cornered animal desperate to live and blowing everything, Rusty didn't really have to think about it.

He fought back with everything he had. He bared those fangs. He pushed himself to his very limits, Freud matching him every step of the way, pushing him and pushing him, until their ammunition was spent and the generators were close to overheating, their battle tearing up new scars along the cracked earth and leaving chunks of of themselves behind.

The fight didn't end in a draw so much as they wordlessly came to a mutual halt several tens of metres apart. LOCKSMITH was missing an arm - a casualty to Rusty's laser slicer shearing the limb off at the shoulder - and parts of its armour was warped and dented from STEEL HAZE's plasma missiles eating through the military grade steel. The Scudder rifle had been tossed aside a while back, and LOCKSMITH's fingers on that hand were partially crushed from where it had slugged STEEL HAZE in the gut at full force. Rusty was still feeling the ache from that even now.

He wished he could say STEEL HAZE was in a better state, but the fact was the AC was barely functioning. Its right arm was useless - Freud's revenge for LOCKSMITH's dismembered arm - and STEEL HAZE's ablative armour was stripped down to nothing, revealing the dull, gunmetal grey base armour underneath, scorched and scratched from deflected rounds or glancing blows from the MORLEY grenade launcher. Rusty had sacrificed many of STEEL HAZE's functionality to defend the Core at all costs, knowing it would take only one minor breach of the Core block to have him dying from acute radiation poisoning.

If they continued to fight, Rusty would lose. That was cold, hard fact, and he was braced for it, braced for overloading his own generator and latching onto LOCKSMITH if need be, if only to drag Freud into his grave with him, but instead after a long, charged pause, LOCKSMITH's weapon systems deactivated.

Rusty kept STEEL HAZE's active.

"...that's more like it," Freud murmured. His voice had a distinct breathlessness to it that Rusty tried to ignore. "You were glorious, V.IV. Vicious, fast, and decisive. You almost killed me a few times, might've if luck had been on your side."

"You sound disappointed," Rusty gritted out, not bothering to pretend to be V.IV Rusty. "Don't tell me this was some fucking convoluted suicide attempt."

Freud laughed - no, cackled. "Suicide attempt? You still think you can beat me right now?"

Rusty swallowed down his pride, sensing a trap in Freud's breathless, wild voice. He clenched his jaw, bared his fangs in a snarl that Freud couldn't see but definitely hear as he growled: "Not right now. But one day."

"One day. One day, you might be able to." Freud inhaled deeply, and let it out slow. "Yeah, one day."

Rusty waited, his pulse still thumping like a drum in his ears, STEEL HAZE poised to lunge, teetering on a tripwire. After a long, long pause, where Freud audibly pulled himself back under control, folding back his wild, deranged true self into the far more socially acceptable lines of V.I Freud, Vesper, LOCKSMITH turned away.

"Well, I think we've been gone long enough. Come on, V.IV. Let's go back."

Freud didn't wait. He launched LOCKSMITH upwards and boosted back towards the city, the AC travelling at a much slower speed than its flight-configuration allowed. Its armour integrity was likely hanging on by a thread, much like STEEL HAZE's.

Rusty reluctantly followed him but kept his distance, still trying to figure out what the fuck that had been about. Freud had always been a bit of a mystery, but it turned out he was fucking insane and couldn't be trusted to be normal at all. Who the hell invited someone out into the middle of nowhere to goad them into a fight to the death?! What was wrong with this guy?!

i better be careful around him, Rusty thought agitatedly. Freud now knew his true skill - had known he'd been holding back for a long while, it seemed. Had he shared this information with anyone else? Was he onto Rusty, or was he so fucking nuts that he only cared about being cheated out of a good spar in the sims? Was Rusty going to be called out into the irradiated wastelands to fight him again? Should he complain to Snail about this?! Would Snail side with him out of his hatred for Freud, or with Freud out of his hatred for Rusty???

And more importantly...

...

Who was going to authorise STEEL HAZE's repairs... since this wasn't an official sortie, then... then this might come out of... Rusty's wages...

...

i'm definitely going to kill him, he decided, cold with an intense, deep fury, maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day, i'm going to fucking kill him.

#armored core #armored core 6 #fanfic #v.iv rusty #v.i freud #freud is such a freak i love him

[cookiescr]

Piltover and zaun atziri outfits concepts! These were fun :D I’d still like to polish these outfits tho like i feel there’s something missing to her zaun outfit. I didn’t good a job portraying her as a teenager because im too lazy i just wanted to do the outfits for now mcmdm

#arcane #oc #art #original character #artists on tumblr #sketch #my art #kuki #atziri #also she’s happy with her life in piltover her parents treat her well #she’s just stressed about business sruff #she misses her friends from zaun tho #she still escapes from time to time make sure she’s not rusty #her bodyguard always finds her and brings her back #i still need to design her or I’ll litrally just rip off atitaya kdjxm #I’m incorporating her knowing how to make smoke bombs here #but upgraded like maybe some other type like paralyzing or fainting gas/smoke/chemical #she’s good for cover and for escape and she’s nimble #can u tell i like thief/assassin dnd classes #i am basic but i am free

[seelestia]

✦ how can you tell? (of how easily i fall at your feet.)

⎯ oh, how love bleeds from just one gesture. ( some telltale signs that they might've fallen for you. )

#STARRING. neuvillette, wriothesley & lyney ft. gn!reader. { 2.4k words }

#TAGS. sfw, fluff & crack, major pining (!!!). more: neuvi has 1 extra part bcs i realized too late, wrio is a rascal /aff, lynette is a professional wingwoman here (everyone, applaud!!), mentions of various fontaine npc's.

#P/S. pardon my rusty writing and ideas but alas, may i entice you with some fontaine gentlemen on this fine day?? (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) ੭

★ 〜 masterlist.

© seelestia on tumblr, apr 2024. please do not repost to another platform, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

⎯ neuvillette's love is subtle, hidden behind a veil of formal courtesy. the iudex is the nation's symbol of impartiality; personal relationships, a common factor of inciting bias in one's judgement, are to be sifted through wisely. he can choose which he ends up keeping, yet he cannot choose which he ends up wanting. what of a relationship he desires but cannot keep? a conundrum but still, his affections for you seep through the crevices.

it's in the way. . . your name becomes a beloved among the melusines, you wonder why?

it goes without saying that every citizen of fontaine acknowledges melusines to be friendly creatures. all of them are sweethearts! ...but is it you or is there some form of hidden favoritism here?

for some reason, they always seem to go out of their ways to greet you on the streets. a “hello, mx. [name]!” from the right then a “good day, mx. [name]!” from the left. maybe a “stay safe, mx. [name]!” on days when it's crowded too... you're starting to think the quota of greetings you receive is much bigger than everyone else.

before long, even your arms are getting piled up with favors. one ticket for a seat in the opera epiclese from aeife, a slice of cake from sedene, some high-quality butter from muirne, a free beverage from menthe — you lost count of the freebies you've received already.

what's going on? it is as if there's a badge of approval from someone just hanging over your head. visible to a melusine's eyes, but not to yours. (you've heard that melusines perceive things differently than humans, though.)

but who are you to complain? you're not immune to their contagious smiles each time you pass by. on some days, you even entertain the thought that they are more familiar with you than you are with them. all in a humorous sense, of course.

ironically enough, this theory wouldn't take long to ring true: having received a bouquet of your favorite dessert from café lutece on your birthday from kiara, this coincidence only feeds into your suspicion even more.

a considerate gesture but surely, they don't do this for everyone? you don't recall ever telling your usual order and birthdate to a melusine before. your mind scrambles around for a memory you might've missed. who could've—

“oh, yes... i almost forgot,” kiara holds her chin in thought. “monsieur neuvillette says to send you his regards,” she nods, relieved that the message did not make its narrow escape from her mind. but blissfully unaware of the impact her words have left on you.

“goodbye, mx. [name]!” the melusine bids you farewell with a cheery wave. you murmur back a response but it comes out incoherent at best — you are simply too dumbfounded by the realization.

...so, that's who.

(wait a second, is arouet in on this too?!)

it's in the way. . . he begins to take longer breaks, hoping to run into you in front of the palais.

taking quiet strolls just outside the palais is, more often than not, neuvillette's idea of rest from work. although some might expect the iudex to have chosen a more 'creative' or luxurious location, but he digresses.

this place is near his office so less time is wasted on the journey back, liath also patrols here so he has the opportunity to inquire about her well-being — and occasionally, he stumbles upon you as well.

'occasionally' is the keyword: neuvillette has always preferred order and routine above chances and coincidences. but something about this idiosyncrasy — the tendency to linger beyond his usual duration, the act of stalling to hold onto hope that you might pass by today — is a indication of hypocrisy he wishes not to comment on.

sometimes, he closes his eyes so that his ears may be more attuned to the sound of your voice. sometimes, he opens his eyes so that they may look around for a glimpse of your face. who's to say if he'll ever be graced by your presence? it is all in fate's hands.

call it an odd method of manifestation, a childish one that even neuvillette scoffs at himself for. sometimes, it doesn't work, of course. not that he ever expects it to — but oh, when it does.

“...monsieur?” your voice cuts through the silence in his mind. he takes the sight of you in; a polite greeting on your tongue, several grocery bags in your arms and that beam on your face as you say, “what a coincidence to see you here.”

the iudex finds that he doesn't mind having his privacy briefly interrupted. not at all. not when it's like this, not when it's by you. alas, it seems that fate has smiled down on him today.

“yes, hello. what a serendipitous coincidence indeed.”

neuvillette smiles, he can't help it. perhaps, he might grow a soft spot for coincidences, after all.

(you sneak a brief glance at the sky with a squint. ...is it just you or are the clouds clearing up a little?)

⎯ wriothesley's love is beguiling, the kind of adventure that keeps you on your toes. a forthright gentleman; he is the type to know what he wants and he wants you. with him, you'll taste whiplash like never before. butterflies in your stomach, the urge to throw a shoe at him, you'll get it all. but an adventure isn't an adventure without breaks in between and it's at that very moment where you'll find you adore him the most... when he rests his head on your lap, momentarily free from worldly titles, breathing like the man who longs for warmth that he has always been.

it's in the way. . . he always offers you tea when really, he just wants you to stay.

everyone knows that wriothesley enjoys his tea — but that's only because he sees no need to hide his preferences; not his craving for a cup of tea when afternoon arrives nor his fondness for you either.

he doesn't conceal it, but doesn't bring attention to it either. wriothesley likes to think that only those with discerning eyes can pick up on the miniscule (???) hints he drops. that is, if saying “why not stay for some tea?” is even considered a subtle clue at all... maybe, he's mixing up polite courtesy with flirting a bit too much.

but who cares? in the grand scheme of things, the fun is seeing whether you'll figure it out or not. and let's be frank here; wriothesley is a patient man in all aspects, able to play the long game like no other.

don't worry, you may take as long as you want to — ironic since you're technically the only player in this 'game' — but hey, he has faith in your abilities! besides, you get to enjoy a cup of free tea (and with his company, preferably). surely, you can't complain about that? ...hah, he's just teasing you.

tick-tock! tick-tock!

the clock strikes twelve in the afternoon.

“ah, finally a well-deserved break.” the tone in which wriothesley pairs with that grin on his face is nothing less than devious. the glance he throws your way as he set aside the documents on his desk is something. or rather, it's suggesting something.

and frankly, you've experienced this many times enough to know what the underlying meaning is. “let me guess...” you let out a sigh, “you're asking me to have tea with you again?”

the emphasis on the last word is definitely, wholly intentional. you're sure wriothesley knows that too — “bingo,” he hums at you, sounds almost like a whistle. “you're getting more and more clever. must be all the tea i made you.”

“don't flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes at his attempted jest but you take a seat on his office couch, anyway. your own unique and adorable way of saying yes, he learned. still, wriothesley thinks that exasperated look on your face is an absolute marvel... and maybe, that little smile tugging on your lips you're trying to fight, too.

“same as usual?” he asks, pushing back his chair with a proud grin still plastered on his face that you wish you can wipe off.

but instead, you shake your head fondly at his antics. “mhm,” and rest a cheek on your fist. watching him tiredly, you realize you could get used to this. maybe.

wriothesley smiles to himself. looks like you figured out the tea has always been an excuse, after all.

(you've won the game, congrats! a subsidiary reward is a comment from sigewinne about how this tea routine between the two of you bears a resemblance to an elderly human couple's. she means it, innocently sincere.)

⎯ lyney's love can be faceted at first, one with such a smooth surface that you never imagined there would be so many layers underneath. joy and bliss, sorrow and burdens; all cramped and stuffed together behind his mask of perfection on the stage, a mask akin to a child's treasure chest almost bursting at the seams. you can unravel him if you tried, you can take off that mask if you reached out. and when you do, you'll find beautiful violet eyes staring right back at you, thankful, imploring you to go further.

it's in the way. . . his bravado dissipates around you, nerves scattering like confetti that bursts from his hat on stage.

they say that the first impression is the best impression — or at least, lyney hopes that's the case with all of the interesting impressions he has left on you so far. his instinct by nature is to impress, to bedazzle and that hasn't stopped since meeting you for the first time.

trying doesn't always lead to success, however. you stuttered in front of them twice, lynette pointed out after the first time he spoke to you. that fact spooked the poor magician so much he stayed up rethinking the conversation under the cover of his blanket. lynette isn't wrong per se, but lyney firmly believes that he will leave a better impression... one day, somehow, no matter how many times it takes!

he is a magician; charisma and charms should have or rather, already have come easily to him. his persona on the stage is no lie — just a tiny concerted exaggeration, maybe — but you've been among his audience before. you've seen what he is capable of. so surely, you'd know that lyney isn't really as demure and easily flustered as you might think he is... because no punches held back, he acts like that every time you talk to him.

he can't help it and that, exactly, is what makes it worse.

how many times have he cupped his face and mumbled nonsense into his hands for failing to impress you yet again? you're so wonderful and he's just so... miserable. this is unlike him. he has to wonder why you still look for him after each performance when you know you'll be greeted by his being a wreck.

maybe they like you that way, freminet tried to help. or maybe they like you no matter what, lynette chipped in. that had lyney pondering for a long, long, long time which translates into weeks.

will the day come where he presents you with a rainbow rose and professes his feelings for you without losing his nerves? he can only hope (and try, one day).

it never gets old.

when his feet step off the stage and the curtains have fallen, the satisfaction that spreads all the way to his fingertips never fails to disappoint. but with that, also comes the imminent feeling of anticipation.

for each performance he delivers, a visitor is bound to linger. when all members in the audience would head to the entrance of the opera epiclese to leave, one of them would stay. waiting patiently to be beckoned to the backstage. it's been a routine for so long, after all.

“lyney?”

right on cue.

your voice greets his ears, a sound that he can admit he misses only to himself. he exhales, a placating act to shush his beating heart from growing any louder.

“ah, [name]!” the magician enunciates your name with a certain type of fanfare. “here to lend a hand again, i assume?” he tries to shoot you a confident grin, but you aren't gullible enough to not see the tint of red blooming on his cheeks.

you stifle a chuckle at his (attempt at a) bold opening. “of course,“ said with a nod and a silly thought along the lines of: he's cute.

your honest and calm response takes him by surprise. he blinks a tad. oh, it seems the thrill from the show a few minutes prior still hasn't worn off. perhaps, he's still all too used to the crowd's shouts and cheers... not that he expects you to start yelling, of course!

“i see,” lyney feigns a cough to recollect his composure. now that he is cognizant of the fact it's just the two of you, he shrinks down into a more casual version of himself with a nervous chuckle.

“will you... be staying for long?” he asks, bashful. the question sounds more genuine than just a mere pleasantry. his eyes look hopeful, twinkling at the thought of having your presence around. his fingers have even come up to scratch at the side of his neck, you don't think lyney even realizes he is doing that.

who are you to say no? you smile. “well, my schedule's pretty empty today.”

his lips instantly break into a grin, brighter than one he usually has onstage. “that's actually marv—” he starts.

“that's great,” a familiar monotonous voice cuts in. lynette peers from behind you with a hum, “we could use more hands to pack up the new props.” oh, and that brief glint of mischief in her feline eyes as she watches how lyney gapes at her sudden intrusion.

“sure!” you glance back at her, oblivious to it all. “thanks for letting me in, lynette. i'll try my best to help.” even if you admit that one of the reasons you're here is for lyney, but you can't discredit his twin sister for allowing you to enter here in the first place. a free backstage pass in exchange for free labor, quite a fair deal.

with your back turned to him, lyney takes the chance to mouth his own words of disbelief to lynette. incomprehensible except for that one i can't believe you're doing this! that she manages to catch.

“no problem,” she observes her brother over your shoulder with keen interest, “everyone knows how fond lyney is of you.”

there is a series of spluttering noises behind you. a certain magician finds himself at the verge of choking on mere oxygen.

“lynette!”

but really, she has no doubt that lyney has fallen head over heels for you. hook, line and sinker.

— thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are most appreciated. ♡

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x you #wriothesley x you #lyney x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #seelestial.inks

[smutoperator]

Get It Like Boom Boom Boom

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader

Tags: anal, creampie, dirty talk, dominant woman, facefucking, grinding, multiple orgasms, ruined orgasm.

Word count: 2839.

Chaewon is a girl with not many moments for herself. Between her hectic schedules and her tough job as a leader of one of the most famous new kpop groups, pleasure is hard to come by. However, she always manages to get some deserved escapes from such a strenuous schedule. Tonight she wants it to be one of those nights where she leaves all the stress behind her and just gets to enjoy herself.

"I'm in need of a thrill I haven't experienced in a long time", she told herself. Searching her phone she finds your contact. You hadn't met Chaewon since the moment Iz*one became a page in kpop's history. Since then, she had switched agencies, debuted under a new group and rose to new levels of fame. She was busy and never called you, That is, until this day.

You got surprised when you got her message. "I want to come to your apartment, have some fun you know". You thought she would have just forgotten about an old fling she hadn't seen in years, but it wasn't the case. As you learned, Chaewon always remembers everything.

You had a tough day at work, tired and trying not to sleep, you waited for Chaewon. The night passed by: 7 PM, 8 PM, 9 PM, almost 10, and she hadn't showed up. Maybe she was just pulling a prank on you, but then she finally arrived, wearing a sultry black dress that caught you by surprise. You were still wearing your work attire as you were so tired you couldn't even take it off. "How are you doing?", she asked. "Better than ever", you lied to her. "That's nice to hear", she replied.

Chaewon quickly made up for the wasted time as she unbuttoned your shirt and sit on your lap. "Let's make it even better", she said, gripping her nails against your torso as she slid her hands down your body. It wasn't long until she unbuttoned your pants, revealing your massive member down there. Chaewon grabbed your cock with both hands and started smiling, eager to take on your full length. She took one lick from the bottom to the top and released a little cute moan, before taking it in her mouth. You quickly got aroused, despite looking extremely sleepy.

Chaewon took that cock down her throat, reminding you of how good her blowjob abilities were from the get go. You could only admire as she took it balls deep until gagging, then picked up the pace as she jerked you off. The way she slurped all over it quickly sent shivers down your spine, as she took it again deep in her throat. Chaewon got bragged about her skills, telling you "I should have made you wait even more for that, so easy". She was both being a cocky sucker and a cocksucker to you.

"Fuck my face", she told you, as you thrust upwards into her pussy-esque throat. Dok dok dok dok the sound of that pole hitting her deep in the hole. Chaewon took a deep breath and released your cock, screaming "HOLY FUCK YEAH!", sucking it even harder and not caring if you were to cum right there. However, just as she sensed you were getting close, she said "See you tomorrow" and abruptly left the room. You were confused, maybe she just wanted a little fun, what if she was lying to you? But you just had to resign yourself to sleep.

Just as you sensed your clothed penis being touched by a piece of fabric, you heard a familiar voice. "Wake up", it was Chaewon, sitting herself on your morning wood. It was definitely worth the wait as your cock looked much fuller than yesterday, and you had recovered your energies.

"I wanna see if that's good enough to destroy my ass", Chaewon told you. What a difference from that girl you met years ago that asked you to be gentle because your cock was the first she took up her ass. Now it's like breakfast for her, just a regular part of her sex diet. "You looked rusty last night, maybe you were just beginner level", she mocked you. "No I'm fine", you told her. "I'm not so sure you're strong enough to take on me again", she trashed talked you while grinding her clothed pussy against your hard dick, taking off her bra and moaning softly.

Chaewon turned back and asked again if you were strong enough. You replied positively to her. "Then show me", she shot back, grabbing your cock and restarting to suck it off just like the day before, this time giving you a panoramic view of her ass in lingerie. "Look at this big fucking cock, it's gonna look so good in my ass", she said, before deepthroating you.

"Fuck it deep into my throat", she ordered you as you pounded even harder and deeper inside it. Chaewon had a throat of steel it seemed, as she could take all those poundings while barely gagging. "MORE", she screamed as she coughed on your veiny prick. "Punch it in there, daddy". Gagging, sucking, spitting, jerking, Chaewon did them all with your cock. "You love it on my whore mouth don't you?", she kept provoking. "Look how I am such a nasty fucking slut with this dick daddy", she said, turning you on to fuck her face even harder.

"I want every inch of it in my asshole, hit it just you hit the back of my fucking whore mouth", Chaewon teased you. "God I want this fucking cock inside me so bad, shove it deep in my ass daddy", she kept saying, giving you tender kisses. You put her back facing the sky, taking her panties off and preparing her for the pounding. Chaewon got on all fours and tilted her ass to the sky and shoved it in your face, twerking it as you were eating her bunghole. "I know what you fucking want", she said.

As you tongued her anus first with deep movements then going rapidly up and down, Chaewon told you to keep going, "Shove that tongue in my asshole", she said. Chaewon now lost all her composure, looking like a mess in distress. "Oh yes daddy", she uttered alongside many loud moans as you kept showing your tongue and even sniffing your nose up her butthole. You spat in her shitter, a move that drew lots of approval from this little whore. "Spit in there, daddy, get it warmed up for that big cock". Many could only wish to taste her forbidden fruit, but you were the lucky one taking it fully.

And indeed, a few spits was all you needed. Her hole was very tight but once you managed to get your tip in, it engulfed your cock like a black hole engulfs light. "Bury that hard dick inside me", Chaewon ordered, and was quickly served. "Now we are talking, make that asshole yours daddy", Chaewon said alternating between moans and screams that only got louder. "Give it to me", she said.

As you stretched her shithole, Chaewon behaved more and more like a whore. "That dick is so big inside me, so good, so deep". The harder Chaewon told you to fuck her ass, the deeper you went, slapping her balls against her cunt and make her feel even more sensations quivering into her body. You spanked her asscheeks, your balls clapping against them as you went faster and harder inside her anus

"FUUUCK, YESSS, stuff me like that", Chaewon uttered. "Fuck me like a whore, slap those balls like boom boom boom", she said, asking for more just as you pulled out, she still on all fours. But not for long. "Please give me more", she asked. And sure you did, mounting on top of her like a bull, while she fingered herself to get even more stimulation. "I love how you shove those balls deep inside me", she told you, and then screamed the hardest moan yet.

"Stretch it wide open", she kept ordering, grabbing your cock with her hands and directing it inside her butthole. "God keep me fucking like this you're gonna make me cum", she told you. "Make me cum daddy, don't fucking stop", she said just as you hit her balls deep. Chaewon then stuffed two of her fingers in her pussy, fucking it herself and getting close to cum. "You are so deep in my ass, let me spread that asshole", Chaewon said, before releasing her juices into the bedsheets as you kept burying it inside her. "Daddy I can't get enough, my ass is so fucking full". Just a few seconds of you pulling it out already had her begging to shove it in. "Stuff me all the way up".

Boom boom boom got your balls slapping on her. "YES I'M CUMMING", she screamed, while twerking her ass against your hips to get that boom boom boom you were giving her even harder. The little mess, still recovering from her orgasm, pulled out and went straight up to taste her nasty butthole straight from your cock. You gave her no rest, fucking her skull just as she inserted her filthy mouth in your prick. "You taste so good out of my ass", she replied, followed by a succession of jerk offs and ordering you to shove it the back of her throat, her eyes rolling as her throat got smacked by your big sausage.

Chaewon spat on your cock, quickly asking "don't you love that sloppy tongue all over that cock daddy? Milking the shit out of it", she said as she started licking your balls like an insane slut. You told her to turn around and shoved it back in her asshole, well lubed by her excelled blowjob skills. Now she could only moan and scream as you kept stretching her. "That ass is all fucking yours daddy, keep stretching me like a bitch", she said.

You switched positions, taking her ass in a spooning position, where now you could see the reaction on her face every time you pumped her. As you started to finger her cunt, Chaewon quickly reacted "shove those fingers in my pussy daddy please, I love getting both my fuckholes stuffed. FUCK ME LIKE THE SLUT I AM". You kept going, now spitting on her pussy, to which Chaewon engulfed it like it was your cum filling her womb. That whore was insatiable, the more you attacked and destroyed her, the more she kept asking for it.

"Fuck me harder, fuck me like a little fucking slut, or just fuck me, I don't care", she kept telling you. "HARDER, HARDER", Chaewon was begging. She really wanted that boom boom boom sound of your balls clapping against her again, it was such a huge turn on. Once she got it, her already wet pussy started to cream even further. "BABY YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM AGAIN". You groaned as you keep shoving it, her telling lies about loving you beyond that throbbing member you were using to stretch her.

You kept pounding Chaewon, while also slapping her wet pussy and put your fingers on her needy mouth. "Keep going keep going, fuck me harder", she kept telling you, demanding you nothing but your best. "Fuck me up daddy". She was taking your stamina like no whore had ever done. "Don't stop, I'm gonna fucking cum", and she finally did, as you boom boom boom'd her ass once again. "That cock looks so good, that big thick yummy cock", she said. Chaewon set things straight, only praising you after you made her cum.

Chaewon spread her cheeks, showing you her gaped poop chute after the pounding you gave her. "Yes I love how you gape my asshole", she told you. "Look how I only spread that asshole wide open only for you daddy. I just came, and you're gonna make me fucking cum again". Chaewon kept getting sluttier and sluttier, but she wasn't done yet. "Fuck me harder baby, shove it up my guts, destroy me. I love those balls pounding against me. Fuck me like your little bitch", she kept telling you.

Chaewon took a break to suck your cock again, giving her classic sloppy blowjob. The little cocksucker shoved it balls deep, as you also dunked her head deep into your meaty pole. You kept fucking, but her throat just didn't bulge. "I want you to ride that cock", you told, trying to save your face against an insatiable Chaewon. She quickly sat on it and saw you thrust upwards against her asshole. But she didn't cave in easily, taking herself control of the ride and putting you on the verge of cumming, making you search for the worst thoughts deep inside your head just so you wouldn't give in.

"I wanna fucking milk it", Chaewon stated her intentions loud and clear, it was now a battle to not cum inside her butthole. You had enough of it and decided to take control, giving Chaewon a full nelson. But that only made her fire burn harder. "Slap those balls against me, spread that ass like I'm the biggest whore". "Keep it wide open", you answer back. "Yes use me baby, fuck that tight little asshole", Chaewon was quick and punched back. You spanked her cheeks, fingered her pussy, but nothing seemed to throw her out of her rythm. "Make my legs shake, fuck my asshole", she said.

You kept doing the work and pounding her down low but the one enjoying the ride was Chaewon, draining your energy while hers seemed endless. "Wreck that little asshole, fuck it hard, I can't get enough", Chaewon quickly pulled out and sat on your sweaty face, grinding that pussy and anus against your skin. "Yes daddy", Chaewon said as you ate both her fuckhole, quickly moving to another session of sitting on your hard cock, she wouldn't rest until you unleashed that white milk, and you knew that.

"Pound it up against me, that's your fucking asshole", Chaewon's incentives were hard to resist. "YES I'M CUMMING", Chaewon screamed as she released a fountain of squirt from her pussy, quickly recovering for another wild ride, and then speading her legs getting herself out to swallow your big dick down her throat. "I want more", she said as you spread her cheeks and gave her another full nelson. "Use my little fucking shithole, open me wide. Baby I need you to fuck me harder". Chaewon got out of breath as you pump on her harder than ever. "GET IT LIKE BOOM BOOM BOOM, GET IT LIKE BOOM BOOM BOOM", she started to sing like you were just a stage for her to perform. And what a performance she was giving.

"Come here", you told her. You had finally waived the white flag, putting her in missionary until you manage to cum inside her fudge factory. Chaewon knew it, telling how weak you were and begging you to be a real man and give her the biggest shot of semen she had ever got. She moaned as you put your finger in her pussy and kept going in and out of, according to her own words, gaped asshole.

"Pump it, pump it", she told you like a motivator. "Look at my whore eyes while you fuck me. Yes daddy, bury it in there, I'm such a fucking whore, my asshole is so fucking filled, my little pink asshole. Use that fuckhole, it's all yours". Chaewon couldn't stop talking, claiming her victory over you. "Tear me up, tear that asshole, fuck me like your dirty little whore".

You spit again in her asshole, Chaewon giving once again approval "you're spitting cause you wanna cum inside there don't you?". You finger her pussy, eliciting more moans from her "Don't stop, make me fucking cum again", she mandated. "HARDER HARDER I'M GONNA CUM", she screamed right after, her pussy sending a flow of juices right to your hips, her holes clenching and making yourself get close too.

"I wanna feel that warm hot load buried in my asshole. I wanna feel that cock exploding inside me. Give me every drop of that milky load, make me your cumslut, please, please, please", Chaewon said, and just like thar as she uttered those words, an explosion of sperm was felt hitting the depths of her shithole, your fully swollen cock giving in. Chaewon scooped it out straight into her mouth, swallowing that jizz like the slut she was. And just like that, it was over, it didn't even looked like it lasted under 40 minutes as you felt like she gave you a four hour fuck.

And if girls wanna have fun, Chaewon surely did after that.

My first smut. Maybe it was too repetitve but the point is simple: queen Chaewon getting fucked in the ass with many references from Le Sserafim's extremely milked hit mostly known as Get it Like Boom Boom Boom.

#chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

never expected to like you this much [i.engen x reader]

prompt: who would have thought ingrid and you would make it this far?

author notes: this is my peace offering for my like week long hiatus. my writing is a bit rusty so spare me 🙏🏾 hope y'all like it!

when you first got into a relationship with ingrid you thought it would be just a casual thing. nothing too serious, nothing too deep. you were only twenty one at the time while ingrid was twenty three. the people around you have always instilled in you that your twenties was for discovery, partying, and finding out what you liked in a relationship. not the time to be tied down to one person. you use to agree to that, but it was hard when you started to associate the norwegian with home.

when you started to miss her when she wasn't around and wait around for her texts when she went off for international games. can you really be blamed? ingrid was so charming in such a calm way. she was this comforting presence who was just enough of everything somehow.

now it has been two years, you being twenty three and ingrid being twenty five. she was way more than something casual now and truly you can't be blamed for it.

how could you two be anything casual when ingrid's hands rub on your back so gently as you complain about your shitty day. she finds your exaggeration and dramatic flair so interesting as you dig into how annoying your co worker was today.

something about having to share a project with complete idiots escape your lips as well, but ingrid can't really tell. she is trying to pay attention, she swears, but you're just so gorgeous. and your skin is so soft against her hands. it's hard to focus.

"and you know what else? one of those bastards ate my lunch today. that you packed for me right before you left for practice! isn't that so heartbreaking, babe? like ugh.." you groan out.

"totally, baby. i'll make sure to put something they're allergic to in the lunch tomorrow so you don't even have to worry about it," ingrid says with that adorable small smile on her lips. you turn your head a bit to get more of a view of her. "really?" you say in a tone that sounds way too serious

ingrid laughs at your genuine seriousness, "what? god no. i'll just pack you something dry so you don't have to put it in the fridge. all fixed babe."

you groan and turn your head away from her. your girlfriend was too nice for her own good in your opinion, but it's a good look on her so you let it slide this time around.

nothing is casual is about the way you reassure ingrid before a big game. you two's bodies pressed against each other you slowly sway back and forth. your head resting on her chest, her head resting on top of yours.

"you are a great footballer. that's why you're in this position, playing at one of the best clubs in women's football, in front of such a large crowd. you will do great babes" you say softly. ingrid hums in response. placing a kiss on the top of your head in thanks. the worry in the norwegian player's heart before a big game always bothered her. would she do well enough? how good would her playing be today? it was hard to push away such thoughts when she remembers what position she is in. however hearing about it from your mouth makes it seem way less stressful and better than it feels. your reassurance is definitely her lucky charm now.

and you definitely knew it wasn't casual when you started to imagine how it would be like to start a family with the norwegian.

ingrid is holding up your little sister, grace, making airplanes with the toddler who is giggling. "who's the cutest babygirl in the world? you are," ingrid says as she starts to kiss all over grace's face. the sigh was adorable and feeding your baby fever so bad. ingrid is still playing around with grace while you're already thinking about what clinics to visit after this.

yeah, this is nowhere near casual.

#ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso x reader #norwnt #woso fanfics

[btsgotjams27]

bust a move | jjk

✨ title: bust a move | ✨ pairing: jk x f!reader ✨ genre/au: smut, pwp, married!au, parents!au ✨ word count: 825 | ✨ rating: m/18+ MDNI ✨ summary: you finally return the favor. ✨ warnings: kissing, groping, oral (m. receiving), handjob, he comes in her mouth (but she spits it out) ✨ a/n: i blame ck jk for this horny word vomit, and also thanks to ck jk for bringing out of my smut hiatus (err--i'm also a little rusty, so forgive me). this is definitely not beta'd, so i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes.

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] previous > busted again

You hum, “G’morning,” inching towards Jungkook, your hand moving to his crotch, but he resists your touch. “What’s wrong?” Brows furrowed and a pout on your face.

He scans your face, eyes dropping down to your chest that’s barely covered by your silk pajama top. “I’m, uh, wet.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips. “You mean you had a wet dream?” He avoids your gaze, embarrassed at the fact that he still gets them occasionally. “It happens. You have a dick. It’s only normal.”

Jungkook sighs, embarrassment written all over his face as he hides under the covers. You follow suit, joining him under the duvet. “I’m just–I’ve been really horny lately, that’s all.”

Raising an eyebrow, you scoot closer, cupping his face, staring into those starry doe eyes. “Did you know that you can have sex with me anytime you want, and I will probably never deny you?”

He grunts, closing his eyes for a moment, imagining all the things he’d do to you. “Mm…don’t tell me that.”

With another wiggle toward him, your body soaks up his warmth along with the heat that’s encapsulated underneath the duvet. It’s early. 6 AM. Lucky for you, your two littles have decided to sleep in, but you have other things on your mind—mainly returning the favor since he wouldn’t let you suck him off that one time in the bathroom.

“Will you…” You pause, your fingers drawing invisible stars into his sculpted chest, then trace down the center to his chiseled abs. “Let me…you know,” you say softly with a smirk on your face.

“Baby, I’m all yours. I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

Your thumb hooks into the elastic of his sweats, pulling them down over his hips along with his briefs, letting his cock spring free. A soft hiss leaves him when you wrap your hand around his shaft. Stroking him a few times, you love watching him revel at your touch. The noises and staggered breaths has you clenching around nothing.

Jungkook remembers that he can touch you too, kiss you even. His hand grips your waist, then moves to grab your ass, kneading them with desire and lust. The ache for him builds within you, but this is about him.

You bring your lips to his, not letting his moan escape, for fear of little ones bursting through the door. The two of you don’t need to be busted again.

He breaks away from the kiss, molding his lips to the column of your neck and collarbones.

“Kook…” you whimper. “Let me take care of you.”

Pulling back, he sighs with a chuckle, “Okay—sorry, I got a little carried away.”

You draw the duvet, uncovering the two of you. Peering at the door, you make sure it’s closed. But for good measure, you jump off the bed, running to lock the door—just in case.

Running back, you push Jungkook on his back, crawling on top of him, legs on either side. His cock is erect, ready to go. Your mouth envelops his length, sucking the tip as your hand holds his shaft, pumping and twisting at the same time. His fingers comb through your hair, grasping it lightly. You look up and his dark eyes are focused on your mouth then flicks up to meet yours.

He sucks in a deep breath when you take as much as you can in your mouth, drool glistening as you’re bobbing up and down his hard cock. You hasten your pace, licking and sucking like your life depends on it. Popping off, you rub his tip against your tongue. He’s throbbing, quivering. He’s ready to topple over. You take him in your mouth again.

Jungkook sits up. “Baby—baby, I’m gonna cum. I know you don’t like it when I cum in your mouth.”

You love how considerate he is, but you’re mentally prepared for this. “It’s okay. Cum in my mouth,” you say, going right back to your previous position.

Your eyes flick to his, witnessing the subtle ripple effect of pleasure course through his body. His chest heaving, abs tightening, cock throbbing. With a strangled groan, he spills seed into your mouth. It’s warm, salty to taste, but you continue milking him for all he has.

He opens his eyes with worry because the last time he came in your mouth, you gagged not being prepared for him. But you’re confident and composed, calmly getting up, heading to the bathroom sink to spit out the cum in your mouth.

Standing at the threshold, a huge grin spreads from ear to ear and you open your mouth. “See, I’m totally fine,” you chuckle, heading back to bed. You place a kiss on his lips.

“You’re—” Jungkook grunts, “You’re too much for me sometimes.”

You sit beside him. “I’m too much for you?”

He nods, kissing you again.

And like clockwork, the handle on your door is rattling, busting the pair of you.

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n

[notimetoparty]

Okay, here’s MY question: would Present try to kill their own siblings if they saw them? Would the resemblance throw them off too much?

For A Weapon, killing people is easy.

It's what it was made for, it's what it was born for. It was told its only reason it continued to breathe was this one task...to exterminate the plague. If it did not kill, there would be no reason for it to live.

When the government found where those last remnants of the plague were, in a world far beyond the reaches of most, it knew its mission was almost complete. That this would be the final, small step to realizing that purpose it was given. It went there without a second thought, expecting to come back to its cell later with discolored blood on its paws and pincers.

It was surprised at how little survival skills the first one it found had. This beast, despite the scar on its eye, was wandering next to the border of the woods in broad daylight. What was it even doing? It watched, to its surprise, as the rusty black thing pulled out a guitar and sat on a log. It began to play a tune, messing up the melody and stomping on the ground each time with a hiss.

Unusual. Idiotic, too. The plagued normally knew to hide away, to live in the darkest corners of every world. And yet this case chose to sing and complain. Whatever. That made it easier to strike.

Eyes peering through the underbrush, it stalked and stepped closer. It pondered the most efficient way to snuff out its life. Avoid the head, to get away from the mandibles and pincers. Go for the neck. Always the neck. Stab and blast if needed, but don't waste valuable ammunition. Make sure that-

Snap.

So lost in thought, it forgot to avoid any of the sticks on the grassy floor. The plagued turned around curiously, now face to face with a yellow behemoth.

And they tilted their head, chuckling.

"Woah. Where the hell did you come from!?” She chirped. Another laugh erupted from them, a small chitter to their voice. “Are you a weirdo, hanging out in the forest? A little forest loser?”

…It blinked. It definitely should kill this thing here and now, right? It would be incredibly easy. But something made it pause. It instead gave a blunt, monotone reply.

“What.”

Without missing a beat, she then pointed at the augmentations attached to its arms and back. “What are those things on you? Some cool cyber stuff? Nerd!”

He continued to chuckle and joke, much to its annoyance as it growled. Eventually she calmed, wiping a tear from her eye as she gave a passing “sorry”.

“Whatever, it’s cool. My brother is also a nerd. He also likes running around the woods like a little freak! You two would get along great.”

Was this bug trying to make conversation? What an idiot. It glared at her, unmoving and unamused as it let out a huff.

“You should be more fearful of what lies in the forest,” It warned, “because I’m not here to make small talk.”

In response, she only shrugged.

“Whatev. I’m gonna go practice guitar somewhere else. Have fun pretending to be a sci-fi protag or something.”

Just like that, the guy turned away with her guitar in hand, humming a tune and giggling still under her breath. “Man, the fam is gonna love this story!” It heard her mumble as she escaped from its sight.

It should’ve pounced while the thing’s back was turned. It knew that. And yet…it let the creature go off without issue, as though its body was frozen in place. Were the circumstances that bizarre, so as to make a weapon not fire its shot? Nothing was special about that person, besides the unusually fluffy body compared to other plagued specimens.

Was it the similarities to itself that had it hesitant? The way their eyes bore the same red, and how her tail looked almost too similar to the one it bore? It was pointless to contemplate. It was pointless to compare yourself to the things you were meant to kill. Now, it was too late to even try to track where she had gone. She was already far out of sight, leaving it on its lonesome and without a new lead.

In a moment of weakness, the weapon snarled and kicked at the ground.

Killing was meant to be easy. Why was this suddenly so difficult? -Zinc

#answers #nttp official

[phoenixgrl1412]

Jazz is Damian's bio sibling, not Danny

I see tons of Demon Twin AUs, and I love them, but I started to wonder about what the universe would look like if Jazz was Damian's sister.

Not sure what her birth name in this AU would be (Yasmin? Yasmina? Something else) so I'm going to just refer to her as Jazz.

I'm thinking that Jazz was attempt #1 at getting the perfect heir, and for whatever reason, she was deemed to be inferior. Is there something actually wrong with her? No, but Ra's is an asshole. If you'd like to go a more sexist route, Jazz could be unworthy because she's female (in this AU, Ra's keeps Talia around to make an heir, not to be the heir).

Despite not being the perfect child they wanted, Talia and Ra's train Jazz until they are able to try again. She's taught as if she was the heir, even though everyone knows she isn't, because there isn't a better choice at the moment.

When Jazz is three, Damian is born. Damian is her little brother and she loves him as best she can, but Damian is raised to treat her as inferior, and it shows. Everyone looks down on her, especially Ra's, and that attitude is the example Damian follows.

Jazz is still trained, because if nothing else she could still be an assassin, but no one holds out much hope for her. She isn't as talented as Damian, even though she's older. She's not as strong or as stealthy or as cutthroat. She is more clever, but she is older than him, so it's brushed off. Besides, good assassin soldiers don't need to be clever, they just need to obey.

But where Damian excels in the physical arts, Jazz excels at the mind arts. Solving puzzles, recognizing patterns, psychoanalyzing her opponents to predict their moves - that's what she's good at. It's clearly inherited from Batman (no one can explain her red hair, though).

When Jazz is eight and Damien is five, Jazz flees the League. Why and how is your choice. Maybe Damian is supposed to kill her in a show of superiority. Maybe Talia helps her fake her death and escape as a final act of motherly love. Maybe Jazz flees on her own, wanting to be something else even if she doesn't know what.

Jazz makes it to America, and then to a little podunk town in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, called Amity Park. She meets the Fenton parents and their almost six-year-old son, Danny. And somehow, they take her in. And for a while, it's the family she wished she had, with loving parents and a little brother who didn't want to stab her.

Danny isn't Damian. He isn't a replacement. She knows that they aren't the same. They are radically different, even if they both make her want to cuddle and love them (at least Danny doesn't try to stab her for doing it). She can miss Damian and what could have been while embracing what she has found.

And for a while, she's happy.

Sure, she didn't expect her little brother (Danny is her Little Brother, Damian is her Baby Brother, there has been and will always be a difference to her) to die and come back, but she's seen weirder stuff when she was in the League.

She also didn't expect Danny to use his newfound powers to become a hero, but it's his choice, and she's going to support him. At least she has her League training to fall back on, even if she's a bit rusty.

And yeah, she was hoping that her adoptive parents would take Danny's halfa status a lot better than they did, but she'd always known it wasn't going to end well. She's always been good at recognizing behavioral patterns, and theirs said nothing good. But she'd hoped, for Danny's sake, that she would be wrong.

She never thought she would flee for her life for a second time, but here she is, driving a stolen car with her unconscious and bleeding brother in the backseat, heading towards the one place she swore she would never set foot in: Gotham.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #jazz is damian's older sister #danny is a year older than damian #i have no idea where i was going with this but have it anyway #damian never mentioned his sister to the batfam #jazz doesn't know bruce wayne is batman #or that damian escaped the league and is with batman #batfam expecting jazz to be damian 2.0 and stab tim #in a twist of events danny is the stabby one once he wakes up #he does not like billionaires and is not pleased to wake up in one's house #one of the batkids gets close to danny while he's unconscious and danny sleep stabs in self-defense #jazz taught him that #batfam thinks danny is the secret sibling at first #they think jazz is too well adjusted to be from the league #jazz is the bio kid #danny is the adoption bait

[peachhcs]

samy and will would definitely have like a date night where will takes her to the rink and the just shoot pucks around and it’s just a cute and fluffy date night

you can take the girl out of hockey, but not hockey out of the girl

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will blurb)

thanks to some of the umich boys, samy and will head to the yost for a little 1v1 fun

1.5k words

ok so i kind of switched it around bc i felt it fit better for the circumstances where samy wants to cheer will up some more after the loss still weighing on his shoulders. the ethan, mark rutger banter was lowk fun to write too lmao

au masterlist

samy wanted to do anything she could to flip her boyfriend's mood around. he followed her everywhere like a lost puppy and while she adored his clinginess, she hated seeing the solemn look lingering  on his features. losing the national championship still hadn't shaken from the boy's mind. even his escape trip to michigan's hadn't really lifted his spirits besides getting to spend time with samy.

the youngest hughes was determined to change that. she dragged will to the yost, her plan set into motion thanks to rutger, ethan, and mark.

"why are we going to the rink right now?" the boy raised his eyebrow when he realized where they were.

"just trust me, yeah?" samy peered back at the boy who met her loving gaze. the smile on her lips was quickly replicated on his own knowing how contagious her pretty smiles were.

the girl pushed one of the side doors open, leading the boy up the stairs where the locker rooms were and one of the entrances to the rink. mark, ethan, and rutger stood at the top holding skates, sticks, and pucks.

"what is this?" will grew confused when he saw the three.

"a little birdy called us up and said you could use a pick-me-up," ethan grinned.

will's gaze slid over to his girlfriend who beamed. he looked back at the gear in the older boys' hands, allowing another smile to grace his lips.

"hopefully i'm not too rusty and can still beat your ass," samy teased the blonde as she grabbed one of the pairs of skates.

"oh, you're so on hughes," the young hockey player shook his head, racing to kick his shoes off and lace up the pair of skates.

"you guys have an hour. i better not come back and see you guys making out in the locker room," ethan quickly cut in.

"oh come on, like you haven't done that before," samy rolled her eyes at the older boy.

"i'm sure roger over here has," mark teased their younger teammate. poor rutger's face blushed in embarrassment.

"hey! don't bring me into this. i was told i was getting pizza," the boy defended himself.

"chill, i've got the twenty in my pocket," the girl rolled her eyes again.

she traded the three for the sticks and puck for the twenty, promising that she'd buy them pizza for helping her out. mark snatched it out of her hands a little too quickly, a smirk painting his expression.

"have fun! be safe! don't be gross!"

"fuck off, estapa," with that, samy pulled her boyfriend towards the rink.

the lights were up and everything felt a little more peaceful without fans packed in every corner of the rink. she looked back at will, trying to gauge his reaction as he glanced around the beautiful yost.

"so different without fans in here," will mumbled.

"kind of peaceful, right?"

"how'd you even do this?" his eyes found hers again, another smile creeping into his lips wanting to momentarily pull her closer.

"bribed them with pizza so they'd talk to security to let us in after hours for an hour," the girl explained her brilliant plan. "plus, i hate seeing you so sad. maybe this can get your mind off things and just have fun. remember why you do this sport in the first place."

the smile never left will's lips, planting a kiss to samy's lips. she hummed, kissing him back before letting go. she was really excited to skate around the ice. "come on, time's ticking. i wanna kick your ass like when we were kids," the brunette stepped onto the ice, dropping the pucks down as she took one towards one of the goals.

"you forget you haven't played in years and i just went to the national championships with my team and leading with the most goals," will called after her.

"so? let's see if it all actually paid off."

the couple began a 1v1 game. samy's skills were muscle memory for her as she darted past her boyfriend towards the goal that he failed to block when she made the first goal. her hands pumped up in victory as she taunting skated around the blonde.

"i wasn't ready," will tried covering up.

"yeah, sure," the girl chuckled.

they set back up and will went a little rougher knowing she'd be able to take it. he skated after her, trying and failing to retrieve the puck away from her stick. a laugh fell from samy's lips when she skated around the goal, gently pushing will into the boards.

"hey!" he grumbled mostly because he couldn't believe she was better at this than him even after not playing in almost three years.

"clean hit," samy shrugged.

they went to 3 points. will didn't even make it to 1 when samy scored her 3rd and final point to win their little game. despite the boy's slight annoyance, he couldn't help but smile seeing his girlfriend with such a big grin on her face and on the ice.

it was like she never even left with how naturally everything still came to her. will knew she would've made such a great hockey player if she stuck with it.

"sorry, willie. guess i wasn't rusty after all," samy squeezed her boyfriend's cheeks making him flush.

"maybe i let you win?" will tried even though they both knew that wasn't the case. he was just trying to protect his ego.

"mhm, whatever will make you sleep at night," the two shared a laugh as will's hands snaked around his girl's waist. she smiled up at him, her own arms finding a place around his neck.

"but being real, i can't believe how good at this you still are," his words made the brunette blush.

"what can i say? gotta thank mama hughes for this gene," samy grinned.

"thank you for doing this. it's really fun and i actually do feel a bit better."

"i was hoping this would ease some of the tension. just don't forget why you're doing this will. win or lose," samy stroked the hair poking out of his baseball cap. a flush coated his cheeks at the feeling of her fingers on his skin.

the two shot the extra pucks around having a small shooting competition before the doors opened back up. the trio of boys walked in, smiling when they saw samy on the ice.

"time's almost up, lover birds!" ethan called out.

"almost done!" they watched as samy took one last lap around the ice with a puck. she shot it into the goal, pumping her arms up in victory.

"you can take the girl out of hockey but not hockey out of the girl," mark smiled.

he snapped a picture while making a mental note to send the picture over to luke later knowing he'd enjoy seeing his baby sister on the same rink he skated on for two years. samy and will wrapped it up, skating towards the older boys with large smiles on their features.

"saved you guys some pizza if you're hungry," rutger took the sticks from them while ethan grabbed their pucks.

"wow, that's so kind of you guys. for sure thought you'd eat it all in one go," samy giggled.

"hey, we're not pigs," mark rolled his eyes.

they let samy and will into the locker room. the two unlaced the skates, passing them over to mark who returned them to the right place. the brunette's eyes slid towards her boyfriend's whose eyes flicked around the large and impressive locker room. his expression was a bit unreadable, so she nudged him.

"what's up?"

"sometimes i think about what my life would've been like had i gone to umich or something," the blonde shrugged.

"do you wish you went somewhere other than boston?" the girl wondered, her voice soft. will looked over at her, shaking his head.

"no, but i sometimes think about what in my life would've been different if i didn't go to boston."

"would've seen me everyday if you came here," she beamed.

a grin spread across her boyfriend's lips, "i wish i could see you everyday. i dunno, you think my experience would be different if i went here?"

"experience in what? friends or hockey?"

"hockey."

"i mean, yeah in some ways. every program's different, but i don't think your experience would be drastically different. i think it would be between knowing a lot of people there or stepping out of a comfort zone and coming here for something new," samy shrugged,

will nodded, taking her words in. she opened her arms up, indicating that she wanted the boy to lay down. he obliged, head falling against samy's chest while she twisted his locks around her finger.

"thank you, again. for tonight. i had a lot of fun," will hummed, focusing on the way her soft touch tangled in his hair.

"of course, i'm glad. only forwards from here," she kissed the top of his head knowing whatever happened regarding a second season at boston or heading to the sharkes, will would would come back even stronger.

“okay, come on. i want pizza before those three actually do eat it,” the girl tapped her boyfriend’s shoulder. the two laughed as they got themselves up and raced to find ethan, mark and rutger who were most definitely eating the rest of that large pizza.

#hughes!sister x will smith au #will smith hockey #samy x will #boston college #boston college hockey #samy hughes #umich hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #uofmichigan #umich wolverines #bc eagles #bc hockey #will smith hockey fluff

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine Prt 5

Was this all a dream?

“Wake up.”

Her eyes shot open and a blinding light almost burned through her retina like a magnifying glass to an ant. She shut her eyes tightly, opening them again only this time the light had been replaced with a face you’d love to wake up to every single day. 

Only this face was the face of an unhinged, sadistic murderer with deep-seated obsessive-compulsive personality disorder. So, naturally, Y/N wanted to scream. She wanted to kick and scream. But for some reason, her throat felt as if she’d swallowed glass. Her limbs were bound to a flatbed with no support and it was bone-chilling cold.

Her dry tongue tried to bring moisture to her dehydrated lips but there was no use. The feeling began to over power her limbs. Why does it feel like she’d been running on rocks? She couldn’t wiggle her toes. Why is there cushioning lining the walls? Why is everything so stark white? Why does the door remind her of a prison? 

Still trying to gain her motor skills, Y/N tried moving her head from left to right. She allowed her tired eyes to scan her body as best as she could. Thick leather restraints and rusty buckles kept her imprisoned to the bed. She could taste the fear on her tongue and it was far from pleasant. 

“Hello, Y/N,” a smooth baritone filled her ears, “You’ve been out for a while now. Glad to have you back with us.”

She refused to speak. Who are they? 

“You’ve created quite the ruckus this time around. Had I not saved you from what would have been your death, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

She could feel hot tears pricking her eyes. 

“We had to put you out. Heavily sedate you. I usually don’t agree to this, but you somehow got your hands on a knife from the kitchens. Sadly, I couldn’t help you out of this one. Not when you almost killed me…”

The sound of his dress shoes click-clacked across the polished floor. He seemed to pace back and forth. Y/N kept her eyes on the padded wall. She thought she’d escaped his wrath. She wondered if her sister made it out safely. After everything April had gone through, she deserved to live. As for Y/N, she was the dumb bitch who fell in love with a psycho. 

“Y/N? What are you thinking about?” He questioned with a patient voice.

She couldn’t find it in her to speak. 

“One way or another, you’ll have to talk to me. Even if that means you’ll be tied to this bed.”

He approached her side with slow strides and reached out to stroke her hair back from her face. He then used his knuckle to wipe away her tears before quickly moving his hand away when he realized what he was doing. 

“I care so much about your well-being because I have such a soft spot for you, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t say things like that…but I’ve grown fond of you as my patient.” 

Patient?

Y/N turned her head quickly to look at him. To make sure she’d heard him exactly. She somehow missed the hospital band with the number 67 on it and her name. 

“What?” 

Her voice was cracking. 

“What do you mean patient?”

Drinking him in, he’s wearing a white button down shirt, black slacks with a black belt, and polished black dress shoes. Gold-rimmed specs decorated his obsidian eyes and his hair is loc’d with a crisp tapered fade. A navy blue lanyard hung from his sturdy neck and a laminated badge attached to it. She studied the badge very closely. 

Dr. N’Jadaka Stevens

Dr. N’Jadaka Stevens

Dr. N’Jadaka Stevens

She couldn’t believe it. This can’t be true. A Doctor?

He had a pleasant smile in the picture on the badge. It’s slightly faded and his hair was styled in a kinky fro. 

“We’ve been through this many times before, Y/N,” He took a seat at the foot of the bed, “yes, you are a patient here at Gateway. You’ve been a patient here for over a year now.”

“Wha—no–this–no–no I–I’m not a patient.”

“Hm,” His eyes became sorrowful, “this is the deepest delusion episode you’ve had since being admitted.”

“Delusion?” Y/N squinted her eyes with confusion, “Are you trying to say I’m crazy?”

“No, no,” Erik shakes his head, “You suffer from delusional disorder. It’s what you’ve been diagnosed with.”

“I’m delusional?! Me?! After the way you’ve acted?!”

Erik adjusted his glasses as he stared at Y/N with no emotion. 

“What is this? Another sick game of yours?! Where the fuck am I?!”

A hard knock to the door caused Y/N to jump. 

“Everything is good,” He shouted towards the door. 

A burly man turned his back away from the small panel of glass in the door. 

“What is this place, Erik?” 

“Gateway.”

“This where you keep all of your victims before you murder them?!” Y/N snapped.

He smirked, “No, Y/N, I’m not the psychopath you think I am. Maybe that’s how you see it in your altered reality, but I’m just your psychiatrist.”

Y/N laughed maniacally. 

“Okay! You’ve won! Now let me go!!!”

He stood from the bed. Y/N began to kick and writhe. The bed was mounted to the floor with bolts specifically for this reason. She started becoming light headed from her dehydration and the urge to vomit overcame her. 

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” She screamed.

“You hate the fantasy you’ve created in your mind. To you, I’m Erik, The one that held you captive, kidnapped your sister, murdered her boyfriend, murdered your ex—”

“YOU DID ALL OF THOSE THINGS! So what is this?! Are you really some twisted doctor?! What are you going to do now, torture me until I beg you to kill me?!!!”

He turned his back on her. He removed his glasses and placed them in his shirt pocket. He couldn’t keep up with the amount of times this has happened. It always ends in this very room. 

“But, would you even do it? Would you do it when I’m pregnant with your baby, Erik? If you kill me, you kill the one link to you. All of those lies about how you would never hurt me,” Y/N broke down crying between sentences, “You lied to me. You don’t love me, you don’t love anyone or anything. You’re not capable of love. All you know is death and heartbreak. You’re fucking crazy. You’re the one that should be tied to this bed, not me. I wish I never fucking met you.”

N’Jadaka shut his eyes slowly. Y/N’s words stung. He knew that she wasn’t well, but why did her made up world hurt his feelings so much? No one can see or know how that made him feel. He’d lose his job and never see her again. 

“Y/N, I’m going to show you something,” He finally turned to look at her, his face expressionless, “This is your file. Your patient file. Everything within this manila folder is between you and I. It’s worn out  because I’ve shown you this file many times before. This is the only solution to your episodes. Showing you proof that THIS is the reality you are in…”

N’Jadaka took long strides towards Y/N. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly as if she were chasing her own breath. He opened the file and held it above her head so that she could read it. The first page was her information, including her diagnosis. Delusion Disorder. She squinted to focus and when the words seemed to connect, her eyes scanned the page. Her brows creased with worry and her lower lip trembled. 

N’Jadaka flipped the page. Now, she was seeing her criminal profile. It was a crime of insanity. Not guilty by reason of insanity. Remaining confined to Gateway. A double homicide. Y/N’s eyelids fluttered and a fresh swell of tears rolled into her hairline. N’Jadaka couldn’t bear the look on her face each and every time. 

“April…Darrell…no…no…I wouldn’t have…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N…”

“This—you made this up. You typed this up to make me look crazy—”

“You murdered your sister and your fiancé in cold blood. You can’t remember any of it because you were having an episode. You blacked out and woke up in handcuffs. This happened almost two years ago, Y/N.”

“No…”

“You’ve been admitted to Gateway Mental Hospital as an inmate and you were assigned to be my patient.”

“This…what is…no…”

She could feel the blood rushing to her head. Her eyes darted back and forth. Visions of blood and the sound of pleads and cries pierced her ears. 

Slash!

Slash!

Slash!

Y/N no! Please, please, I’m so sorry! 

Y/N!!!! Don’t do this!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Slash!

Slash!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Splatter splatter splatter

I—I’ll always love you…

_________________________

“Time to wake up.” 

Y/N could hear a voice…a sonorous voice. She stood up on wobbling legs and covered her ears. Y/N stumbled and hit the padded white wall behind her. Only one light soaring high above her illuminated the room. She turned to press her face into the soft yet firm wall to hide her eyes. She felt like a vampire. 

She woke up from a dream. She was caressing her pregnant belly while sitting on the beach in the sand. She was alone and there was a sunset. She couldn’t see the man that had her sitting between his legs with her head resting against his chest, but she could see his bloody hands with deep slashes palming her belly. 

Both hands were covered in tattoos. It looked like a scripture with faded ink. Squeezing her eyes tightly, a sharp pain in her temple had her keeled over in pain. She was having a migraine. Y/N was exposed from behind, the curve of her nude cheeks and the smooth dip in her spine on display for whoever could see. 

“Y/N, this is Dr. Stevens. I’m at the door. Please, don’t fight today.”

A loud buzzer sounded off and she leaped away from the padded wall. Dark circles beneath her eyes, Y/N studied the heavy door. It opened and in walked Dr. Stevens with a tray of food. Behind him were two men wearing all white from head to toe. They had disgusted looks on their faces. Maybe that was a disguise, because Y/N could see past the pure hate in their eyes and sense desire. She wanted to rip their eyes out and feed it to them. 

There is a table next to her bed mounted to the floor and Dr. Stevens placed the tray of food there. Y/N cut her eyes to the tray to see what it was. Her stomach rumbled then.

“Turkey and cheese. Apple juice. And a fruit cup.”

Y/N slowly looked up at Dr. Stevens. He was dressed in another white button down shirt again but this time he wore khakis that hugged his tight ass and strapping thighs. Brown loafers on his feet and a gold Rolex completed the look. His gold-rimmed specs were in his shirt pocket again. 

“You haven’t eaten in 24 hours,” N’Jadaka turned to the men, “Go ahead, unchain her.”

The two guards gave each other a look before they both approached her. One man yanked the long chain connected to the cuffs on her wrists while the other crouched down to take the ankle cuff off. Y/N looked down at him with a burning desire to knee him in the face. He could feel her staring, so he looked up and glared at her. 

“Whatchu lookin at, girl?” 

His face was red with anger. 

“Stop looking up my gown.” Y/N warned him.

He chuckled darkly, “you wish I was looking up your gown you crazy bitch—”

“Watch your mouth,” N’Jadaka shoved the guard, “Time to go.” 

The guard got into N’Jadaka’s face. N’Jadaka stared at him with amusement with his hands folded in front of him and his feet wide. 

“You gon’ hit me? Do it. I can have your ass fired in a heartbeat. I know how much of a dirty mother fucker you are. Did you think I forgot?”

The guard's face turned purple.

“Now, I suggest you get out of here. And don’t let me find out you’ve been harassing the female patients again.” N’Jadaka said.

He twisted his lips and clenched his fists but instead of making matters worse for himself, he stormed off leaving the other guard behind. They shut the door with a slam and N’Jadaka looked to the ceiling to calm himself. Every day he has to remind himself that he is a professional and this isn’t the time or place to get into an altercation. He’d already been warned many times in the past and it almost cost his license. 

“Sorry about that,” N’Jadaka exhaled slowly, “I can get a little…why don’t you sit down and eat, Y/N?”

She watched N’Jadaka sit on the bed. 

“Come on, sit.”

Y/N finally took a seat in front of the table. She pulled the tray closer to her with her finger tips. Picking up the sandwich, she slowly took a bite and began mashing it with her teeth. She could feel her teeth chattering as if she were cold. Her leg bounced with nerves and she could feel tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Good?” N’Jadaka questioned.

Y/N simply nodded her head.

“Is today better than yesterday?”

Y/N wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. She swallowed her food down before speaking.

“What happened to my baby?”

N’Jadaka paused. He leaned forward onto his knees with his elbows before locking eyes with her again.

“…you’re baby never made it, Y/N. You had a miscarriage.”

Y/N touched her belly gently. Her fingers gripped the gown tightly. Now she was bent over wailing into her food. Her tears soaked the bread of her lunch meat sandwich. N’Jadaka watched her cry, his fingers itching to comfort her. Pull her into an embrace. But, he knew he was being watched. The only place he couldn’t be watched was his own office. But Y/N didn’t have outside privileges for another month. 

“I—I just don’t understand any of this shit,” Y/N sniffled, “Why would I kill them? I loved my sister. I—”

“The knowledge of the affair broke you. What you didn’t know, and what your mother failed to tell you, was that your father suffered from the same thing. He had obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and he suffered from delusions. It got so bad that he jumped out of a window to his death. When you started showing signs of the same thing, your mother kept it from you. She felt ashamed to get you the help you needed.”

Y/N couldn’t tell her reality from fantasy anymore. She felt like she was living a lie. 

“April and Darrell didn’t deserve what happened to them, but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Y/N. You’re just ill. I’m here to help you work through that. You’re one of the most difficult patients I’ve ever had but that’s what I love about my job. I will never give up. I’ll find a solution.”

Y/N fidgets with the hem of her gown. The hard metal chair beneath her naked butt made her feel numb. She badly wanted to see her sister. Not bloodied and slaughtered, but smiling and full of life. Memories of Darell made her aware of her delusions at times. She hadn’t met Erik at a poetry reading, it was Darrell. The home on the beach belonged to him as well but there was no glass chamber, sound proof walls, and cuffs to the bed. So why had she replaced Darrell with Dr. Stevens?

“I am a bad person. I killed my sister and my fiancé because I found out they’d been fucking. Cut off the engagement, sure, disown my sister, sure, but murder them in cold blood like I did?”

Y/N pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes to stop herself from crying.

“These cuts on my hands…are from the knife…I used to kill them…”

“Y/N. Breathe. Remember the exercise I taught you. Breathe in and hold for five seconds then release.” 

Y/N did the exercise a few times. 

“It  must feel very frightening to have these nightmares. To have these delusions.” N’Jadaka said.

“…why do I keep seeing you in my delusions as the monster when I’m the monster?”

N’Jadaka stands to pace back and forth in front of her. This was something he did often.

“…Sometimes a person with delusions will treat others as though they are someone else. It’s a reaction to the delusions. It’s a type of delusion called persecutory delusion. It’s when you have a belief of harassment or persecution. It also plays into your OCP.”

Y/N clung onto every word.

“…you’ve somehow decided to see me as the villain because I represent your current life. Your life is confined to these walls,” N’Jadaka placed his hands in his pockets, “you see my face everyday. You speak to me everyday. It shows that you are trying to fight your way through your recent struggles, but also you’re…”

N’Jadaka halted his footsteps. He stopped speaking mid sentence and blinked his eyes rapidly, as if he were remembering where he was. 

“I’m what?” Y/N questioned. 

N’Jadaka looked over his shoulder at the door and then he glanced over at Y/N. He struggled with what he wanted to say, but ultimately, he decided to keep it to himself. For now.

“I think we can end this session for today. I’m going to discuss with the hire-ups about resuming your personal sessions. I feel that with many eyes on us, no matter if they can’t hear, it doesn’t make this personal. Private. Do you understand?”

Y/N stared at N’Jadaka with a bewildered expression. 

“I’m sorry,” N’Jadaka glanced down at his watch, “I have to go for now, it was nice talking to you today.” 

He walked away and knocked on the door. The loud buzzer sounded off again and the door opened. Dr. Stevens left without a backwards glance and the door shut behind him, leaving Y/N alone to her thoughts.

______________________

Curls tangled, nails cut short, and skin dry.

Y/N was in the showers for the first time in a long time. She’s now back in her old room that had normal walls, a softer bed, and better lighting. She has all of the things she enjoyed from puzzles, books, and stress balls to warm sheets. She returned to the circle room that reminded her of a large sunroom where she could do a myriad of activities and even play games with the other patients. All supervised of course. The soft carpet with colorful shapes would feel so good compared to the hard floors in her room and those cozy socks with the sticky bottom would keep her warm and cozy on colder nights.

She was able to comb her hair out, pull it into a messy bun, and she was able to apply lotion to her body. All supervised. Despite looking like the undead with dark circles under her eyes, Y/N felt better. She wondered if they would ever get tired of putting her away for a month in the padded room. She can’t control her delusions. They know this. Y/N walked into the circle room accompanied by two guards and found an empty table near a window. She said hello to some of the patients that she recognized and found herself a puzzle to complete.

Now that she was living her reality, she felt so alone. No family, no friends, no fiancé, no baby. She was going to die alone and crazy. She mustered the little strength left within her to fight back tears. The only person who understood her was Dr. Stevens and she hadn’t seen him in three days. He’s always patient and understanding with her, even when she’s accusing him of being a psycho. Y/N wouldn’t admit it to him, but there was a part of her that couldn’t stop reliving the delusions because she enjoyed the way he made her feel. 

He was attentive, affectionate, and assertive. The sex was amazing. While she sorted through her puzzle pieces, the thought of sex with Dr. Stevens had Y/N squirming in her seat. He would never think of her that way. A murderer who’s crazy? Nah. He probably has a loving family of his own. Probably leaves this hospital every night to go home to a home cooked meal, a hot shower, and wet pussy. He probably kisses his children good night and tucks them in like the good daddy he is. 

The way he defended her and the glint in his eye and the rasp of his voice turned her on something vicious. She’d have thrown herself at him if it wasn’t for her current predicament. She desperately wanted to know what he’d wanted to say to her. Where is he?

Y/N looked up to see the nurses entering. They were bringing around snacks and their second round of meds. Y/N rolled her brown eyes and returned to her puzzle. One of the nurses finally came around and Y/N never put up a fight. She accepted her lorna doone cookies and orange juice. She took her antipsychotics in front of the nurse and washed it down with a small cup of water. She would have to speak to Dr. Stevens about them upping her dosage.

Thirty minutes into her puzzle and loud thunder brought her attention to the window. All the other patients seemed to gravitate towards the windows as well. Y/N closed her eyes and imagined herself dancing in the rain. Gown soaked, the smell in the air, the breeze blowing her curls into her face.

“I enjoy a rainy day myself.”

Y/N turned to see Dr. Stevens. He’s wearing a black long sleeve fitted sweater and dark blue jeans with black dress boots. His badge is clipped to his hip this time and he replaced his gold-rimmed specs with Calvin Klein frames. It must be a casual Friday for the doctors today. 

“Where have you been?” Y/N asked. 

“I took some time off. Another puzzle?”

N’Jadaka made himself comfortable in the seat across from her. He picked up the box to see what the picture looked like since Y/N wasn’t finished. 

“The Disney castle. Cinderella’s castle?”

“Yes…you took time off to do what?”

Dr.Stevens placed the box back down and cut his eyes to Y/N. She clenched her thighs shut.

“To see other patients. You’re not the only patient I treat, Y/N.”

Y/N tilted her head at him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Y/N leaned into the table with her elbows, making herself closer to Dr. Stevens.

“I thought that I was the most difficult patient you’ve ever had?”

N’Jadaka picked up a puzzle piece, “yes. But I have to put in time with other patients as well.”

“I don’t like it,” Y/N cleared the table and placed the puzzle box at the end of the table, “what if I have another episode? I almost killed you, remember?”

“Breathe,” Dr. Stevens spoke with a hushed tone, “After dinner you will resume sessions with me in my office. Don’t worry, we can talk for an entire two hours about anything.”

“…and you’ll tell me what you wanted to say the last time but couldn’t?”

N’Jadaka lowered his gaze to his hands and his mouth twitched slightly. 

“Breathe,” Y/N smirked.

“I have to go. Finish your puzzle. It keeps you focused.”

N’Jadaka rose from his seat and took one final look at Y/N before walking away and out of the circle room. 

__________________________

Y/N adjusted the oversized heather gray pullover she had on that matched the sweatpants covering her lower half. The guard that had the chain to her cuffs stopped in front of Dr. Stevens’ office door. He knocked twice and she became jittery. The guard, Anthony is his name, looked down at her with annoyance. Y/N couldn’t recall the last session she had with him in his office, but she were nervous. No cameras. Just him and her.

“Thank you.” 

Released, Y/N walks into the office and Dr. Stevens shuts the door behind her. Everything about Dr. Stevens' office screamed welcoming. The soothing colors surrounding her promoted a sense of calm and relaxation. The artwork on the walls told Y/N a little something about him. Art of the African diaspora. As her eyes scanned the walls, she came across the tribal mask she’d seen many times in her delusions. The mask Erik had worn the night he gunned down the kind man behind the club. 

Plants decorated window sills, comfortable seating whether on the floor or a chair, and nothing distracting and triggering crowded the space. It smelled clean, and it felt like home. Y/N took a seat on a tufted dark gray chaise and propped her legs up. 

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

“Feels good to be back,” Y/N pulled on the sleeves of her sweater anxiously.

“How was your day?” N’Jadaka asked.

“Better than I thought. I didn’t have a nightmare last night.”

“Oh? That’s good to hear, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

“Ha,” Y/N shook her head bashfully, “don’t say things like that.”

“That I’m proud of you?” N’Jadaka questioned.

“What is there to be proud of?”

“You’re improving.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why’s that?”

“Why’s that?” Y/N echoed, “Well, I’m still having episodes.”

“Fewer episodes. You’re getting better.” N’Jadaka clarified.

“I’ll feel better when it stops.”

N’Jadaka crossed his arms over his chest.

“You keep having these delusions so frequently because something is triggering it.” 

Y/N creases her brows. 

“Elaborate.”

“Let’s see,” N’Jadaka rolled up his sleeves and took a seat in front of Y/N on an ottoman, “You have these delusions because you still haven’t forgiven yourself for what happened. You want to blame everyone else around you instead of accepting what happened as truth. That’s one part of it. Another part is…your desire for me.”

Y/N leisurely looked up at N’Jadaka. They stayed that way for a moment, just staring at each other, never turning away. Y/N’s eyes welled with tears and she took her sweater to wipe her eyes.

“Is it that obvious?” She said between sniffing, “Am I really that messed up?”

“I never implied that,” N’Jadaka smoothed his hands down his face, “Desiring me doesn’t make you messed up.”

“Why do you give a fuck?” Y/N sassed.

“I’m supposed to—I’m your doctor—”

“N’Jadaka,” Y/N spoke softly, “Tell me how to get over you.”

N’Jadaka nibbled on his bottom lip. He shook his head and stood up from the ottoman. Why was he struggling with this? Having feelings for your patient? That’s completely inappropriate. 

He had to come up with a response that was the complete opposite of what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t want her to get over him. He desires her just as much as she does him.

“…I keep thinking about the way Erik made me feel,” Y/N was staring off into the corner, lost in her words, “He has his demons, and he is a sadistic person, but he did it all for me. I was his world. He loved me and made love to me. And while I’m having sex with Erik in my delusions, it’s your face that I see.”

“…I told you why that is, Y/N, and why you have to let go. Every bit of information I’ve given you isn’t to steer you wrong. I can’t begin to imagine the struggle—”

“Ain’t no breathing or meds or forgiveness gonna stop me from wanting you, Erik.”

N’Jadaka locked eyes with Y/N. 

“I’m not Erik, my name is N’Jadaka. And you refer to me as Dr. Stevens.” N’Jadaka reminded her with a stern voice. 

“How long will it take for you to admit your feelings for me? Hm?”  Y/N threw her legs over the side of the chaise, standing up, “This back and forth is getting old. You said that we could talk about anything, right? Let’s talk about Erik.”

“Fine. Fine.”

N’Jadaka motioned for Y/N to have a seat. She didn’t recline back this time. Her back is ram-rod straight and she’s staring across at N’Jadaka like she wanted to eat him alive. He kept the connection going, watching her closely. 

“I thought you said that you hated Erik?”

Y/N pondered.

“I hate the way he makes me feel. He makes me feel helpless and complete at the same time. It’s scary. Like…being here kind of does.”

“Helpless and complete. Helpless in the fact that you can’t do anything about being here and complete…I’m going to be honest, what exactly makes you feel complete about your life now?”

Y/N stroked hair out of her face, “when I’m by myself…in my head…I feel…I feel alone. When I’m with you…I feel better. The hole in my chest fills up again.”

N’Jadaka’s jaw clenched. 

“Yes, you’re Erik in my delusions, but you’re Dr. Stevens in my reality. It keeps me balanced.”

_________________________________

When N’Jadaka had first laid eyes on Y/N, he could see how broken she was. He has all kinds of patients with many behavioral disorders. Sociopaths, PTSD, obsessive compulsions, phobias. And yet, when he’d seen Y/N and learned of what she’d done after reading her patient profile, N’Jakada could see that she was different. Her case of delusions was something beyond what N’Jadaka had ever imagined. 

To Y/N, her  psychiatrist knows her inner thoughts and feelings better than anyone. She can say anything to him and he doesn't judge her, but only seems to understand her better. She feels safe and comforted whenever she sees him. He knows just when to hand her a tissue when she's about to cry, and they share laughs together because her sense of humor is so like his. She finds herself looking forward to sessions and even wondering what to wear. She daydreams about him and wonders if he feels the same special connection to her. Perhaps she's become his favorite patient.

“…These are typical experiences of what occurs in many forms of psychotherapy that focus on exploring and understanding the patient's inner psychological life known as transference. It means that the patient is transferring feelings she has toward a parent or authority figure, onto the therapist…”

“…Erik is like an authority figure to you. He controls you. He keeps you handcuffed to his bed and you can never leave that beach house. He’s overprotective. Dominant. Unhinged. I’m hoping, Y/N, that you’ll gain some insight into your distortions onto other relationships in your life. With my help, you can come to grips with this pattern, put your distortions into perspective and move on with your life.” 

N’Jadaka tapped the pin in his hand against his notepad. Y/N sat wringing her hands, a nervous energy surrounding her. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t actually love N’Jadaka. 

“I’m going to put you under,” N’Jadaka stood up and walked over to Y/N, “I want you to lay back and prop your feet up for me…good…now, close your eyes…that’s it…now, listen to the sound of my voice…”

Erik stood behind her while she reclined on the chaise. Her fingers are clasped over her abdomen and she looks like a sleeping beauty. He studied the contours of her beautiful features–more so her lips, and then he cleared his thoughts to speak.

“You’re at the luxury beach house. You can sense that the morning is approaching. As your eyes peel open, you scan the room and reality hits you. You’re cuffed to the bed once again…what have you done this time to upset Erik?”

Below him, Y/N’s breathing increases. Her face is contorted with fear and she brings her arms above her head to mimic the position that Erik has her in. 

“You can hear him coming into the room from the bathroom…what does he look like to you?”

Y/N licks her lips, “He–he’s naked.”

“Naked?” N’Jadaka’s eyes drop down to stare at her, “why is he naked?”

“I…I can smell the YSL body oil he puts on after he showers. It’s sweet yet…woodsy.”

N’Jadaka uses YSL body oil. He makes a mental note of that detail.

“So he’s taken a shower? What happens next?”

Y/N’s eyelids move rapidly. 

“He crawls on top of me..I scream…he covers my mouth…”

Y/N folds her lips into her mouth to mimic Erik’s hand covering her.

“He says…don’t scream…I won’t hurt you…I love you.”

“Do you believe him?” N’Jadaka questioned.

Y/N arched her back, thrusting her chest towards N’Jadaka. His eyes scan her body, wondering what is happening now.”

“What’s happening, Y/N? What is Erik doing to you?”

“H–he’s sucking my nipples.”

N’Jadaka arched a single brow, “So, you’re naked as well?”

“Yes,” Y/N exhaled, “He prefers me naked so that I’m ready for him.”

“Hm,” N’Jadaka grips the edge of the chaise, “Why do you keep giving into him?”

“Because he’s so addictive. No matter what he does…oh!”

N’Jadaka walks around the chaise, staring down at Y/N. He could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“Yessss,” Y/N raised her legs and spread them open, “Mmmm…just like that…”

“You seem to be enjoying Erik’s pleasures,” N’Jadaka didn’t move when her foot touched his chest. 

“Erik…why do you make me feel the way you do?”

N’Jadaka parted his lips but no words came out. Y/N’s sock covered foot smoothed down his chest until it was on his crotch. N’Jadaka inhaled, his fists tightly clenched as Y/N started massaging his erection with her foot. He couldn’t believe how hard he was. She would use her toes to rub the print of his tip and then she would slowly drag her foot up his shaft. He could feel himself throbbing and it ached him. 

“Time to wake up, Y/N.”

To his disappointment, her foot dropped, but the throbbing didn’t stop. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this turned on. N’Jadaka took a seat on the ottoman to try and hide his stiffness when Y/N sat up. Her curly hair was wild and the sweater she was wearing was hanging from her left shoulder. 

“You want to remain in these delusions because of Erik. I…I think it’s because of me and…maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Y/N said.

“Maybe it’s best that I stop being your psychiatrist. I feel that I am a trigger for you.”

Y/N was taken aback. 

“Where the fuck is this even coming from?” Y/N argues. 

“Watch your language,” N’Jadaka stood up, “I want you to get better. In order to do that, I have to make this sacrifice. I don’t want to—”

“Then don’t.” 

N’Jadaka looked at her, “It would be for the best—”

“For you? Or for me? Who are we really talking about right now?”

N’Jadaka sighed, “For the both of us.”

“Explain!” Y/N commanded.

“Lower…your…voice.”

N’Jadaka turned his back on her. The silence between them stretched on but the storm raging outside matched their inner turmoil. 

“Or what?” 

N’Jadaka placed his pad and pen on his desk. Y/N’s eyes scanned from his sturdy back all the way down to his legs. His arms are covered in bulging veins from his fists being clenched. 

“This stays between me and you.”

He turns, removing his glasses. He didn’t look away from her as he folded his frames before placing them on the desk. Y/N held her breath.

“I’ve grown to have feelings for you, Y/N. Feelings that I know I shouldn’t have. I try every time to–to be professional when it comes to you…but I can’t. I’ve become obsessed.”

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“…And I know that I shouldn’t. Which is why we have to stop these sessions. There is another great psychiatrist here, Dr. Jane—”

“No. I refuse to see that bitch.”

“You know who she is?” 

“Yeah, and I don’t like her. I like you. So no. You’ll just have to fight the urges.”

N’Jadaka stroked his chin, “And will you?”

Y/N turned away from him and looked out of the window.

“You have to make me that promise, Y/N.”

“That’s the thing,” Y/N stood and made her way towards Dr. Stevens, “I don’t want to…”

“Then we can’t do this,” N’Jadaka looked down on her with his arms folded, “You know what happens if they find out? I lose my job. My practice. I will never get to see you again. You’ll never get better.”

Y/N looked up at N’Jadaka through her lashes, “No one has to know…”

N’Jadaka chuckles. Those dimples she loved appeared in his cheeks. 

“Easier said than done—Y/N, what are you doing?”

She’s on her knees in front of him now. N’Jadaka doesn’t make any attempts to stop her despite his words.

“Get up, now. I don’t want to have to pick you up myself.” He warned her. 

“I like how demanding you can be,” She smirked.

He fought the urge to smirk and Y/N giggled.

“I plan to be here for the rest of my life, N’Jadaka.”

“Fifteen years isn’t the rest of your life.”

“That’s if I’m being good,” Y/N traces N’Jadaka’s solid girth with her finger, “and I don’t want to be good…and I think you like it when I’m bad, right?”

N’Jadaka grunts. 

“Stop doing that.” He spoke darkly.

“Or…what?” Y/N challenged.

_____________________________

Somehow his pants found their way down to his ankles. His briefs were there too. 

The tightest mouth was practically inhaling his dick. Tip to base. He couldn’t believe it. Not what he was doing, but how impressive it is that she could fit him all the way down her throat. That shocked him more than her sucking his dick like those popsicles on a hot summer day. 

He was unbelievably hard. Each pass of her soft lips, wet tongue, and tight throat had him groaning. He lost all control and gripped her by her curly hair, guiding her. His hips started pumping as she was sucking and he imagined himself bending her over doing the same to her pussy. 

This was madness. How long before he comes to his senses? 

“Fuuck,” N’Jadaka spoke with a low register, “Suck that fuckin’ dick…”

He couldn’t hold back. Professionalism where?

He twitched in her mouth when she started slowly sucking on his top. He could feel his balls tighten.

“Y/N…that’s it…you’re such a bad girl…”

“…such a bad girl…yes…suck this dick like you would suck Erik’s dick…mhm…all the way down…that’s it…mhmmmm…”

She was back to doing it with no hands. N’Jadaka was staring at her with knitted brows and his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Does Erik make you swallow?” He questioned with a whisper.

Y/N nods her head.

“You better swallow every fucking drop of my cum, Y/N.”

Stroking him, she started sucking on his sack. 

“I bet that pussy is so wet…”

She popped her mouth off, “It is…for you.”

“I can’t wait to see it for myself.”

She ran her tongue up the length of his shaft and back down to his balls. She twisted his length at the base of his tip and N’Jadaka could feel pre-cum oozing from his slit to prepare for his release. 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long…that perfect ass…that pretty mouth…those eyes…I beat my dick to you in bed at night…”

“I play in my pussy at night because of you, Doctor,” Y/N looked up at him while stroking him, “and I can show you just how I do that anytime you want…”

“You’re such a freak…”

“And so are you,” Y/N smiled, “This dick is so fat..”

“Stop playing with it and suck it.”

Y/N alternates between sucking his tip and balls. It was the way she took care of him that had him lost for words. All he could do was grunt and moan. Tongue on the underside of his length, N’Jadaka groaned and the sound was deep and sultry. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he coached her to bring him to climax. Over and over she would bring him closer and closer. 

N’Jadaka wasn’t prepared for the way his body seized all control. It hit him so suddenly. He quickly grabbed Y/N by the hair and shoved his hard dick into her mouth. He took control and pumped her mouth like a mad man. Spit flying and her gags filling the room, N’Jadaka spurt deep down her throat. His hips stuttered out of control the more she emptied him. 

“Look what you made me do.”

His saliva covered dick bounced in her face. The thinnest stream of cum dropped from his tip and Y/N used her tongue to clean him off. 

“Get up. We only have fifteen minutes left.”

N’Jadaka stepped out of his pants and took off his shirt. Y/N couldn’t believe how identical his body is to Erik’s. Muscles covered his entire frame. He had a thickness to him that screamed pick me up and toss me around. 

He did just that. 

N’Jadaka laid her down on the chair and started undressing her. She helped him so things could move along quicker. He climbed between her legs and took a nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned softly, this feeling so foreign to her. She couldn’t recall the last time in reality that she had her nipples sucked on. To see this fine ass man do it and WANT to do it had her lost for words.

“That feels so good…please don’t stop, N’Jadaka.”

Y/N pressed her nose into his neck and inhaled his scent. He was warm to the touch and soft yet sturdy. 

N’Jadaka popped a nipple out of his mouth, “I want that pussy in my mouth…”

Y/N shoved his head down between her legs. His teeth dragged over the skin of her abdomen before finding the mass of curls between her legs. That turned him on even more. Frustratingly, N’Jadaka positioned Y/N so that she was slightly on her side with one leg elevated and the other bent out of the way. He got down on his knees and spread her outer lips with his tongue. 

“Ooooh, shit,” Y/N’s thighs shook out of control, “Dr. Stevens…”

With a fist full of his locs, she rode the pleasure. He had his entire face buried between her hairy pussy lips and he didn’t give a fuck. All she could see was his nose pressed into her mound and his eyes shut. He was making all kinds of sounds down there like some primal animal. That tongue and those plump lips were working overtime to make her cum. Whenever she would move her legs, he would force them back. His hands were firm and at times it hurt the way he was holding her legs. His tongue was unrelenting. His lips were lapping her up as if it were his last supper. 

“Unh, fuck,” Y/N couldn’t say much else. He had spit dripping from her pussy. He had her clit swollen and sensitive. He was doing things with his mouth that she never felt before. Tongue in her pussy? Never. He had her muttering incoherent words when he used the tip of his tongue to flick her clit. 

When he started sucking on her clit, Y/N had to cover her mouth to keep quiet. He opened his eyes then and watched her closely. It was an unspoken command to shut the fuck up and take it. What good will it do to make it known that he was eating her pussy? If she made a sound, it would mean no more of this in the future. Y/N couldn’t have that. Dr. Stevens couldn’t have that. 

She couldn’t explain the way he was sucking on her inner folds. No words could describe it. He did it like he waited his entire life for this moment. The desire he felt for her resonates with the way his lips suckled her expertly. She could hear the raunchy sounds and to her shock he even dragged his tongue through her wet curls. 

Y/N bites down on her lip, drawing blood, fighting with all her might to not moan out loud. When he started sucking all over her pussy with his hands on the back of her knees, leaving not one spot untouched, Y/N’s mouth dropped open and her eyes crossed. Toes curling, thighs shaking, body convulsing, she came in his mouth. The hold she had on his locs was enough to scalp him. 

N’Jadaka finally came up for air. His heavy breathing and wet beard turned her on so badly. 

“We only have eight minutes…”

He didn’t waste time picking her up and carrying her over to his desk. He pushed all of his belongings out of the way with a rush and sat her on the edge of his desk. She let him move her body in whatever position he wanted her in. He decided on holding her by her ankles up in the air and whispered in her ear to hold on. 

“Keep still, Y/N. When I put this dick in you…you better not make a sound, understand?”

Y/N nodded her head and N’Jadaka wasted no time sinking deep inside of her. His eyes shot up to give her a warning look to keep quiet but how could she when he thrust inside of her like that? She wasn’t prepared. It’s one thing to have delusions about the dick, but to feel it in reality? He stretched her good.

N’Jadaka for a moment couldn’t believe how tight she was. He began snapping his hips into hers, wanting to feel it again, watching the way his dick would enter her. There was a lot of wetness down there. He almost slipped out a few times. Y/N had to hold his waist with one hand. His locs fell into his eyes and it reminded her of Erik. The way he stroked her reminded her of Erik. 

“I wish I could take you home with me,” He whispered between strokes. 

“So you can do what?” Y/N asked with a seductive tone.

“So I can put you like this and in any other position I want.”

“You love this fucking pussy?” 

“Yes,” N’Jadaka pressed forward and held his dick there, “I don’t have to ask if you love this dick, I can tell…look at all this mess.”

Y/N’s eyes fell to the creamy mess all over him. 

“Didn’t know that pussy could do that, huh?” He whispered.

Y/N’s mouth fell open but no sound came out. Tears fell down her cheeks because of his words and because he was hitting her spot. He picked her up and dropped her down onto his dick. She let him take control of her body. She was so small compared to him. 

“Daddy, I can’t take it like this,” Y/N said.

“I’m daddy now? You’re gonna take it like a good girl.”

Y/N felt as if she was ready to burst, “Wait—”

“You pushing?” He looked down, “Don’t squirt…”

She didn’t listen. Thankfully it wasn’t a lot.

“You don’t listen, Y/N.”

N’Jadaka pressed her back against the desk and he was practically on top of her, dropping ten inches deep. She gasped, unable to control the liquid that followed. At this point N’Jadaka didn’t care. He was close. She felt amazing. What did he get himself into?

“This my fucking pussy…”

She didn’t argue that. 

“Don’t look away from me,” He commanded, “I want you to look at me when you cum.”

Y/N was in a trance staring up at him. Her body jerked beneath him and as her back arched, she came all over him, making even more of a mess. 

“Ahhhh, yes,” He withdrew his hips and came all over her stomach, “Hmmmm…”

N’Jadaka bit down on her shoulder. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck.  She wanted to stay like this. With his cum sticking to her flesh and his still hard dick resting between the lips of her pussy. 

“We have to get dressed…”

Reluctantly, he peeled himself from her embrace. He helped Y/N down from the table and she rushed to get her clothes on. They were all dressed in time for Anthony to come knocking on the door. One last look at Y/N and N’Jadaka grabbed her by the face to kiss her. He hadn’t kissed her the entire time. 

He broke the kiss, “Give us a second.”

His tongue slithered into her mouth and they kissed like that for what felt like five minutes. 

“Alright,” he pulled away after she sucked on his bottom lip, “You have to get back to your room. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Y/N pressed her face into his chest to remember his scent. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Dr. Stevens.”

N’Jadaka grabbed her by the hand and squeezed while his other hand tapped her on the ass. He walked her to the door and finally let go of her hand. Opening the door, Anthony was waiting patiently with her cuffs. She fought hard not to look back at him because it would give too much away.

“Same time, after dinner.” 

Anthony started making his way down the hall pulling Y/N along, reminding her that she was imprisoned to this place.

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#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger smut #crazyerik

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER ONE | RECKLESS

Tara Carpenter x G!P Reader x Female OC

Warnings: zombies, fighting, thats all i think

A/N: twd helped me with this

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Once you get close enough to the woman, she starts running as well, leaving you no time to ask questions. You chase after her, desperately trying to keep up with her pace. As you follow her, your mind races with curiosity, wondering why she chose to help you. And was she the one who shot the gun?

You feel a mix of fear and intrigue as you contemplate the mysterious circumstances surrounding her involvement. Despite the unanswered questions, your instinct tells you that sticking with her is your best chance at survival.

The two of you run for a while until you reach the middle of the woods. She stops, looking around.

You take this as a chance to talk, "Where are we going?" You ask, trying to catch your breath. She turns to you with a determined look in her eyes, "Get in the car, and then I'll explain." She begins jogging, and you follow her, behind a few trees there's an old pickup truck.

Its worn exterior suggests that it has been abandoned for quite some time. As you both climb into the truck, you speak again.

"Okay! Now, can you explain? I'm lost on what's going on, where we're going, and who you are." She starts the engine, and the truck roars to life, its rusty parts groaning in protest. She glances at you before turning her attention back onto the dirt road.

"We're going to turn around for my sister, then we're going back to our home base. And my name is Tara Carpenter, there." You furrow your eyebrows, holding onto the door handle as the truck bounces along the uneven terrain. "Wait, your sister? I didn't see anyone," you say, trying to make sense of the situation.

"How do you think you're still alive? She was the one who shot that walker." Tara's eyes narrow as she recalls the intense encounter. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Tara's words hang in the air, leaving you speechless.

The realization sinks in that your life was saved by someone you never even saw.

"Wait, wait, wait! Did you just call them walkers?"

Tara sends you a confused look, "Yeah?"

"What about the ones that jog?" You ask, then mumble to yourself. "Joggers..?" Tara raises an eyebrow, clearly perplexed by your question. "Joggers? What are you talking about?" she asks, her confusion evident in her voice.

You quickly realize that your attempt at humor fell flat, and you awkwardly laugh it off, trying to change the subject. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"Also, you said something about a home base? I appreciate you and your sister saving my life and all, but groups never do any good." Tara looks at you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I understand, but think about what could've happened if we didn't find you," she responds, her voice gentle yet firm. You ponder her words for a moment, realizing that she's right. You could've gotten bit.

"I'm not going to beg you to come home with us. Just think about it." You nod, acknowledging Tara's point. The thought of the potential danger you narrowly escaped lingers in your mind. Soon, you see a group of walkers and another woman in a tree, a sniper on her back.

Without thinking, you hop out of the truck, yelling, causing some of the walkers to turn their attention towards you. You take your knife out of your belt and start slashing at the approaching walkers, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The woman in the tree notices your bravery and starts picking off the remaining walkers with her sniper rifle, providing you with much-needed backup. As you both fight off the horde together, you realize that this unexpected partnership might just be the key to surviving this terrifying ordeal.

With each swing of your knife and each shot from her rifle, the walkers are slowly but surely being taken down. The adrenaline-fueled teamwork gives you a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos, making you believe that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

The woman makes her way down the tree, quickly entering the truck. You stand there, looking overtop of dead walkers, wiping a bit of blood that got on your face. "What the hell are you doing? Get in the truck!" the woman yells, and Tara quickly nods in agreement.

You snap out of your daze and quickly jump into the bed of the truck, Tara wastes no time pulling off, leaving the gruesome scene behind. You lay on your back, spread out like a starfish, as the wind rushes past you, providing a brief moment of relief from the chaos.

Tara glances at you through the rear view mirror with concern before focusing back on the road ahead, her determination evident in her eyes.

As the truck speeds away, you can't help but wonder what you're about to get yourself into. Tara's sister knocks on the truck's back window, gaining your attention before she opens it. "I'm Sam, by the way." You give Sam a faint smile, grateful for the introduction.

"Y/N." You simply say. As the truck continues down the road, you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness building inside you. The unknown awaits, and you can't help but wonder how this journey will unfold.

Your eyes snap awake at a loud slap against the metal truck. It's Sam. "We're here." You quickly gather your belongings and step out of the back of the truck, taking in your surroundings. A brown-haired man with a scruffy beard makes his way toward the three of you in a sheriff's uniform.

He introduces himself as Sheriff Dewey Riley and welcomes you to the small town. "Before you settle down, I'm going to have to take your weapons." You exchange a wary glance with Sam, unsure of whether to comply.

Sheriff Riley notices your hesitation and reassures you, "It's just a precautionary measure for everyone's safety. You'll get them back once everything is sorted out." Reluctantly, you hand over your weapons, hoping that this small town holds more than meets the eye.

Tara glances at you before whispering something in Sam's ear. You strain to hear what Tara is saying, but her words are too quiet. Sam nods in response, her expression growing more serious. Curiosity piqued, you wonder what secrets this small town might be hiding and what role Tara and Sam might play in it all.

"C'mon kid." Dewey says, nodding his head in the direction of the town. "Let's get you checked in." You follow Dewey, your mind racing with anticipation and questions about the mysteries that lie ahead.

As you walk towards the town, you're truly shocked. Everything looked so peaceful, as if there wasn't an apocalypse happening on the other side of the walls.

The sight of the seemingly untouched town only deepens your intrigue, making you even more determined to uncover the truth. As you approach the entrance, you can't help but wonder how this place has managed to remain unscathed amidst chaos and destruction.

Dewey took you to the doctor to get yourself checked out before introducing you to his wife, Gale.

She seemed like the leader of this place, with an air of confidence and authority that commanded respect. Her eyes held a glimmer of resilience, as if she had seen it all and still managed to keep the town thriving. "I'm Gale Riley, sit, please."

You sit listen to Gale's voice as it carried a sense of determination and compassion, instantly drawing you in.

"We've faced countless challenges over the years," she explained, "but we've built a tight-knit community that supports one another through it all."

"What is this place?" you asked, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. Gale smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with pride.

"This place," she replied, "is a sanctuary for those seeking refuge, a haven where people come together to rebuild their lives and find hope amidst adversity, or the start of sustainability. Which is what the brochures we found say. This was a planned community with its own solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration."

Gale continued, "Me and my husband were led here. See, I'm a news reporter, and my husband was a sheriff in our old town. He was investigating a series of corruption cases that led to dangerous threats against our lives. We had to leave everything behind and start fresh, and this place seemed like the perfect opportunity for us to do so."

You nod at her words, still in disbelief about the place. As you take in Gale's story, you can't help but marvel at the foresight and ingenuity that went into creating such a self-sustaining community.

The idea of a solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration all working together seamlessly is truly impressive. It's clear that this place was designed with both environmental consciousness and the well-being of its residents in mind.

There's a knock at the door, interfering with your thoughts. You turn to see another woman, "Hi, I'm Sidney." She introduces herself with a warm smile. Sidney explains that she is a longtime resident of the community and offers to give you a tour, eager to share more about the innovative solutions and sustainable practices that make this place so unique.

Intrigued by her offer, you gladly accept, curious to learn even more about this remarkable community.

Gale gives you a tight-lipped smile before you walk out of her living room, following Sidney closely. As you walk behind Sidney, you notice her enthusiasm and passion for the community radiating from her every word.

She points out various landmarks and explains how each one contributes to the community's commitment to sustainability. As you continue the tour, you can't believe you were going to turn down this place not too long ago.

"Are you serious?" You ask Sidney, who quickly nods. "You're just giving me a house?" Sidney chuckles and replies, "Well, not exactly giving it to you. Gale will give you a job, and you'll have to earn your keep." Everything about this feels too good to be true.

"I know you're still feeling us out, but I'm glad you're here, Y/N." Sidney says sincerely, her eyes filled with warmth. "We believe in creating a sense of community here, and having you join us adds to that spirit, you know?" You nod at her, sending a slight smile her way.

"Well, then. I'll let you settle in, but if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask, I'm just a few houses down." Sidney's authentic warmth and offer of support reassure you, easing some of your initial skepticism. Her words about creating a sense of community make you feel more hopeful about this opportunity. "Thank you," you say.

Sidney sends you another smile before leaving. You slowly open the door to the home, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The space is cozy and inviting, with warm colors and comfortable furniture. As you step inside, a sense of excitement and anticipation fills the air, mingling with a hint of nervousness.

You make your way into the kitchen, resting your hand on the faucet before turning it. The sound of the rushing water is soothing, and you laugh, overwhelmed with amazement. It's been a while since you've been in a place like this, where everything is new and refreshing.

You take a shower, cleaning off the sweat, blood, and dirt that's been on you for the past couple of months. The tension in your muscles begins to melt away, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. It's a small luxury that you've missed dearly during this apocalyptic time, and you relish in the simple pleasure of being able to wash away the remnants of your journey.

You quickly put on your bra, grabbing a towel as you hear a knock on your front door. Curiosity piqued, you wrap the towel around yourself and cautiously make your way to the door. Wondering who it could be. You open the door, revealing a redhead girl and a curly-haired boy.

The girl whistles at the sight of you, admiring your freshly washed hair and the towel wrapped around you. The boy, on the other hand, looks slightly embarrassed and averts his gaze. "I'm Quinn, and this is my brother Ethan," the readhead says, a small smile on her lips.

You feel a mix of surprise and self-consciousness as you quickly tighten the towel around yourself. Quinn's compliment on your appearance brings a blush to your cheeks, while Ethan's shyness makes you wonder what could have prompted their visit.

"Our dad is Officer Bailey, so whenever we get newcomers, he makes us introduce ourselves." You nod understandingly, realizing that Officer Bailey must take his role as a community liaison seriously. Though you start to realize you haven't been introduced to him yet, "Officer Bailey? I don't think we've met."

Quinn chuckles and replies, "Oh, don't worry! Our dad is always busy with his duties, but he'll definitely come by to meet you soon. He's not really the friendly type, but he needs to know everyone in the neighborhood." You hum, giving her a nod.

"Oh! Did Gale tell you about the get together that's happening?" Ethan speaks up, raising an eyebrow. You smile and shake your head, admitting that Gale hadn't mentioned the get together yet.

Ethan continues, "It's going to be a fun event with games, food, and a chance for everyone to socialize. You should definitely come, it'll be a great opportunity to meet everyone."

"Sure, I'll be there." You reply, genuinely intrigued by the idea of getting to know your new neighbors better. Plus, it sounds like a fun event that you don't want to miss out on.

"Great! Well, we'll see you then." He responds, smiling and giving you a friendly wave before heading off. Quinn follows behind him, giving her own wave and smile.

The event was your average get together, with people mingling and chatting in small groups. You were in a corner by yourself, drinking as you observed everyone.

"Socialize." You hear someone say, you turn to be faced with Sidney.

You smile at the woman, whose mouth drops dramatically. "Look at you! You look nice, cleaned up!" Sidney compliments your appearance, clearly impressed by your transformation.

"Thank you. It felt nice to have a hot shower again." You reply, grateful for the simple pleasure of feeling clean after a long time. Sidney nods sympathetically, understanding exactly what you've been through.

Your eyes leave the woman beside you, glancing over only to find Tara talking to someone else her age. Sidney's eyes fall to your point of view, and her smile widens. "Tara's a sweet girl."

Your eyes flicker between Sidney and Tara, letting out a chuckle. "I don't think she likes me." You admit taking another sip of your drink.

Sidney chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Oh, don't worry about that. Tara can be a bit reserved at first, but she warms up to people once she gets to know them better. Give it some time, and I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

"Sam told everyone how you helped her." Sidney says. You shrug, "She helped me first. Plus, we took down those walkers together, it wasn't just me." Sidney nods, a smile playing on her lips.

"That may be true, but teamwork is key in this world. But still, not everyone would have stepped up like you did. You've earned Sam's gratitude and respect." You blush slightly at the compliment, grateful for Sidney's kind words.

"Tomorrow morning, go talk to Gale. She has a job for you." You raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Why can't you just tell me?" Sidney chuckles, shaking her head. "Gale likes to give out the details in person. She's old-fashioned like that. Plus, I think she wants to see the look on your face when she tells you."

You can't help but laugh at the thought of Gale's mischievous nature. "Alright, I'll go find her tomorrow then. Thanks for the heads up, Sidney."

Sidney squeezes your bicep before walking away. "Y/N!" Someone calls out from Tara's group. They stand up, ushering you off. You smile at Ethan before deciding to walk over, curious to see what he wants. "Oh, it's pretty girl." Quinn smiles, you now appearant in her sight.

You return Quinn's smile and join Tara's group, wondering what Ethan wants to talk about. As you approach, Ethan greets you warmly and introduces you to the rest of the group. "Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Chad, Amber, Wes, Mindy, Anika, Frankie, Liv, and you already know Tara."

You exchange greetings with everyone in the group, feeling welcomed and curious about their dynamic. "It's nice to meet you, I heard you saved Sam's life." Mindy says, causing you to shake your head. "It wasn't that serious. She saved mine, to be honest." You brush off the compliment modestly, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Mindy just hums, and Chad takes this as a chance to speak. "Did Gale give you a role already?" You shake your head in response to Chad's question. "Not yet," you reply. "She's supposed to give me one tomorrow, though." Chad nods, looking intrigued. "I'm sure she'll find something perfect for you. Gale has a great eye for talent."

Wes chimes in, adding, "Yeah, she's really good at matching people with roles that suit them." You can't help but feel a surge of anticipation for what Gale might have in store for you. "That's good to hear."

"How old are you?" Liv asks, and you turn your head to her with a smile. "21." Amber then speaks, "Really? You look younger than that." "Thank you, I guess it's good genes," you reply with a chuckle. Wes joins in, saying, "Age is just a number anyway. What matters are your skills and passion."

"Wes, what the fuck are you talking about?" Amber questions, squinting her eyes at the blonde haired boy. Wes shrugs, unfazed by Amber's reaction.

"We're going to go get some more drinks." Frankie announces to the group, interrupting his own conversation he was having with Tara. Tara and Frankie both get up, and you watch the two disappear from sight before turning your eyes back to the group, only to have everyone staring at you. "What?"

You ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under their gaze. Mindy chuckles and leans back in her chair, saying, "You like Tara." You blush slightly, shaking your head. You didn't even know the girl! But Mindy's comment makes you wonder if there was something about Tara that caught your attention.

Though you couldn't help but admit she was absolutely beautiful. Her long, flowing hair and radiant smile were captivating, along with her freckles that dotted her cheeks, adding a touch of playfulness to her overall appearance.

There was an undeniable aura of confidence that surrounded her, as if she knew she had a magnetic effect on people. It was intriguing to think about what it would be like to get to know her beyond just her physical appearance.

"No?" You mutter, furrowing your eyebrows, trying to convince the group. You couldn't understand how anyone could resist being drawn to her. There was something about her that seemed to defy explanation, making you even more curious about the person behind the captivating exterior.

Mindy just shrugs, "Whatever you say." Anika rolls her eyes at her girlfriend, "Ignore her. She believes she can sense people's crushdars! She does it with everyone."

You chuckle, and Mindy immediately defends herself. "I definitely have a sixth sense when it comes to matters of the heart," she playfully retorts. Anika smirks, teasingly adding, "You couldn't sense my crush on you."

Mindy thins out her lips and says, "Because you give off straight girl, babe."

Anika's jaw drops as she lets out a dramatic gasp. No, I don't!" Mindy laughs and says, "Oh, come on. You know it's true." Anika playfully pouts and replies, "Well, maybe I just wanted to keep you guessing."

Mindy leans in, kissing away her girlfriend's pout. "Guessing or not, I'm glad we're together now," Mindy whispers softly, their lips still touching. Anika smiles and pulls Mindy closer, savoring the warmth of their embrace.

"You guys are going to make me sick." Quinn says, earning a nod of agreement from Chad. Quinn rolls her eyes playfully and adds, "But seriously, you two are disgustingly cute." Chad chuckles and says, "Yeah, it's almost nauseating how in love you two are."

You smile at the group, happy to fit in so well. But your smile is gone once you see Frankie leading Tara to the front door of the house, obviously drunk.

You feel a pang of concern as you watch Frankie struggle to keep Tara steady. It's clear that Tara has had too much to drink, and you worry about her well-being.

You quickly stand up, earning confused looks from the group. You follow Frankie and Tara outside the house, not even sparing the group a second glance. "Hey guys!" You call out to Frankie and Tara, trying to get their attention.

"Are you guys okay? Tara seems really drunk, maybe we should get her some water and make sure she's alright." You offer your help, hoping they will listen and take care of Tara's well-being.

Frankie shakes his head, laughing. "She's fine, dude. Just go back to the group." You glance at Tara before squinting your eyes at Frankie. "Nah, dude, I think she should come back with me."

"It's fine. Y/N." Tara mumbles, her words slurring together. "I can handle myself." Despite her protests, you can't shake off the concern you feel for Tara's well-being.

"See. It's fine." He harshly grabs Tara's arm, dragging her down the few remaining steps of the home's entryway.

Tara mutters out an, "Ow." You shoot Frankie a disapproving look, but he ignores it. You quickly push Frankie away from Tara, placing yourself between them. "Tara, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go with him," you say firmly. "Let me take you home instead."

"⁠She's fine," Frankie seethes, reaching for Tara, but you push him, maybe a bit too hard, because he falls to the ground. Frankie's face contorts with anger as he scrambles back to his feet. "The fuck?"

He rushes to you, tackling you. As Frankie tackles you, you struggle to defend yourself, trying to keep him at bay.

The situation escalates quickly, with both of you grappling on the ground, desperately trying to gain the upper hand. You straddle Frankie, attempting to punch him repeatedly, but he manages to block most of your blows.

"Guys! Stop!" You hear Tara's panicked voice, but the adrenaline is pumping too hard for either of you to listen. The fight continues, with neither of you willing to back down.

You don't notice people starting to exit the house, drawn by the commotion. Some onlookers attempt to intervene, shouting for you both to stop, but their efforts are futile as the intensity of the fight consumes your focus.

You're roughly pulled off of the man, your heart pounding and your breath heavy. "Alright, alright, that's enough." A voice says from behind you, holding you back by your bicep.

You look around at the crowd, and Quinn mouths, "My dad." You shut your eyes for a second, realizing that on your first day in the community, you were already about to be put under arrest.

As you open your eyes, glancing over to Tara and then her friend group, Quinn's dad begins to handcuff you. You feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you as the handcuffs click into place. Tara's friend group watches in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Fighting on the first day, really?" The gray-haired man says, shaking his head. You try to explain yourself, stuttering out an apology. "I didn't mean to start a fight, sir," you manage to say. The gray-haired man raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your explanation.

"He was going to take advantage of her!" You continue, desperately trying to defend your actions. "She was obviously drunk and he was trying to take her home. I had to intervene."

The gray-haired man's expression softens slightly as he considers your words, but he remains cautious. "Well, we'll have to sort this out," he says, slightly pushing you to walk in front of him.

You take one last look at the crowd, your heart dropping when you notice a familiar face.

"Iris?" You mumble to yourself. She looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see her. Memories of your past together flood your mind, adding another layer of complexity to the situation.

#reader insert #wattpad #tonyspank #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x gn!reader #tara carpenter x g!p reader #zombie apocolypse au #tara carpenter scream

[writingsbymo-mo]

A Tiny Surprise

Tighnari x F!Reader

Contains: pregnancy and a very worried reader

Word count: 772

You're at home waiting for Tighnari to return to tell him about your little surprise while he is in Pardis Dhyai when a freak lightning storm hits. Yes I forgot Haypasia exists while I wrote this...oops

First fic I wrote in two years! Sorry I'm a bit rusty tho i hope you guys like it uwu

______________________________________________________

It was a clear, sunny day, no clouds in sight. You stretched as you sat at your desk, staring at the pile of books on various topics from flora and fauna to fantasy. It would be about another half hour before Tighnari would return from Pardis Dhyai. You looked down at your stomach with a smile then grabbed a book, opening it. The two of you had been together for a few years after graduating from the akademia, only growing closer through those years.

As time passed, the room grew darker. A chill ran down your spine. 'Did I get that absorbed in this book? But that doesnt make sense....' You thought. You turned your head to your window. Dark clouds were rolling in, spouting lightning every second. Your eyes widened in awe and fear. It was nothing you'd ever seen before. "A storm with no rain? Strange...I hope everyone's alright." Though despite this, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread washing over you. Something wasn't right.

The second the skies cleared, forest watchers scattered, searching for any possible injured people or animals through their usual patrol routes. Given the situation, you knew it would be some time before Tighnari returned.

And so you waited.

And waited...

....and waited....

A good hour had passed and still...nothing. Your body began to tremble as you brought your arms inward. Tighnari will be fine is what you keep telling yourself. It doesn't stop the bubbling anxiety in the depths of your stomach. You sighed in an attempt to calm yourself.

Suddenly, the door to your home burst open with a worried Collei, panting as she caught her breath. That was all you needed. You bolted from your chair, grabbed your bag of supplies and ran, thanking her on the way out.

You'd never ran so fast in your life. A few scrapes from stray branches didn't even phase you. All that mattered was knowing Tighnari was alright.

Before you knew it, you were at the entrance to the greenhouse in Pardis Dhyai, taking deep breaths as your eyes locked onto him sitting on the floor. It didn't take much for you to conclude what had happened.

One of his ears twitched, turning his head to face you. The hiss and groan he let out didn't go unnoticed despite the way his eyes lit up and a small smile forming on his lips. "Don't worry my lotus, I'll ugh be fine. Some forest watchers came by and patched me up already so they'll just need to be dressed again later. But for now, I just need to rest for a while. I'll also say you should get your scrapes disinfected."

'Oh Nari.'

You scrambled to your knees in front of him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "I was so worried Nari," you cried, "I had to make sure you were safe."

He brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing away the stray tears then pulled you into a hug. His ears flattened briefly as he winced. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around him, careful of his wounds.

You breathed in his scent, earthy with a hint of musk that was just him. A sigh of relief escaped you when you remembered what you had to say.

Cautiously, you lifted yourself from him, repositioning yourself a little closer. "So...Nari," he tilted his head at you as you continued, "I have something I need to share with you."

You grasped his hand, gently placing it on your stomach. His breath hitched as his tail began to swish. He threw you into a hug once more, trying to mask the pain the shot through him at his quick action. "S-sorry," he winced, "I'm...so happy. My lotus is having a little lotus." His hand brushed your stomach once more, rubbing in soothing circles lovingly as you rested your head on his shoulder. He brought his lips to your forehead, peppering you with soft kisses.

An hour had passed as the sun hovered over the horizon. "Mmm, we should head back," Tighnari yawned, pulling himself up, "I'll be fine to walk now. How are your scrapes by the way?"

"They're fine Nari. I'm more worried about you."

He shook his head and laughed softly, "I'll be on light duty for a while so I'll be staying in Gandharva Ville most of the time. Which means, I'll be able to spend more time with you until I'm fully healed."

You nodded, placing a hand on your stomach as you both began to walk home. "I can't wait to meet them, our little lotus."

#first fic in a while heheh... #it's been too long #tighnari x reader #genshin impact #tw pregnancy #sfw #genshin impact fanfics #tighnari #my writing #genshin impact x you

[muschiettistrashmouth]

Bestfriends - Mötley Crüe

Authors note: Hello there! I was planning to write for Mötley for quite some time now but I was waiting for my book to arrive (I still don't have it so, well...). English is NOT my first language and I'm a bit rusty. Anyways, enjoy.

Requested?: no

Pairing: best friends!Motley Crue/reader

Summary: You punch Tommy's girlfriend in the face after she speaks badly of his mother.

Warnings: swear words (duh?), mentions of alcohol.

As best friends with the boys, you were always on tour with them, which means sleeping in the bus, partying all night after the shows, and getting in trouble with the terror twins. And even when you paired up with the boys to terrorize Mick, he still treated you like a baby sister.

On one of those days, you were drinking with Mick and Vince in the dress rooms,  Tommy was looking for his girlfriend/fiancé (you didn't even know anymore to be honest), and Nikki was missing too.

The three of you looked at each other with a knowing glance. It was obvious they were fucking.

"I'll introduce her to my parents, man," Tommy exclaimed excitedly. "She's the one."

Mick snorted, then tried to calm down.

"Yeah, man!" Vince said with thumbs up.

"Such a great girl!" You mock, but Tommy didn't understand your tone.

And that's when she appeared.

She wasn't exactly a pleasant company and everyone knew that, everyone but Tommy.

*

Chilling on the bus near Nikki, you were listening to Tommy's weird dream. Something about a floating drum. You didn't really catch what he was saying. That's when his girl stabbed him with a pen.

You and Mick exchanged a weird look and then she started to scream, insulting Tommy. You just couldn't stop the laugh that escaped your mouth.

The black-haired woman looked at you, her eyes burning through your soul.

"And you're just a fucking bitch!"

"Really? Never heard that one before." You mock pouted, making the boys laugh.

"A fucking cunt!"

"Wow, so creative!" You show your thumbs up.

"And you should have protected me from your mother." Another smack against Tommy. "That... that bitch! She's a cunt!"

Everyone's jaws were on the floor.

"A fucking cunt!"

You didn't know what the fuck happened, but one minute you were sitting by Nikki, and the other you were standing, punching her on the nose.

"Never speak about her like this again." You and Tommy said at the same time.

She screams in pain and tries to hit you, but at the same time you push her away with your foot, Nikki holding you to try and stop the fight as Tommy made sure she was out the bus in no time, ending things with her right then and there.

#motley crue x reader #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx #nikki sixx/reader #tommy lee #tommy lee/reader #mick mars #mick mars/reader #vince neil #vince neil/reader #the dirt #the dirt imagine #the dirt fanfiction

[haddonfieldwhore]

scary dog privilege pt4- ethan landry

ethan landry x alt! reader ❥ FINAL PART

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

3.3k words // part 3

warnings: mentions of death, language, blood/gore, violence, angst, slight changes from the movie, this is long lol, there may be an epilogue in the works ;)

❥ taglist: @breadbowser @lillunna @fanboyluvr @wroetoslut @gojosbucket @not3rracha @wenvierismycomfort @homebyeleven

you held onto ethan’s arm as you were shoved around as you all pushed through the crowded subway, trying to catch the train. you, ethan, and mindy fell behind, and despite chad trying to hold the door open, the three of you missed the train. mindy didn’t realize you and ethan were behind her, and still convinced that ethan was one of the killers, she told you both to stay away from her. standing a few feet down the platform from her, you waited for the next train as you saw her typing on her phone, probably texting the rest of the group to let them know she missed the train.

“it’s okay, there’s another one in 5 minutes. trains run all the time at this hour,” ethan reassured you. you gave him a small smile.

“okay,” you sighed. you waited for the next train to stop as it pulled in, and you and ethan got on together, and you were glad to see that mindy had gotten on at the next door. the train, much to your horror, was full of people in masks for halloween, many in ghostface masks. the fear you had felt when you had been attacked at sam and tara’s apartment came flashing back to you, and you buried your face in ethan’s chest. his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close. you had 10 stops until you got to the theatre, and they could not go fast enough.

“it’s okay, shhh, you’re okay,” he murmured. you tried to calm your breathing as the train sped down the track. you glanced over to see if you could see mindy, but with all the people on the subway you had lost sight of her. the lights flickered on and off, and you closed your eyes as you held on to ethan.

finally arriving at your stop, you waited for there to be room to walk to the door when you saw mindy slumped against the back of the train car, bleeding from her stomach.

“mindy! oh my god,” you yelled, as you and ethan let go of eachother and ran over to help her up.

“shit!” ethan exclaimed. “oh fuck. somebody help- call 911!” ethan yelled as the two of you carried her off the train and leaned her against a pillar. emergency officials rushed over and called for medical assistance, and mindy groaned as ethan asked if she was okay.

“yeah i’m sooo good- fuck!” she replied, groaning in pain. “i got it wrong again,” she groaned as you held your hands over the stab wound to stop the bleeding.

“fuck this franchise,” mindy seethed.

•

after making sure mindy made it to the hospital and was going to be okay, you and ethan stepped out into the hallway.

“we should go meet up with the others?” ethan suggested.

“is it selfish to say we could just stay here?” you asked.

“no- to be honest i was kinda hoping you would say you wanted to stay here instead. i feel like the odds of getting attacked in the hospital are a lot lower,”

“i think they might need our help though,” you sighed, resigning to the fact that you knew it was the right thing to do, no matter how stupid.

“yeah i know. let’s go,” ethan sighed, leading you outside to call a cab to the theatre.

once you arrived, the two of you found the door to be locked.

“maybe there’s a back entrance?” you suggested, and ethan followed you around to the back of the building as you looked for another way in, and you found a rusty fire escape.

“of course,” you muttered. testing if it would hold your weight, ethan held his hands on your hips in case you fell as you started climbing up the stairs. once you got to the top, you pulled ethan up until you both stood in front of the door.

“ready?”

“no,” you shook your head, but grabbed the door handle anyway, pulling it open with a creak. ethan followed behind you, as you stepped inside onto the balcony seating area of the theatre.

“let’s find a way down,” ethan said. you walked around, looking for a way to get to the main floor, until you reached the stairs.

“here- ethan,” you whispered, gesturing for him to follow you down the stairs. as you reached the bottom of the stairs, sam ran towards you holding a knife.

“where the hell did you two come from- where’s mindy?!” she asked.

“there’s a fire escape out back- mindy was attacked on the subway; we came from the hospital,” ethan explained.

“oh my god. we have to find tara and chad, kirby’s the killer- or one of them.”

“what?” you asked, and she grabbed your arm, and you heard a scream from the other room and sam dragged you towards it. tara and chad burst through the door as you reached it, almost running into eachother.

“come on!” sam yelled, dropping your arm to grab tara. you all ran towards the stage, stopping when the killer jumped out, sending you all scrambling, separating the group amongst the display cases. the killer slashed at you, the knife cutting into your side, and you screamed. you held your hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, as chad picked up a large video camera and swung it at the killer knocking them to the ground. before you could all get away, the killer grabbed at ethan’s ankle as you ran past them, pulling him to the ground.

“nooo!” you yelled, trying to go back for him, but chad grabbed onto you and pulled you with him and the two sisters as the killer dragged ethan off. you could hear him screaming, and you cried as you ran down a hallway behind the stage, ending up back in the room where you had found chad and tara before. chad knocked over the popcorn machine to block the doorway, but the killer jumped over it.

tara screamed as the killer slashed at her, and you noticed she was bleeding from a stab wound on her back already, which she must’ve have gotten earlier when you heard the screaming. sam and tara grabbed hold of the killer, the three of them slamming against the concession bar, the killer falling to the floor. tara kicked them in the head, and sam pulled you and tara towards the door as chad lifted a gumball machine over his head, ready to slam it down onto the killers head.

he was stopped when a knife went into his side, and tara screamed, a second killer having appeared, and the two of them stabbed chad repeatedly. dropping his body to the floor, the wipes the blood from their knives in sync, and you and sam finally managed to pull tara back to the main room. running towards the centre of the room, one of the killers jumped out in front of you. tara screamed as the other one appeared behind you, blocking both directions. sam handed each of you a brick off the floor, and asked if you were ready.

“look at me; i need you to be ready. ready?” she asked. tara screamed “come on motherfucker,” before bullets flew past you and the killers dove out of sight. kirby, bleeding from her forehead walked out from by the stage, her gun still aimed towards where the killers had been.

“it’s alright!” she said.

“we know it’s you kirby,” tara spat.

“no, one of them knocked me out-“ she started, but was interrupted by detective bailey.

“kirby, get away from the girls!” he yelled, aiming his own gun at her.

“don’t listen to him. whatever he told you he’s lying. he’s probably the killer,” kirby said, before yelling to look out as one of the ghostfaces appeared behind him. the killer stopped next to the detective as bailey shot kirby twice, sending her flying backwards to the floor. the three of you turned to look at the cop, who smiled as the two ghostfaces appeared beside him. “great job; both of you,” he said to the two of them.

“…you?” sam asked.

“yeah- of course me,” bailey smirked.

“then… who?” tara stuttered, and the taller ghostface began to remove their mask.

“ethan?” you whispered, feeling like you had been kicked in the stomach as he smiled wide.

“mindy was right. it was easy to juke the roomate lottery. all i had to do to meet you, was room with a conceited, condescending alpha- literally named chad. fuck it felt good to kill him!” he yelled, his eyes wild. “this was your grandmothers sam… nancy loomis? really runs in your fucking family doesn’t it,” ethan spat at her. “speaking of family- my names not ethan landry; is it dad?” he turned to detective bailey.

“dad?” tara repeated, and ethan and bailey laughed.

“if it’s you then who…. “ sam said, looking at the other ghostface. her sentence trailed off, and the second killer took off their mask to reveal bright orange hair.

“quinn?”

“heyyy roomies,” she sang. “bet you didn’t see that one coming did ya?”

“yeah cause you died!” tara exclaimed.

“kinda didn’t…” she trailed off. “easy way to get off the suspect list though.”

“it was you… at the apartment..” you said to ethan, recognizing the mask. his smile dropped slightly, and you though you detected a hint of sympathy in his eyes as he looked at you.

“yeah it was him. you were supposed to die you know, but my son you see he really has grown quite fond of you,” the detective said, patting ethan on the back. you felt like your insides had been twisted around, your stomach felt upside down as you realized that the person you had felt so safe with, was the same person you had been so afraid of. ethan and quinn circled around the room, ethan placing the mask he held onto a mannequin wearing nancy loomis’ blazer.

“i got stu machers mask; he was my favourite,” quinn explained.

“that’s three,” bailey said, pointing at nancys mask. he pointed at the one quinn had next. “that’s two…and this… was your fathers, sam. i’m gonna need you to put it on,” detective bailey pulled a dirtied ghostface mask out of his jacket and held it out towards her.

“fuck you!” she yelled, slapping the mask away. “so what you did this as a family?” sam asked.

“we’re gonna show the world, the killer that you really are.” bailey explained.

“and then what? what you just disappear?”

“nah, after this we gotta hurry over to the hospital to make sure mindy and gale don’t pull through!” he laughed.

“whatever you think i didn’t commit those murders; it wasn’t me!“ sam pleaded.

“we know that! what do you think this is, just based of some bullshit conspiracy theory? who do you think started all those rumours about you in the first place?” bailey asked, and quinn raised her hand, holding a knife loosely in her grip.

“do you know how easy it was to turn sam from the hero of woodsboro, into the villain? how easy it is to make people believe the worst in someone, rather than the best?” quinn taunted.

“because it’s not enough to just kill someone these days. you have to assassinate their character first. so when the cops find your mutilated body posed over you sisters corpse wearing your fathers mask, they’ll say that you’re the real ghostface killer, and someone took things into their own, deluded hands” ethan went on.

“because you- are a killer sam,”

“no i’m not!!“ sam yelled desperately.

”yes you are you motherfucker you killed our brother!” quinn yelled, stepping closer with the knife pointed at the three of you.

“you said your brother died in a car crash,” tara said.

“no no no, he died in woodsboro; at the hands of your bitch sister,” he said, the three of them circled around you, sam, and tara.

“you’re richies family,” sam realized, bailey nodding yes tearfully.

“ding ding ding! i think she finally starting to get it!” ethan yelled, laughing as him and quinn ran around the three of you, ethan stabbing sam in the chest just below her collarbone. quinn slashed at you, creating a gash on your arm, and you swore you saw ethan send her a nasty glare.

detective bailey, now standing on the stage explained that everything here in the shrine had belonged to richie; that he helped him build this collection.

“there’s a special bond, between a father, and his first born son,” you glanced at ethan, who stared up at his father, his eyes wet with tears. bailey turned back to sam, holding the mask out towards her again.

“he was… so pathetic,” sam spoke.

“that’s not true!”

“he was a man baby, who made his girlfriend do all the killing,”

“he was a strong, virile young man-“

“he was a limp dick little fuck, who cried before i slit his throat,” sam spat.

“shut the fuck up!” quinn yelled, and charged at tara, who swung the brick she was holding into her face, knocking the redhead to the ground, where she spat out blood and a few of her teeth. kirby had come to, and shot at detective bailey before ethan tackled her to the ground.

“recognize this?” he asked, before stabbing her in the abdomen where she told you all she had been stabbed before. sam tackled him off of her, taking the knife out of kirby’s stomach and stabbing ethan with it. you stood, frozen in place as ethan collapsed to the floor, blood dripping down his black costume. despite all common sense, and everything you knew he had done, you felt an ache in your heart for the shy, curly haired boy.

“sam this way!” tara called, and her and sam ran towards a ladder to the balcony, which led to the fire escape you and ethan had come in through earlier.

“ethan…” you whimpered, and he looked you up and down, walking towards you.

“you know chad was right; you really did choose a terrible time to join the friend group,” he said, his voice sympathetic.

“don’t do this, please,”

“i… i really do like you, you know. if we’d met on another night maybe things could’ve been different,” he said, groaning as he held his hand to a stab wound on his shoulder.

“they could be- just stop-“

“oh you sweet dumb thing; you know i can’t,” he stepped closer to you, standing just inches away from you, and your back hit one of the display cases, trapping you between it and his body. “i really never wanted to hurt you.”

“so don’t.” you wrapped your hand around his wrist that held the knife, and he looked at you softly, before his pressed his lips to yours, letting you take the knife from his hand. perhaps in a moment of weakness, you kissed him back, tears forming in your eyes as his lips moved against yours roughly.

you gasped into his mouth as you felt a knife go into your back, and you collapsed into ethan’s arms as he yelled out. the knife in your hand fell to the floor as quinn stabbed you again, twisting the knife around.

“no-,” ethan stuttered, before quinn pushed him hard in the shoulder, and he groaned in pain.

“don’t lose focus,” she said pointing towards sam and tara who were moving towards the exit. leaning against the glass case, quinn stabbed you in the stomach while ethan was distracted.

“i told you not to hurt them!” he yelled at his sister, who in return spat blood in his face and pushed him towards the ladder leading to the balcony. quinn ran towards the stairs to cut them off from the other side.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, crouching down to press a kiss to your forehead before he went after the sisters. you heard a gun go off and tara scream, and your vision started to go cloudy. you could see sam holding onto tara by the arms as she dangled over the edge of the balcony.

“i can’t … i can’t grab on!” she cried, her voice fading out as you started to lose consciousness. ethan stood below tara, swinging the knife at her feet as she tried to hold on to sam. you could see quinn appear on the other side of sam, smiling as blood dripped from her mouth, and as you slumped to the floor, you watched at tara let go, landing on top of ethan and stabbing him in the shoulder. his body fell to the floor a few feet from yours, his mouth filling with blood and his eyes wide, staring at you as your eyes fluttered closed.

•

you winced as your eyes were met with a bright light, and you felt like you were moving. more specifically, you realized you were on a gurney, a light blue blanket wrapped around you as you were rolled towards an ambulance, the daylight hurting your eyes as you regained consciousness.

“hey, i thought we lost you!” you looked to see sam next to you, tara close behind her. kirby was being loaded into another ambulance.

“is it…over?” you asked hesitantly. despite everything he did, you still couldn’t process the fact that ethan was dead.

“it’s over. i’m.. i’m sorry,” sam offered, and you gave her a sad smile.

“i guess he wasn’t who i thought he was,” you tried to brush it off, but as much as you wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, you had fallen for the curly haired boy in the very short time you knew him. “i’m sorry about chad,” you said to the sisters, and tara began to cry.

“hey we got another one over here!” you heard someone yell, and you saw chad being wheeled out on another stretcher, the same blue blanket over him and an oxygen mask over his face.

“chad!” tara yelled, and sam gave you a smile before going after her sister who had run over to him. as the paramedics lifted the gurney you were on into the back of the ambulance, you thought about what anika had said; aren’t things like this supposed to bring people together? you sighed, suddenly overwhelmed by the thoughts of everything that had happened in the last three days. exhausted, you closed your eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep.

•

it was the next day when you woke up in the hospital, and you looked around to see sam sat in the chair next to your bed. she noticed you were awake, and smiled.

“hey,” she said softly. “how are you feeling?”

“i’ve been better,” you answered honestly. “don’t take this the wrong way but..”

“why am i here?” she laughed. “i .. thought you might … need a friend. and tara and chad won’t stop making googly eyes at eachother and kirby’s asleep so-“ she answered honestly, and you smiled.

“thank you, sam. i’ll be okay.” you assured her. “you should be with your friends.”

“maybe … they could be your friends too. if you want,” she offered.

“i think i’d be okay with that,” you smiled. “but i think i need time to just be by myself for now. just until i can wrap my head around what happened.”

“i get it. but if you ever need anything; you have us. survivors gotta stick together,” she smiled, heading out the door before she stopped, sticking her head back into your room. “i’m.. really sorry about ethan. i know what that’s like; if you ever want to talk.” you thanked her, and she left to find her sister and her friends. staring at the ceiling, you closed you eyes, letting out a long exhale.

your eyes snapped open as you heard your phone buzz on the table next to you, you winced as you moved to grab it, pain shooting through your back, and you hoped that you hadn’t ripped any stitches. your eyes went wide as you looked at the notification on your screen.

unknown number: miss me yet?

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry one shot #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fic #scream #scream 6 #scream 6 spoilers #jack champion #jack champion fic

[gvfgal]

1. Homeward Bound

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

18+ minors evaporate!!!

A/n: As promised, here’s chapter one! I’m doing things a little different this time, telling the story more from Jake’s point of view than the readers. It works well for this story, and I think you guys will enjoy the way it plays out. Also, no disrespect to Genoa, NV! Never been, I’m sure it’s a lovely place, but for the sake of my story, it’s a shithole.

Content Warnings: Drinking & Smoking (constant theme throughout), language, mentions of death, Jake and reader are a couple of sluts but we love them for it, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (please don’t be like them), fingering (f rec.), dirty talk, Not really a warning, but I use the words tavern/ bar/ and or “Riley’s” interchangeably, they’re all the same place.

Word Count: 6.2k

Jake always loved the open road. It was the only time he truly felt like himself, the only time he felt truly invincible. The last time he traveled down Route 95, however, he was headed in the opposite direction, escaping the very life he was about to throw himself back into.

After Ace’s visit and a night of drinking, Jake finally settled on the decision to return home. He put most of his belonging into storage, only packing what would fit on the back of his bike. As far as his job, he wasn’t too worried. He had a sit down with Hank a couple days before he left and explained the situation. “You know you always have a job should you decide to come back,” Hank told him. Jake turned in his shop keys, and that was the end of that.

On the night before his departure, he tracked Kira down at some seedy motel and told her he’d be leaving town, to which she began to cry, begging him not to leave. In all honestly, it made him want to vacate even more.

The next morning, before the sun even had a chance to rise, Jake was on the road, homeward bound.

The desert stretched out before him, a vast expansion of rugged beauty underneath the unforgiving sun. The roar of his motorcycle engine echoed through the emptiness, punctuating the silence that came with the open road. As he ventured deeper into the heart of Nevada, the land seemed to hold it’s breath, anticipation simmering in the air. Dust clouds billowed in his wake as he leaned into the twists and turns, feeling as if he were becoming one with the machine.

Finally, after a couple more hours of riding, the small wooden sign came into view, signaling his arrival.

‘Welcome to Genoa. Nevada’s oldest town.’

The outskirts of the tiny dot on the map loomed into view, it’s familiar silhouette etched against the sky. He slowed his pace as he entered, taking in the scenery that was almost identical to the way it was when he left. His town, a decaying relic in the desert, clung stubbornly to it’s dilapidated existence. The streets stretched out before him like veins choked with neglect, lined with crumbling facades and and fading signs that once promised prosperity. Shuttered business stood as silent sentinels, bearing witness to the ebb and flow that was Genoa.

Nature, too, had woven it’s touch, with wildflowers defiantly blooming in forgotten corners. A gentle reminder to Jake that even in death, life finds a way. The sight filled him with a mixture of disgust and an odd kind of loyalty. Despite it’s decay it held the indelible marks of his roots, memories were etched deep within it’s neglected corners. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, Genoa was still home, a bitter reminder of the life he’d never be able to escape.

Using only his memory, Jake continued through town in search of Ace’s house. Just when he thought he was lost, the row of bikes lined up outside of an old rundown manufactured home proved his memory wasn’t so rusty after all. He parked near the end of the line before making his way up to the front door. He could already hear the rambunctious group of men far before he was on the porch, and he figured knocking would be no use. Besides, it was only Ace’s house, and Jake knew he was welcomed in as if he lived there himself, which he did, at one point.

When he swung the door open, the buzz of conversation came to an abrupt halt, and every head in the room turned to look at him, staring as if they’d seen a ghost.

Ace was the last to look at him, and when he did, a large grin spread across his face.

“Jake! You made it!”

The rest of the men erupted into cheers, glad to see their beloved Barbarian prince return.

“Jake, you remember Steeljaw right?” Ace bellowed as he gave him a shove forward into the crowd.

Jake smiled, “how could I forget? It’s good to see you man.”

Steeljaw was never very affectionate, and the life altering incident he encountered did little to change that, if anything, it had an opposite effect. But when it came to Jake, there was always a soft spot. He tolerated most people, but Jake, he actually liked. He could never figure out why, and in the end, he never tried to.

Jake expected a rough handshake or a punch in the shoulder, but was pleasantly caught off guard when Steeljaw scooped him up into a hug.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Ace went around reintroducing Jake to the guys, each of them in turn giving Jake hugs and handshakes and ‘welcome backs’. Hellhound. Snakebite. Madcap. Django. Renegade. And so many more. With each of these men, Jake carried a special memory. He loved each and every one of them, that was something he couldn’t deny. There were his family, other than his mom (another interesting story for another day), the Barbarians were all that Jake had. They all seemed to really miss him, and he missed all of them too.

Well, almost all of them.

“And of course, Nicky No Name.”

Ace pushed the tall slender guy forward, mouthing a ‘play nice’ to Jake behind his back. Jake’s disdain for Nicky went far beyond the fact that he was an overall awful person. For him, Nicky’s face was a reminder of the loss of the one person who’s presence he missed the most in that room, and it wasn’t Rex.

Jake gave Nicky a tight lipped smile, “Triple N, we meet again.” He knew how much he hated that nickname, which is why it felt that much better to say it.

Nicky narrowed his eyes at Jake with a scowl, before correcting it almost immediately. “Jake Kiszka. Prince of the Barbarians.”

Nicky also knew how much Jake hated that nickname.

Ace knew that was just about as polite as the two could get, so he quickly dismissed Nicky and returned his attention to Jake.

“I’m surprised you actually came.”

“You and me both.”

“How was the ride?”

Jake shrugged, “long.”

Ace chuckled, knowing good and well that anytime Jake was on the road, he had a blast. But he was never one to admit those kinds of things out loud, so he left it be.

“What do ya say we head over to your old man’s house? Get that out the way now?”

Dread crept into Jake’s veins, entwining with grief, as he realized that returning to his childhood home stirred a peculiar turmoil within him. Overshadowing even the weight of the impending funeral. He swallowed it down though, if only momentarily, to respond to Ace.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

The men hopped on their bikes and began making the short ride down to the old trailer park that was once Jake’s kingdom. Cactus Creek Village, quite the kingdom to be sure. The chipped paint on the entry sign proof of just how much the place had to offer.

Images of the past flicked through his minds eye as he inched his way through. The laughter that once echoed through the trees, riding his bike with his friends, pretending they were motorcycles until the street lights came on. All the joys of his youthful innocence. But beneath the surface of those fond recollections lay layers of pain, unsealed wounds, and fractured connections. Those feeling were all the more solidified as the house came into view.

A house whose walls were etched with both solace and strife. As he put his bike in park out front, it felt like a collision of two worlds, grief and nostalgia intertwining in an intricate dance.

“Look the same?” Ace asked as he got off his bike and came to stand with Jake.

He squinted his eyes at the structure, noticing that most of the damage that he left behind was still there. “Too much.”

His eyes grazed the lackluster trailer park with a neutral expression. Scenes of his complicated childhood played like mirages on front of him, sublime memories that still haunted his dreams. He wondered for a moment if coming back there was a bad idea.

Several feet away, the door of a trailer swung open, hitting the wall so hard that the sound sent a stray cat scampering from underneath the disheveled porch. You stepped outside, an already burning cigarette hanging between your plump lips with disinterest. Those lips, so perfectly pink and inviting, stole the air from Jake’s lungs. His mind flashed briefly to the things that mouth could possibly do behind closed doors.

But he wasn’t able to focus on that for long before his eyes began to take in your attire (or the lack there of). A wife beater, clearly with no bra underneath. Your nipples stood erect against the thin fabric. Your breasts were in no way large, but just big enough for a handful, and that was good enough for him. Your bottom half was no more modest, a pair of gray cotton bikini underwear, nothing more. The curve of your hips was only slight, so slight, some may not have even counted it as a curve at all. But whatever the hell it was, Jake liked it, really liked it.

A pair of brown cowboy boots covered you from the mid calf, down. The scuffed leather on the toes led him to believe that you wore them often.

You were unaware of their presence at first, making your way down the stairs mindlessly before your eyes finally locked with Jake’s.

Yours were red and glossy, not from tears, that much was certain. Jake was sure that you’d realize your exposure and rush back inside to hide yourself like any normal girl would do. But he was quick to find out you were anything but normal.

You blinked once at him, expressionless in your affliction, and raised you fingers to your lips to remove the cigarette. Your nails were chipped midnight blue, hands appearing like fragile petals of a flower. You ashed the cigarette onto the ground, eyed never straying from his.

Admittedly, your stare was a bit intimidating, heavy and laden with something so intriguing it was as if you were hypnotizing him where he stood. You wedged the cigarette back into your mouth before tearing your eyes from him, returning to the task you set out to accomplish.

“Who’s that?” Jake asked, never removing his stare from where you were. He watched as you bent over to pick up a sun bleached watering can, surprised at the size of your ass. He hadn’t expected you to be carrying something like that behind you.

Ace shuffled up beside him and gave you a good once over, “that’s Riley’s girl. When he got sick, she came down here, kinda popped up out of nowhere, to take care of him till he passed. Never left after that.”

Jake turned and looked at him with a furrowed brow, “Riley’s dead?”

Ace laughed, “you really have been gone a long time, haven’t you? He’s been gone about two years now. Pancreatic cancer. He fought long and hard,” he nodded his head in your direction, “she took over the tavern too.”

Jake’s eyes found you again as you lazily poured water onto the foliage outside of the trailer. For it to be Nevada, you did a great job of keeping up your garden.

“She’s a bit quiet, doesn’t really talk to us much, but she’s a sweet girl.” He retrieved a key from his pocket and placed it in Jake’s hand, “I gotta get back to the guys before they burn my damn house down. Take all the time you need.” He hopped back on his bike and his engine roared to life, “we’re all hanging at the tavern later, if you wanna stop by.”

Jake nodded and watched as he backed out of the driveway and started down the road. Once he was out of sight, he turned back to watch you water your plants, his eyes tracking every dip and curve of your body.

When you noticed him staring again, you stood straight and faced him, raising your middle finger.

He smirked. Spitfire. Giving his dad’s house one more look, he decided that wasn’t a hill he was ready to conquer, not yet anyway. Instead, there was a wide open Nevada desert calling his name, and that was a call Jake could never stray away from. Tucking the key away in his jeans, Jake mounted his bike and cranked it to life. He pulled into the street until he was parallel with your trailer. You watched as a mischievous grin appeared on his face, his gloved hand raising to shoot you the finger right back. His bike screeched as he pulled off at a ridiculous speed, kicking up dirt behind him.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him drive away. Using context clues, you figured he was your neighbor Rex’s son. You’d heard stories about him from the gang hanging around the bar. The Barbarian Prince, they’d joke. You’d spent plenty of time with Rex, and although he was always pleasant with you, you knew any son of his had to be trouble.

But you were a magnet for trouble. It’s allure and consequences were woven into the very fabric of your existence. Trouble had been your steadfast companion, the architect of your tumultuous journey.

Trouble, is what landed you in Genoa in the first place.

But when it came to the mysterious beloved Barbarian, trouble never looked so good.

Most of the gang was already at Riley’s by the time Jake arrived. He’d spent his afternoon riding through the winding outskirts of Genoa, allowing himself some much needed alone time before the next few days ahead. Pulling his tasseled hair into a messy low bun, Jake nudged the door open with his boot and stood at the threshold to scan the bar.

He quickly spotted Ace’s large frame seated at one of the barstools, but just as quickly, he noticed you. Your hair tied in a messy bun on the top of your head as you hustled behind the bar, mixing up drinks for the waiting Barbarians scattered about the space. A group of them huddled around the pool table drank and talked loudly, demanding their voices to be heard over the loud rock music playing from the old fashioned jukebox positioned in the corner. Jake gave them a quick assessment before returning his attention back to you.

You were wearing a muscle tank, if he had to guess, the same one from earlier, only this time you decided to put a bra on. Good Girl. The hot pink straps peaked from underneath the tank ever so slightly, he liked that even more. With a smirk plastered on his face, Jake made his way through the dimly lit bar, perching himself on the stool beside Ace and patting him on the shoulder, his eyes staying trained on you. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too busy fulfilling another drink order for a waiting couple. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering your body that, mixed with the contrastingly bright lights of the neon signs behind the bar, made you appear like an angel on earth. Glowing like a beacon, a beacon calling directly to Jake.

Before even glancing at him, you were talking. “What can I get for you?”

Jake chuckled at your obliviousness as he leaned forward onto the bar.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.”

When you finally turned to look at him, realization setting in, your face dropped, but Jake’s never faltered. He was a lot more handsome up close, something you hadn’t expected, but still relished in.

“Well, if it isn’t my Peeping Tom neighbor,” you smirked, wiping your hands on the towel that hung at your hip.

Your voice was like like honey. Smooth, rich, and pleasing to Jake’s ears. The very sound of it melded with the music filling the room made the hairs on his arms stand upright. It was as if every word you spoke was uttered with the intention of seduction, and it was working.

Your right eyebrow peaked on your face as you waited for his reply, arms crossing over your chest.

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one that came out of the house half naked,” he teased, his eyes boring directly into yours.

“You didn’t have to stare,” you quipped right back.

Jake shrugged, “how could I not?”

His response stunned you into silence, but not in a negative way. Being the object of his gaze, as good looking as he was, was enticing.

You’d never let him know that, though. So instead, you rolled your eyes and turned to pluck at the screen behind you.

“You want your tab opened, or closed?”

Jake was staring daggers into your back, still wearing that sly grin. His eyes traveled down to your ass, being hugged tightly by the black denim shorts you wore. They traveled further, all the way down your exposed legs and back up.

“Open…”

Ace turned his attention to the two of you, patting Jake on the shoulder, “no need, first rounds on me, sunshine.”

You smiled sweetly at Ace before pulling a glass down to prepare Jake’s drink.

“So, you’re Rex’s kid?” you asked.

Jake nodded, “the one and only. I think.”

You chuckled at his statement, knowing that when it came to Barbarians, that was probably a real concern. “Sorry to hear about his passing.”

He gave off another shrug as he retrieved his usual duo, a cigarette and his lighter, “wish I could say the same.”

This comment may have been off putting to others, but to you it was more than relatable.

You finished pouring his drink and slid it across the counter on a thin coaster.

“Well, he’ll be missed around here, anyway,” you glanced around the bar before focusing on Jake’s face, “but it seems like everyone’s glad to have you back.”

Jake’s attention was focused on getting his cigarette lit, and once it was, he looked back at you, noticing the way you were drinking in his features,his lips curled up around it.

“Glad to be back.”

He took his glass and raised it towards you, a silent confirmation that you were the reason for his satisfaction. You held each other’s gaze for what felt like forever, both grinning, yet silently assessing the other.

“Why do I feel like you’re nothing but trouble?” you questioned Jake, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Jake freed his mouth and leaned into you, and you instinctively did the same, your faces now hovering inches away from each other. The smell of tobacco on his breath was so intoxicating you could’ve kissed him in that very moment.

“Why do I feel the same about you?”

For a brief moment, you though he actually was about to kiss you, your mouths so close, all it took was one small movement to initiate. But just before it got to that point, Jake pulled away, standing from his seat and crossing over the the jukebox.

You watched as he flipped through the catalog, taking a sip of his drink in the process. Finally, Lick it Up by Kiss began playing loudly as Jake increased the volume. Turning back to you with that same smirk from before. He began nodding his head in an animated fashion, causing a real laugh to bubble up from inside of you. Something that didn’t happen often.

“He really is Rex’s boy!” Ace shouted over the music, calling out to everyone in the bar.

He raised his glass as everyone cheered, following suit. And once again, Jake looked to you, raising both his eyebrows and his glass.

You shook your head with a smile, “trouble.”

It was well after two am by the time you got off. Most of the gang had stayed right until close, and with only you and your coworker Angela left by the end of the night, closing took a lot longer than usual. And to make matters worse, you were now stranded at the gas station. Your old clunker had only managed to make it two miles up the road before it sputtered out, and now, it refused to start.

The cold desert air chilled your bones as you did your best to inspect under the hood, but with little to no knowledge about cars, you weren’t hopeful.

“Raggedy piece of shit,” you cursed as you kicked at one of the tires. You pulled your windbreaker tighter around your body and leaned back against the car, debating on whether or not you could conquer the mile and a half walk back home.

But just as the idea started becoming the best option, the sound of a motorcycle could be heard coming up the road. You watched as the driver pulled into the gas station, knowing well that it had to be a Barbarian, they were the only gang in the area. But what you didn’t expect was for that Barbarian to be Jake, still smiling as he pulled up beside you.

“You don’t look too happy.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but his smile was beginning to grow on you. So much so, that you could ignore his smart ass comment.

“My car won’t start.”

Jake turned off his bike and climbed off, not saying a word as he leaned down to look into the engine compartment.

You took in the way the muscles of his arms flexed as he gripped tightly on the sides of the car. The thought of him holding you that way sending a separate chill down your spine

After a few moments of inspection, he faced you again, just as you diverted your eyes to something else.

“Where do you want me to start?”

Your dropped your head into the palm of your hand, “fuck.”

Jake chuckled, “it’s alright. I might be able to fix it,” he sounded hopeful, though by just looking at it, he' knew it might be beyond saving, “have to get it towed first, though.”

You cursed again, you didn’t have the money for that.

“But for the time being, I can give you a ride. After all, we are neighbors.”

You glanced backup at his smirking face, wondering if he ever wore any other expression, “on your bike?”

He nodded, “what, you scared or something?”

Quite frankly, you couldn’t have been further from. Excited? A little turned on? Yes. Scared? Never.

“What’s your name?” you asked, deciding to ignore his statement. He took a step towards you and extended his hand, “I’m Jake. And you are?” You shook his hand softly and grinned mischievously, “wouldn’t you like to know?”

You removed your hand and climbed onto his bike, making sure to arch your back more than necessary.

That image of you on his bike that way was the first time Jake actually believed here might be a god. You were all too regal, even in your most natural state, he’d even dare to say perfect. And something so perfect had to be meticulously constructed by an all knowing power. He didn’t even care if he knew your name.

“I gotta run inside. Stay pretty.”

He left without another word, dissapearing into the store and leaving you out in the cold air. You waited patiently for him to return, and when he did, he climbed on in front of you. His already familiar scent filled your nostrils, and without though, you moved your body closer to his. Once he brought the bike to life you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his torso, bringing you a comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Will you be alright without a helmet?” he asked, shouting over the roaring engine.

“It’s only a mile and a half. I’ll be fine.”

He put the bike in drive, patting your thigh twice, “well then, hang on.”

He pulled out into the street slowly and began making his way down the long stretch of road. Releasing your hair from its bun, you leaned into Jake’s ear, “you can’t make this thing go any faster?” You were aware that he was doing the gentlemanly thing and taking it easy, but feeling the rush of the wind and the vibration of the road traveling through your body had you craving more. The freeing feeling that speeding down the road on the back of a bike was enticing, but so was the danger of it. That feeling of gambling life itself for a few seconds of exhilaration, it turned you on, the tense energy radiating off of you and onto Jake.

You couldn’t see it, but he smirked, reving up the engine as he began picking up speed, causing your adrenaline to spike. Once the deteriorating buildings that lined the street started becoming a blur, you released you hold on Jake’s waist and spread you arms out wide, tilting your head back to greet the night sky. The wind whipped your hair across your face, blinding you every few seconds, but that didnt deter you one bit.

A genuine laugh escaped Jake’s lips, “you’re a wild one,” he exclaimed, his voice barely audible against the roaring wind.

Cactus Creek was still when you and Jake returned, the loud hum of his engine feeling out of place in the quiet night. Jake could’ve easily parked in his own driveway and let you make the 50 feet walk back to your place, but instead, he parked right outside your front door, a little too close to your flowers for your liking. After helping you off, the two of you stood face to face. The thrill of the ride had yet to wear off, and all those feelings you felt while in the back of his bike were still very much alive inside of you.

“You seemed to have enjoyed yourself,” Jake chuckled as he removed his own hair from its bun. Never in your life had you seen such tangled locks look so good, you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it, preferably with his head between your legs.

A small grin appeared on your face as you took a step closer to him, “what can I say? I love a good ride.” He pulled you close as soon as you were in arms reach, letting one of his hands snake around your hip, just shy of your ass. His opposite hand found your hair, pulling back on it gently until you were looking him in the eyes.

“Is that right?”

Your lips ghosted against his as you spoke, “who doesn’t?”

Jake liked that answer. If the twitching of his cock that was pressed against your leg didn’t give it away, the look on his face sure did. His mouth dropped to press firm kisses along your collarbone. Your eyes fell closed when his tongue appeared to lick a long strip up your neck. He continued until his mouth was hovering by your ear.

“Something’s telling me you’re no good for me,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe to punctuate, “should probably stay away. But somehow that only makes me want you more.”

You pulled away to look him in the eye, shaking your head solemnly, “you don’t want me, Jake. I’m not the kind worth loving.”

He took a mental note of that statement, replaying it over and over in his head fo months to come. But for the time being, it remained tucked away. He smirked at you, “who said anything about falling in love?”

The look of lust in his eyes and the grip he still had on your waist was the nail in the coffin. With both hands, you took ahold of his fac and crashed your lips into his, nothing but primal desire behind it. He kissed you back immediately, his tongue delving into your mouth like it were seeking out shelter in the rain. You all but climbed him, tangling you legs around him as he made his way up the steps. You never locked your door, there was nothing in that place worth stealing, and your hand searched blindly behind you to open the door.

Once inside, Jake quickly cleared your entryway table— its contents clambering to the ground as you pushed the door shut. He sat you down roughly as his mouth returned to your neck, much less graceful than the first time. You pulled and tugged at his jacket until it slid off his body, leaving him in a plain black t shirt. Your finger clawed at it, pulling it up so that you could feel more of his skin against yours.

“Still not gonna tell me your name?” he huffed as his hands began groping your chest.

You sighed heavily, “nope.”

Jake chuckled, “that’s fine,” he squeezed your chest a little tighter, causing you to hiss, “I’ll jut have to come up with my own name for you then.

He licked into your open mouth slowly, making sure to really taste you as he did so. “Hmmm. How about Cherry?”

“Cherry?” you gulped, “why?”

Jake smiled at your moment of innocence, the way your eyes pleaded for an answer made both his cock and his heart ache.

“Cause you taste just as sweet as one.”

Before his compliment had a chance to make it’s way to your heart, you yanked him closer by the collar of his shirt, “are you gonna stand here and talk all night, or are you gonna fuck me?”

Jake’s smile fell, a carnal look taking over his face. His rough fingers began undoing the button on your shorts, not even taking a moment to pull them down before they were sliding into your wetness. An almost silent gasp left your mouth as your head fell back against the mirror, threatening to send it crashing down.

“Yeah, Cherry? Is that pretty little pussy ready to fuck?”

You nodded, once again clawing at his back as his fingers continued to skate about.

He removed his hand from your shorts and brought the digits up to his lips, slipping them into his mouth. Yeah, Cherry would do just fine.

“Let’s not keep her waiting then. I’m dying to meet her.” He hoisted you off the table and began walking towards the only door that could’ve lead to a bedroom. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you began making quick work of your clothes. Jake doing the same. He was undressed before you were, and your eyes immediately zeroed in on the myriad of scars that adorned his body.

Each of those scars held a story, some twisted, god awful story that probably came with a mental scar to match. You couldn’t help but wonder what kinds of things he had seen, lived. You had a moment of clarity then, of how similar the two of you were. Both marred by scars of the past, yet still somehow standing.

Something you’d noticed from the very beginning was how tired Jake’s eyes were. Though he smiled often, you could tell there was a heavy weight on his shoulders. And seeing him there, in all his raw naked glory, you wanted nothing more than to take some of that weight off, if only momentarily.

With enough time to recover from the putty like state he had you in earlier, you finished undressing yourself and pushed Jake down onto the bed with only a finger.

He grinned up at you, enjoying where this was headed. You slowly made your way up the bed, eyes locked on his as your fingers began grazing along his skin. You were so occupied with taking in the rest of him, you hadn’t even taken a moment to look at his cock. But just as you suspected, it was as perfect as the rest of him. Radiating a cherry shade of red from the tip, like it was made just for you.

Straddling his waist, you raked your fingers through your untamed hair, Jake’s hands came up to massage your ass, “you did say you loved a good ride, huh?”

One of your hands began stroking along him gently, collecting the pre cum from his tip to ease your movements. The goofy grin he was wearing faltered as he let out a shaky breath.

Raising your hips, you peered down your nose at him, “don't worry. I’ll hang on.”

You sank down on him in one fluid motion, both of you moaning loudly at the way you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Jake’s fingers dug into your skin, and you welcomed the pain, throwing your head back in ecstasy as he stirred inside of you. When he loosened his grip, you took that as an invitation to begin moving, and using his chest for leverage, you began grinding your hips against him. He allowed you to do so for awhile, laying his bed back out the pillow as he watched you move against him eagerly. His hands felt their way up your body, one of them snaking up into your hair while the other came up to your mouth. You welcomed his fingers, sucking them past your lips as you clawed at his exposed chest. When Jake noticed you tracing on of the scars on his abdomen he looked up at you, searching for disappointment in your eyes. But there was none, not even an inch.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered to him as you raised you hips to slide off of him, just to the tip, before sinking back down with a gasp.

Jake was never one to take compliments well, but he could tell you meant it. He grabbed ahold of your hips again and began thrusting upwards into you, speeding up the tempo at which you were moving. It was obvious that this wasn’t something that was meant to go on all night long. Both of you were clearly in need of blowing off steam, and by the way both of your bodies were reacting, you knew the end was coming soon.

He sent a harsh slap to the side of your thigh, his teeth bared as he tried to maintain his composure. “You take dick so fucking good,” he complimented as he watched the way your tits bounced from the force of the movement.

Your head lulled forward to smile at him, “I know.”

Jake returned the gesture, a soft groan escaping his mouth, “I’m gonna cum, Cherry.”

“Me too, Jake,” you wined, “don’t stop.”

He sought out your clit, rubbing slow circles against it as he continued to pound up into you. “Yeah. I bet you make the prettiest faces when you cum. I can’t wait to see.”

Your hips began faltering, and Jake could feel you clenching around him, causing a deep growl to grumble up from inside of him.

“There it is. I feel it, Cherry.”

“Cumming,” you sighed, “I’m cumming.” With one final bounce on his cock, you were cumming hard and loud. You were never one to be ashamed of being loud during sex, it made it feel that much better. And Jake enjoyed it thurrougly. The way your brows were knitted together, head thrown back, nails carving angry marks into his chest beside his scars. And your moans, to Jake, they were the sweetest sounds to ever come out of Genoa.

He fucked you through to your end before wrenching you off of him and pumping along his shaft. You were laid out beneath him, both of you watching each other as he continued jerking himself.

Jake’s eyes grew dark, “you want it, don’t you? In that sweet little mouth?”

Your jaw fell open, inviting him to do exactly what it was you were both think. The sight of it sent Jake’s release crashing into him.

“Such a nasty thing, aren’t you Cherry? Oh fuck… fuckkkk.”

Hot spurts of his release began dripping down into your mouth, some of it landing on your breasts and cheeks, but you caught as much of it as you could.

His legs were shaking by the time he was empty, and he collapsed back down onto the bed beside you, fighting to catch his breath. His hand searched for his discarded t-shirt, bringing it to wipe away the remains of the mess he left on your skin. You smiled up at him as he did so, “thank you.”

He took a moment to look at you, really look at you. Your eyes held a certain softness that captured his attention, yet, there was something lurking behind that gentle facade, something that hinted at a hidden depth. It was as if there were an entire secret world behind your eyes, one that Jake coould’t decipher.

There was no denying the allure you possessed, your beauty and your aura were nothing short of captivating. But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that behind that beauty lay a trail of buried skeletons.

Getting reacquainted with the Barbarians was trouble enough, a path filled with danger and uncertainty. And intertwining himself with you seemed to add another layer of complexity. Despite all of that, though, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. There was a magnetic pull, a force that defied reason and lured him further into your orbit.

But he’d leave that alone for now. He had to burry his father tomorrow, and that was a burden of its own.

He lowered himself back onto the bed, pulling the sheet up over you body as you slowly began drifting off to sleep, hoping that he could do the same.

2. Our Old Friend, Death

Taglist: @myownparadise96 @writingcold @jordie-gvf

#greta van fleet #gvf #daniel wagner #greta van fleet smut #greta van fic #greta van smut #jake gvf #danny gvf #gvf fic #greta van fluff #greta van angst #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf imagine #gvf blurb #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #gvf fluff #gvf x reader #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut

[farfromstrange]

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 2: Butterfly Pea Flower On Ice

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (afab)

Summary: Michael has a rough night. When he finds his way to you after only barely keeping himself from making a mistake, he’s miserable and you are… well, he’s not quite sure what you are, but it involves two rusty nails and a wooden sign that just won’t stay where it is, so in need for a distraction and slightly worried about you, he decides to help you out. You reward him by making him yet another extraordinary coffee drink from the menu. Or, you make another sneaky move at Michael after he’s so kind to help you out, hoping he will someday act on your hopeless flirt attempts.

Warnings: Angst (18+ MINORS DNI), past trauma, self-harm, blood, panic attack, Mikey just hates himself, but then there’s some fluff, bad flirting, attempt at humor, and then some angst again.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/n: This time, I dive more into Michael’s mental state. So this is angsty, then he gets some comfort from you, but then it gets angsty again because well, it’s Mikey. He’s stuck in an endless cycle, it seems. I feel so bad for him… but at least he gets a lil' hug?? I hope you like it!

Read Part 1 Here...

His sleep is restless. The memories cage him in like a wild animal. One second, he can breathe, the next the world around him turns into a blur and the oxygen in his lungs gets lost. It’s like someone is sitting on his chest and he can’t escape their claws as they tear him to shreds. 

He wakes up drenched in sweat and tears. The sheets stick to his clammy skin. On weak knees, he makes his way to the bathroom. The floor seems to disappear as his past pulls it out from under him. 

Pictures flash across his mind. His thoughts start a downward spiral again, one he can’t seem to stop. He’s panting, pathetically so. The cold water he splashes on his face does little to soothe the burning ache that seems to burn through every nerve like acid. 

Michael clings to the edge of the sink. He wants to shut it off; he wants to stop thinking. He wants to stop remembering. He wants to stop being him. The things he did… every time he closes his eyes, he sees the blood that once covered the floor of his apartment, the bullet holes in the walls. He thinks of Anna. It’s his fault she lost her mother. It’s his fault she’s traumatized. All of it – all of it, his fault. 

As he stares at himself in the mirror, he finds only a shell staring back at him. So many people have tried telling him that he’s the victim, that perhaps he is sick, but the only sick thing about him is his mind, and he feels entirely responsible for that.

His fist lands in the glass of the mirror. It cracks. The glass is thin and the shards instantly scratch the surface of his knuckles, some of them digging into the skin and painting the sink beneath him red with his blood. 

Only when the sharp pain reaches his consciousness, Michael finds a way back to himself. He stares at the split skin, watches the blood pool out of the wounds, and the tremor turns into a quiver of shock. It burns, but it burns so good. 

He catches the blood with a towel. The first-aid kit isn’t far. Though for a second he considers if he should even allow himself to do so. The pain reminds him that he is alive, and the blood writes a poem on the tiles. A poem of hate, broken love, and self-destruction. There is no hope, only pain, and the blood is a reminder of that. He may be only human, but all the destruction in his life, he caused himself. His blood is a reminder that no one controls him quite like himself, even though he likes to blame it on his surname.

A few doors down, the light at Jimmy’s and Amanda’s place is still on, though they don’t hear the ear-piercing scream that passes Michael’s lips and leaves him crying on the bathroom floor. It’s something they don’t know and he wishes they never have to see. He’s broken, maybe even beyond repair, and he has no one to blame but himself, and that makes him even more miserable.

The pain eats him alive, slowly but steadily. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t breathe. His hand is bandaged now, though only poorly. There is not much more he can take. The tiles are cold, but he can barely feel them. The scream still echoes minutes later, and his voice sounds deafening in his ears.

He just wants this to stop.

As the pictures start flashing slower, the blood loss and fatigue settling into his bones, he remains on the floor. He doesn’t have the strength to get back up. His tears stain his cheeks and wet his beard, and the blood from his knuckles starts seeping through the bandage and back onto the floor. He can’t be bothered to clean any of it. 

His eyes flutter, but he doesn’t fall asleep. He’s not sure what state he is in, but he’s not alive. He can’t be alive. Everything’s surreal. The pain hit him hard and now he feels nothing. In a matter of a few seconds, everything stops and he becomes numb, but the numbness hurts even more, and that makes him scream until he has no voice left. And then he gets quiet again. 

Ever quiet, and shy Michael who’s only like this because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to say because he’s scared of himself, and it’s best to keep himself locked away than hurt someone he cares about again. He loves his family, but this is his future he’s talking about, and his daughter… Anna needs a father, and he’s failed her before. He doesn’t want to be the same failure anymore, even though he knows that by lying on the floor and forcing himself to bleed out a wound he inflicted on himself, he has already failed her again because he just wants to give up. And he’s starting to think that there might not be much more he can do, anyway.

Michael wallows until the sun comes up, then he gets up as if nothing happened. 

He sits in a restaurant for a while, staring out of the window. Anna looks so much older now than when he left her. She reminds him of her mother. With her uniform and her little backpack, she walks across the street Michael is observing, heading toward the school that is hiding behind the trees. 

She always takes the bus from home. Home with her grandma, he knows. But that’s not where she should be. She should be home with him. She probably doesn’t even know he’s out yet, and he’s not sure if he wants her to find out before he can even account for the fact that he’s made changes. 

He needs to get a job, get his life back on track, and fight for her. He’s sworn himself as much. But as he watches her walk past him without even looking through the window of the restaurant, his heart aches and it breaks because damn it, what was he thinking? He’s her father, but she barely knows him, and he’s far from being a good father figure. He’s not sure he can ever be. 

Paying for his one black coffee, Michael heads out. The cold air hits him. He shivers. He’s not freezing, not at all. Truth hurts, and he hates that it does. It makes him feel so small, and useless like he can’t achieve anything other than cause chaos. And the worst part is, he is completely and utterly alone in this. 

His feet carry him down a familiar street until he stops in front of the same place he sought solace in the day before.

You’re rearranging the lunch offers sign right by the door, not even noticing that he’s standing on the other side of the street, observing your every movement. 

Michael hesitates. It’s not a good idea, but his apartment feels suffocating and he can’t talk to his family because they don’t understand. They know he wants his daughter back, they just don’t understand the sacrifices he’s willing to make, that he has to make, and he doesn’t want to find himself in the same shit position again that even led him to this point eight years ago. 

This is where he lands, the Butterfly Effect café and he can’t quite believe his eyes that you’re truly there. 

He still has the empty coffee cup from the day before standing on the dining table at home. 

You’re completely oblivious to his presence. Instead, you turn back around and walk back behind the counter. 

The café isn’t busy yet. You have just opened your doors, and since you’re on the early bird shift today, your job is to prepare everything and make sure everything’s perfect by the time the first batch of customers comes around. The coffee machines are all working, the plants have been watered, and the display with your baked goods is up and ready. Except for the sign with the menu above your head. 

Every last drink was handwritten by you, and the place is perfect, right where everyone can see it. You had to do a few minor changes before opening and decided to take it down to make the chalk letters look their best. Ever since then, you haven’t been able to get it back up. The wood is hanging on by a last nail, but you can’t seem to reach it without a proper ladder – you’re currently kneeling on a very high counter – and to you, it seems straight until you move away and it no longer does, and the fact that the sign keeps slipping infuriates you. If you can’t keep it up there, you have to find another way and then the aesthetic will be ruined. And your boss will murder you, so you have to try, but every time you try, you find yourself beaten again. 

It’s you against a wooden board that’s been written on with chalk and a few rusty nails. You’ve mastered harder tasks. Yet, you keep failing.  

You take another step back and look at the sign. It’s still tilted slightly to the right, and keeping it up there might be considered a hazard with how unsafe it looks. 

The ringing of the bell above the door goes right over your head. You’re too frustrated to focus. If someone wanted to steal the register, they might as well have succeeded. 

“That’s a bit wonky,” a voice pipes up behind you. 

You jump. You had gotten so used to the silence of being alone in the café, you forgot that you opened the doors to the public before you started struggling with the sign. 

You almost fall off the counter when you turn to look at him. “Jesus!” you curse. 

Michael takes an instinctive step forward. He’s not close enough to catch you, but he likes to think he is. He could get behind the counter and make sure you don’t trip and break your neck, but that would be pushing boundaries he doesn’t like. 

“Careful,” he says. 

“I’m alright.” You pray to the rusty nail to hold the sign for long enough so you can serve him – he’s here for coffee, right? “I was just trying to fix the sign, but seems like it can’t be fixed.” You throw your hands up. “This day is going majorly well!”

He looks back at you, the broken expression that has yearned for an escape replaced by a flicker of regret. He walked the streets of the new yet familiar prison that has become his life to get here. He got out, but he hasn’t been able to come home; he wonders if he can even come home when there is no actual home to come back to. Everything feels so strange now, even the walls he’s living in. They hurt the most of them all.

“I can go if this isn’t the right time.” The last thing he wants is to be an inconvenience. He shifts his weight onto his heels, ready to turn around and run. “This was a bad idea,” he murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing close enough to form a deep crease between them, “Sorry.”

You stop and stare at him, your brain processing his face and his words at the same time. He’s wearing a different sweater underneath his jacket today. It’s crinkled and in need of some ironing, but he doesn’t seem to care much. 

You see his mind making the decision to leave for whatever reason that you can’t tell, and you reach out. “No!” you’re quick to say. 

Something tells you letting him go is a bad idea, and not just because he’s a possible paying customer. There is a reason you wrote the note on his coffee cup the other day and it has never wavered. It persists. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but you also remember telling him to come back someday, and he did. 

Your words sound a little more desperate than you intended them to. 

There is something different about him today. His eyes are sunken; he looks like he hasn’t slept all night, or he didn’t sleep well, at least. You feel a bubble of concern grow in your chest and spread through your entire body. Like the roots of a tree that wrap around anything they can find. It makes its home there. 

Michael stops when you say, “You don’t have to leave. This is an open café.”

He turns back to you, his expression unreadable. He was an easier book to decipher before, now he just seems cold. There is a fire burning bright inside of him and he is about to implode, but he tries so hard to hide it, you can’t see behind the iron curtain he has lowered around himself. He craves coffee, which is why his feet carried him to you, but he also needs more. He hates that he needs more. He hates that he doesn’t know what he needs, but he can’t be alone. He’s lost. He’s all of that and yet it doesn’t even cut close. 

The tears weigh heavy behind his eyes. They’re glossed over from the strain it takes for him to stop himself from crying, he has been doing so ever since he laid eyes on Anna only a few minutes ago. He knows what he wants, but he is helpless to get it. It’s a particular kind of pain, not many people can understand, and he can’t describe it, but it’s awful, and it breaks his heart all over again, every damn day. Today has been a lot, and the day is just getting started. He’s not sure how long he can survive this before losing himself. 

Fighting is so much harder when you always seem to lose. 

You watch him, your fingers fidgeting nervously before you. You often know what to say, but right now, your mind is wiped clean. “You came back,” you eventually speak up. 

He smiles, his demeanor reserved but somehow he looks relieved when he hears you talk like that again – kind, understanding, and calm. You’re the only calm thing in his vicinity, and just for a moment, the tornado in his heart transitions into merely a hurricane. The café is empty besides him and you, and part of the stress on his shoulders seems to ease just a little.

“Michael, was it?”

He nods. “Yeah.” 

You even remember his name.

A smile finds its way onto your face. You try not to let the nerves show, or the fact that you’re overwhelmed and flustered. You’re a mess, and today it doesn’t exactly feel like you can stand by it. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I remember your order. I’m not stalking you or anything, but I remember recommending the toffee nut latte to you,” you say, trying to explain yourself somehow, even though he looks nowhere near as uncomfortable with the conversation as you do. “I thought maybe… maybe that’s why you came back.”

Or because of the note, you think to yourself. Hope always dies last. You almost feel bad for assuming because looking at him, he doesn’t look okay, and you’re utterly selfish for wanting this to be about you. This is about him. It should be. You’re no expert, but you’ve seen your fair share of people in pain, mentally and physically, and he might as well fit into both categories. 

You just don’t understand, and it stresses you out. You usually don’t let men stress you out, they’re often not worth it and they use your kind heart for what it is, but Michael has a way of getting under your skin without even trying. Once again, it adds to the stress. It’s a stress you can’t pinpoint because it results in inner turmoil and confusion that drives you up the walls. 

“Yeah,” he’s even quieter than the day before. 

You’re not sure if he means, “Yeah, that’s why I came back.” Or, “Yes, that’s who I am but that’s not why I came.”

You tilt your head, trying not to prod him with the questions that are burning inside of you. “Did you like it?” you ask. “Or are you here to tell me it sucked and you’re never coming back here?”

The waters you’re treading are dangerous. 

“No, I liked it. I–“ 

Your eyes light up. “Yes?” 

“Yeah, it was grand. I just–“ A lot is going on in his head, and he can’t sort it. You’re smiling at him and he’s reminded of the day before, but then he thinks about what happened after that, late at night and the early hours of the morning, and his knuckles start to throb with the cruel reminder.

What is he doing? Why is he here? Why is he so desperate for something he doesn’t even understand? 

You eye him again. Etched into his features, the frown only deepens. There’s not much difference about him physically, but the sun is out today and he still looks like it’s been raining in his heart for years. It breaks you and you don’t even know him. He avoids eye contact, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You can tell he’s trying to say something but at the same time stay silent because he’s scared. Why, you don’t know.

You wipe your hands on your apron and take another step forward. “Okay,” you murmur. “Can I help you with anything?”

Your voice is oh so soft. He sucks in a sharp breath. The sound caresses his cheeks, but the touch burns. He feels like he is Lucifer on his way to hell. 

“Coffee, maybe?” You’re trying hard to elicit some sort of reaction out of him, to get a sense of what he’s feeling and what you can do to make his day because quite frankly, if he was here because of the note, he would have mentioned it by now.

Maybe he’s seeking comfort, and you’d be the last person not to help a person in need out.

The sign above your head creaks. There is a God, after all, Michael thinks. He looks up at the contraption you failed to save before.

“Looks dangerous,” he states, skillfully avoiding your other question.

You follow the direction of his finger – it’s his uninjured hand. “Yeah, the nails are rusty and it just won’t stay in place, but I don’t have any nails here to fix it,” you say.

He nods. “Do ya have a hammer?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

You blink in surprise at his assertive tone. It’s not particularly harsh, but it also leaves no room for you to argue. Something dark flashes in his eyes, which is instantly replaced by a fear of having gone too far. His lips part to apologize. 

“I have a hammer,” you say, and you try to smile enough to ease his conscience. 

You’re used to customers being rude to you, and Michael isn’t rude, you would never consider the tone of his voice anything near that, at least not with you; he caught you off guard, that’s all. He sounds so confident when he wants to. He would make a great leader, you’re sure.

It’s not fear that spreads through your veins, you hope he realizes that. You’re even more intrigued now, and maybe you’re a little excited, too. You’re not sure, you know you shouldn’t be, but there is something about his voice and the sharpness of his words that send a shiver down your spine, and it lands right where your legs cross below what he can see on his side of the counter. 

He tries to return your smile as much as he can. “Let me fix it for ya,” he says. 

You stammer, “Fix it?”

“Yeah.”

The suggestion is a helpful one, and under any other circumstance, you would have said it’s sweet, but this is your workplace and he’s a customer. You’re not allowed to let anyone beyond the small bullpen that separates you and him. If this had been your home or any other place with a wonky sign and not the job you’re dependent on to survive, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. 

“I think I know how to fix it,” Michael tells you, “Ya just have to let me try.”

He hardly gets to fix anything. It’s just a sign, but it seems like something he is good at and he doesn’t want you to be frustrated or scared of losing your job anymore. He wants to help. He wants to feel useful. He wants the day to feel less like a waste of his existence and more like he’s making a difference, and an act of kindness that you are in desperate need of feels right to him. 

Though when he notices that you’re hesitating, he is about ready to retreat into his shell and bury himself so deep, no one can find him anymore. 

You scratch the back of your head. “I don’t know,” you admit. “You get that if something happens to you, I’ll lose my job, right? It has something to do with insurance and the general policy or something. I signed a contract. It’s complicated. I… I love this job. I need it.”

The sign creaks again. He sighs. “What if it drops on yer head?”

Looking behind you, the nail on the right is moving another millimeter downward. 

The inside of your cheek is bleeding now from how hard you’re biting down on it. You shouldn’t let the thought of him coming closer to you and pretty much saving your ass and allowing you to maybe get to know him a little better drive you, but it does anyway. Sometimes, you tend to be a little reckless, and Michael brings it out in you. 

“Now, will ya let me take a look at it or are ya too damn proud to admit ya need help?”

He’s one to talk.

Fuck it, you think. If the sign falls and destroys all of the equipment below, it’s your neck they’re going to have for the accident anyway because you know it’s loose, but you would have kept it like that if Michael hadn't popped out of nowhere. You don’t even know the guy, but his offer to help is something you can’t turn down. Besides, you’re desperate and know the first regulars will start coming in soon, so time is of the essence. You can’t fix the sign and serve customers at the same time. You’re not a robot, and your colleague’s shift starts in an hour, so you’re alone until then. 

Michael is the only beacon of hope to get you through the day with all of your limbs still intact.  

With a hesitant nod, you give him the go-ahead. “You can take a look at it if you want,” you say.

“Thanks,” he says. 

It’s different to see him fully. He discards his jacket, pulling the sleeves of his sweater up. He’s wearing a T-shirt underneath. A gray one. You try not to stare too much, but his right forearm and the tattoos that litter his skin quickly catch your attention. And he’s taller now that he’s standing almost entirely in front of you. 

He meets your eyes. Your skin flushes a soft pink, but you can’t look away. He has a hold on you. He’s got you under his spell. His brown eyes look like honey in the sunlight, and the specks of green remind you of an enchanted forest. An ancient tree, maybe. His hair is dark, but whenever the light shines on it, it seems to sparkle just a little lighter. You feel like a psycho with the way you’re staring, but as you meet his eyes, you notice you’re not the only one. 

Michael can’t help it, the way his eyes roam so effortlessly over your body. The apron you’re wearing is black, and you’ve changed the butterfly clip, but the look is the same. You’re wearing a dress today and a pair of sneakers. Your hair is tied up half like the day before, the shiny locks cascading down your back. The color of your eyes seems to reflect in the sunlight, and there is a glow on your face that doesn’t get overshadowed, not even when you feel frustrated. 

Like the idiot you are, you extend your hand and decide to introduce yourself properly. You tell him your name, your eyes hopeful enough. 

Hesitantly, he takes your hand into his injured one. The bandage feels weird against your skin, and your eyes widen a little. His hand didn’t look like that when you first met him. 

“Michael,” he says.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, then look back down at his hand that is still in yours. His grip is firm yet gentle, but you can feel the warmth of the injury under your fingers. “What happened to your hand?” you add. It’s a daring question, but you’re nothing if not curious. 

He pulls back, hiding his hand behind his back again. “Had a wee accident, nothing serious. I’m a’right.”

The second he pulls back, you feel a sharp pang in your chest. You feel like you’ve scared him away now. “Oh. I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Could ya just give me that hammer so I can do my job?”

You nod, rummaging through the drawer next to the coffee maker for the small hammer you keep around for the smaller signs that often switch places in the café. You meet his eyes when you hand it over, but he only briefly brushes you before pulling the ladder you use to reach the spare mugs on the highest shelf above you in front of himself, and he climbs on top of it. 

Michael removes the sign with ease, examining the nails on either side. They’re both rusty and the holes in the walls have expanded over time, but he sees no reason to change them right away. He flicks the right one with his finger and pushes it in a little further, changing the angle of the impact. It doesn’t budge. 

“Hm,” he murmurs to himself before turning back to you. You’re watching him like a hawk.

“And?” you ask, part of you now terrified of being completely fucked in more ways than one, and none of it the good kind. 

He offers you a small smile. “You’ve got customers coming in.”

The bell above the door rings. 

You sigh. “Great.”

“I’ve got it,” he assures you. 

“If you fall and break your neck—”

His smile turns into a chuckle. “I won’t.” Then, he turns back around and starts gently hitting the nail on its rusty head with the hammer. 

You have no choice but to serve the couple that has come in. If Michael knows what he’s doing, you have nothing to worry about, but you can’t help stealing the occasional glance at him as you brew the coffee and manually steam some milk for the woman’s latte. You don’t even try selling any of the new drinks on the menu since it feels wrong to offer diversity when the back of the counter looks like a construction site, but they seem happy and satisfied when you offer them a free butterfly cookie – because on Tuesdays, there are always free cookies. They find their place somewhere in the café and you just pray they’re satisfied enough to keep quiet about the sign.

It’s not even a big deal, you know that. It happens to the best people, and you’re just a barista in an under-staffed, very loved café in a part of Dublin that is known for destroying every small business it can find and plastering the name of an overpriced franchise on it, or simply tearing down the building and replace it with something else entirely. That’s why you can’t afford mishaps. You need this job, you need to find your footing elsewhere before you can even think about quitting, and you need the Butterfly Effect to stay popular so you won’t get another identity crisis and lose not only your job but the entire café as well. You’re an overthinker, and it’s exhausting to be scared all the time, but you can’t help it when the reality of your situation is what it is. And it’s very real. You’re happy and you have enough money to survive. That can’t change, not until you’ve finally got the means to make your other dreams come true and you can leave the past behind. 

That might take some time, but you need the time, too. And you know everyone else you work with thinks the same. You can’t blame them. No one can. 

You stop sulking to look up, and it’s then that Michael puts the sign with the menu back up. It’s as straight as it was before, if not more. You quickly swallow your sip of water and put the bottle away, staring at him and his handiwork with a mixture of surprise and awe written all over your face. 

“No way,” you breathe. 

He gets off the ladder, satisfied with what he managed to do, and then he turns to you to get your approval. Your smile is answer enough. 

“I managed to get the nails further in,” he says, “but ya need to get them switched out as soon as ya can.”

“I don’t know what to say. You fixed it!”

“Yeah.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his arm. Your eyes drill into his, and he swallows thickly at the intensity of your gaze. Goosebumps form on his skin. He finds himself looking at where you’re touching him. It’s a gentle rhythm your finger is drumming on his skin, but he doesn’t mind. You’re being soft with him, almost like he is made out of glass. Seconds start feeling like hours. The air sizzles like a broken power cord. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Before Michael can answer, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and you pull him into a hug. You, the kind-hearted stranger that he knows he doesn’t deserve, are hugging him, and you pour so much affection into it, he shivers and the tears start knocking on the window of his soul again, asking to be let out. It’s the kind of touch that tingles long after it’s gone, but you’re so warm, your skin is so soft and God, you smell divine. You’re heaven on earth, and your hair feels as shiny as it looks. 

He hugs you back. He only endures it when other people touch him, even though he craves it. This is the first time he’s felt this comfortable in years, and your touch becomes a remedy he never thought he would be able to find. 

You pull away after a moment. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

He hasn’t quite processed your reaction yet, so all he does is nod. As your grip loosens completely, he slips out and reaches for his discarded jacket. He puts it back on, clearly planning on leaving. The coffee he told himself he would come here for is long forgotten. The hug unraveled something in him, and the way it makes him feel is vulnerable. He can feel the guard he keeps high around his heart slowly slipping away. Your kindness is a trojan horse and you’ve almost managed to breach all of his defenses. 

Not wanting him to leave, you find yourself reaching for his arm before he can step back in front of the counter. “How about I repay you with another coffee?” you ask. “It’s on the house.”

You hope he says yes, even if it means just a few more minutes with him. 

Michael stares at your hand and how close it’s hovering above his bandage. You meet his eyes, moving your gaze lower. He can tell the question once again burns on the tip of your tongue, but whatever curiosity you have, you swallow. You swallow it for the sake of his comfort, for the sake of getting another chance, and not to scare him away. He’s like a deer in headlights to you, and deers are shy. 

Why you’re so obsessed with him, you’re not sure. It can’t be healthy, neither for your heart nor for your job, but he is different in a way that redirects your focus solely on the man he is. You don’t focus on his looks, you focus on Michael alone, and he’s not used to the kind of attention you’re willing to give him, so he’s stuck in a stormy, unfamiliar land, and you’ve got him almost entirely exposed. 

This is new for both of you, but for him, it’s worse because he’s forgotten what it’s like to be with people that have never set foot into his life before, and you? You’re a breath of fresh air, something he knows he tends to corrupt and disrupt, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. He’s weak, he’s needy and it’s you. God, it’s just you, it’s all of you, and it drives him crazy, it makes him angry and it makes him want to run out of fear, just to protect you, to protect himself, to stop his life from spiraling out of control and hurting any more people, but you’re normal; Michael needs normal because that’s what he needs to learn how to be if he wants his daughter back and start anew, maybe even get a proper second chance. 

But it’s hard. It’s so, so hard. 

He hears himself talk, but he’s not in control. “On the house, huh?” he answers like he doesn’t understand what it means, or what you’re trying to tell him. Maybe he doesn’t. 

The note was nice, but to him, you seem like the kind of person that would do such a thing for about anyone who has a bad day, and he knows he looks like he has bad days rather frequently. Why he can’t admit to himself that you’re making yet another move at him, that’s not entirely clear. It’s good that you’re normal and deep down, he knows you’re good for him, but it’s also the reason why admitting it to himself is such an inner conflict. Everything that isn’t good for him always ends up being Michael’s first choice because the pain is a bittersweet reminder of what he thinks he deserves. And you don’t deserve a man like that. 

The hope in your eyes reignites. “I can make you another toffee nut latte,” you offer. You sound a little shy, but you look even cuter up close. 

“I was gonna order a—”

“Don’t say double–”

“Double espresso,” he says, and you find yourself uttering the same two words at the same time. 

Your eyes meet, and then you find yourself laughing. The clear sound fills the room with its soft melody. He looks away, his blush palpable as he tries hard not to smile, but he can’t help it. 

“Yer gonna refuse to serve me a double espresso, aren’t ya?” He looks back at you. 

You gnaw on your lip sheepishly. “Maybe,” you say. “But if you don’t want the same as yesterday, I have something else I think you’ll like.”

“I’m not adventurous.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Are ya going to let it be if I say no?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Probably not.”

“And if I say yes?” 

“You just have to trust me.”

Trusting you, he thinks, can’t be so hard. You’re an easy person to trust. You’re not the enemy. And you’re also not going to poison him.  

Michael sighs. “Yer insufferable,” though he says it with a smile. 

You take the glint in his eyes as a silent answer. As he moves back to his designated spot in front of the counter, you grab a plastic cup to your left. “You okay with iced coffee?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows.

“I take it that’s not something you have thought about often?”

“I don’t drink ice,” he says. 

“First of all, it’s not pure ice. It’s just coffee with ice cubes. A Frappuccino would be drinking the ice cubes with your drink because they get tossed in the blender with the rest of the ingredients. And second of all, you must have been curious about iced coffee at least once. Or have you never at least tried it?” 

“Never.”

“Well, you just have to really trust me on this then.” 

“If I get a brain freeze because of ya–”

You smirk. “Trust me, Michael.”

He caves. 

Michael watches you move with grace. You’re completely in your element. Every once in a while, your hips sway to the rhythm of whatever song is playing on the radio, and you seem a lot happier now than before. He’s made your day with a simple gesture, and he feels proud of himself for that. He used his hands for good this time. He succeeded. He made himself useful, even if it was just a simple wooden sign that needed to be adjusted. And now he’s getting a free coffee for it. 

Maybe being forced to wash cars instead of getting a proper job with Amanda just because Frank can’t live with him not wanting to do dirty work anymore isn’t something he should settle for, after all, no matter how good it may look on the papers for the court. 

After a few minutes of debating whether or not to bring up the courage to ask you, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of ice cubes clinking together, and you place the plastic cup on the counter before him. 

He expected an iced latte or a frappuccino maybe, but not whatever it is that you have just placed before him. The drink is blue, maybe even a little shiny in the sunlight. The ice cubes are dancing around each other inside the plastic cup, and there is a tiny blue flower swimming in the foam on top. 

Your smile widens at his surprised expression. He looks impressed, even. You take a straw and poke it through the hole, then push it closer for Michael to grab. 

“What’s that s’posed to be?” he asks. He’s a little weary as he eyes the cup. 

“Poison,” you deadpan. 

He frowns. 

You snort at how easily he seems to believe you. He’s… unique. “Kidding! It’s not poison, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind that would poison their customer with a fuckin’ blue potion.”

“Hey!”

It’s his turn to smirk, but when he does, it looks a little dirtier than yours. “Just messin’ with ya,” he says. He tries to imitate you, but he fails miserably. 

You roll your eyes, encouraging him to take the cup. “It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower,” you explain, and your voice is no longer joking. “It’s not a poisonous flower. It’s originally from Asia, that’s where it grows, but you can get it in many other countries. And it’s edible. If you buy it to make drinks or coffee, it usually comes like this–” you lift the small package with the blue powder that you’ve used to pour into the milk of his latte, “but don’t let the color fool you because it tastes delicious. The flower itself has a natural blue tint, so the powder does too. The flowers in the foam taste like nothing because they’re just edible flowers, they’re not the same. Oh, and the coffee itself,” you say, “is the strongest espresso we have mixed with some milk and a sweet, sweet layer of foam with a sprinkle of chocolate and caramel. You’re welcome.”

You wink at him. He finally takes it, sniffing the content. “Hm,” he murmurs. 

“What now?”

“Smells… normal,” he says. 

“You seriously think I’d poison you?”

If only you knew the things he’s encountered before. But no, he doesn’t think that – he would never. Not from you, anyway. 

“If you keep thinking of me like that, I’ll give you a reason to think of me like that,” you say. It doesn’t as terrifying now that you’ve said it.

Michael bites back a grin. “Yeah, sure,” he says.

Asshole, you think.

He guides the straw to his mouth and sucks on it. You look away quickly. The way his lips purse around the top shortly after his tongue has traced a circle around it have you regretting your choice to offer an iced coffee instead of a regular latte. 

Who would have thought that the shy, almost damaged-looking man who helped you out when you needed it after you helped him out when he needed it would be such a fucking tease. 

He leaves the bitter yet sweet liquid to rest on his tongue for a bit. You see the wheels in his head turn, and his eyebrows furrow as he judges the taste. His lips smack, the foam making his tongue feel fuzzy, but the taste itself is unique. Very unique. It’s different than a traditional latte, and it’s not just the color. He doesn’t know what to say at first because even with your first recommendation that you forced him to order, you did not fail, and you also didn’t disappoint with this one, either. 

“And?” you ask. 

“Hm.”

“Michael.”

“Delicious,” he says. 

It’s as good as it gets. 

“Told you,” you smile. 

He returns the smile in a smaller manner, but he’s smiling nonetheless. “I’ve never had iced coffee before, but ya made it easy to like.”

That’s an even bigger compliment and your sass from before vanishes into a flush. 

“Are ya sure it’s on the house?”

“Very much so,” you say. 

Reaching beside you, you grab one of the butterfly cookies and place it on a napkin. You hesitate. Looking up at him sipping his iced latte, you ask yourself if you should just mention the note to him and crush your hopes before you can get them up, but it’s still a bold move. And you’re unsure. You’re shy. You don’t trust your voice. So you take the Sharpie and start writing on the napkin before sliding it into a paper bag together with his free cookie and handing it back to Michael. 

Maybe he will read it, and if he does, he’ll know that the first note wasn’t a coincidence and that this is meant for him and him only. You don’t do this for everyone. You can hear Sarah laughing in the back of your head, and she would have told you to ask him personally and cut this back-and-forth short, but something tells you that writing notes is an easier way into his heart than confronting him with something that might overwhelm him the same way it does you. 

The bag slips out of your hand when he takes it, frowning at you once again. 

“It’s Tuesday, and everyone gets a free butterfly cookie on Tuesdays,” you tell him. 

It dawns on him. You did the same thing for the couple that’s still sitting in the corner of the café. He nods and takes it. It’s just a cookie, after all. 

He turns to leave and he hears you say, “Have a good day, Michael!” It doesn’t sound like the voice you use with your other customers. This is the you he expects you to be outside of work, the you that is even kinder and even more open with the people around her, and his heart swells, his guard continuing to slip ever so slightly. 

Michael turns around. He opens his mouth and says your name. It echoes. In his mind, it does. He stops thinking. The words are about ready to slip from his tongue. 

You have a nice smile too. 

But then you beam when he says your name and you ask him, “Yes, Michael?” 

And he forgets. He can’t speak. He wants to, but he also doesn’t, and he can’t. His vocal cords shut down and he’s left with nothing but a weak breath of air. The further he gets from you, the harder it gets to breathe, and real life starts to seep back into his bones. His body aches. The bubble bursts. He’s left there, standing naked in the eye of the storm, and the tornado tears down everything around him and lastly, himself. 

He can’t do it, and he can’t do it to you. 

“Oh just… Nothin’,” he says. He can see the exact moment your heart drops and your hopes are shattered. He feels like an idiot now, but he can’t change it. “Have a nice day,” he adds your name in hopes to redeem himself, but you only nod with a smile that’s far weaker than the first one, and then you say goodbye to him.

He leaves you behind with a heavy heart. The coffee in his hand and its bright blue remind him of you. To him, you are colorful too. You’re not a gray cloud, you’re a rainbow. You’re the sun. You’re everything good and light, and the blue represents the kind of person you are. You put your heart into it, he can taste it. Even more, does he feel bad for being such an incompetent idiot. 

Loneliness follows him home. He ignores Jimmy’s calls and he takes a different route to make sure none of his family sees him. Once the door is locked behind him, the four walls that are supposed to feel safe only fill him with dread. 

The coffee cup with your note is still sitting on the table. He takes it. Your handwriting hasn’t smudged. Feeling the tears well up in his eyes, he clenches his fist, and the paper crinkles. Your handwriting disappears. It doesn’t make his bad day better today; the nostalgia makes him feel so much worse. He’s not smiling, and he doesn’t deserve that compliment. 

He tries not to cry when he sips the last few drops of his latte and unwraps the cookie. You have been way too nice to him. You made it sound like professional courtesy, but there is nothing professional about it. 

The napkin slips out, falling to his feet. He’s about to crinkle it too, his hand already hovering above the garbage, when he notices the same black Sharpie that has written his name on a cup twice now. 

“Michael, you’re a good person. Don’t forget to smile 2day. It’s still nice when you do. X – the annoying barista who makes you buy overpriced coffee :)”

This is the first time he sees your handwriting smudge. He wishes he could blame it on the condensation of his cup, but the wetness has already traveled to his cheeks and he can’t hold it back anymore. 

The tears start falling. They wet the napkin and the note. The ‘X’ that is supposed to mark a kiss gets lost under the rain of his emotions, and he can barely see your name anymore. Your face blurs. 

And then, he breaks. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

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