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zorosimpclub · 3 months

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My Brother's Best friend (001) – Geto Suguru

⊹˚. ♡ Summary: You have always been in love with your brother’s best friend (who also happens to be his roommate) – does he even feel the same way or does he view you just as Gojo's little sister? It doesn’t matter because your brother made it very clear to him that you were off limits since you're his precious little sister… But were you really off limits?

⊹˚. ♡ Content: 18+ only, MDNI – fem!reader, eventual smut, brother's best friend trope, this will be a multi-chapter series!

⊹˚. ♡ Word count: 2.8k

Geto leaned back on the sofa and let out a loud yawn, “Why are you here all the time? Don’t you have your own place?”

You grinned a little. It’s true, you did have you own place but you were always at your brother’s place, which just so happened to be Geto’s place.

“What? I’m just here to spend some quality time with my brother, what’s it to you?”

Okay, you were really only there for your long term crush, Geto but you couldn’t tell him that. Besides, with you constantly bickering like actual siblings, you were pretty sure that he only viewed you as his buddy’s little sister. Nothing more. At least he never really gave you any reason to think that he liked you more than that.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “You’re annoying as hell. You need to get a boyfriend asap so that you stop dropping by so often.”

“Satoru, Suguru is being mean again.” You clung onto Gojo, whining to him.

You weren’t a spoiled little sister, but it was funny to get Gojo to tell him off, even if he often just feigned anger at him. It was your little thing. You would rile Geto up, Geto would say something mean (playfully of course), and then you’d snitch to your brother. Then you’d all just sit there and laugh.

“Cut it out Suguru, don’t bully my precious lil’ sis.” He said flatly but grinned at Geto, shaking his head at both your antics.

Geto sighed, idly flicking through the TV channels. Why was there nothing interesting on? He couldn’t handle having to pretend like he didn’t have the hots for his buddy’s little sister – being around you was pure torture.

“Just don’t get in my way or annoy me when you’re here or you’ll regret it.”

“Oo you gonna spank me, Suguru?”

You burst out laughing, causing Gojo to fake vomit at the thought of his little sister and best friend getting it on

Geto’s eyes narrowed as he lunged for you, a look of feigned rage on his perfectly sculpted face. But all he does is grab you by the waist and lift you up, as if you were an annoying rag doll.

“You little shit! I’ll just throw you in the trash where you belong!”

You doubled in laughter in a mocking way, “Oh no, I’m so scared!”

Geto shook his as he kept you in in his grasp but couldn’t keep a straight face for much longer. Soon enough, he broke down laughing with you. Gojo grinned at the two and went back to scrolling on his phone. This was the norm after all, the touching didn’t bother him much since you play fought with Geto all the time, for years. For years. Sigh.

Your phone rang, disrupting your laughter, “Hey? Oh, Utahime….Yeah? A date? I don’t know, I’ll get back to you on that?” You glanced briefly at Geto who looked a little tense but seemed sucked into whatever was on the TV.

Tapping the ‘end call’ button, you leaned back on the sofa in silence.

Gojo perked up from your side curious as to who you were being set up with (because he’s your nosy, over protective brother) “Oh? Someone wants to date you? Who is it?”

You shrugged slightly, not wanting to make it into a big deal, “That was Utahime, saying something about how she wanted to set me up on a blind date.”

“And you said yes?” Geto asked flatly, still looking at the screen as if he wasn’t really interested.

“I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid so maybe.”

Geto did a double take, his eyes narrowing slightly but only slightly – he was careful not to show the jealousy he felt of you potentially going out on a random blind date. He couldn’t.

“A while since you’ve what, now?”

You snickered, an amused smirk gracing your perfect plush lips, “Been to pound town. Got railed. Had sex.”

Gojo let out a fake shrill scream, looking horrified, “As your brother I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”

You could have sworn Geto blushed a little but he quickly covered it up with a bored expression, “Is that all you think about?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you tucked your hair behind your ears, “C’mon you guys go on dates all the time to fuck, how is this different? Just learning from my role models.”

He looked a little surprised, staying quiet for a bit as if he was choosing the right words to say. Tell me not to go. Come on, anything. Tell me you need me.

“Just… make sure you’re safe.”

Your heart sank a little. Of course. What else did you expect. There’s no way he sees you as anything other than Satoru’s little sister. You felt a little sad but you forced a grin like you always did.

“Yes mum, I’ll use protection.”

Gojo gagged and got up, walking towards his room, “Alright, I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna’ go take a nap.”

You and Geto both looked at each other for a silent moment and burst out laughing, it was so funny getting under Gojo’s skin. Whenever you wanted some alone time with Geto, you’d just be crass so that your brother gets disgusted and leaves you alone with him, unable to handle any words coming out of your mouth. You were ‘ruining sex’ for him (his words).

Geto shifted a little in his seat, now painfully aware of the fact that you and his were alone in the living room. “Why are you so… open about your sexual experiences?”

You shrugged, not seeing the issue. It’s not like you talking like this was a new development, you didn’t know why he was acting awkward about it but shook it off.

“Why not?”

“I thought women like to keep things like that a secret… especially from other men.”

You thought about it for a moment. True. Some did, some didn’t. Maybe it was weird to be sharing this with someone who you practically grew up with.

“You’re not just other men though.”

He looked a little surprised and then his gaze softened slightly, which caught you off guard – he had never looked at you like that in all the years you’ve known him.

You grinned a little, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” He asked, as if he hadn’t been looking at you like you were the most precious thing to ever walk into his life.

“Nothin’ must just be my imagination.” There was a brief, comfortable silence as you took in his features, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Ya know? Dating. You went on that date with that brunette haired chick the other day, right? How’d it go?”

He looked away for a second, but then looked back at you. You’d known about a few of the dates he’d been going on with various women. And it wasn’t even like he liked these women, part of him was hoping that if he dated enough of them, he’d eventually feel something for them.

“I mean, she was cute. The date was nice enough. She was just a little clingy when she wanted to see me again after we, you know.”

“Suguru, you’re such a dog, you sleep with them and then don’t call them huh?” You shook your head in disapproval, trying not to seem hurt by the fact that he was sleeping with all of these random women.

He chuckled a little, ”What’s with the judgement all of a sudden? We’re both adults here. I’m just enjoying myself.”

“Not judging. You’re just like Satoru, you guys are really two peas in a pod.” You chuckled too, to keep it lighthearted.

“You really think I’m like Satoru?” He sounded a little offended that you had just said that.

“Hmm, big bro is a proud player, I don’t think you try to be one but you do cycle through a lot of women.”

Geto huffs, turning away from you and crossing his arms in the process as if he was offended. The way he saw it, it was his business how many people he slept with. But you were right, it was true that he tended to cycle through women. Maybe you had a point…

“Whatever. I’m just living it up, like any guy should be.”

You grinned, a grin that made his heart wrench - he was so in love with you but because you were his best friend’s younger sister, you was off limits. “Sure, if that brings your joy.”

Geto looked back over at you. The way you spoke to him with that soft, teasing look on your face made his heart sink. He was beginning to wonder if maybe his dating was just to fill the void that was inside of him. Maybe he needed to find someone he could connect with on a deeper level. He wanted that person to be you, but he knew you couldn’t be. Satoru would kill him if he got within five feet of his little sister like that. He shivered at the thought.

“Like you’re any better…”

You chuckled and feigned hurt, “I don’t cycle through that many guys you know.”

“Are you sure about that? I’ve heard some pretty interesting rumors about you.”

You let out a hearty laugh as you leaned back on the couch, “Pray do tell, what are these rumours Sugu?”

His heart fluttered whenever you called him that, it’s wrong of him to want you so much but he couldn’t help it. How was he supposed to think of something witty to say when you were making him feel warm and fuzzy inside?

“Oh, you know. Some people have been talking about all of the hot dates you’ve been on. A bit of a flirt. That kind of thing.”

“Mhm…” You grinned cheekily at him, “And how is that any different from you?”

Geto grimaced, looking away. You weren’t wrong really. He was just as promiscuous as you. The only way he was different was that he had zero interest in actually having a deep connection with the women he dated. It was just about the sex, the physical aspect of relationships. A temporary distraction.

“Besides, at least I try to get to know the guy… it’s not my fault it doesn’t work out.” You sighed, staring off into space.

He looked over at you again, curiously scanning your face. His stomach dropped when he saw the look in your eyes, he almost felt guilty. He knew that you had a thing for him for years now but he pretended to be oblivious as to not mess with the dynamics of the friendship. Plus he couldn’t risk losing his best friend, Satoru was just too important to him. You deserved to find someone you could connect with in that way, but he never planned on being that person to you.

Feeling his gaze on you, you look back to him and smile slightly but the smile just doesn’t reach your eyes. He felt an urge to reach out and hold your face. He wanted to caress your cheeks, tell you that he loved you and that he wanted to be that person for you. To kiss you. To hold you. But he didn’t, of course.

Instead, he just smiled back at you, “Maybe you just need to date different kinds of guys then…”

“Hm. Maybe.”

But you knew that wasn’t going to work, since the once you desperately craved and wanted was him. You ached to be with him, be in his arms… no one could ever give you butterflies the same way he does.

Geto can sense it. How badly you wanted him. His breath hitched and the smile that once adorned his beautiful face faded. A flicker of pain crossed his face, as this feeling of not being able to be with you and the realisation that you would always be forever out of his reach hurt like hell.

You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out. You sat there with your lips parted, staring into his eyes so lovingly, that they did all the talking. All the words you didn’t dare to utter out loud, your eyes said them for you.

His heart beat a few extra times as he stared into your eyes, looking just as deeply into them as you were. He didn’t need any words, he just knew what was running through your head and his heart wrenched for a second time that evening.

Gojo yawned from the door frame of the living room and trudged towards them, “Damn, that was a good nap. What’d I miss?”

Geto broke eye contact with you immediately, feeling as though he had been caught. His eyes darted towards Gojo and he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing much, just the little one being a menace.”

You faked grin and stared at Gojo, it hurt you whenever he referred to you as ‘little one’ or ‘kid’, “Nothing. We were just talking about how Suguru cycles through women like you.”

Geto rolled his eyes at you, “Shut up.”

Gojo laughed as he plopped down next to Geto, “Hey, ain’t nothing wrong with that, aren’t I right Suguru?” He lazily flung his arm around his shoulder, flashing him a grin.

“Right.”

You shook your head, wrinkling your nose in fake disgust, “The least you can do is not be pigs about it – ghosting women you slept with, really? I swear you guys are the worst.”

“If we’re the worst, I gotta know who the best is.” Geto retorted, eyeing you up a little.

“Me, obviously.” You grinned, your eyes gleaming from the banter.

This time, you really did make him really laugh. Your cockiness wasn’t that bad, actually. He found that it was sometimes even endearing.

“You? The best? What’s so great about you?”

“What’s not great about me?” You puffed out your chest proudly, causing Geto flick your forehead with his fingers. “Hey!”

“Well… your personality kind of sucks.”

He smirked a little, the one you loved so much that it haunted your dreams. Oh, if things could just stay light and playful so that you can stay the hell away from those deep emotions that were threatening to bubble up out of you, that'd be great.

You stuck out your tongue playfully, “Hater.”

Gojo piped up from Geto side after typing on his phone, “Suguru, you ready to hit Sukuna’s for predrinks? Nanami is coming too.”

Geto groaned and sighed a little. Maybe one of these days, he would get to stay in this room and spend the evening with you, alone. But today was not that day. He sighed again and nodded his head.

“Yeah, fine… guess I’m ready. Just need to throw on a shirt.”

He would have rather stayed here with just you and Gojo, but he couldn’t deny that the pre drinks before club hopping would be fun too, especially since he needed to get you out of his head. Or fuck you out of his system. Not with you, of course. As fucked up as it sounded, he’d often approach women who reminded him of you height, frame, and hair colour wise in the club and would pretend that it was you when he was taking them from behind.

You took this opportunity to try your luck in going with them, “Hey! I wanna come!”

Gojo immediately shook his head sternly, “No way. I’m not taking my little sister to a place full of horny guys for pre drinks, let alone the club.”

Geto groaned quietly and rolled his eyes, feeling sympathy for you. It sucked that Gojo was so protective over you to the point where you never got to experience the things they did together. He had been to dozens of clubs filled with drunken, rowdy people and it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

“Come on… she’s an adult! What’s the harm? We’ll just keep an eye on her.”

“Satoru! I’m literally 25, why can’t you just let me tag along…” You jutted your bottom lip out and gave him puppy dog eyes, “Please?”

Geto couldn’t suppress a soft smile and felt himself melt just a little, seeing you like this.

Gojo thought about it for a bit and sighed, “You’re not coming to the pre drinks at Sukuna’s, just come directly to the club and bring Utahime or one of the other girls along. No buts. Take it or leave it.”

As much as you wanted to go out with them all night, this would have to be sufficient for now.

You nodded enthusiastically before scrunching your nose at the reflection in the blank TV screen. “Deal! I still need to get ready anyway so this works out well, I’ll text the girls!”

Gojo nodded and flung his arm around Geto, “Alright, we’re heading out to Sukuna’s now. Text me or Suguru when you guys get to the club ‘kay?”

next chapter ->

⊹˚. ♡ A/N: This is going to be a multi-chapter fanfic, which will have smut (the next chapter will be smutty so ;D) will most likely update it tomorrow

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stabortega · 7 months

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NO SURPRISES — CHAPTER 03

Summary: Jenna's need to find out who you really are is prevailing, so is her arousal.

Pairings: Jenna Ortega x G!P!Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Implied fem reader, she/her pronouns used. Smut. Mentions of sex and kinks. Sexting, masturbation, voyeurism. Top!Reader x Bottom!Jenna. MDNI.

Author's note: Sorry to keep you guys waiting. I hope it was worth it, huh? Let me know what you think!

MASTERLIST!

(Y/N)xz: hey

(Y/N)xz: i'm so glad you decided to take up my offer

jenna2709: really?

(Y/N)xz: yeah

(Y/N)xz: i honestly thought you wouldn't say yes

jenna2709: i had to.

jenna2709: getting a private livestream from you isn't something you can get everyday.

(Y/N)xz: i can see you're very excited for that

jenna2709: i am.

jenna2709: what about you?

(Y/N)xz: counting the days

(Y/N)xz: wanted to see your face for quite sometime now

jenna2709: you've at least imagined what i look like by now, right?

(Y/N)xz: a little

(Y/N)xz: also the fact that i can only think about my coworker's face when i think of you it's a little bit strange

jenna2709: oh, why is that?

(Y/N)xz: it's because you guys have the same name

(Y/N)xz: which is weird because i see her everyday and we never even really talked

(Y/N)xz: maybe it's because she is the only jenna i know

(Y/N)xz: was*

(Y/N)xz: now i know you :)

jenna2709: i hope she's pretty enough for you.

jenna2709: i want you to imagine me as some pretty girl.

(Y/N)xz: she's gorgeous

(Y/N)xz: bet you're more, though

jenna2709: guess you'll find out soon enough.

"Okay, now you're being straight up mean." Jasmine said while eating a piece of her spring salad, while looking at her friend. "You said you're showing her your face and now you're suddenly giving up?"

"I'm not giving up, Jasmine. It's just, I don't know why I agreed." Jenna sighed, while trying to distract herself reading a couple of lines from her script. "And now she's gonna know who I am and she's gonna be so embarrassed. Fuck, it's gonna be so freaking awkward. I'm working with her every single day."

"How are you so sure they are the same person? Just because of a scar? Millions of people have scars." Jasmine said, which made Jenna wonder for a while: What if she was, in fact, losing her goddamn mind and they weren't the same person?

"No, I just remembered. They have the same voice, as well. I'm 99% sure." The younger actress would never admit it, but she was so afraid of that 1%. "And also, she has a few tattoos. If only I could at least see if she has those tattoos. But she's always wearing long sleeves, fuck. I'm definitely not gonna do that video call and that's final."

"You're being a chicken and you know it. What's the worse that can happen? If anything, you'll end up sucking her dick right on that nasty green couch in the break room." Jasmine felt a slap right on her left arm. "Hey! It's not like you're not gonna enjoy it! You seem like one of those kinky ass chicks who no one thinks that are actually kinky."

"Oh please, you should've seen her kink list from her profile." Jenna immediately regretted saying that. Mental note: Think about everything you're gonna say to Jasmine.

"Wait, what?!"

"Breeding, breath play, knife play- Oh fuck, she's crazy. Run. Run for your life! Run for the hills!" They laughed, while Jenna tried her best to hide her embarrassment. "Holy shit, she's that kinky. How the fuck do they have that?"

"When you sign up, you have to fill out your kink list. I thought you also had an account, dingus."

"I do, dingus, but the kink list is not mandatory." Jasmine stopped for awhile, until she thought for one second. "God, you filled yours?!"

"Give me my phone now." Jenna said, trying to look angry while Jasmine got up from the chair and started to run away with the latina's phone in her hand, trying to search the list on Jenna's profile.

"I have the power in my hands!" Jasmine and Jenna didn't knew how, but they ran until the parking lot, looking like two little sisters having an argument over a toy. "Girl, you're into that?" The black girl said, while laughing, which made Jenna angrier.

Before the younger one could even respond to that, she felt a body crash against hers, making her almost fall over to the floor, but thankfully her body was held in time to prevent that from happening. "Hey, are you alright?"

Fuck, it was you.

"Yeah, I'm sorry... Jasmine- She had- " Jenna tried to speak but ended up mumbling all of the words. The way your strong arms held her, your woody perfume which she swore it was the best scent she has ever smelled in her life, your face looking at her as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"Don't worry about that, just try to be careful next time, okay?" You almost were talking down to her, as if she was a little kid, which was something that would immediately make Jenna hate you. Since she started working as a child, having people treat her as one made her blood boil. But no, not this time. "I was actually looking for you."

"Really?" Jenna said, after recomposing herself, her worries about her phone were long gone. Jasmine could see her nude pics, for all she cared. All she could think about was the fact that you were looking for her.

"Yeah, I kinda needed to adjust some of the camera's settings before we start shooting." Oh, okay. At least she thought about me first, she considered. "You know, saturation, contrast and stuff. Need to do with the whole cast, actually." She knew what it was, she had to do that at least, a hundred times over the course of her career. But god, you looked so cute while explaining it.

"Yeah, yeah, we can do that. I just need to get my phone and I'll be there." Jenna said, trying to seem as casual as possible, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear for god knows whatever reason.

"Alright, I'll be at stage 5. And try to not run like that again, okay? You could really get hurt." You smiled sympathetically to her, it wasn't visible to you but Jenna's heart was fluttering as if she was a teenage girl who just spoke to the most popular boy at school.

"Yeah, sure... I'll be careful, totally." She smiled back, before watching you leave, her legs almost giving up on her before hearing Jasmine's voice behind her, driving her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, (Y/N), I'll be careful, I swear! I'll promise I will never ever fall again, unless you're here to hold me in your arms, oh god!" Jenna rolled her eyes, jokingly, while snatching her phone away from Jasmine's hands. "I mean it, either she's the most oblivious person on the planet or you just straight up told her you want her P in your V with your body language."

"It wasn't that obvious, Jasmine. You're being too much."

"Girl, the tension was almost palpable. Please hope that she's stupid enough to let this pass. What were you guys talking about, anyways?"

"She wants to adjust some of the camera's colour settings and needs me to be there. And also the entire cast, as well. But she asked me first, that must be something right?"

"Literally nothing, Jenna." The latina rolled her eyes, ignoring her friend. "But still, you can use that opportunity to figure out if she's really the chick from the website. Try to find out if she has those tattoos you saw on the livestream."

"Thankfully you had a good idea, for once."

"And if she's really her, you can suck on her balls without feeling guilty."

"You're not helping." Jenna sighed, running her hands through her hair. "I'm gonna kill myself tonight."

"For a girl with a pussy like yours, that would be a waste."

"You'd seen my pictures?!" Jenna looked at her friend furiously, wide-eyed.

"Oh my god I was joking, do you really have pussy pics?!"

"I hate you!" She almost screamed before leaving a laughing Jasmine behind. Jenna was nervous, of course. You guys started filming this week, and throughout the entire period you guys were there, she tried her best to avoid you due to the fact that she was, actually, a chicken. You guys didn't even spoke much, that only one occasion a couple of moments ago being the first real conversation you guys had. Just, being around you made her nervous. And it wasn't even because of the streams she's been watching. It's just, you're you. Your body language, your voice, the way you act around set, you seem so freaking professional and Jenna was a sucker for that. The way you dressed, the way you took care of everyone who worked with you. She has been with her eye on you every day ever since she met you, and she's been watching you very closely. Everything about you drove Jenna insane, and surprisingly, she liked that.

After a couple of minutes walking through set, with her hands sweating and lots of heavy breathing, she finally made it into stage 5. You were there with a couple of people from production; some of them working on their own stuff, and a couple of guys talking about you while you held one of the cameras that would be used through filming. You were laughing a bit, something that made Jenna's heart flutter. Damn it.

"Yeah, and he was the kind of guy who wouldn't - Oh, hey Jenna! Talk to you guys later, okay?" You politely dismissed the guys you were talking to as soon as you saw Jenna enter your field of vision. Fuck, why did you have to be so well mannered? "Are you ready to look at me for a couple of hours?"

"I'm- I-" Jenna stuttered, making you laugh a little bit. She was being kinda cute, you thought.

"Relax, I'm joking. It'll be only a couple of minutes. I promise you don't have to get stuck with me for more than that." But I would definitely like to, Jenna thought to herself. "Can you stand on that mark for me, please?" Oh, she would do anything for you if you asked her like that again. So she stood on that mark, five feet away from you, while you put the camera on the tripod, already connected to the monitors and software responsible for editing. Jenna looked straight at the lenses, but thankfully she got to look at you while you set things up, and oh god you were a sight for sore eyes.

"Okay, can you look at the little red dot for me, please?" She almost hated you for being so polite, and obviously did what you asked. You would never admit that in front of anyone, but Jenna was truly one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen. Looking at her through the lenses was definitely the best part of this job.

"So, you've been working with this for a while?" Jenna said, wanting to start some small talk in order to find out more about you (and your tattoos, obviously).

"Um, not really. I finished college a couple of months ago, this is my first real job as a videographer. Dave was nice enough to put me under his wing and be my mentor, actually." You said while pressing some buttons on the camera and typing on the keyboard under the monitors. "I've worked in movie sets while in college, but mostly I just held microphones and cleaned camera lenses."

"For someone who already graduated, you seem really young. How old are you?" Jenna couldn't remember if your profile said you were twenty-three or twenty-four.

"Oh, thanks. You don't look so bad yourself, either." Jenna really hoped you were flirting with her (deep down, she kinda knew you weren't). "I'm twenty-four, actually."

"Really? You look really young." Jenna smiled slightly, secretly looking at you while you were pressing more buttons which she wouldn't even bother knowing what they did. "I get that a lot, too. I'm only twenty-one, but people think I'm seventeen most of the times."

"That must be annoying, huh?" You looked at her face through the lenses again, the adjusted lighting making her look more beautiful that she already was, if that's possible.

"Oh, you have no idea. I'm almost getting a tattoo on my forehead that says 'No longer a minor'." You both laughed for a moment. "Do you have any?"

"Tattoos? Yeah, just a couple." Fuck, she was close. She just needed to see one of them.

"Do they hurt a lot? I wanted to get one but I'm kinda scared." She wasn't.

"Yeah, a little. Nothing you can't handle." You stopped doing what you were doing to come a bit closer, which made the latina hold her breath for a second. "This one was the worst, definitely."

You lift up the hem of your shirt just a little, but enough for Jenna to see your slightly muscular v-line. Oh fuck, she felt like passing out. Until you showed her your tattoo, it was a roman number that Jenna couldn't even bother to figure out what it meant, but one thing was for sure: it was the same tattoo she had seen on the streams.

"That's cute..." She tried her best not to sound suspicious. You smiled and started to get back behind the camera.

"That one hurt like a bitch, I swear." You laughed a bit, before pressing the final buttons on the camera. "I think we're done! Can I take a video of you to see if the settings worked out?" Jenna only could nod, the thought of having you abdomen close to her mouth and not being able to lick it was the most traumatic experience of her life. "Okay, can you smile for me?"

And like the whipped bitch she was, she happily did. You shot the video for a couple of seconds and saved it, looking at it for a bit before gazing at the girl again. "Okay, that's pretty much it. Thank you for coming here, yeah?"

"Sure, no problem." She was almost shaking, she hated the fact you were such a sweetheart while at work, and at the website you acted like the lesbian version of Magic Mike. So, she left. Regretting the fact she didn't even made her move because being around you was intimidating enough to keep her from breathing properly, but at least she did what she was there to do: she knew, for sure, that you were the person she thought you were. And now, she had another issue to deal with.

Thankfully, you guys scheduled the video chat for tomorrow. Jenna knew that today she wasn't ready to reveal her face to the person who's been occupying her thoughts for the past few days. So, she did what she's been religiously doing for the past week. Locked her hotel room door, put her headphones on and relaxed while watching your stream. Only god knows how much she missed watching you stroke your cock while moaning softly and talking the filthiest shit ever. Jenna turned on her laptop and went on the website, which by now was marked as her favorite, and as usual, you were already there.

This time around, Jenna just wanted to enjoy watching you. No games or teasing, she genuinely wanted to look at you while you pleased yourself in front of her.

"Hey guys, how are y'all doing? Hope y'all are doing great." Even now, you were the most polite person ever. Fuck, she hated that. And you. She hated you. Definitely despised you.

You interacted with the chat for a couple of minutes, before really starting to put on your show. Obviously you knew "jenna2709" was watching, and now, even though you would never admit it, you liked putting your show to her, and only her. So now, you were dedicated to deliver the best show you could ever do. "I'm gonna try something different today, if you guys don't mind. But I'm sure you guys are gonna love it as much as I am."

Your hardened cock was already starting to pulse in your pants, so you were quick enough to unbutton your jeans and let your member spring free. Jenna's mouth watered at the sight of your throbbing cock, making her wish she could lick all of your pre-cum off of your tip.

For all these days Jenna's been watching you, she has never touched herself while you were streaming. Mainly because she was scared that once she did, she wouldn't be able to look at your face again out of embarrassment. But it seemed that every stream that she's watched, it got harder and harder to maintain her posture.

Jenna looked at you while you slowly stroked your dick, which started to made her anxious. She knew you had to tease in order to keep your viewers watching (which is why Jenna was the one emptying her bank account to you so you could cum faster). That same odd feeling on the pit of her stomach started to become more and more present, and she hated the fact the she couldn't just cave in and thrust two fingers inside of her aching cunt. You drove her out of her thoughts when you grabbed something from behind your camera, which made Jenna curious to what it was, exactly. And then she realized it was a tiny silicone ass toy, with an small opening right at the vagina. Oh, fuck.

"Do you guys ever think about someone while jacking off or is it just me?" You asked your viewers while putting a litte bit of lube on the toy. You would never admit this on camera, but you obviously were talking about Jenna. Not Jenna, your coworker, of course. But there was something about Jenna, your viewer, that made you intrigued: you didn't even knew what she look like, but all of the conversations you had in this past week made you wonder who was she, and what she was doing watch you religiously every night? What was it about you that made her so committed? The was she spoke to you in your chat, the way she tipped you just so you could cum for her, and her only. It's safe to say that, even without knowing what her face looked like (and trying your best not to think about Jenna, your coworker, because they shared the same name, of course), you started to think about her in those extremely intimate moments.

"So you got someone on your mind now, huh?" One of the viewers asked in the chat, which made Jenna anxious for the answer. If you were thinking about someone else, she would definitely want to know who it was.

"Yes and no. Maybe if I knew how she looked like, exactly, then she would 100% be occupying my head." You laughed a bit. Thank god your viewers couldn't see your face, because it was flushed red from embarrassment. You shrugged it off and started to tease the tip of your cock right onto the toy's pussy, wanting to get your viewers more excited. Which, of course, worked every single time.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $300 with the message: you know i hate it when you tease.

"I know you do, baby. That's why it's so fun." You laughed again, holding your cock by the base while still rubbing your tip onto the toy. Little did Jenna knew, but deep down, you were teasing just to get her attention.

jenna2709: what's the fun of being an annoying tease, huh?

"Being able to frustrate you." Jenna sighed. Oh, you were a demon. How could someone that was so polite and well mannered at work, behaved like this when the night came? "Come on, we both know that you enjoy this."

jenna2709: more than i care to admit.

"Alright, I'll stop being mean, okay? Let me give you what you've been waiting for, baby." You slowly penetrated your dick into the toy, which immediately made you drag out a raspy and low moan. The tightness of the toy was beginning to drive you insane, and for a brief second you wished you had Jenna's pussy around your cock, instead of a fake silicone one.

"Fuck." Jenna whispered to herself, feeling her underwear getting ruined for the fifth time this week. She felt her clit throb and pulse, it was incredible that you didn't even had to do anything huge to get Jenna turned on, just by breathing you aroused the shit out of her. "No. Pull yourself together."

jenna2709: i would kill someone to be in this toy's place.

"And I would kill someone to have you right here, right now." You started to slowly thrust your member inside of the tight, yet slightly slippery toy, your moaning now becoming louder and louder. Thankfully the hotel doors weren't thin enough, so you could be considerably loud without worrying about other people in the floor. Unbeknownst to you, "jenna2709" was just down the hallway watching you, in the verge of tears trying her best not to succumb to her primal desires and touch herself. "Fuck, this feels so good..."

jenna2709: you're making it impossible for me to not touch myself.

"Why don't you, baby? Maybe we get to cum together this time around, huh?" That seemed like an irresistible offer that Jenna really, really wanted to accept and decline, at the same time. For some reason, you figured that she was depriving herself of something good and a part of you wanted to just leave it that way, maybe she had her own reasons to just stand still while watching your streams. But another part of you really wanted to have some fun with this. So, like the devil you and Jenna knew you were, you licked your thumb and started to make circular motions over the toy's clit, while thrusting your cock steadily inside of it. "Don't you wish I was doing that to you?"

"Oh my fucking god." Jenna couldn't hold it in anymore. She tried, god, she really tried. But it was too much, even for her. Without thinking about the day after, she pulled down her pants alongside with her underwear and finally decided to give her pussy some attention. She was dripping wet, not ironically wetting her sheets in the process, but she wasn't even paying attention to those details. The only thing she cared enough to do was to thrust one finger inside her throbbing, aching cunt. Which, of course, she did. And the immediate feeling of relief took over her entire body the minute she felt her finger inside of her. Jenna felt dirty, as she was the pastor's daughter in a small town who just met an outlaw that tricked her into all those things. But damn, it felt good to be dirty and tricked. She started to thrust slowly, giving the fact she didn't masturbated often and she was just getting used to the feeling of her own finger inside her tight pussy. But, for some reason and for the first time, it wasn't enough. She needed more, and she wanted more. Fuck, she just wanted you.

"God, this is so fucking tight..." You moaned, more to yourself than to your stream, which drove Jenna out of her thoughts. She looked at you, fucking that toy while sweat was dripping off your body, and your low moaning was captured through your microphone. You were the hottest person she has ever met in her entire life.

jenna2709: you were right, maybe this time around we do get to cum together.

Jenna typed, without feeling anxious or nervous like the previous times. She couldn't give a rat's ass anymore. She already touched herself, she gave you money for every little thing you did on stream, so why even bother? It felt good. Fuck, it felt so good and she didn't even knew why she deprived herself from that for so long. So, without thinking about it, she added a second finger inside of her, hoping it would fulfill her needs just as you would.

"Maybe next time, I get to cum in you." You were bold for saying that. But in your head, after your guys' private stream, you were both gonna fall madly in love and have a relationship that seemed right out of a movie screen. The last thing you would think about is the fact that the girl you've been thinking about for fhe past few days is, in fact, one of the actresses of a movie you're helping to produce. And one of the world's most famous and extraordinary actresses, actually. "And we both know how much you would enjoy that."

At that point, Jenna was the only one there, for all you cared. I mean, you had almost 2k people who watched you every single day, but sometimes it felt like you and her were the only ones existing in the world. I mean, your chat didn't seemed to mind, most of them were just voyeurs who got off by watching random people online, so what's the harm?

Unbeknownst to Jenna, you were already close to your orgasm. The tightness of the toy and all of the dirty talking you both have been sharing, it was getting pretty hard to hold it in any longer. So, without further notice, you decided to violently thrust your throbbing member inside of that silicone pussy, wanting to get to your high as quickly as possible. You slapped the toy's ass a couple of times, but you knew that if that was a real person (Jenna, you wanted it to be Jenna), you would be saying the most filthy things on her ear while slapping her ass until it became bruised. It killed you not being able to do that. And it killed Jenna too.

jenna2709: fuck, you look so beautiful like this.

And she wasn't any different either. Her hand was soaked by now and the two fingers weren't even close to being enough for her, but for now, they would have to do. With her spare hand, Jenna cupped one of her breasts in order to get closer and closer to her high, while her hand just aggressively thrusted inside of her tight hole. "F-Fuck, I'm almost..."

And you were almost there too, but this time, you wanted to make sure to give Jenna the best experience she could ever get. "Tell me, where do want me to cum?" You asked the whole chat, but in a way, you only wanted to hear Jenna's answer. The chat filled itself with loads of messages, some people wanting for you to come inside, other wanting for you to cum on your stomach.

jenna2709: inside of my pussy, please.

"Your wish is my command." And so you did, you came right into that toy's cunt with a loud and dragged moan, closing your eyes and thinking about how it would feel if you actually came inside of Jenna. You felt your hips spasm into the toy, while you rode out your high and tried your best not to moan any louder than you already did. Little did you know that, down the hallway, Jenna was also having her orgasm just by looking at you. She closed her eyes and thursted the hardest she could until she finally came, with a soft whimper of your name, feeling her juices oozing out of her cunt. She felt one or two tears stream down her face from that overwhelming feeling, riding out her high while looking at you, wishing you were there beside her. You pulled your cock out of that toy, your thick cum dripping down to the floor which made Jenna's mouth water again. She would commit crimes just to be able to lick your cum out of that toy.

And now, Jenna felt embarrassed again. Tomorrow at work, she would have to look at your face and act normally all over again, trying to hide the fact that you were the reason she had a mind blowing orgasm and cried while moaning your name. And also, she would have to think of a way to dodge your private stream, or face her fears and reveal her identity, risking to ruin your work environment for all of the next months that you guys would work together. Either way, she didn't wanted to do any of those two things.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $1000 with the message: consider this as a thank you.

#scream #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream movies #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x you #you #the fallout #wednesday #wlw post #wlw love #wlw #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw

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ginnsbaker · 9 months

Text

Bulletproof (4/?)

Part Summary: There's a new recruit who seems to have taken a liking to you. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Gay disasters

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Part Five | Series Masterlist

The newest recruit, Daisy Johnson, seems to have taken a liking to you.

At least, that's what Wanda Maximoff has observed since Daisy's inclusion earlier this week.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda constantly catches the newbie stealing glances at you during training, meals, and even debriefing sessions. It's not that she keeps tabs on you or anything, but she can't help but notice when you catch someone’s attention, especially when that someone seems to be nearly everywhere you are.

In every training session, Wanda notes Daisy choosing to partner up with you or standing close by during briefings. Even in the more relaxed moments within the compound, Daisy seems irresistibly drawn to you. Wanda doesn't miss how Daisy occasionally throws prolonged glances your way, or how she laughs a tad too enthusiastically at something you say.

And it doesn't help that you and she walk on eggshells around each other since your confession in your old cell.

Neither of you has made any attempts to talk to the other again. Not even a glance, as if pretending the other doesn't exist will make that fateful night disappear. But for Wanda, the more she tries to push it out of her mind, the more sharply it edges back in, refusing to be forgotten.

She can't help but wonder: Was it wrong of her to move like that in her sleep? And were you out of line for not waking her up right away?

And more importantly: Were you so repulsed by it that you chose a prison cell over sharing her bed?

All these questions keep swimming in her mind, to the point where she has considered going to whoever handles this sort of stuff at the compound—kind of like an HR Department, but for Avengers. Perhaps a course on understanding boundaries might help you both move past this and start anew.

But then again, addressing it means dealing with it, and right now, just avoiding the whole mess seems so much easier.

As Wanda turns a corner in one of the compound's sprawling hallways, her eyes catch sight of you and Daisy. You’re both laughing, heads thrown back, not a care in the world. Wanda's eyes involuntarily narrow at the sight, taking note of the negligible distance between you two. Daisy's hand is resting lightly on your arm, fingers dancing along the fabric of your shirt as she emphasizes a point in her story.

Wanda tries to walk past nonchalantly, yet can't seem to dispel the feelings that bubble up each time she sees you with Daisy.

It's maddening. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

But they aren't.

And she does.

Wanda's patience is tested to its limits one Saturday afternoon.

Tasked with joining Sam to whip up dinner for the team's weekly movie night, she's diligently chopping vegetables in the expansive kitchen when Daisy sidles up to her.

“Hey, uh, Wanda, right?” Daisy begins, a casual tone to her voice.

Wanda doesn’t even look up as she answers, “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about Y/N?”

Wanda's grip on the knife tightens just a fraction, her posture stiffening. “I think it’s better if you ask Vision–he monitors all of us even more closely than the cameras we have everywhere.”

As the words leave Wanda's mouth, Vision, who’s been quietly tinkering with a device on the other side of the kitchen, looks up suddenly, his usually stoic face showing a hint of surprise.

“I assure you, I do no such thing,” he starts, his tone a touch defensive. “Monitoring everyone is not part of my programming or my personal interests.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Sure, Vis. Everyone needs a hobby, right?”

Vision clears his throat, looking somewhat flustered, “It is not a 'hobby' of mine.”

Wanda can't help but smirk slightly at Vision's discomfort, her attention briefly diverted from the awkwardness with Daisy. “It's just a joke, Vision. Relax.”

He gives a curt nod, turning his attention back to the device in his hand, though he remains noticeably quiet.

Daisy chuckles lightly, but her curiosity remains unsated. “Anyway, back to Y/N?” She prompts, looking expectantly at Wanda. “Steve mentioned that if anyone on the team knows Y/N best, it'd be you, considering you two shared a room.”

Fucking Steve.

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She finally glances up to meet Daisy's eyes, her expression guarded. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Y/N... you know, single? And what do you think of them?”

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes sharpening immediately. She places the knife down on the countertop with more force than necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Sam whistles softly, making it obvious he's eavesdropping. “Damn, getting intense over here,” he comments with a grin, making no effort to hide his amusement.

Daisy shoots him an exasperated look, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Trying to have a conversation here, Wilson.”

Ignoring Sam's teasing, Wanda presses, “I just want to know why you're asking.”

Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We've been talking a lot, and I was just... curious.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chimes in, “Curious or interested?"

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Nosy much?"

Wanda reaches for the shredder and starts grating all the remaining vegetables rather aggressively.

Sam laughs before lifting the spatula to his lips to sample the soup he’s making. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Why don't you focus on your soup, Sam?” Wanda retorts, though her eyes never leave her task.

Sam smirks, catching the hint of jealousy in Wanda's tone, and decides to push just a little further. “You know, Wanda, if you have something to say about Y/N, now's the time.”

Wanda's eyes flash red for a brief moment. Sam holds his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Daisy looks between them in confusion.

Taking a moment, Wanda sets the shredder aside and faces Daisy squarely. “Y/N almost risked their life to save mine. If you're looking for a testament to their character, well, actions like that are rare to come by.”

“And as for Y/N’s relationship status,” she continues, a bit reluctantly, “I believe they're single.”

Daisy's gaze becomes gentle, a dreamy quality entering her eyes. “That's... truly heroic,” she whispers, almost to herself. Wanda feels a sudden urge to throw up.

She then flashes a grateful smile at Wanda. “Thanks, Wanda. That means a lot coming from you.”

Wanda merely nods before clearing her throat. “Well, now that that's settled, could someone pass the salt?”

It’s Sam who hands it over, but not before saying, “Try not to add too much. We wouldn't want dinner to be as salty as some people's moods.”

Tony is, unsurprisingly, first in line, eagerly eyeing the roasted vegetables. “If the taste is half as good as the smell, we’re in for a treat tonight.”

Steve chuckles, replying, “I think we can trust Wanda and Sam's culinary skills by now.”

Natasha and Clint are engrossed in a deep conversation about an upcoming mission, while Bruce discusses some new upgrades with Tony. Vision, for his part, is explaining to Peter the intricacies of using Wanda's food processor.

As the chatter continues, Wanda moves to retrieve the centerpiece of the dinner: a golden-brown roasted chicken. She feels everyone's eyes on her, awaiting the moment the chicken will land on the table. However, her gaze is involuntarily drawn to the table where she sees you and Daisy sitting next to each other, laughing about something.

In that split second of distraction, her fingers graze the scalding metal rack of the oven. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, the sudden pain evident on her face. Dropping the oven mitts, she mutters a quick “Excuse me” and dashes off to the nearest bathroom, intending to run the burnt area under cold water.

You notice her quick exit and, after a brief moment of hesitation, quietly follow her. As you near the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches your ears.

Without knocking, you enter. Wanda is cradling her hand, trying to soothe the burn.

Your voice is soft with concern when you speak, “Wanda? Let me help.”

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away from the water, her eyes widening as she registers your arrival. “I’m fine,” she snaps, her posture tensing further. Water drips from her fingers onto the porcelain sink.

You take a hesitant step forward, your intent clear. “I can heal it. Just let me—”

“I said I'm fine,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “Sometimes it's good to feel pain, you know, heal the natural way. Not everything needs a... quick fix.” She glances pointedly at you, an obvious jab at your abilities.

Your eyes narrow slightly at her comment, but you keep your emotions in check. “It's not about the quick fix, Wanda. It's about helping someone in pain, even if that someone is stubbornly pushing everyone away.”

She sighs, her defenses visibly waning. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out there with Daisy?”

“What’s Daisy got to do with any of this?”

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Even if she has an answer ready, she's not sure she'd want to voice it.

With a sharp exhale, your frustration bubbles over.

“Fine,” you say tersely, pointing at her burned hand. “Let it scar then. See if I care.”

Moving swiftly, you leave the bathroom without waiting for her response.

Wanda stays there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself. When she finally decides to rejoin the team for dinner, she notices the empty spot beside Daisy. You're gone, probably to your room.

Regret coils in her stomach. She didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, especially when all you were trying to do was help.

She hasn't felt this anxious in a long time.

It reminds her of the days after she lost everything that truly mattered.

Checking that everyone is probably asleep, Wanda takes a deep breath and heads towards your room. Her mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize.

She stops in front of your room and then gently raps on the door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. “Y/N?” she calls out hesitantly. She doesn't expect the door to open immediately, and when it does, it's not you who answers.

Instead, Daisy stands there, looking a little startled too.

“You…” Wanda hisses slowly before she can catch herself.

Daisy quickly registers Wanda's reaction and raises her hands in a placating manner. “Oh, right. Sorry, this must be weird. My apartment had a plumbing issue, a flood actually. Since I'm joining the team permanently, I made a request for a new room. But until that's sorted, Y/N offered me theirs.”

Wanda's insides churn with a jealousy she can't quite place, but she masks it swiftly, painting on a polite smile. “And where's Y/N now?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

Daisy bites her lip, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “They're asleep,” she admits. Stepping aside, she reveals you, nestled in a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets arranged around you for some semblance of comfort.

Wanda's eyes soften at the sight of you, but her heart also tightens in anger. You've given up your bed, your comfort, for Daisy. You’re doing for someone else what she’s done for you. It feels like an invasion of something she thought she exclusively shared with you.

Daisy shifts, catching Wanda's stare. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she explains, a bit embarrassed. “Kept saying it's fine and that I should take the bed.”

Wanda just nods, a tightness in her voice. “Sounds like them, alright.”

Trying to ease the tension, Daisy adds, “Y/N always talks about you, you know. In a good way. Maybe you two should just... chat.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. “They do?”

Daisy chuckles. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Night."

“Night,” Wanda murmurs, still looking at you.

Once Daisy’s gone, Wanda hesitates. Part of her wants to barge in, shake you awake, and have that long overdue talk. Instead, she absentmindedly touches the burn on her hand, its sting a reminder of how you tried to help her earlier. It's jarring to think that you, even after avoiding each other for days, were ready to heal her.

And damn, it hurts. Not the burn, but the realization of how much she misses you.

Wanda doesn’t get any chances to talk to you for the next several days because you–along with Natasha, Daisy and Vision are called away to a mission.

Each day you’re away, Wanda feels the weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest. She can’t help but worry, replaying every worst-case scenario in her mind. She catches herself multiple times pacing by the control room, asking for updates, or staring out at the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to return.

When word finally arrives that the quinjet is en route back to the compound, Wanda finds herself in the hangar before she’s even consciously made the decision to be there. Steve stands next to her, his face betraying his own relief. A few other team members have gathered too, all awaiting the return of their comrades.

The roar of the quinjet’s engines fills the air as it makes its descent. As the ramp lowers, Wanda's eyes scan the disembarking figures, and they lock onto yours. You look a little worn, a fresh bruise marring your cheek—oddly enough, one you've chosen not to heal. But beyond that, you seem okay.

Her heart swells with relief.

You seem to pause for a second, looking genuinely shocked to see Wanda amongst those waiting. For a moment, your eyes lock. She offers a tentative smile, full of hope, and it seems you're about to approach her. But then, as you step further out of the quinjet, Daisy appears at your side. The way she comfortably intertwines her fingers with yours sends a sharp pang through Wanda's heart and her smile falters.

Steve claps his hands together, attempting to reign in the team's focus. “Alright, debrief. How did it go?”

Natasha, with a deadpan expression, shoots back, “Could’ve gone smoother if you’d packed me a flask, Rogers.”

Steve smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Romanoff. Just don’t make us wait too long.”

As you approach Wanda, your expression gives away nothing. “Hey,” you murmur, voice neutral. But Wanda’s eyes have darted down to where your hand is connected with Daisy's. Her eyes harden, and when she meets your gaze, they’ve become unreceptive.

Misreading the tightening of Wanda's features as coldness, your frown deepens. You'd thought some time apart might've helped ease the strain between you two, but guess not.

Just as you're about to say something to her–maybe an explanation as to why you’re holding Daisy’s hand–Daisy gives a playful tug on your hand, breaking the moment. “Come on,” she chirps. “Let's head in. I heard there's pizza, and I intend to eat more slices than you.”

You allow Daisy to pull you along, throwing one last glance at Wanda over your shoulder, wishing she'd say something–anything.

But Wanda's back is already turned to you. Her posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides, the knuckles going white. In that moment, Wanda is making a silent vow to herself, one of emotional self-preservation.

She walks away, her heels clicking against the ground with each firm and decisive step. Deep down, the walls she'd slowly been dismantling brick by brick in the face of a potential future with you were being hastily reconstructed.

She’s survived worse things.

Of course, she’ll survive you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #daisy johnson #vision #sam wilson

737 notes · View notes

saerins · 3 months

Note

HeyYy I’m a little slow but how did eita and yn realize that they were into each other in that way or desired each other like that? (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN 😜) Like did eita just hit yn with “dtf? 😈” on a random Thursday orrrr 😭

extra chapter: blurred

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — part of priceless. eita doesn’t understand why it irks him seeing other guys hit on you. after one night together with you, he at least knows he’s fucked.

content: otoya eita x female reader. smut. takes place in university, before “friendship”. eita calls reader princess, alcohol, profanity, mentions of death, penetration, spanking, cunnilingus, virgin!reader, eita makes reader cum multiple times. word count: 3.3k

༝༚༝༚ hahahaha i am so normal about university!yn & otoya guys … so completely normal </3 side to nonnie: yn and eita have always found each other attractive ! they just never thought they’d go that far at first :)

you’ve always been like this, so why does it bother him more than ever?

two months. that’s how long it’s been since you two talked. for two people who always talk shit all day long everyday, that’s a long time. it’s eita’s fault. he knows. maybe he shouldn’t have been so vocal about how you should act. it’s not his place.

he knows that.

he hasn’t apologised.

it’s a saturday night, and you’re just out having fun with your course mates—it’s not illegal. and eita’s with his bandmates, and a date to top it off—some girl who came up to him after a performance and said she was a fan; in hindsight it was probably just to get into his pants and yet she’s still here, two dates later.

she’s here, and he knows she’s probably beside him wondering why the fuck he’s staring at some other girl when she’s grinding against him but he can’t help himself. no matter how loud the music, no matter how crowded the club, no matter how miss bombshell here rubs her ass against him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

you don’t like to club. you barely like those people you’re with. eita knows why you’re acting like this.

so unserious. so smiley. so forced.

“oi, takuya,” eita calls out to one of his bandmates, setting his whiskey, neat on their table. “she’s all yours,” he says, shoving the poor miss bombshell to his bandmate, her cries of objection going unheard because he’s making his way to you.

there’s a guy trying to feel you up, your course mate. what the fuck is his name again?

“yes, shiro?” eita hears you coo once he’s close enough.

right, shiro takanori. notorious playboy, almost as notorious as eita. born rich, heir to one of the most exclusive resort clubs in japan, already in a couple of big modelling gigs thanks to his naturally good looks. silver spoon, trust fund idiot who has his hands on your hips and such lustful eyes and that smirk that says he knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants.

unluckily for him, eita’s here. and like hell is he ever going to be so lucky to bring you back home to his mansion.

with a firm grip around your bare waist—because of course you had to wear something so sexy tonight, that black single shoulder strap crop top of yours—eita cuts in, only shooting shiro a warning glare before pulling you aside, dragging you behind him.

“hey, what the fuck?” you protest once he stops at the empty booth near the side. you sound frustrated, and upset, and somehow eita knows what the fuck is going on inside that little still-twisted mind of yours. “i was talking to him, you know?”

eita scowls, the most judgemental look on his face as he listens to you. “yeah? were you trying to seduce him too or what?”

there’s a defiant look in your eyes. you’re only a little tipsy, so you still have the better part of your common sense with you. “so what if i was? how’s that any of your business?”

what a way to have your first big disagreement since you became friends. this is the part where both of you are thankful that the music’s too loud for anyone else to hear you.

eita scoffs, tongue poking against his inner cheek as he looks at you in disbelief. he’s not an infinitely patient person. especially not when he’s looking at you not behaving like yourself. he takes a step back, leaning against the wall, hands in his pants pocket as he looks from the bigger picture.

your father just died not long ago. you have to deal with your mother and the inhumane way she treats you. you have to make sure you score well for everything lest they take your scholarship away.

you’re losing it.

probably.

so much so that you’re willing to look for someone like shiro takanori to relieve your pain. eita doesn’t get it—he’s right here. is he worse than shiro?

“you know what? forget it,” you sigh, your eyes glazing over, the potential tears betraying your spiteful exterior. you don’t say anything else before you’re storming out of the club, with eita struggling to catch up behind you.

he’s calling out your name but you ignore him. he’s sure. your hearing isn't that bad. and fuck because it’s raining and you’re too stubborn to stop and so is he so he ends up running after you, both of you soaked to the bone because it’s quite heavy and he thinks you find solace in it since it can mask your tears.

the intersection where the both of you meet before school starts because the diner you like is just around the corner—that’s where he catches up to you. eita’s fingers connect around your wrist and you try to yank it away but it’s no use.

“let go of me.”

the rain’s pouring all around you and your voice isn’t even clear but eita can’t let you go. not when he knows he’s guilty of leaving you alone when he shouldn’t have. all because of his stupid pride.

maybe he should’ve listened to you.

is that what you need? distraction?

it’s simple and complicated both at the same time. eita doesn’t care about your small crushes and fleeting flings, but why does he care so much back there, when he saw you with shiro like that?

before he knows it, his hand is pulling you in by the back of your neck, his lips on yours and it’s so much better than he imagined. yeah, he’s imagined what it’d be like to kiss you recently, for some reason. and you must really need the distraction, because you’re kissing him back.

“what was that for?” you ask, breathily, foreheads pressing together as your fingers fist at his shirt.

it takes everything in eita to pull away, not that it’s because he has any form of self control when it comes to these things, but partly because of the rain and partly because of the conscious fact that you’re one of his best friends and that until tonight, he never thought he’d actually ever cross a line with you.

eita ignores your question because it’s too tempting not to. “let’s get out of this rain, it’s all your fucking fault,” eita murmurs, though his strong words are cancelled out by his hands around yours as he walks with you in the direction back to the dorms.

“here.” eita tosses you one of his clean jerseys, the one he wears for the national team. you once told him that’s your favourite one. you always steal his shit. “i need that for my next game though, so don’t stash that away.”

you snort, “didn’t know you realised.”

eita looks at you from over his shoulder, white hair matted against his face, a squinted stare as he deadpans at you. “of course i did, you stole three jerseys and one windbreaker.”

just like you are when you’re around him, eita realises you’re so shameless, your grin lighting up your face. “and you let me.” because you of all people know he always asks for his jerseys back, especially after all his random dates try to wear it and never return it. (he’s already gotten in trouble for that with his coach once.)

do you even know what you’re doing? eita thinks you don’t. it’s just the way you are, it’s how you act—this is all natural to you, not forced.

his gaze falls to your bare skin not concealed by your crop top, to your legs under that pleated skirt. thank fuck he didn’t let you get too carried away with shiro.

“change and then get out,” eita tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. he doesn’t think he can stand another minute with you here looking like that; hair a mess, soaked top to bottom, makeup slightly smudged and yet still looking like a fucking vision.

it’s very annoying, actually.

why’d he have to insist on making friends with you that day?

“mean,” you mumble, and eita ignores you. because you need to get out of here, and fast, before he regresses to fifteen minutes ago when he couldn’t control himself. and you’re like a spoiled brat, purposefully saying shit that you know will get under his skin. “hm, maybe i’ll ask shiro if he’s still at the club.”

shit like that.

“are you—” but the moment eita turns around, you’re suppressing a grin. stupid, just trying to rile him up. but it’s not like you won’t go looking for it—distractions. you will. you’ll look for bad news because that’s what you need right now.

he gives up. he gives up on trying to play the role of a good friend. you’re testing his limits and it turns out they’re not really that high. and lucky for you, he’s always found you pretty. you’re so fucking pretty and you’re interesting, even with the way you’re inching closer to him right now.

“fuck, you’re too much,” eita murmurs under his breath, the last of his will being stripped away. he’s already letting his hands pull you closer.

“i can always find someone else,” you whisper, both of you avoiding each other’s gaze.

“don’t you dare.” no, eita doesn’t want that. fuck, why doesn’t he want to share? he uses his fingers to tip your chin up, searching your eyes for the answers he already knows. “you wanna forget, y/n?”

you nod, the recollection of everything that’s happened within the past few months already threatening to make the tears fall. but eita catches you before they do, because he knows you’re so stubborn that you’d rather hold everything back than let them out, even if it’s him.

“just physical, ‘kay?”

eita nearly scoffs, but his tongue is too busy to let him. “yeah yeah, if you end up falling for real i’ll kill you,” he says, in between kisses, both of you ending up on the bed, eita hovering over your body as he marks your neck.

“don’t worry, you won’t have to.”

maybe it’s the fact that he never thought that he’d ever touch you like this, make out with you in his room, that he’s already hard as a rock even without doing anything yet. his mouth travels downward—neck, collarbone, chest—and your moans only get louder.

there’s a way that your voice makes him excited more than he usually is, the way your chest is heaving that urges him to devour you right then and there. his hands travel down to your thighs, pulling them apart, and the way your head pops up to look at him when his lips press kisses on your thigh—those sweet, innocent eyes—makes him pause.

“you’ve never done it before?” eita asks, softer in comparison to the loudness of the rainstorm outside.

and the moment you hesitantly shake your head, eita feels his heart beating faster in his chest. yeah, definitely a good idea to have taken you away from shiro. he swallows the lump in his throat, the idea that he’ll be your first seems strangely enticing.

it’s not surprising to him though, considering you’ve never had a boyfriend since he’s known you, and with the way you’re so stiff, anyone can tell.

eita’s hands smoothly caress your skin as he gets up, looking over your body once. “tell me if you ever want me to stop,” he tells you, hands travelling underneath your top, slowly lifting it up and off of you, your face tilted to the side, too awkward to look at him. you know he’s been with multiple girls—most of which you know are models and the like. it makes you a little self conscious of your own body, but eita doesn’t care. “look at me.”

you do, your eyes travelling to his face first, looking at the barely contained lust from behind his green irises. he’s already half naked, so you can see again now, just how toned he is, eyes shamelessly dragging over his form. but so is his, his hand now snaking up your thighs, pulling your skirt up over your stomach, the way you wear that bold lace lingerie driving him crazy.

wordlessly, you sit up on the edge of the bed, your boldness taking centre stage, fingers unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, the cunning in your eyes looking so, so attractive to him. you even know to pull a condom out of his pocket.

“i know you, otoya eita,” you whisper, and eita doesn’t doubt it. if anything, you’re probably the only person who knows him as well as you do. nobody else comes close.

he takes the condom from you, opening it with his teeth while you get rid of his boxers before handing it to you, a smirk on his face. “first lesson, innocent girl,” he says, a thumb caressing your cheek. “put it on for me.”

with a sneaky grin, you stick your tongue out, giving his tip a little kitten lick before anything else—what are you trying to do, give him a heart attack? eita can barely contain himself just looking at you like this; slightly wet and looking sexy as hell. fuck, he’s so fucked, he wants to know what it feels like to be inside of you so bad. a muffled groan rumbles in his throat, and you take that as a sign to lick a stripe up his length some more, making him throw his head back, taking the chance to roll the condom over his dick. his hand comes up to your hair and tugs on it, pulling you away.

“be a good girl and lie the fuck down, now,” he tells you, though it doesn’t matter since he pushes you down, immediately pulling your panties aside and relishing in how wet you are. soaking, and not from the rain. “nobody’s ever touched you there before, huh, y/n?” he wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed.

eita’s breath is hot against your pussy, partially covered by the lace before he tugs it to the side again, kissing the area around it, watching as you clench around nothing. “e-eita, please—”

he snorts—you don’t even know what you want, do you? you just know that you can’t get rid of the frustration by yourself. no, because no matter how you’ve ever helped yourself in the past, if you ever did, eita’s going to make you feel a lot better. good enough to make you forget everything.

he’ll just give you a taste of your own medicine, giving your clit a quick little lick, watching as you squirm just from that alone. resigning, he pushes a finger inside you—just one, he doesn’t want to break you just yet—watching your face as your back arches, the pleasured moan that rolls off your tongue threatening to make him addicted. you’re so wet and so hot and you’re his best friend but fuck that, he wants you. physically. every. single. part of you.

you’re already wet enough, but his mouth lingers longer on your pussy, licking your folds and tasting every bit of you. he likes the way you moan his name, and the way your fingers grasp at the sheets and his hair. you’re a lot more addictive than any other girl he’s ever met and fuck if he’s going to let this be the one and only time he gets to have you.

eita pulls his finger out of you, lining his dick in front of your entrance, moving the hair away from your face. you’re all hot and bothered and he really wants to know what you look like when you’re getting fucked. probably better than anything he’s ever seen—in person or on video.

he leans down, hands on either side of you, silently begging you to just tell him to stop but you don’t. your hands only trace a trail down his chest and he can’t keep still anymore.

“fuck, can’t take it anymore,” he groans into your ear, body pressed on top of yours as he gently nibs on your lobe. “i’ll try to go slow, okay? but you’re so fucking hot like this i can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

“just do it, i don’t care, i need you,” you tell him, all rushed and muffled because both of you are at your wit’s end.

that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s slowly pushing himself into you, groaning out your name as he feels your tight, gummy walls through the latex, your nails already digging into his back.

“you okay?” he asks, stilling for a moment.

“i’ll get used to it,” you tell him, feeling the burn from the stretch of your first time. “just fuck me already, please.”

shit-eating smirk on his face, he mocks you, white hair falling all over you, the messiness of it only making him look even more like bad news. he moves his hips achingly slow, watching every minor change in your expression, from the way your brows arch to the way you bite your lip.

“we’re alone in here, princess, don’t hide your sounds,” he tells you, a hint of condescension in his tone.

until tonight, you didn’t think you’d ever let him touch you like this, feel you this intimately. yet here he is, pushing your bra up and putting your nipple in his mouth while he fucks into you, tongue flicking at your perky bud, making you feel all sorts of things you’ve never experienced before.

and you listen to him, his name falling out your mouth more times tonight than it has since the time you’ve known him—his lips moving from your chest to your neck to your lips, hungry as if he absolutely needs to claim his territory on every part of you.

eita shifts so that he can look at all of you, watch as your breasts bounce as he thrusts in and out of you, watch as your slick coats the base of his dick as you beg him not to stop, as if he could. fuck, he could cum just like this but he doesn’t want it to end so soon. you’ve already creamed around him what, twice now? you’re sensitive, oh so sensitive, squirming at every slight movement, mewling uncontrollably as he pinches your clit, threatening to cum again when he turns you around, gets you on your knees, slapping your ass.

how the fuck is he supposed to fuck anybody else now when you’re the most perfect girl he’s ever seen?

you arch your back, propped up on your palms as you look over your shoulder at him, his hips still moving, controlling himself as he makes absolutely sure to savour this moment tonight.

but, like always, you always find a way to surprise him, mischief behind those eyes as you smirk at him; you smirk at him like you know how much he loves this.

“eita.” the way you say his name is so dangerous—like he’s caught in your web with no way out. “cum inside me?”

and just like that, he obeys, unintentionally, his body toppling on top of you, the weakest, guttural moan coming out of him ever as he feels you cumming at the same time too, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, riding you through it.

fuck, he thinks as he looks at you under him, both of you wet from the rain or sweating, he can’t even tell, but what he knows is that he’s so, so fucked after what happened tonight.

shit, he wants more of you.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #otoya x reader #otoya eita x reader #bllk smut #otoya eita smut #eita x reader #blue lock smut #otoya x you #otoya x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #otoya eita #૪ aeri’s fics !

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stevie-petey · 5 months

Text

episode three: the pollywog

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?” A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why. “I pay attention,” you dodge.

Summary: you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

Rating: general, some curing

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, cursing, slight reference to billy being mean and trauma

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: hello ! my first day of spring semester is tomorrow, so here's a quick lil chapter for yall :) i wont have a lot of time to update as frequently anymore, but i promise i will continue to update as much as i can <3 in the meantime, enjoy this chapter n have a lovely day my dears !!

Like most mornings, you’re up and ready before Dustin has even woken up.

“Dustin! C’mon, wake up! Jonathan will be here soon and–” You try to open your brother’s door, but it’s locked. “What the–? Dustin! Hello?”

You begin pounding on his door, trying and failing to get in, and right as you’re about to break the door down, your mom comes in from the kitchen. “Y/N, Dusty has already left.”

“Left? Like, he went to school already?” No way in hell that kid has just decided to get up and ready for school any earlier than he needed to. That kid could sleep thirty hours if given the chance.

“Yup! He left pretty early this morning, said he had a test to study for.” Your mom says as she wanders back towards the kitchen to make her usual cup of coffee.

“Huh,” you’re starting to worry that maybe Dustin is hiding something. First he blocked the door from you last night, now he’s supposedly leaving early for some test? He’s hiding something, you know he is. What worries you, though, is that Dustin hasn’t felt the need to hide anything from you since the whole El fiasco.

Which hadn’t ended well.

As you’re lost in thought, mentally going through Dustin’s actions these last few days, Jonathan walks through your front door, keys in hand.

“Hey, bug. Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head to clear any more thoughts. You’ll interrogate Dustin later. “Let me grab my bag, one sec.”

Jonathan nods before he’s attacked by your mom, who pulls him into a hug squeals. “Jonathan!”

“You saw me last night, Mrs. Henderson.” He pats her back awkwardly, mouthing “help me” towards you, but you only laugh and grab your bag from your room.

As soon as you have your stuff, you and Jonathan head out. You sneak some glances at him while he drives, memories from last night crashing back. The party… Well, who could’ve seen any of that coming? Considering how shitty the night turned out, Jonathan looks better at least. However, the bruises on his knuckles make you frown.

“I’m sorry about Billy,” you say, grabbing the bruised hand. His skin is rough against yours, but familiar all the same.

Jonathan gives you an incredulous look. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes…?”

“Bug, no. We aren’t doing this.” He shakes his head, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Billy was being a piece of shit, you needed my help, so I did what any sane person would do.”

You’re silent, not used to having such aggression from Jonathan aimed at you. He’s not necessarily mad at you, but you and him have had some issues in the past about stuff like this. You’ve always apologized for other people’s actions, as if you getting hurt is somehow always your fault. He hates that you do it.

You hate that you always do it. But you can’t help it, it’s almost second nature at this point.

Jonathan, reading your mind, sighs. His anger dissipates and he grabs your hand now, kissing your knuckles softly. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just… You mean the world to me, Y/N. I love you, I will always be there for you. I’d punch Billy a million more times if I needed to, without you ever having to ask me.”

“I know, but–”

“If you feel guilty I will pull this car over and shake your pretty little head until I finally knock some sense into it.”

Finally, you laugh. “Now that’s just dramatic.”

“Do I need to pull over?”

“No,” you raise your hands up in surrender. “I’ll shut up now.”

Jonathan nods his head. “Good, just the way I like it.”

You smack his chest, and he fake screams in pain. He makes a show of it, hunching himself over while he drives and clutches at his chest, which you giggle at. He’s laughing as well, and it’s one of your “normal” moments that have become so few and far between. Just you and Jonathan, giggling in his car early in the morning as you drive to school, your laughter is just enough to keep the two of you warm.

Jonathan’s ladybug ring catches the morning light and the bee wrapped around your neck buzzes against your skin.

But “normal” never lasts long anymore, and you remember Nancy’s drunken eyes from last night and Steve’s loneliness in his voice when he asked you why everyone keeps leaving him. The memories cause your giggles to fade off, the small moment of joy now gone.

Jonathan sees your mood change and, because he’s always on the same page as you, purses his lips. “So… It’s now tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, remembering telling him last you’d talk about Steve and Nancy tomorrow. “It’s now tomorrow.”

“Why’d you insist on driving Steve home?”

The question is innocent enough, but you sense that how you answer it could change things. “He was upset.”

“Sure, but you almost bit my head off when I last asked about that guy. Then you wanted to drive him home?” Jonathan keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, though he clenches his jaw ever so slightly. But you see it. You always see it.

“Bee… I had to, okay? Please, can we just leave it at that?” You don’t want to talk about your fucking feelings with the first boy you’ve ever loved, the boy who doesn’t love you back.

Jonathan swallows, takes another deep breath, and then nods. “I took Nancy home, like Steve asked. She was… Very drunk. Had to carry her into bed.”

“I’m sorry about that, too.”

“You didn’t shove alcohol down her throat.”

“No, but I did encourage her to go to that stupid party while she was fighting with Steve.”

“Steve and Nancy have been fighting?”

Shit. You forgot that Jonathan didn’t know.

“Okay, yes” you say, but right as Jonathan’s eyes light up, you’re quick to backtrack. “But if I tell you anything else, you have to swear to keep it between us. Got it?”

“I won’t say a word.”

You sigh, really hoping you aren’t breaking Nancy’s trust. Technically, she hadn’t asked you to keep your conversation from yesterday private, but… It feels wrong telling Jonathan about it. “Nancy and Steve have been fighting, yes, but not in the way you’d think.”

You’ve arrived at school, so Jonathan quickly parks the car before motioning for you to keep talking. “Go on, I’m curious now.”

“God, you’re a worse gossip than I am. Anyways, she’s mad at Steve for brushing off Barb’s death, in a sense. But also, like… Steve isn’t really brushing off Barb’s death? I think he just wants to help Nancy, those are his intentions, but he doesn’t know how. He thinks dinner dates, going to parties, and spending a lot of time together will get her mind off of things.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Well, babying Nancy won’t help.”

“I know, and you’re right, but Nancy should have expressed this to Steve better, don’t you think? I mean, we don’t know what happened last night, but it seems like she tried drinking away her anger towards him rather than actually talking to him.”

“And how can we know Steve wouldn’t just run away or something? Actually be up for it, be proactive rather than retroactive. It seems like Nancy needs to do something about Barb’s death.”

Frustration builds within you. “And what good does assuming something actually do? Assuming that Steve wouldn’t listen is wholly unfair and honestly, a bit rude. He’s her boyfriend, she can’t just assume he wouldn’t care. Steve has done everything he can to show he cares, that he loves her, so I think Nancy should be the one to voice her feelings and let him know what she needs. What she wants.”

Jonathan looks away. “And what should Nancy want, bug?”

You’re silent.

Somehow, you and Jonathan aren’t fighting about Steve and Nancy anymore.

“I… I don’t know.” You look out the window, watching as students pass by.

After a tense silence, Jonathan tries to crack a joke. “Oh, you’ll laugh at this! Caught Bob sneaking out the house like some shameful teenage boy this morning.”

You turn towards him now. “Why would I laugh at that? I think it’s sweet, your mom seems happy.”

“Sure, but…” Jonathan’s smile falters, not expecting you to be so stoic as a reaction. “He’s kinda a loser, you gotta admit.”

“Jonathan Byers, I literally had to save you from bullies, five times my size, as a girl, when we were twelve.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“You should be nicer about Bob. He’s a good guy, he actually cares about you, Will, and your mom. After the hell you guys went through with Lonnie, you should be appreciative of Bob.” You’re so angry now, your fists shake with rage. “You have a healthy father figure in your life now, which I would kill to give Dustin, and even if you don’t like him, you’re luckier for it.”

Jonathan is quiet. He’s staring down at his steering wheel in shame, and you feel bad for snapping so suddenly. You aren’t sorry for your anger towards him, his attitude towards Bob has been bothering you for a while. However, it doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch about it just because of your own issues surrounding shitty dads.

“I’m sorry, bee. You have a right to feel uncomfortable about the change, but I just think you should give Bob a chance. I like the guy.” You offer, looking over at your friend tentatively.

“No, you’re right. I know you are, it just takes some getting used to, I guess.” He grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze as if to tell you it’s all good now, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Great drive to school today,” you quip.

Jonathan laughs. “God, I think I had about five heart attacks during those conversations.”

The tension leaves the car. Then, slowly, the warmth creeps back in as you and Jonathan once again start laughing. You’re not sure why you’re even laughing, but you’re happy that you are.

–

Jonathan walks you to your locker, as he always does, and before he turns to head to his, you notice how quiet it is in the hallway. You look over at Nancy’s locker, which somehow always manages to be near yours every year, and frown when you don’t see her.

“There’s a suspicious lack of Nancy and Steve making out against her locker this morning.” You tell Jonathan.

He looks around and notices you’re right. The two of you share a concerned glance, knowing that their absence can’t mean anything good for the couple.

“Should we go look for them?” He asks, but you’re already heading towards the parking lot to find Steve. “Y/N!”

“Go find Nancy!” You call behind you, speeding up. “I’ll meet you at first period!”

Steve’s car is hard to miss in the parking lot. Hawkins isn’t necessarily a flashy town. No one else besides the Harringtons owns a fancy BMW. You approach the car and spot Steve sitting in the front, his head ducked down as if no one can see his massive red car and easily identify him.

Idiot.

Steve is having a rough week, so he’s spent the last five minutes in his car debating on whether or not he can afford to skip his first class. Reasonably speaking, his dad would kill him. He already has shit grades and he’s missed three college application deadlines. All he has left is Tech. However, his girlfriend told him last night she doesn’t love him and Billy embarrassed him in front of everyone last night.

Plus Nancy left with Jonathan, which everyone saw.

He told him to take her, but still.

Pretty embarrassing.

Yup. Alright. He’s going home.

Steve reaches over for his keys to turn the car on, but before he can, a knock on his window stops him. He looks up, scared Billy will be there, but instead he sees you and he’s not sure if his day just got better or worse.

“Let me in, dingus.” Your voice is light, but still stern, and yeah. Steve’s day just got better.

He unlocks the door and you silently get into the passenger seat. As you get settled in, he thinks about the first time he ever had you in his car. It feels like a lifetime ago, Steve’s heart had been beating wildly taking the risk of offering you a ride.

It had been the start of something, he could feel it.

But then you left him that summer without another word, as if nothing had happened between the two of you. As if Steve hadn’t slowly come to find himself opening up to someone, trusting that you’d let him be whoever he wanted; he could just be Steve around you, not King Steve or even perfect boyfriend Steve.

Now Steve’s hiding out in his car, no longer King Steve or even good fucking boyfriend Steve, and instead of his girlfriend seeking him out to comfort him, it’s you. Because of course it’s you.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi.”

“You know that senior study hall is inside the school, right?”

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?”

A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why.

“I pay attention,” you dodge.

Steve wants to tease you some more, play into the banter he missed the most when the two of you weren’t talking, but his heart isn’t in it. Nancy’s words kept him up all night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could hear was her telling him that she didn’t love him. After he did everything he possibly could’ve done right, it still hadn’t been enough.

“Did Nancy get home okay?”

You give him a small smile. “Yeah, I just talked to Jonathan about it.”

Relief floods through Steve. At least that’s one thing he hadn’t fucked up last night. “Good… I’m glad then.”

He awkwardly clears his throat and looks away again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He feels lost, floating through his morning. Nothing has felt real since yesterday in the library with Nancy, when she had been looking up at him with those eyes he’s always been weak for.

“Any particular reason you’re hiding out in your car?”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “You were there last night. You know what happened.”

“Actually, I don’t.” You see the disbelief on Steve’s face and quickly correct yourself. “I mean, I remember you saying something about Nancy but… I don’t want to assume, so…”

Now you’re the one looking away in shame, and Steve watches as you nervously fiddle with your fingers and bite your lip. You’re trying. Though Steve still isn’t sure how to feel about you, how much to test this new compromise between you two, this “friendship”, Steve knows he has to at least try as well.

He takes a deep breath. “Nancy… She isn’t in love with me.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Steve, I mean, are you sure–”

“Pretty fucking sure, Y/N. Unless you think someone telling their boyfriend ‘like we’re in love’ means she’s madly in love with him.”

Another beat of silence passes. Steve can see the pity in your eyes, and he hates it. He fucking hates this, feeling so pathetic and small.

Then, your hand slowly intertwines with his and the anger in Steve’s chest lessens a bit. “I know my words don’t mean anything, but… Nancy not being in love with you has nothing to do with you as a person.”

Something untangles in Steve’s chest; you’ve reassured him of something he hadn’t even known had been his fear. How do you always seem to decipher what he’s feeling before he can?

“How do you know?” Steve has never felt so small before.

You shrug, but there’s a calculated nonchalance to it that he can easily see. “Because I know you. You’re frustratingly charming, Harrington.”

Steve laughs, something he didn’t even know he was able to do anymore. “That’s your takeaway here?”

“Mhm,” you squeeze his hand and Steve has never felt this grounded before by such a small action. “I say you need to talk to Nancy, I mean really talk to her. No more half truths and appeasements. I think she does love you, in her own way, but the circumstances aren’t on your guys’ side. I mean, she went through hell and back last year, Barb’s death anniversary is soon.”

You pause for a moment and frown, which Steve has come to learn means you’re carefully choosing which words to say next. “I want you to know, no, I need you to know, that this has nothing to do with you. Okay?”

Steve wants to believe you, god he really wants to, but even he can see the blaring irony of you telling him that Nancy’s lack of love for him has nothing to do with him personally. You, the girl he came to trust more than anyone else in this awful town, ditched him in the same manner. Steve’s the common denominator there. He’s always the one left behind.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re saying, but the words don’t mean a whole lot coming from you right now,” Steve tells you, and he hates the way your eyes darken, as if guarding yourself from him. “I know we agreed on being friends again, but I just… I need some time.”

You nod, as if you expected something like that from Steve, and he almost wants to just drive away with you in the car and pretend that nothing else exists. Instead, he clears his throat, his tongue feels heavy and his throat threatens to close up, but he forces himself to get the words out. “I want to be alone, please.”

He really doesn’t want to be alone, but his brain is swimming in confusion and you’re still holding his hand and Steve just needs a moment to himself to just breathe.

“Of course,” you tell him, because of course you listen and understand. “You know where to find me, yeah?”

Steve nods. He does.

“Bye, Y/N.”

You give him a small wave in response, close the car door, and then make your way back to the high school.

Steve watches you fade into the distance.

He’s alone again.

–

Jonathan makes it to first period with only seconds to spare. He throws himself into his seat next to you with panting breaths. Your history teacher, Mrs. Kent, drones through attendance without having noticed anything.

“I couldn’t find Nancy.” Jonathan whispers, before his name is called and he quickly raises his hand and says, “Here.”

You glance at the chalkboard and then flip your textbook to the page scrawled on it. “I found Steve wallowing in his car, alone. Guess he didn’t drive Nancy to school?”

“Seems a bit harsh.”

“May I remind you of the time you threw a jacket at my face and then screamed at me that we aren’t family? All because you felt guilty about taking naked photos of Nancy?”

Jonathan drops his head onto the desk, letting out a groan. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

You keep your eyes on the board, taking a few notes. “Nope.”

Class starts up now, so the topic is left alone. The school day passes on, you and Jonathan separating for your own classes after history is done. The day drags on for a while, though you hear a few whispers in the hall about how Jonathan had taken home a drunk Nancy.

“God, it’s like she loves the attention.” One girl giggles with her friend while you’re at your locker.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “Please, as if anyone would choose Byers over Steve Harrington.”

“I’m more of a Wheeler fan myself,” you tell the girls, not even sparing them a glance. “Now, why don’t we all just shut up and move away from my locker?”

The girls scurry away, fear in their eyes, and you simply shake your head at them. Why is Nancy always the one those girls gossip about? Objectively speaking, Steve has done much more heinous things than getting a ride home from a friend while drunk.

Jonathan kisses your cheek as he walks up from behind you, breaking you from your thoughts. “Hey, bug. Lunch at my car today?”

“Ugh, it’s such a nice day today, I’d love to.” You grab your lunch from your locker. Once you have it, you link your arm through Jonathan’s. “Guide the way, good sir.”

“Yes ma’am.”

–

Nancy is leaning against Jonathan’s car when you walk outside.

Her shoulders are slouched and you can see the unease on her face. She looks tired, too. A few people walk by her and stare, whispering as they go, and you really hate high schoolers sometimes.

When you make it to Jonathan’s car, Nancy holds her lunch bag up awkwardly. “Can I join you guys?”

“I’m sure we can make some room.” You tell her, which she smiles at.

It takes some adjusting, but eventually the three of you manage to fit on the front of the car. You sit on the roof, your legs dangling off of the side, while Nancy and Jonathan take the front. The early November sun beats down on you three, but the cool breeze makes the sting less painful. It’s a lovely day, all things considered.

You’re nibbling on your sandwich when Nancy exhales deeply and turns to you. “Y/N, you’d always tell me the truth, right?”

“Depends,” you take another bite out of your food. “What is this in reference to?”

“Last night… I don’t remember what I did.”

There’s a certain shame in her eyes that tells you she encountered Steve before retreating to Jonathan’s car. “You spoke to Steve this morning, I take it?”

She looks at you, surprised. “How did you–”

“We talked to him last night.” Jonathan cuts her off, looking between you and Nancy nervously. He’s not sure where you, her, and Steve all fall in regards to each other.

“So, he asked you to take me home?” Nancy faces him now, and you go back to eating.

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean he was upset…” He glances at you briefly before looking back at Nancy. “I mean, he was really upset.”

“I don’t blame him.” You cut in, mouth full of chips you stole from Jonathan.

He sends you glare and keeps talking. “But he was still worried about you, Nance.”

Nancy drops her head down and a part of you feels bad for the quip. She really does look ashamed, but you distinctly remember warning her about this exact thing last year in the school’s shed. She had tried telling you there wasn’t anything between her and Jonathan, and all you could tell her was that Steve didn’t deserve to be lied to or cheated on.

Guess she only kept one end of that bargain.

Jonathan sees that she’s upset and he softens his voice, scooting closer to her. “Hey, you need to cut yourself some slack, okay? People say stupid things when they’re wasted. Things they don’t mean.”

You bite your tongue. Hard. If you allow yourself to speak, you won’t be able to guarantee it’ll be anything nice. Sure, being drunk can influence some words to slip out, but cruelly telling your boyfriend of over a year that you don’t love him is something you can’t defend. Not when Nancy had other chances to tell Steve.

Nancy whips her head up. “Yeah, but that’s the thing. What if I did mean it? All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”

You and Jonathan share a look. He seems more curious, you can feel the anger burning through your eyes.

“No offense, Nance.” You wipe your hands on a napkin and force the girl to look at you. “But this is really something that you should be talking to Steve about. Remember our conversation from last year?”

Nancy looks down again in shame. “You’re right, I know you are, but… I don’t know. I feel like there’s this…” She pauses, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts, but Jonathan finishes for her.

“Like there’s this weight you’re carrying around with you. All the time. I feel it, too.” He says, then he flicks your leg. “Y/N does as well. She tries to hide it, but I know she feels it as much as I do.”

Now it’s you who turns away, embarrassed and ashamed. Clearly you haven’t been so good at hiding your neverending guilt over Will.

“Yeah, but it’s different for you guys. Will came home.” Nancy says.

You open your mouth to speak, to correct the girl’s horrible viewpoint, but Jonathan surprises you by correcting her himself. “Yeah, he did. But he’s not the same. I try to be there for him, you know, to help him, but… I don’t know.”

“Dustin still has nightmares.” You admit, which Jonathan hadn’t known.

“I thought those went away, bug.”

You shake your head at him. “No… If anything, they’ve only gotten worse. Some nights he sleeps in my bed, says I calm him down, but I just… I feel horrible, knowing I left them alone that night at the middle school. The things he saw… god.”

Nancy and Jonathan sigh, understanding how painful the weight of guilt can feel.

A silence follows your confession.

Then, because you hate when there’s silence, you try to go back to the previous topic. “Anyways, Nancy, what we’re trying to say is that we understand. And I’m sure Steve will, too. He was also there that night, at Jonathan’s. You should talk to him, explain the weight within you. Steve, he…”

You find yourself pausing, unsure if what you’re about to tell Nancy is something Steve would want you to keep between you two, but he misses her. He loves her, so you try to fix whatever you can between them. “He thinks he did something wrong, that he’s unlovable. It isn’t fair to make someone feel that way.”

Nancy sighs. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know, but now that you do, you should probably do something about it. You guys can still go back to how things were.”

Jonathan frowns. “What if things can’t go back to the way they were? I mean, Will still thinks he’s in the Upside Down sometimes. I’ve seen the way Dustin gets scared when he hears a loud noise.”

A phantom pain shoots through your ankle. It’s long since healed, but sometimes memories from last year still sting. As you’re absentmindedly rubbing at it, Nancy notices and starts to get upset.

“Doesn’t that make you mad?”

“Mad?” You and Jonathan ask at the same time.

Nancy seems to almost come back to life, her anger now bringing energy back into her. “Yeah, that those… Those people who did this, who ruined so many lives, they just get away with it.”

“The people responsible for this, they’re dead.” Jonathan gently reminds her.

Nancy leans in close, bitterness in her voice as she narrows her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Jonathan frowns again and you do the same. If you’re being honest, you were also pretty skeptical about the whole evil scientists at Hawkin’s Lab all dying. Seemed like a pretty convenient thing to happen. But what else are you supposed to believe?

Nancy looks between you and Jonathan and sighs again. You know she’s upset by your unwillingness to look further, to question everything, but then you watch as her eyes drift towards some kid with his headphones and his walkman. Something shifts in her gaze and you know immediately that she’s thought of something.

You scoot closer in a hurry. “Nancy, whatever it is–”

“Your mom’s boyfriend,” she looks over at Jonathan. “He works at RadioShack, right?”

“Yeah… Why?” Jonathan looks over at you as if you have any possible explanation, and you just shrug at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Do you wanna skip fourth period?”

Immediately you hop down from the car. “No. Nope. Not happening. We aren’t doing this again.”

Nancy groans at you. “Y/N, I haven’t even explained my plan to you yet.”

“Okay, go on. Explain it, so I can then say no.”

Nancy does as she’s told, and it’s a fucking brilliant plan. You know it’ll work, and that’s why you can’t do it. Buying a tape recorder, planting a fake meetup with Barb’s mom to con the Hawkin’s Lab people into taking them in, and then recording whatever they confess to take it to the detective Barb’s parents hired.

It’s a genius plan, but you can’t leave the kids behind for that long.

“I can’t go.”

Jonathan looks disappointed. “Bug, don’t you want to make those assholes pay?”

“I do,” you reassure him. “But I can’t afford to leave the kids behind for two whole days. I mean, last time I did they opened a portal to another dimension. And Dustin has been acting weird lately, and Will’s been having those episodes more and more and I just… What if it’s happening again?”

Your voice shakes a bit with fear, and Jonathan pulls you into him. “We don’t know that.”

“But what if it is? Who would be there for them? We can’t just leave them to suffer the consequences alone while we’re trying to avenge them.”

While you’re still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms, Nancy rests her own hand against your shoulder. “I would feel better knowing the kids are in good hands. You’ve always been their biggest advocate.”

You thank the girl, but Jonathan still seems unsure about leaving you behind. “What about you? Who’s gonna be there for you if something happens?”

There, hidden underneath his words, you know he’s really asking how can I protect you if you aren’t within arm’s reach?

You bury your face into his chest, and Nancy seems to get the message and looks away. When you have some privacy, you look up at Jonathan. “I’ll be okay, bee. I promise. We can call every day you’re away, nothing will go uncommunicated this time. No secrets. You’ll be home in no time and I’ll be right here, safe and sound.”

He kisses your head. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I should be telling you that.”

“Y/N…” he isn’t laughing, and you can hear how fast his heart is pounding. He’s terrified to leave you behind, but you know that this is what you have to do.

“I love you, and I’ll be right here. Come home to me, alright?”

“I will.” He promises, and you look into his eyes and see all the warmth and sincerity that you’ve come to love so much, and you believe him.

After a few moments, you finally pull away from him. You clear your throat and turn towards Nancy. “Okay, now that we’ve got that settled, I’m assuming I’m covering for y’all?”

She nods. “If you wouldn’t mind, can I tell my mom I’m at your place?”

“Duh, and Jonathan,” you flick his forehead, breaking the remaining tension away. “I’ll tell your mom you’ll be at my place as well. Sound good?”

He nods as well, though his eyes linger on you longer than they should.

“Well!” You clap your hands and stand between Nancy and Jonathan. “Great team meeting, gang. Let’s reconvene in two day’s time.”

Nancy laughs and pulls you into her own hug.

“I’ll keep him safe,” she whispers into your ear, and you exhale shakily. The weight of everything has finally settled in. You can’t believe you’re doing this. A part of you feels like you’ve just solidified something horrible, not agreeing to come along, but the other part of you, maybe even the larger part, is secretly relieved.

You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Thank you.” You whisper back, squeezing her tightly.

When you break apart, you pull Jonathan into yet another hug. “Stay safe, bee.”

“I will.”

“Good,” you pull away and give the two teens a thumbs up. “Break a leg, go expose some weird government agency!”

–

True to your word, you cover for Jonathan and Nancy the rest of the day. Teachers ask where they are and you simply tell them they both had a family emergency. Thankfully, due to living in such a small and rundown town, they don’t question it.

After school, you head over across the street to the middle school to go pick up Will and Dustin. Since Jonathan drove you to school and took his car with Nancy, you’ll have to hitch a ride on your brother’s bike pegs to work.

When you reach the school you walk towards the bike rack, expecting to see the boys all standing there about to leave, but you stop when you realize that they aren’t.

Huh. Odd.

You wander around. It’s been years since you’ve been inside the middle school, and the hallways are filled with memories. You walk towards the AV room, figuring they’re probably there to discuss whatever new project they’re working on. As you round the corner, you hear pounding and a girl’s voice demanding to be let in.

Speeding up, you spot Max with her angry fists. “Guys! What’s going on? C’mon!”

You watch for a moment, curious as to who this girl is. Dustin spoke highly of her, yet her brother is the worst person you’ve met in your life. She has an anger in her, that much is obvious, but then she grabs something from her bag and begins to pick at the lock.

Hm, she’s smart.

“Need some help?” You ask her.

She looks up at you and frowns. “And who are you?”

“Y/N Henderson. Unfortunately, the idiot that I’m assuming is locked inside the room is my brother.”

“You know how to pick a lock?” Max asks, eyeing you up and down.

Shrugging, you say, “can’t be too hard.”

Max seems to accept that as an answer and slides over, making room for you to crouch down next to her. You help her jimmy the paperclip into the door. Then, you hear some muffled yelling from the other side. What the fuck has your brother gotten up to this time?

“I’m gonna put a leash on that kid,” you mumble, and Max laughs.

“Do they do this a lot?”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face. “Yeah. They’re weird, honestly–”

The lock clicks, the door flings open, and suddenly a tiny, slimy creature comes scampering out the room. You hear the boys curse and before you can get up and out of their way, they come crashing into you and Max on the ground.

“Shit!” Dustin knees your forearm and you groan.

“Y/N!” His eyes widen when he sees you. He’s been caught.

Max gets up. “What was that?”

Lucas ignores her. “He’s getting away!”

“Who is getting away?” You’re finally up as well, watching as the boys start to scramble around in a panic.

Mike, seemingly unsurprised by your sudden appearance, turns to you. “Dart!” Then, in annoyance, he turns towards Max. “You let him escape!”

“What the fuck is a Dart?” You’re freaking out now. Lucas, hearing your confusion, can only shrug his shoulders at you.

Then, Dustin angrily advances towards Mike and starts yelling in his face. “Why did you attack him?”

Mike doesn’t say a word, he just starts to run down the hall. Dustin, even more in a panic, screams at him, “Don’t hurt him! Don’t you hurt him!”

You grab at your brother’s jacket and fling him back, now incredibly fucking angry. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds to explain what the fuck is happening.”

Lucas, Max, and Will stand back, frightened by your anger. Dustin, the only one who ever seems to face this anger, gulps. “I can explain.”

“Start. Talking.”

And he does. He explains how he had found Dart last night, thinking it had been some new lizard breed previously undiscovered. That’s why he hadn’t let you into his room. Then, to prove he was some scientific prodigy and, which he doesn’t tell you but you suspect, to impress Max.

“I was about to show Mr. Clark before Mike came in and took Dart. According to Will…” Dustin looks over at Max, lowers his voice, and whispers to you, “he’s from the Upside Down.”

And there it is.

There, the dread that has been creeping up on you ever since you saved Will, comes crawling up. You knew this would happen eventually. It’s happening again. You were right.

God, it’s happening again.

Thank fuck you stayed behind with the kids.

You want to throw up, crawl into a ball and pretend nothing else exists anymore, but Dustin is looking at you with fear in his eyes and you know you have to be strong for him. For all the kids, now. “Okay, let’s split up and find Dart.”

Dustin nods and sends Will southbound, Lucas westbound, and Max towards the gymnasium. You go with him, both because he’s your brother and because you have a few choice words you’d like to say to him. Everyone takes a walkie and splits up.

Mike is already long gone, which you’re not surprised by.

After everyone leaves, you snap at Dustin. “Thanks so much for telling me about Dart, by the way.”

“Y/N…”

“What exactly did you think you’d do with that thing hidden in our house?”

“Continue to hide it from you–ow!” Dustin rubs the back of his head.

You continue to walk. “You deserved that.”

“I did.”

You laugh, but then you feel a sense of static behind you. You turn around, but there’s no one there. But the static had felt like the same electricity that had accompanied El’s powers last year, but… No. She’s gone. You know she is.

Brushing it off as paranoia, you continue to keep an eye out for Dart. “So, what does Max think about all this?”

“Mike won’t let us tell her.” Dustin says, annoyance in his voice.

This doesn’t shock you. “I get why. I mean, we all almost died last year.”

“Yeah, but she’s different. She’s cool, I think she could be good for the party.”

Dustin seems so eager, and you feel bad for denying the boy. “She’s too young. You’re all too young for this. We can’t rope her any further into the Upside Down. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Your brother sighs. “I mean, I guess… but–”

Will’s voice suddenly comes through the walkie. “Guys, I found him.”

“Where?” Dustin fumbles with the walkie, almost dropping it in his frantic rush to answer.

“In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno’s.”

“Copy that.” Mike says.

You look over at Dustin. “Race you to the bathroom?”

“You’re on.”

The two of you start to run, and at first you’re winning. But then you forget that you haven’t been in the school for at least three years now and you take a wrong turn, misremembering where Mr. Salerno’s room is. “Shit!”

You backtrack, but Dustin is long gone now.

By the time you get your bearings back, Lucas, Mike, and Max have all run down the hallway towards the bathroom. You join them as you all run inside. Dustin is standing in the middle of the bathroom, which you find strange.

Mike looks around. “Where’s Dart?”

“I don’t know. Not here.” You eye your brother, but he averts your gaze.

“Will said he was here.” You remind him, but Dustin doesn’t respond.

Mike curses and starts checking all the stalls.

“Maybe Will has him?” Dustin says, but you keep an eye on him. Something isn’t right.

You’re about to call Dustin’s bluff, accuse him of lying, when Mike suddenly freezes. He looks around, then turns to you. “Where’s Will?”

You turn around and finally notice that yeah, Will isn’t here. But he had just radioed from the bathroom.

“I… I don’t know.” Fear settles in you now, and you have an awful feeling that something bad is about to happen. After his episode from the night before…

You run out the bathroom, the first to start looking for Will.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #dustin n the kids time !!!#WOOOOOOO #and steve :((((#poor baby

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lineffability · 3 months

Text

The Serpent Files 🐍

chapters: 5/5 rating: M/E wordcount: 13.9k au: human, the magnus archives

summary: Aziraphale works as the head archivist at Eden Institute. Crowley has been supplying them with potentially cursed artifacts over the years -- until he himself gets entangled in a case that turns him from associate to client...

[ art credit and support credit and 1000 hugs to: @chernozemm my beloved ]

start reading:

“Ouroboros. Yes. The introductory statement is meant to be concise, though, akin to a title. You can describe the necklace in detail in your statement, Crowley. Also, I need you to state your name. It occurs to me I don't actually know it. I mean. I'm not saying I want to know your full name, or anything. Just, all these years– erm. You'd have to state it anyway. For formality's sake. We have a system.”

“Sure. So. Name's Crowley.”

“I… know that part. [sighs] Full names, please, throughout.”

“Ah. Anthony J Crowley.”

“I said full names, please. What's the J stand for?”

“Erm. Uh. Just a J, really. Thought it added a certain gravitas, y’know, flair. Je ne sais quoi. Makes people treat you serious, a J like that.”

“Uh. Alright. Well. Anthony J. Crowley, then. I suppose. Seriously? [clears throat] So. Please start from the beginning.”

“Mmmmhhhh wellll. I’ve been coming to Eden for, what, now, six years maybe?”

“I believe so. Yes.”

“Anyway, not like I go here often. We’ve met a handful of times, you and me, maybe nine, ten? I mean, it was ten times. I know. Uh. Not like I counted or anything. Just, coming here, it stays with you a bit, doesn’t it? All that occult shit. Which is why I come here, of course. I’m – what should I call it? A… supplier. Of sorts. I work with – this is confidential, right?”

“Yes. Internal use only. We don’t give out those files. Your words are safe with me. Erm. Us.”

“Good. Right. I work with the Doomsday Group. Can’t really talk about it much, but you’ve heard of them. Shady stuff, crime, theft, trade, religious artifacts, apocalyptic jazz, all that. Supernatural stuff, too, sometimes. Or claimed supernatural. You know I don’t believe in all that. Well. Didn’t. I didn’t believe in it. Now… uh, anyway. Sometimes we get those weird artifacts, right, apparently cursed, so I bring them to you, to, to check, or verify, or call bullshit. Or to lock them away, or whatever you do with them when you buy them off our lot. That’s how we met. Best part of this shit job, really, if I’m being honest. I didn’t ask to be– hm. Wish I could just– ngh. Confidential, right? Wish I could just be done with them. Run off. Can’t, though. But erm. Forget I said that, alright? Please.”

[pause] “You're rambling a bit, de- Crowley. Or should I, should I call you Anthony now?”

“Hell no. I mean – Crowley's fine. You've called me Crowley for years, haven't you? What, now you don't like it?”

“No, no, I do in fact quite – well, for propriety’s sake, the official documentation, I thought – nevermind. So, Crowley, while the background information on your…job is reasonable, might I politely remind you why you’re here? Please talk less about our personal relationship, or at least only insofar as it pertains to the case, and more about what happened to you since… since you put on that necklace.”

“Right. Righty-oh. S’ just, never been in this room before. The tape recorder, all that. I’ve only ever been here as a sort of… co-worker? Nah. You’re not my co-worker, you’re better than that. As a tradesman. So to be here as a client , it feels… surreal.”

“That is understandable. I trust you will muddle through, though.”

“Hey – remember the first thing I said when I came here? Today, I mean.”

[continue reading]

#good omens #ineffable husbands #azcrow #good omens fanfiction #my writing #inefficable #the serpent files

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sarahsartistportfolio · 4 months

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SAGAU: A Rumor Spreads

Xiao’s addition to this

Forewarn: female reader, reader is virgin, so sorry there is no spice in Xiao's chapter but he is yearning for us hard, I shamelessly use my own name in this piece but hey isn't that the point of a self indulgent fantasy

And there’s no stopping these nosy rumors once they start going. What happens when they reach the ear of…

Xiao

“The goddess Sarah? A virgin? But she must be over thousands of years old?”

Xiao almost chokes on his sip of tea as he overhears the words spoken by two traders at Wangshu inn. He quickly regains his composure and although he’s tempted to just get up and walk away from this mendacious gossip about you, something completes him to stay.

“I can't imagine going that long without any. Hmm I wonder…do you think she’s accepting consorts to share her bed?”

The two men laugh and the look Xiao casts them over his shoulders is nothing short of pure disgust.

He hates it. Although he mostly avoids people, now when he does come within close enough range he has to listen to their dishonorable gossip about you.

He hates it because he knows you. He sees you, without delay, every time you are in Liyue.

He knows your favorite tea, knows the sounds of your footsteps, knows that you fidget with your necklace when you’re nervous, knows that you are lonely.

Disgusting. He thinks as he overhears the townsfolk talk about such an intimate part of you.

Do these rumors surprise him? Hmm mostly yes. Because while Xiao does know you to be reserved and shy he does see you as otherworldly beautiful. When you spoke about being human in your past life he naturally assumed someone like you must have had admirers fawning at your feet.

So to think all this time you’ve been alone like him

He’s nervous to see you again. You’ve been away in Inazuma but you’ll be back soon, at his side.

Surely he can just…pretend he hasn't heard these rumors. Feign ignorance for your sake.

“Sarah’s ship has arrived back from Inazuma earlier. Aren’t you going to greet her?”

But Xiao has no response for Zhongli.

There you are again, the same night you arrive back in Liyue you waste no time. There you are on the terrace of Wangshu Inn waiting for your adeptus. He can see you from miles away, leaning over the railing, white shawl wrapped tightly around your shoulders from the cool air.

“Be careful.'' He speaks as he teleports and approaches you from behind.

Your eyes immediately light up when you see him, the way you say his name feels like a caress.

“Xiao!”

He wears his usual stern expression with arms crossed.

“How was your trip?”

It's strange how freely and openly he talks around you. He doesn't know why. When the two of you are around each other it's like two introverts become extroverts.

He sits at the table that stands outside on the terrace. That was put there by you, so you two could enjoy tea together in privacy.

You pour him a blend of Inazuman tea that you’ve brought back with you, as you recount your trip to the land of eternity.

Maybe Xiao can avoid the awkward topic of the rumor floating around.

“...I know you must have heard the rumors Xiao.”

Or maybe not

He stutters, golden cat like eyes widening at you for a second before turning his now red face away from you.

“I-I’ve heard no such things.” He responds way too quickly.

You suppress a giggle as you tilt your head a bit trying to get a look at his flustered face.

“It's ok Xiao, although having something so private talked about is embarrassing.” You lean back in your chair, hands fidgeting with each other in your lap.

“If it's you, I don't mind if you know.”

His heart skips a beat, as he shyly brings his gaze back to your face. Or at least he tries to, occasionally glancing at your glass tea cup.

“I mean by the way I act around you, you probably already concluded that I have no relationship experience.”

No I haven’t. You are far too exceptional to have not been taken already.

“But um…” You pull your shawl tighter around your shoulders, hands moving to rest around the hot tea cup to warm your fingers.

“This, this information, it doesn't change how you see me right?”

He catches the anxiousness in your voice.

“No never.”

Again he answers uncharastically quickly. Like you have a string tied around his heart that you pull. His gaze meets your eyes and although the top of his cheeks are pink his gaze is unwavering as he spoke those words.

The smile you return to him stalls his breath in his lungs.

“I’m glad, that’s reassuring.”

….(small time skip to when you two have finished your tea idk how to convey this lol)

“I’ll stay with you tonight as you fall asleep.”

“Awww.”

What to do. What to do. The phrase excruciatingly heavy at the back of his mind. You’ve long since fallen asleep. He stands over the side of your bed, lost in thought looking over your peaceful figure. You’re just…exceeding his expectations of what he believed the creator to be. He doesn’t deserve you. He does not. And yet he subconsciously finds his hand drifting towards your face, just barely brushing over your hair. You do not stir. Like you welcome his presence even in your sleep.

He can’t have someone like you. He was never meant for that. Your heart is too pure. It's like the physical world is reminding him of his thoughts as a wisp of green smoke curls down from his arm and touches your hair. Xiao immediately retracting his hand. If all he can be is a blade to protect you then so be it. If sharing a cup of tea and listening to you recount your day brings a smile to your face, he will allow it. But to dare wish for more than that is not his place. It's painful, as he prepares to leave your room, looking at Dihua Marsh from your window. Every instinct in his body begging to look back at you one more time. Its painful, he tells himself, but he can shoulder it just as he’s done many times before.

Would this new information change anything? No, not really.

Becomes a little more protective of you(if that’s even possible). Oh but unlike Cyno he does now actively try to dissuade you from entering a romantic relationship, mostly with mortals.

In the sense he’ll say things like,

“Don’t trust them.” “They’re just using you.” and maybe a tender “In the end you’re just going to end up getting hurt…and I don't want to see that.”

!! Oh but like I said above he would find it extremely disrespectful to find anyone talking about you in a sexual way(even if that other person was actively your own partner)

Like literally in the most threatening sharpest tone ever “Do not speak of such undeferential matters concerning our god in my presence.”

110% that character that does not tolerate blasphemy spoken about you. Will defend you verbally even when you’re not there.

#my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #sagau #self insert #female reader #xiao #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #self aware genshin impact #female pov #genshin impact self insert #genshin impact fanfics #self ship

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pastelspoon31 · 5 months

Text

Chapter 6: What a nice neighbour! (Older!König x Younger!Reader) - NSFW

tw: age gap (early 20s reader, AT LEAST mid-40s König), manipulation, non-con, somnophilia, drugging, gullible reader :(, a little bit of pseudo-incest, pretty much dead dove, again.. SUPER ICKY

A/N: Starting off with a little insight from König’s perspective before somno-ing our reader again ^_^

Chapter 5.5 | Chapter 6 | Masterlist

König sometimes wonder if you were genuinely that naive, or if it was a façade to get him to continue with his games.

But that was none of his concern, of course.

…Well, sort of.

He enjoyed the current dynamic between the two of you more than he'd like to admit.

Besides, it’s not like it’s his fault that you kept coming back to his place after each encounter, is it? There must be at least one braincell in that pretty little head of yours that was blaring warning signs, and yet here you always find yourself in his place somehow with your innocent, clueless, dumb smile on your face.

…Or were you just acting dumb?

Oh, that would be an entirely different case, wouldn’t it?

But, whatever. He had his fun, and he would continue to have his fun, and it was only a matter of time before he'd have his next encounter with your pretty little cunt, whether you liked it or not.

He could only hope that you'll make the right choice, and keep coming back.

You did enjoy spending time with your father figure afterall, don’t you?

Ah, his little hase.

What a good, stupid, clueless little girl.

———

"Would you... date an older woman?" You laid in König's lap giggling in an almost ditzy manner as you asked.

Spending dinner at his place again, you both somehow ended up on his couch playing a game of truth or dare- but it was mostly truths since the both of you were comfortable enough with each other at this point.

"I have, liebling." He chuckled. "Why, are you jealous?" He teased.

"You have?" You let out a little gasp, purposely ignoring the following question. “How old? I mean you're pretty old yourself so..-"

"Hey!" He playfully smacked your forehead as you giggled.

"Well, if you must know, she was a beautiful woman in her mid forties."

"So you have a type?" You tilted your head.

"Not exactly." He chuckled. "She was just.. someone I relied on for a bit while I was in the process of getting over my late wife," His tone was a bit somber as he talked about it, his hand stroking your hair.

"I see... Sorry, I didn't mean to bring back any memories."

"It's alright, liebling. You're too young to be worried about the past. It's not a burden for me anymore, so don't let it be for you." He continued caressing your hair.

"How about you? Would you.. date older men?" He tried not to smirk at the idea.

"I would," You answered almost immediately, "I mean, if they were attractive, then I wouldn't mind."

"So what you're saying is, if an old geezer asked you out, you'd go for it?" He teased as he looked down at your scrunched up face.

"Geezer? Who taught you that word?!" You chuckled as the wine in your glass sloshed around.

"You're not the only one who can use the internet, hase." He grinned, and you laughed.

"You're right. But, if the man is a geezer, I wouldn't. Maybe a gentleman who's a bit older, but not a geezer."

"Ah, so a gentleman who's a bit older." He hummed, pretending to not know who you were talking about.

"Yeah. Like, someone who knows a lot about the world, and is experienced." You continued, oblivious to the growing smirk on König’s lips.

"Someone like an old war veteran?" He asked, his hand now trailing down your back, rubbing it gently.

So comfy…

"Yes! Like an old war vet- I mean, yes, someone like that. I wouldn't mind. I mean, not really." You babbled, giggling as a strange fluffy feeling starts to cloud your mind.

Someone capable, ready to settle down- Maybe even already financially stable!

You were not against working together with your partner to achieve financial freedom but it's just easier if it's not an issue to think of anymore right?

But of course, that was not your main criteria! You were not a gold digger!

As long as that someone is nice, takes care of you, loves you..

Someone who is reliable, strong, and can teach you the ropes on things you don't learn in school.

Someone like König, perhaps.

...

Someone like König?

"Not you though, you're like.. my father-figure so you don't have to feel weird about asking." You quickly countered after a brief period of awkward silence.

"Oh, is that so, hase?" He smiled, "You're a very honest girl when you're drunk. And what makes you think I would have any interest in you that way?" He chuckled.

...You definitely read him wrong.

Shit.

"I didn't say that! I mean- well, you're my dad. But like, not like a real dad, I mean.." You blushed and turned away, hiding your face in his thigh. "Ugh.. I hate it when you tease me like this.."

"Aww, but hase, it's cute." He chuckled.

"Only you think it's cute.."

"So if I asked you, you'd say no, hm?" He asked, his hand still stroking your hair.

"No to what? I mean- I'm sorry, I'm not making sense, am I?" You laughed.

"Do you want me to be blunt, liebling?"

"You always are.."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He took your glass and set it on the coffee table before pulling you to sit up on his lap. The fuzzy feeling in your skull making your head almost too heavy to hold up by yourself, making you lean onto his shoulder as you looked up at the older man with a dazed expression.

“Hm..?" You blushed as you looked at him. "What do you mean..?"

"Don't play coy with me, liebling." He held you closer. "I'm asking if you'd be okay with being more than a daughter."

Well, that was unexpected.

"I.. I mean, I guess." You frowned lightly. König sure is being a bit weird right now.

Afterall, what does he mean more than a daughter? Like a real daughter? What a silly suggestion! He’s obviously German so there’s no way-

"You guess? Don't tell me you have no feelings for me, hase?" He faked a sad look.

This feels.. strange. He has feelings for you? That can’t be right..

"Of course not! It's not that, König, it's just.." You blushed, "I'm just not sure if I'm.. Ready."

"For what?" He stroked your hair.

"Well, everything.." You sighed, and looked down. "You're like a father to me and you've been helping me a lot and.. and-"

"And? There's more, hase. What's on your mind?" He rubbed your back soothingly, and you felt yourself relaxing under his touch.

"I feel guilty."

"Guilty? What for?" He frowned.

"Because I.. I.." You felt yourself blushing harder.

"I've been feeling weird about you." You admitted, your voice quiet.

"Weird? In a good way, I hope."

"I mean, yeah.. You're a really good guy. You're like, perfect. Too perfect." You sighed and leaned into him closer.

"And... Sometimes.." Your drunken mind struggled with your rational side, wondering if you should reveal something that had been plaguing you for a while.

"Sometimes what, hase?" He hummed.

"I've dreamt.." You contemplated telling him.

He wouldn’t judge you, right? He promised that he never would so technically.. It should be safe to tell him, especially with all the other things you have trusted him with!

"About what, liebling?" He cooed, rubbing his hands down your arms.

"At night.. Well, every night.. I have been dreaming about you.." Your voice was soft and meek as you spoke.

"I see.." König couldn't help the grin that was growing on his face.

"But, it's not.. It's not like a normal dream. Like... More intimate," You hid your blushing face in his shoulder, the alcohol finally loosening you up.

Or rather whatever the hell that König had added to your drink, again.

"More intimate, hm? Like what, hase?" He couldn't stop grinning.

"Like.. Like the dreams where it feels really real and you're touching me and it's.. I wake up and the um.. white sticky fluids I told you about.." You trailed off in embarrassment.

"Ah.. So you've been holding back details the other day when I was checking you.."

"I'm sorry.." The embarrassment and guilt was unmistaken in your tone as you looked away, eyes barely open.

"Oh, hase, don't be. It's only natural." He kissed your forehead, his hands stroking the back of your head.

"I'm sorry.." You apologized again, still trying to look at him in the eyes.

God, your head felt so heavy.

"Don't be.." He continued to hush you, "It's normal. And there's nothing to feel guilty about. It's only natural that you'd have sexual urges." He cooed, trying his best not to sound so excited.

"It's embarrassing, König.. M’not.. Not.. Hmm..” König felt his cock harden as you head tilted to the side, your consciousness slowly slipping away right before his eyes again.

"Oh, but why?" He chuckled, "I'm like your father. Of course, I wouldn't get angry. It's just another thing that happens. You can't control it.." He cooed as he

"Mmm.."

"Now, don't worry about a thing." His eyes glinted with excitement as he saw the crushed pill in your drink take effect once again as your eyes struggled to stay open.

"It's okay. Everything's fine, liebling. Just close your eyes and relax.."

You could barely nod and let your eyes close as König stroked your hair, humming softly.

"Just drift off to sleep, hase.." He continued his hypnotic strokes, his humming sending you to a dreamless state of bliss.

"That's a good girl.."

When he was certain you were out cold, König laid you on the couch and carried you upstairs to his bedroom.

"Let's see how wet that cunny of yours is tonight, hm?" He chuckled as he laid you down and carefully took off your clothes.

"Ah, and look at that.."

You were dripping already.

"How sweet.."

He spread your legs, and began lapping at your folds.

"Oh, sweet liebling.."

His tongue pushed past the barrier of your cunt, lapping at the slick walls, sucking on the soft skin.

"You taste so fucking good as always.." He groaned, his hands holding onto your hips.

"I bet you were thinking about me fucking your little brains out, weren't you? You've been such a needy little girl. Dreaming about your König fucking you all the time." He continued licking and sucking your sweet little cunny, his chin already wet with your slick.

"Such a needy little girl, hase.."

König pulled away from your dripping pussy, a string of saliva and your juices still connecting his mouth to your glistening pussy.

"Look at the mess you've made, liebling." He tutted, and grabbed a cloth.

"Soaking my bed and leaving a mess on the sheets.." He cleaned the slick up, and wiped his chin clean.

"And you didn't even realize it, did you? Dirty girl.."

"I wonder, would you be embarrassed if I showed you a pictures of this, hase? What if I woke you up and showed you how dirty you were, hm?"

"I wonder what you'd do, hase."

"Maybe, I should take a video and show it to you so you can see how much of a mess you've made.." He tapped his cockhead on your swollen clit. “I do have a big collection of just you,”

"It's quite the sight to behold, afterall," The older man chuckled to himself.

"But then again, I can't be too cruel. I don't want you to panic and run away from me." He smirked, his cock throbbing as he rubbed it between your folds.

"After all, I'm not a monster. I just.. get a little bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

He pushed past your tight entrance, feeling your wet walls fluttering around his massive throbbing cock as he bottomed out.

"A-ah, hase.." König let out a low groan as he buried his cock inside of your cunt, your pussy clenching tightly.

"My pretty girl.." He praised, his hands grabbing onto your hips.

"You're a natural born whore for me, aren't you?" He cooed.

"Tight and wet for your König.." He slowly began pulling out.

"A-ah!~" You were unconscious, and yet the sounds you were making were so lewd.

"My sweet, pretty girl.." He thrusted back in, letting out a moan.

"Fuck.. Fuck, hase..!" König groaned and thrusted his cock into your tight hole, feeling the slick walls of your pussy gripping him.

"I'll fill you up nice and full, liebling.." He grunted, his fingers digging into your skin.

"F-fuck.. Hase.. You feel so fucking good..!"

"I can't wait to have you begging for my cock.." He moaned.

Your face was scrunched up as you whined in your sleep.

"You'll be mine, won't you?" He grunted as he thrust harder.

"Won't you, liebling? You'll be my sweet, pretty whore and you'll come to me whenever you need to be fucked, hm?" König smirked as he heard you whine more in your sleep.

"You'd do that for me, hase? Let this old man take care of you? I'd give you everything you ever wanted, liebling.. All the gifts and treats.."

"You just have to be mine." He pulled your legs up and bent them towards your chest, fucking into you harder.

"Ngh, f-fuck.. Liebling..!" He groaned, his fingers digging deeper.

"You feel so good, hase.. I'm close.. You'll take my cum, won't you, hase? My pretty hase.." You let out a soft moan and clenched around him, and König groaned.

"F-fuck..! I'm coming.." He gasped, his cock throbbing.

"Take my cum, hase.. Take it all..!" He spilled inside of you, filling you up with his seed, his cock still pulsing.

"Mm.. Mein liebling.." He gently put your legs back down and pulled out.

"Oh, hase.. Such a sweet girl.." He murmured and rubbed his thumb over your cunt, the swollen lips glistening with slick and his cum.

"So dumb and trusting of your König.. Letting him fuck your brains out without knowing.." You remained unconscious as he pushed the cum back into your abused cunny and put your underwear back on, giving it a couple soft pats right above your abused clit for good measure.

"Don't worry, liebling. You won't remember a thing.." He chuckled as he pulled the rest of your clothes back on.

"And when the time is right, you'll know everything.." He gave you a sweet kiss before pulling you onto his chest, falling asleep himself.

———

"König?" You woke up feeling disoriented and confused, seeing yourself in König's room.

"Liebling." König smiled warmly at you, "I'm glad you're awake. I was a bit worried you'd pass out and miss your classes today," He was getting ready himself, pulling on his t-shirt.

"Uh.. What happened last night? I don't remember anything after dinner.." You tried to sit up but were met with a sharp pain in your lower body.

"Ouch.." You whined softly. König smirked to himself as he heard you complain but played oblivious as he sat down beside you.

"What's wrong, hase?" He feigned concern.

"Ugh.. My stomach hurts.. I think it's the wine.." You rubbed your tummy with a soft pout- A sight that made König’s cock twitch in his pants.

If only you know all the ways you drive him crazy…

"Ah, you must have drank too much. You fell asleep while we were playing, so I brought you up here." He lied smoothly.

"I see.." You winced in pain from the growing headache throbbing in your head.

"Would you like some medicine?" He offered.

"No, no, it's okay." You groaned lightly as you sat up- Immediately felt something gush out of your sore pussy, making you panic.

"Ahh! K-König!-”

"Hase?"

"The.. T-The stuff.. It's there again-" You whimpered, feeling like you wanted to cry.

"The what, liebling?" König looked at you with a calm smile.

"T-The sticky fluid.." You felt embarrassed, but knew that if you didn't tell him, he'd probably scold you.

"Ah, hase.. Did you dream about me again?" He cooed and cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing against it soothingly.

"Y-yes.."

"Oh, liebling.." He hummed, and pulled you closer, "It's okay. It's normal, ja? There's nothing to be embarrassed about." He smiled.

"But.."

"But, what, liebling?"

"I made a mess.."

"Oh, hase, it's okay. I'll take a closer inspection and we'll get that sorted out, okay?" He smiled sweetly.

"O-okay.."

"Now, spread your legs, hase. Let your König take care of you, ja?”

#call of duty #neighbour könig #könig smut #cod mw2 #konig #König x reader #könig cod #könig mw2

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lavendertales · 11 months

Text

SEÑORITA: Chapter 1

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: your estranged brother Steve drops by your apartment in New York in hopes of reconciliation and a temporary place to stay. Reluctant, you agree, but get more than what you've been told when you meet your mysterious new neighbor—and coincidentally, Steve's best friend.

word count: 2.1k

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.

series masterlist | AO3

Perhaps he shouldn’t be this nervous. Perhaps the severity of the situation is just in his head.

But then again, it’s been a while since he’s seen you. And while you did keep in touch over the years, he’s not stupid enough to think that your relationship isn’t strained anymore.

It very much is.

Maybe this new chapter in his life can mean a fresh start for the two of you. He’d love to be friends with you and do his duties as a bigger brother properly.

“I think it’s cute you’re nervous,” Connie smiles at him.

Steve squeezes her hand tighter, a firm reassurance he seeks that yes, this is all mostly in his head and you won’t turn them away. Olivia coos in Connie’s arms and Steve reaches to pinch her nose playfully, to which she giggles.

“We haven’t seen each other in years,” he says absentmindedly. “Kept in touch briefly but… you know.”

“You’re overthinking this. She’s your sister. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, she’s not heartless.”

“I know. I’m counting on the fact that she at least likes you better than me. And let’s face it, no one can refuse Olivia.”

Connie smiles as she watches Steve tickle their daughter, taking a deep breath. She’d known about you and Steve’s strained relationship and she knows what caused the fallout too, but she is far too sensible to say it flat out. She suspects Steve is aware of it too; he’s too smart not to.

But showing up unannounced on your doorstep, asking for a temporary place of residence till their place is ready might be stretching it too far.

“Okay,” Steve exhales long, staring at the door. “Number eighteen. Here we are.”

“Do you want me to knock?”

“No, it’s fine.”

With one last deep breath, Steve finally knocks on the door, his heart in his throat. The anticipation is nearly tearing him apart. Last time he saw you was before he embarked on the dangerous trip to Colombia, and the farewell hadn’t been that emotional.

Yet somehow, standing in front of this wooden door with a massive knot in his throat and stomach is very much emotional.

At last, a figure opens the door, the face obviously surprised and doing nothing to conceal it.

“Steve,” you coo, taken aback.

“Hey, sis.”

You stare at each other for what feels like the longest time, and it’s not until your eyes land on Connie that you brighten up.

“Long time no see huh?” Steve smiles rather awkwardly.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.”

You don’t hug; there is a certain awkwardness that still runs between the two of you, taunting you both, and you allow for it. After all, you know more about your stubborn and overly-protective version of Steve than you know of the version you were once friends with.

You sure were close when you were kids.

Whenever your parents weren’t around, Steve was the one to watch over you. He’s three years older, which means he carried your backpack, lunchbox, even made you lunch on some days as he guided you to the classroom himself. He always had your back and you always had his. For years, Steve was the only real friend you could count on.

But as you grew into adolescence, Steve’s instincts began to worsen and toughen. Where he exuded the typical big brother protectiveness as a kid, as a teenager he became almost unbearable. Always had a say in who you were dating and trying to sabotage your dates and relationships and even though you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt a lot of the time, thinking he had the best intentions, you started to argue with each other all the time.

And slowly but surely, you and Steve drifted apart.

You kept in touch over the past few years, especially when you learned that he was going to work in Colombia in the DEA, but there is still resentment to be felt.

“Hi Con, great to see you again,” you smile wide. “And who’s this little lady?”

You smile as you approach the baby, curious and giggling at you.

“This is Olivia,” Connie explains, beaming. “Steve found her in a building back in Colombia, her mother shot dead next to her and next thing we knew, we adopted her.”

“Oh, poor thing. It’s so amazing what you guys did for her.”

Olivia grabs your finger, still inspecting you with big eyes. You play a little more with her, teasing and chuckling when she does, momentarily forgetting that you’re face to face with your estranged brother, your sister-in-law and your niece.

Oh God. You’re an aunt.

“Okay, so what brings you guys here?” you finally ask. “I get the feeling it’s not just to introduce me to my niece.”

“Not exactly, no,” Steve admits, rather embarrassed.

When he’s met with your questionable glare, Steve clears his throat, suddenly very nervous.

“Well,” Connie takes the reins instead, “Steve got a job at a local precinct here as a consultant. Basically helping with the crimes and whatnot, but not on the field. We agreed it’s best for him after all the mess in Colombia.”

“Understandable.”

“And we did get an apartment, but it won’t be ready for two weeks. Sanitizing and all that. So uh… we were hoping we could stay with you till it’s ready.”

“A couple of weeks you said.”

“Mhm.”

Steve doesn’t like the tone of your voice.

“I do have a roommate you know,” you say in a flat voice, and he gulps. “You remember Sylvia, right? She went to college with me?”

“Oh yeah, small, blonde, green eyes…”

Connie raises her brows at him. “Wow, you do have a type, don’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“We know it’s a lot to ask and that we sprung this on you out of the blue, but we had nowhere else to go. Renting a hotel here is… shockingly expensive.”

“Sadly, that is true. But anyway, about Sylvie, both our names are on the lease and we split the rent, but for the past four months she’s basically moved in with her boyfriend, Zack. She rarely comes around, maybe to have some coffee with me or breakfast. So I suppose she won’t mind if you take her room for a couple of weeks.”

Connie’s face brightens, while Steve’s knots loosen up, feeling slightly more at ease.

“Thank you so much,” Connie smiles and you reciprocate happily. “Olivia won’t be much trouble either, I’m sure. She’s pretty calm. And she seems to really like you.”

“Well the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it? Yeah!”

Steve can’t help but smile at the image of his little sister and his daughter giggling, a little something that makes him think perhaps things will be okay in the end. That maybe the two of you could finally bury the hatchet and become friends again.

He’d love nothing more.

“Murphy?”

Both you and Steve turn to the hallway, the coarse voice catching your attention. But Steve’s face is now riddled with confusion more than anything else.

“Which one?” you ask the stranger. “There’s… three of us here. Four, if you count the baby, but somehow I doubt that’s who you meant.”

The stranger’s brows crease in your direction, as if studying you really upfront. He’s wearing a turquoise shirt, tucked neatly into his jeans and a leather jacket atop, and he’s… well. He is handsome, that much is certain. Dark chestnut hair combed, chocolate eyes, filled with something dark and mysterious, freshly shaven face and moustache. Generally speaking, you don’t like guys with moustaches. But somehow, this guy makes it work.

Really well.

But that’s just the first impression. He could still be an axe killer.

“I meant Steve,” the stranger clarifies, approaching him and shakes his hand, much to your dismay. “Hey, Con.”

“Hi, Javi.”

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks him.

“Moved in upstairs. Been living here for a couple of days already.”

Your mind tries to trace back to the past several days, wondering if you’d had any interaction with the man—Javi, apparently—but you can’t think of anything. You must’ve probably dismissed his existence altogether.

Surely you would’ve remembered him otherwise.

“Of course you did,” Steve notices with an awkward smile on his face and a long exhale.

You clear your throat, purposely loud, which catches the attention of the men.

“Right, sorry. Javier, this is my sister.”

You give him your name as you shake his hand, warm and soft into yours. Your eyes lock, and for the briefest of seconds, you see a whole other world in his eyes. A world where there’s no restraint, no distractions, no one else but the two of you.

Holy shit. This reminds you of the other guys you dated in high school, how their bad boy allure sucked you in without any warning.

Is this Javier a bad boy too? That would suck, considering they used to be your kryptonite.

“Javier Peña, hola señorita,” he retorts, and you make an impressed face.

Manners. Huh. That’s something none of your former boyfriends possessed.

“So this is the infamous Javier Peña,” you say, your eyes scanning his face.

“Depends on what you heard.”

“I heard you made a fantastic partner for my brother and you had each other’s backs.”

“Then yeah, that would be me.”

You smile fleetingly, and Steve coughs. “Hey Jav, can I talk to you for a bit?”

“Alright.”

“I’ll—help Connie and Olivia settle in.”

The moment you disappear inside the apartment, Steve turns to Javier, his hands on his hips as he tries to compose his thoughts.

“Alright, so here’s the deal,” he begins. “My sister’s off limits.”

Javier’s frown deepens. “I’m not gonna do anything.”

“That’s what you always say before you do something. And that something is usually any woman within a ten mile radius.”

Javier scoffs. Much as he’d like to argue against his friend’s words, he knows damn well that’s exactly how he behaved in the past.

“Fine, point taken,” Javier admits. “But I don’t do that anymore. It’s a closed chapter. And c’mon, I’d never hurt you or anyone from your family.”

“No, I know. Didn’t mean to imply… it’s just…” Steve huffs before continuing. “Heads up, she can be kind of a pain in the ass. Growing up, even if she’s my little sister, she’s the one who bullied me. So for your own sake, and hers, hands off.”

“Well now I kinda wanna fool around with her.”

Noticing Steve’s darkened expression, which is a rare occurrence in and of itself, Javier puts both hands in the air, signaling surrender of some sort.

“I’m kidding!” he does his best to laugh it off. “I’m kidding, I swear.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you won’t put any moves on my sister.”

Even if Javier rolls his eyes, he concedes. “I won’t put any moves on your sister.”

“Good, thank you.”

“What if she puts the moves on me though? I can reciprocate then, right?”

Steve’s face darkens again.

“I’m kidding! Shit, you’re really pissy about this.”

“She better not put any moves on you either,” Steve groans. “Unfortunately, you’re just the type of guy she used to go for in the past. And it never ended well.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“Don’t be. She used to have a huge thing for bad boys and it’s part of why our relationship got so cold. I tried to keep her away from them but she got sneakier and smarter, we fought a lot…”

“I promise I won’t do anything.”

Javier puts a reassuring hand over his shoulder, and that seems to calm Steve down. He hadn’t ever seen the latter so agitated and anxious, and that says a lot considering the environment they worked in for several years.

“If you two are done cuddling, Connie’s asking for you,” your voice booms behind them.

Steve complies and goes inside the apartment, leaving you and Javier alone for a single moment.

“I guess I’ll see you around, neighbor,” you say.

Javier doesn’t say anything, allowing you to close the door and disappear into the apartment. He faintly remembers Steve mentioning he has a younger sister, but he never really paid attention. He didn’t care.

And he doesn’t care now. Sure, you’re a pretty girl, but you are far from his type. You’re more next-door-girl kind of attractive, and not that there’s anything wrong with that, nothing whatsoever; it’s just not what Javier goes for.

He supposes that will make things easier for him to keep his promise.

tags: @pedrostories @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs

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celtic-crossbow · 6 months

Text

Series Masterlist

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter 10

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SA. Please venture forth with caution. Other warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; panic attacks; allusions to previous SA

You rushed into your cell, getting into a physical altercation with the sheet over the door when you became tangled in your haste. Tossing your clothes into the corner, you scrambled up to your top bunk and sat against the wall with your knees pulled to your chest.

Carol stood by the small table, simply blinking. “I thought you were gonna shower.”

You were too shaken to produce a logical response. “I, um, changed my mind. I’ll…I’ll do it in the morning.” Had you looked at your roommate, you would have seen the clear skepticism in her expression.

“Are you okay?” She queried.

“Um, yeah. Yeah.” You answered with zero confidence. You were honestly the furthest thing from okay. Daryl had just said your name while pleasuring himself. But why? He had rejected your attempts to do what you were purchased for, assuring you that he didn’t see you like that. You had never lost that feeling of dreaded expectation, convinced that he was biding his time. Did this mean you were right? Was he waiting for you to be alone and vulnerable?

A rapping of knuckles against the bars on the other side of the sheet that provided the thinnest layer of security for you startled you from your thoughts. You could no more than watch as Carol approached the doorway.

“Daryl. Hey, I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you. Why are you wet?”

Your breaths came faster, your heart pounding in your ears. No, Carol was safe. Carol had promised.

“Grabbed a shower. This yers?”

Your eyes were the size of saucers when Carol took the towel and looked back at you, eyeing you suspiciously for the briefest of moments. Then smiling Carol was back, accepting the colorful towel. You realized he probably thought it was hers because of her penchant for flowers.

“Yes, I must’ve dropped it when I was gonna take a shower earlier, but remembered that I needed to…do something…else.”

Ouch. That was horrible. And obviously hard to believe since Daryl was looking at her with that arched eyebrow.

“Y’alrigh’?”

“I’m fine, Daryl. Just tired.” Carol folded the towel neatly and let it drape over her arm.

“What’d ya need ta talk ‘bout?”

“You know, it can wait. I need to get to bed and you need to get to…well, probably not sleeping because you’re you.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed, clearly not upset, and started away from the doorway.

“Night, Daryl.”

“Mhm, night.”

Carol smiled until the sheet fell closed and then promptly chucked the towel at your head. “Changed your mind?!” She whisper-yelled.

“I didn’t know! I…I didn’t hear the water at first!” You retorted at the same level. You had already started to cry, confused and embarrassed and on top of it all, scared. You couldn’t tell anyone what you had seen. Something was keeping Daryl from acting on his desires, a fact for which you weren’t sure you were relieved or disappointed.

She had no idea why you were so upset when she climbed up into the bunk with you and pulled you into her side. “It’s okay.” She smoothed her hand over your hair and let you sniffle and quietly sob. “Did you see anything?”

Fuck. She just had to ask. You didn’t want to lie to her; never wanted to lie to her. Maybe just an omission would do? “I saw…scars.” The woman holding you flinched. She knew about them. Of course she did. They were close friends. “They look like mine.” You added softly.

“Y/N, I can’t tell you about those. It’s not my story to tell. I can tell you that you shouldn’t mention them.” You sat back, watching her with red-rimmed eyes. “It’s a touchy subject for him. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

You nodded, feeling worse than you had initially, but at least it was over now. Carol patted your cheek and climbed down so you could slide under your blanket and get some rest.

Neither of you were aware of the stealthy hunter that had been listening just outside the cell.

Daryl had no idea how he was going to handle you that day. You had seen him in the shower. Claimed to only have seen his scars, which was bad enough, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what else you saw but was left to wonder what you may have heard.

His anxiety was eating him alive at that point. Maybe he could just say no for the day. Then Carol would be asking why. Maybe he should just tell her? No! If he could see the little devil on his shoulder, he’d punch the bastard. He could say he was sick. No, that wouldn’t be smart. Not after the flu fiasco. He’d just put everyone on edge. Maybe he could—

“Hi.”

Fuck. He hadn’t heard you approaching. This whole situation really had him thrown off. “Yer early.” He commented gruffly, hoping you’d go away and give him just a little bit longer to figure out something. He didn’t turn around, he couldn’t look at you. Not yet.

“I’m…uh…I’m sorry.” You said in such a tiny voice that even he felt like shit. “I was, um, helping Carol with breakfast and, um, well, I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought that m-maybe I could just go work on what you showed me yesterday until you were ready.” He could hear you moving around but then you stilled. “You, uh, you left this with me yesterday.” He knew he’d left the knife. He had wanted you to have it, something to make you feel safe. But he couldn’t just say that, could he?

God, he was in over his head. Why the fuck didn’t Carol just let him stay away from you?

He glanced over his shoulder to your petite hand, carefully holding the blade with the hilt toward him. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t have a chance to ask.

“I didn’t, um, well…I wasn’t sure if you’d have me, uh, use it again today. So… I- I cleaned it for you.”

Why did that small gesture make his chest ache? Idiot, she’s bein’ nice. Girl still thinks ya bought her fer ya ta fuck n’ lock away. Daryl cleared his throat. “Nah, s’yers. Don’ need it no more. Got others.” Hopefully you took that as him being anything but nice.

“Wow, th-thank you, Sir.” He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, counting down in his head. “I mean, I mean Daryl! I’m sorry.” You squeaked before he could even get to seven. Jesus, you sounded so afraid of him.

He grunted, crossing his arms. Yep, that’s gon’ help her not be scared. “Le’s go, then.” He walked away toward the fences, not hearing your quick footfalls for a few moments. You tended to stay behind him, which he was grateful for and at the fences, you would be in front of him and clearing out walkers. That was also helpful. He was too concerned with safety to focus on anything else.

When he stopped, he nearly flinched out of his skin when you actually came to stand beside him. Peripherally, he could see your big doe eyes shining up at him. “Same as yesterday?” You asked quietly.

“Mhm.” When you walked ahead, he exhaled. Jesus, he needed a cigarette. He kept his eyes on you while pulling the pack from his vest pocket. From the feel of it, he’d need to make a run soon if he wanted more. There was probably a list of supplies that others needed, so he could take care of that while he was at it.

He flicked the lighter to life and inhaled while the end of the smoke ignited, the first dregs of nicotine soothing his frazzled nerves. Christ, he’d never experienced this kind of inner turmoil over a woman before. Any sexual encounters he’d had before were no strings attached and usually only happened as a distraction while Merle was off getting high or getting fucked himself.

“Again.” He ordered with smoke billowing from his mouth, blowing the remainder out once you moved to the next walker. You were off that day, your movements languid and uncoordinated when compared to the day before. The reason was obvious but you weren’t aware that he knew. Still, you pressed on each time he urged. You were pertinacious, he’d give you that.

Until you came face to face with a corpse that appeared to be recently turned. Daryl straightened, on alert while you drove the blade home. He figured you’d have difficulty retracting the weapon from a skull that wasn’t soft with decomposition.

“It’s stuck.” You turned to him for instruction, taking your eyes off the undead trying to get at you. A second was all it took for rotting fingers to find purchase in your tresses, yanking you against the fence.

“Shit!” His cigarette fell, forgotten, his knife in hand. You were screaming, teeth clicking in your ear as another walker locked a fist in your hair. You released the knife in flight response, reaching behind your head for only a moment before Daryl was grabbing both of your wrists to pull them away from the jaws that would have easily taken a finger or two. He sliced through the fingers holding you and pulled you away from danger.

Though you had stopped screaming, your sobs continued. The archer held you against him with one arm and pulled your knife free with his other hand, allowing the dead bastard to fall. He let the weapon clatter to the ground. He could come back for it later. “Y’alrigh’? Ya bit?”

Your hands were fisted tightly in his vest, your knuckles white. There were no visible marks, but it would be a good idea to let Hershel look you over anyway.

“C’mon. I gotcha.” He never made you let go even after he scooped you up. Carol was running toward him and met him halfway to the prison.

“Daryl, what happened?!” She was petting your hair and whispering softly while keeping up with the archer’s pace.

“Couple walkers grabbed her. Don’ think she’s bit but doc should look at her anyway.” He kept his blue eyes on the door, avoiding the bundle in his arms.

“Yeah, good idea.” Carol continued to try and calm you. “You’re okay. Daryl’s got you and I’m right here. You’re okay. Try to catch your breath.” When you didn’t, his friend looked to him. “She’s gonna hyperventilate if we don’t calm her down.”

Fuck. He stopped just outside the prison, still not looking down. “Y/N. Can ya feel me breathin’?” An almost imperceptible nod against his chest. “Wantcha ta try n’ match mine.” You struggled as he began to move, stepping inside once Carol opened the door. You still trembled but your panicked breaths were slowing.

“That’s it.” Carol encouraged. “Keep trying to breathe like Daryl. Steady in and out.” She placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and squeezed then ran ahead, calling for the veterinarian.

Daryl was approaching the cell block when you looked up at him, face red and cheeks wet. “I’m…I’m sorry, Daryl.”

Your apology befogged the archer. “Wha’ the hell fer?”

Your lip began to quiver just as he risked a glance at you. Shit.

“I…I m-m-messed up tr-training.”

The archer’s eyes softened. It would have been impossible to prevent it. “We all have close calls.” He explained, his tone almost gentle. “I fell down a ravine once n’ stabbed myself with my own bolt.” Carol was at the cell door waiting when he came walking through. “Jus’ gotta keep yer guard up, okay?”

You nodded, finally releasing his vest to wipe at your mess of a face. Daryl placed you on the table for Hershel and stepped back next to Carol.

“I’ll stay with her.” She said, not taking her eyes off of you. “I think Rick found some people today and brought them back. Think he may need a hand?” Daryl hummed but stayed rooted to the spot he occupied. “She’ll be fine, Pookie.” The point of her elbow found his ribs, resulting in a scowl aimed in her direction. “Go on.”

He couldn’t stay. Carol knew that too. You were likely to need to be undressed. Daryl turned and made his way out. “Lemme know.” He said without stopping, hearing Carol’s dismissive ‘mhm’ before he rounded the corner.

Hershel had declared you to be in better health than you had been when you first arrived. You’d gained a little weight. Your hair wasn’t as dull. Your skin wasn’t as dry. In his opinion, your time spent there had done wonders. No injuries from the day’s disaster, aside from the emotional distress. He had recommended a light sedative and rest for the remainder of the day, but you insisted that you had more to learn, hopped off the table, and went to find Daryl.

It was early evening, plenty of daylight left for more time at the fence. You were nervously wringing your hands as you searched outside without luck, venturing to areas you’d never been without Carol. Even in the daytime, the empty sections made your skin crawl.

There was a stretch of concrete around one side that dipped into a wide alley of sorts. Carol would take you there sometimes to work on laundry when your anxiety was at distressing levels. It was unlikely you’d find Daryl there but it made sense that if Carol would bring you there for solitude, maybe the archer would visit for the same reason.

You rounded the corner, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone you were familiar with was outside. You felt on edge going out of sight without someone escorting you. When you walked right into someone, you thought it was Daryl for the briefest of moments.

“I’m so sorry!” You looked up to lock eyes with a man you had never seen before. “I didn’t… I-I’m sorry. I should—” You started to turn. Your heart was thundering behind your ribs.

“Oh, hey, hey, hey!” The man placed a large hand on your shoulder and squeezed, the pressure uncomfortable, bordering on painful. “What’s your hurry, princess?” Your mouth moved but you couldn’t make your voice work. “Hey, Marvin, c’mere!”

“Who’s this?” The second man asked, reaching toward you to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger while the first led you further into the alley. “She’s awfully pretty, Lonny.”

“She sure is.” Lonny’s hand left your shoulder to wrap around your waist, pulling you along beside him. “What’s your name, doll?” You didn’t answer. You pressed the heels of your shoes into the concrete, trying to slow the journey or make him lose his grip.

“Lonny and I are new here.”

“Mhm. That, we are.”

“Came in with a group today. Maybe you could give us the official welcome celebration.”

“I need, um, I need to get back. Daryl. He’s gonna be looking for me.” You lied, hoping they had met the archer. You were nearly certain no one would fuck with you if they thought Daryl might come in search.

“Daryl. Daryl. Which one was that, Marv?”

“The guy who asked us how many people we killed?”

A hand wandered down your side and then under your shirt, roughly caressing the skin below your ribs. You made a distressed noise in the back of your throat, struggling in earnest to get away. Both men chuckled at your efforts.

“Nah, I think it may have been mister crossbow.”

“You know, it’s funny. We got in here on a technicality.” You managed to slip out of their grasp, not waiting a single second before running toward the corner.

“Help! Carol!” She had promised. She promised. “Hel—”

Something slammed into you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground. You caught yourself on your palms, feeling the sting of the unforgiving concrete. Marvin crawled up to press you down with the weight of his body, laughing when you began to sob.

“Y’see, we never killed any of them girls.” He licked the shell of your ear, the sound alone making your stomach turn. “We did what we wanted and then left ‘em for the dead to enjoy.”

“Get her pants off.” Lonny ordered. You could hear the shuffle of clothing, the frictional drag of a zipper. You kicked and shouted; tried crawling away when you had no time to get to your feet.

“Keep her still!”

Your hair was tugged harshly before your face was slammed against the ground. White hot pain permeated through your skull before a blissful numbness. Time seemed to pass in clouded fragments, pieces missing that left the events incomplete. The feel of fabric sliding down your legs. Muted voices and laughter. Pain, dulled but consistent.

A brief reprieve of just nothing.

Your eyes peeled open slowly, the pain registering before your vision gave you anything but a blurry mess of colors. There was a wet burn between your legs, which were bare and being scraped by the rough texture of the concrete. You managed a whine and pulled your hands up beside your head, clawing at the ground to try and drag yourself away from the rough digits scratching against your inner walls.

“Don’t fuck it up too much, man.”

“Looks like someone already did that.”

The sob that broke from your lips was accompanied by a wrecked version of ‘ow.’ There was blood below your face, you could feel its stickiness on your skin; the way your tears carved through it.

Carol had promised. You were meant to be safe now. The fight drained from you, your training hooked and pulled to the forefront of your addled brain. Your body didn’t belong to you. Let them use you. That’s what you were made for; that was your purpose.

You closed your eyes.

“Ya got less than one goddamn second ta move away from her ‘fore I put a bolt in yer brain.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting to breathe out one word.

“Daryl.”

Taglist:

@royaltysuite @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @callmeyn @lilyevanstan1325 @gutsby @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bananafire11 @hutchersonsgurl @the-milk-is-rotten @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @richardsamboramylove55 @the-lonely-abyss @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @atyourmomshouse01 @bultamer @mia051 @ru @memphiscity69 @flowerspetalsthorns @riya12044 @ariacraigggg @morgan556 @carley12041 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @twdislifee @bae-live-0 @elbellmam @aleemendoza2425-blog @randomhoe @ren9sstuff @pandarooooo-blog @let-love-bleeds-red

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cosmerelists · 15 days

Text

If Stormlight Characters Read The Stormlight Archive

As requested by @imtheseventh :)

Let's say Stormlight Characters got their hands on The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson--you know, the book written about all of their lives. What would they think of Sanderson's depiction of them?

[SPOILERS FOR STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE THROUGH RHYTHM OF WAR!]

1. Navani

Navani: Say, Dalinar... Navani: Why is Evi's name replaced by Shshsh in all of your POV chapters? Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Ah, so here's the thing...

2. Adolin

Adolin: Shallan, wait! Adolin: This is feeling like a flashback chapter about your life. Adolin: Don't read it to me. It feels weird to find out this way. Adolin: I'd rather wait until you're ready to tell me. Shallan: Ah, so you want to stop listening whenever my past comes up? Shallan: That's exactly what I used to do! High five! Adolin: I don't Adolin: I don't know that this is a high-five moment.

3. Shallan

Shallan: L-Listen, Jasnah... Shallan: I SWEAR I was neither thinking about nor looking at your boobs quite as much as the book makes it sound.. Shallan: I think this Sanderson guy was just projecting! Jasnah: I believe you, Shallan. Shallan: Y-You do? Jasnah: I have to assume he wanted to establish my beauty but felt that it would be less salacious to have it filtered through another woman's perspective. Shallan: Y-Yeah, that makes sense... Jasnah: After all, if you loved my boobs that much, I don't know why you sat there and doodled Captain Kaladin instead of them... Shallan: WHELP TIME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT

4. Syl

Syl: ... Kaladin: Hey, are you okay? You seem...down. Kaladin: And are you wearing trousers?? Syl: Was...was there something wrong in how I dressed? Kaladin: No? What do you mean? Syl: Like, was it immature? Kaladin: No? Syl: Then why does this Brandon guy call my dress "girlish" like 19 billion times?!? Hoid: Oh, don't worry about that! Writers get weirdly fixated on words! At least you weren't always doing things maladroitly, ha! Syl: ...What? Hoid: Whoops wrong series!

5. Gaz

Gaz: Look...I know I wasn't the Almighty's most perfect guy, but.. Gaz: Could he maybe have written me as slightly LESS of the embodiment of a sniveling cremling?? Gaz: Like, give a guy a break! Vathah: What, too much realism for a fantasy? Gaz: You shut up!

6. Sadeas

Sadeas: I was so upset...so flabbergasted...when Dalinar outmaneuvered me in that disadvantaged duel... Sadeas: But it was all just LUCK?! Sadeas: He didn't maneuver for SHIT! Sadeas: He just happened to have EVERY SINGLE PERSON WITH SUPERPOWERS on his side and they were ALL stupid enough to get INVOLVED Sadeas: It's so much worse now!!! Ialai: At least their dark-eyed captain ruined it at the end. Sadeas: Ugh, yeah, thank the stars for THAT.

7. Kaladin

Kaladin: I actually hate this. Lyn: Why? Kaladin: Hearing about all my friends dying...again...having my actions framed as some type of "heroism"... Kaladin: T-That guy writes me like I'm the hero! Lyn: ...I am fairly certain that you are. Kaladin: Ughhhh...

8. Lirin & Hesina

The Way of Kings sits before them Hesina: ... Lirin: ... Hesina: ... Lirin: ... Hesina: Do you want to go & cry forever over our boys? Lirin: Yes please.

9. Moash

Moash: Wow. Moash: After hearing all about King Elhokar from the perspective of the people who actually like him... Moash: I gotta say... Moash: I was totally right! Moash: That guy is SUCH an asshole!

10. Dalinar

Dalinar: ... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I just can't believe that he STOLE Nohadon’s TITLE.

11. (!) Bonus Vin

Vin: KELSIER WHAT THE HELL

#cosmere #cosmerelists #stormlight archive #stormlight archive spoilers #I thought way of kings was dalinar’s book whoops #edited

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feyhunter78 · 7 months

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Chapter One - A dance between mortality and desire, between that which you already know and the seductive lure of the unknown in the shadows of the morgue. Miguel, your new coworker, has this irresistible pull and seems to have set his sights on you. You try to stay professional, stay strong, but sooner or later you know you’re bound to fall. A fic in which vampire Miguel has found his lost love (you) once more, and he won’t let anyone, or anything stop him from reclaiming you.

Ch 2

There’s something strange about your coworker, Miguel. Maybe it’s how comfortable he seems to be with the late hours, or how he never seems to eat? At least not where you can see him eating, not that you’ve been watching him, waiting to see if he eats, and yes, the morgue is not really the place to eat, it’s entirely unsanitary, but in the break room? That’s fair game.

All he seems to do is work, drink those weird power shakes he’s so possessive over, and work out? He’s got to work out, there’s no other explanation for why he’s so built.

“Y/N, you need any help with that cadaver?” Miguel asks, a brilliant smile aimed your way, he’s dazzling, teeth straight as a military cemetery, white enough to blind you and his lips...they’re perfect, like unfairly perfect.

He’s handsome, and he knows it. A ladies man, the city mortician office’s Don Juan. You still can’t get over how you caught him and Cheryl from accounting, necking behind the building. Well, almost caught him, you heard the sounds they were making and all but sprinted to your car, face burning. And if your subconscious replaced Cheryl with you while you slept that night, then that was nobody’s business.

“No, no, I’m almost done, just wrapping up my notes.” You tell him, waving your voice recorder in the air, the standard one that the city gives every mortician. The one that annoying ass Dave always breaks, which means every project you work on with him takes twice as long because you have to wait for him to type up and submit his notes manually.

“We’ve got it, Manuel, no worries.” Dave says, the deliberate mispronunciation of Miguel’s name makes you cringe, but Miguel doesn’t even flinch, merely nods and heads back into the hall.

“You know his name is Miguel, right?” You know Dave knows, but you remind him anyways.

“Miguel, Manuel, same difference,” Dave says, brushing you off. “He thinks he’s so great just because all the normies fawn all over him.”

Normies aka everyone not tasked with cutting open dead bodies for a living.

“He’s nice, and he does good work,” You say briskly, finishing up your notes and zipping the body bag back up. “Put this one back in the freezer, yeah?”

“Why are you defending him, you got a crush or something?” Dave asks, leaning onto the slab, wriggling his eyebrows.

“No, I just don’t want to be called as a witness when you get hit with a discrimination lawsuit.” You drawl, clicking off your recorder and slipping it in your lab pocket.

Dave holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, hey, hey, I’m not being racist or anything, I’m just hazing the new guy.”

“Since when do we haze?” You snort, locking the freezer once Dave slides the body back in.

“Since we started hiring pretty boys.”

“Oh, so you think he’s pretty. You sure you don’t have a crush on him?”

Dave makes a fake gagging sound. “Excuse you, I am loyal to my wife.”

“That poor woman.”

“Hey fuck you, y/n,” Dave sputters.

You laugh and pat his shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I’m sure you and your wife are very happy together.”

“We are, thank you. It’s actually our anniversary next week, fifteen years.”

You’re taken aback. You knew Dave was married, but you didn’t think he’d be married for that long. “Wow, that’s amazing, seriously, congratulations.”

He smiles and pulls out his phone, showing you dozens upon dozens of smiling photos of him and his family. “Thank you, thank you, I’m a lucky man. Wait, don’t you have a boyfriend? How long have you two been together?”

Oh yeah, your boyfriend… “Oh, umm, like almost a year.”

“Hey, that’s not too bad,” Dave smiles.

You cringe internally. Almost a year of feeling like maybe your boyfriend doesn’t actually like you, compounded by your fear of being alone, driving you to do whatever it took to keep him. “Yeah, yeah, he’s great.”

A loud crash, the sound of metal crashing to the floor, and a low swear draws your attention.

You and Dave rush out into the hallway to see Miguel trying to lift a massive filing cabinet up from the floor. It’s dented on one side, almost the size of a…fist?

“Miguel, shit man, what happened?” Dave asks, hurrying over to his side and helping him lift the cabinet back to its rightful place against the wall.

Miguel’s eyebrows are furrowed, his hair disheveled, the sleeves of his lab coat rolled up exposing his forearms, his large hands flexing and unflexing. “I—I don’t know, I was walking down the hall, and it just fell, nearly broke my foot.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt.” You tell him, searching the bottom of the cabinet for any loose parts or crooked corners that might’ve contributed to the crash.

He smiles at you, that Don Juan, panty melting smile, his warm brown eyes focused solely on you, as if you’re the only person in the world, the only one worth paying any attention to. “I’m just glad it was me and not you—or Dave, I wouldn’t want either of you getting hurt.”

“Aw, Manuel, you care about us,” Dave teases, going right back to his hazing.

“We’re a team,” Miguel says simply, rolling his shoulders back.

For a moment you wonder what his back muscles look like underneath his coat, his shirts always seem so tight. Do they ripple under the fabric, is it stretched taut, his back droolworthy and broad?

“A team that’s finally heading home, isn’t that right, y/n?” Dave’s arm landing across your shoulders brings you back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah, closing time,” you say, hoping you weren’t blatantly staring at Miguel’s back.

“You two go ahead, I have some things I need to finish up.” Miguel says, waving you both off as he heads back to his office.

You drive home in the dark, warm streetlights lining the street, soft music playing from the stereo. Miguel never left with everyone else, he always stayed late, and was always there early, like before the sun got up early. You did not envy his sleep schedule.

Digging through your purse, you fish out your keys and unlock your apartment door, flicking on the lights and sighing happily. There’s nothing like finally getting home after a long day and just getting to relax. Nudging off your shoes, you go to heat up some leftovers, letting the mindless reality TV shows keep you semi-entertained until you feel sleep tugging at your limbs.

You go through the motions, shower, skincare, pajamas, make sure all the doors are locked, turn down the air conditioning, and turn off the lights. Settling into your bed, you toss and turn, that fist shaped dent in the filing cabinet still bothering you. Did you need to call maintenance, or file a complaint with the city to let them know? It’s not like they’d give your department a new cabinet just because it was a little damaged, but still, at least you can say you tried.

Finally, you begin to drift off to sleep, breathing evening out, your heart rate slowing, the stress of the day melting away. Your dreams come quickly, cotton candy sweet and nonsensical, until a familiar figure appears.

Miguel’s hand caresses your cheek, his voice low, murmuring something in a language you don’t understand. He pulls you closer, and you can feel the press of his skin against yours, the toned muscles beneath your touch.

“Mi tesoro, tócame.” Miguel whispers, taking your hand in his and sliding it down, down, down his chest, stopping at his waistband, the fabric soft, his skin burning. Trsl: My treasure, touch me.

You take hold of the waistband, fingers slipping beneath it, as Miguel dips his head down trailing his nose up your neck, inhaling deeply before groaning, his free hand a vice grip on your hip.

“Touch me.” He breathes, his lips against your ear, his hand guiding your lower, more smooth flesh meeting your fingertips.

You want to, you want to explore Miguel, to find out if the rumors are true, but a shrill ringing draws your attention away.

“Te quiero y/n, no dejes que otros me roben tu atención.” Miguel pleads, his voice low and desperate, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. Trsl: I want you, y/n, don’t let others steal your attention away from me.

But the ringing won’t stop, and soon you’re jolting awake, alarm clock blaring, the sun streaming in through your blinds.

You throw off your covers, cringing at the sticky wetness between your legs. Really y/n? That’s what gets you going?

After eating breakfast and getting ready for the day, you check your phone, a few texts from your friends, some work emails, and a voicemail from Todd.

Hey babe, so I’m out at this bar right, and the drinks are fucking great, but I was talking to these girls about our issues, you know your whole not really enjoying sex thing? And they gave me some great advice, I want to try it out next time, so tomorrow night I’ll be at your place, get that couch ready, we’re going to tear it up.

He talked to other girls about your relationship? About your intimacy issues? What the fuck? You start to type out an angry text message but delete it halfway through. He’s trying at least, and you did ask him to try.

Maybe you should just hear him out on this, maybe those girls gave him actual advice like: “stop violently rubbing her labia thinking it’s her clit or listen when she tells you where her clit actually is, or maybe don’t be a dick and just give up once you’ve finished, your girlfriend deserves to get off too.”

You type out a neutral response and send it, before tossing your phone in your bag and setting out for work.

This fic was inspired by @sassyposssumm's kinktober request which was such an interesting prompt that I knew it needed to be expanded on! Also since this is a vampire fic there will be some instances of slight dubcon, I'll put warning in the beginning for those chapters with *slight* details in case anyone is uncomfy and wants to skip.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #vamp!miguel #vampire!miguel #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #vampire!au #new fic alert!!!!#mourge nocturne #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman2099 x reader #morgue Miguel

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the-hopeless-haze · 1 year

Text

Let’s Spend the Night Together

Chapter 3 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Greg House x Reader

Word count: 6.5k ??? what did I do

NSFW - smut

“Where does she live?” Greg asks James.

“If I tell you, am I assisting you in a crime?” James asks in response, barely looking up from his desk.

“I’m sure she told you about our date later.”

James huffs in frustration, finally looking up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Did you like her? Is that it?” Greg questions, trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s snarky behavior. Not that this wasn’t the usual from him. It was one of the things Greg loved about him, that he was always a little fed up with him, always preemptively aggravated, always in a state of annoyance. It was harder to piss someone off that was always a little pissed with him at baseline.

“Is that what you think? Because if that’s the reason you’re taking her out… you’re more fucked than I thought.”

“The correct answer would have been, ‘no, Greg, I do not want to sleep with her because I am married’ but we’ll go with that.”

James sighs, looking up at him. “Yes. She’s very attractive. But no, I had no intention of entertaining her.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

“Because I don’t know why you’re doing this. You sick of your prostitutes?”

Greg scoffs. “This isn’t about sex.”

“It’s not? I’m mistaken then, because you were flirting with her, made comments about her body, called her to your office…”

“Okay,” he corrects. “It’s not just about sex.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to date her without saying the words? Because if so… congratulations.”

“No. I want to figure her out.”

“Just look in her chart. Save both of you the trouble.”

“It’s no fun if I learn all the answers at once.”

“Do you ever wonder why you’re single?” James asks.

“Do you ever wonder why you’re unhappily married?” Greg counters. “And. About that. Either her psychiatry training gave her some leg-up here or you tipped her off. She went through her files already. All that she left was a med list.”

“You already looked?” James asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. No birth control. Wonder what that’s about? Propranolol. Maybe some blood pressure issue… she’s young for that and that’s not first line. Idiopathic tachycardia? Maybe. Anxiety?”

“She can’t have an interesting med list. Stop looking for zebras. She’s barely thirty.”

“No birth control and barely thirty? Either she’s not getting any or she’s tied her tubes already.”

“Or… if she does have a blood pressure issue she can’t be on it. Or she has an IUD. Actually… don’t drag me into this.”

“Lamotrigine. Seizures. Bipolar disorder. What’s more likely?”

“lamotrigine isn’t the first-line med for either. Maybe you’ll have to talk to her.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “No fun. Hey… she’s on Vicodin.”

“A match made in hell,” Wilson grumbles, running his hands over his face.

“Well. She was. Eight years ago.”

“Most people don’t stay on it indefinitely.”

“Why would she leave that on there? It’s just these three meds.”

“Don’t you have an actual patient?”

He shrugs. “I need her address. I’m picking her up in three hours.”

“At least buy her dinner. Do not just bring her to your apartment.”

“I can’t learn anything if I just have sex with her. I mean, I’ll definitely learn some things, but…”

“Well, I don’t have her address.”

“You’ve got to have her address. You hired her.”

“Nope. I’m not her direct supervisor since she’s a consult. You’d have to talk to the head of psychiatry or Cuddy. And no. I’m not losing my job searching for it.”

“She took it out of her medical records,” he says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “I guess she likes to play.”

——————

“So let me get this straight. You want me to risk the safety of one of my employees so you can drive by her apartment?”

Greg looks at Cuddy for a moment, as if he’s actually thinking about her summary of his request and he nods. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Sighing, she says, “I shouldn’t be shocked you live the rest of your life like you practice medicine, but I don’t care about the results here. The answer is no, House.”

“It’ll be worth your while.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because… if I get laid I’m in a better mood which means I’m less likely to cause you issues.”

“Right. Hm. Surprising, but that didn’t persuade me.”

“Have you met her?”

“Is that supposed to convince me?” she asks, looking up at him for a second.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She does work in psychiatry. For someone who constantly loves to tell me I have a drug problem and there’s something wrong with me I’d think you’d want to make sure this relationship runs smoothly.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I feel like you and I both know you’re not doing this for the emotional healing.”

“I won’t be doing anything if no one gives me her address,” he grumbles. He doesn’t tell her but for once he can’t believe how stupid he was that he fell for that, that he thought you might be interested.

“Hm. Well. I’m busy, House.”

He walks out without a word, heading back to his office. It’s 7:00.

Well. Alone again. Not much different than the last night or the night before that.

And he knows he could have Cameron. She’s been not so subtle in trying to get his attention, and yes, he certainly didn’t help matters by telling her she’s beautiful. Sure. But she isn’t… she’s not what he wants. He doesn’t need someone to take him on like a charity case.

You… you were fucking with him. And it’s fair, maybe he even deserves it. Maybe you got off on this, being a Walmart version of a femme-fatale, wounding men’s egos, seeing which ones would chase you and which ones would give up after a little pain.

Doesn’t really ease the sting of the ache of rejection, though. That you’d brush him off that easy, leave him without an avenue to reach you.

Sighing, he turns on the TV, trying and failing to focus on the screen, but you’d taken over his mind like a case he was on the brink of solving and just couldn’t get there.

8:15. He gets a page from your number. “YOURE LATE”. It reads.

Well. Screw that. He still had a way to reach you after all.

Possibly.

Smiling to himself, he calls down to the psych ward, asking for you. You’re not there, they say, but they’ll be happy to transfer him to your extension if you’re still in the building.

“I thought hookers took pride in their punctuality,” you say when you answer the phone.

“You’re kind of a bitch, huh?” He asks, trying not to let his chuckle be so audible in the receiver.

“You keep Wilson around. You love bitches.”

“Funny. Would’ve thought you’d been swooning, begging him to leave his wife by now.”

“I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Those big brown eyes don’t do it for you?”

“Sounds like they do it for you. Something you want to tell me, Gregory?”

“Don’t ever call me that,” he sighs.

“Not going to deny the gay allegations but you’ll draw the line at me calling you by your first name? What gives, House?”

“You can call me Greg.”

“Wow, could I? What an honor that we’re on first name basis.”

“Not many get the privilege.”

“Still haven’t denied the gay allegation.”

“Don’t really see the point. You’ll believe what you believe regardless.”

“Wow. Truly. A disaster of a man in all other regards but you’re comfortable in your sexuality? Greg is 1 for 0.”

“I have one male best friend and I’ve been single for five years. I embrace the gay jokes at this point.”

“Five years?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while for you too, huh?”

“What makes you so sure?”

“No reason,” he lies.

“Right.”

“You’re single now.”

“Moved here less than a year ago. Haven’t really had the chance to meet people.”

“Okay. What hellhole did you crawl out of to willingly move to Jersey?”

“Maybe I just like Frank Sinatra.”

“He’s dead. You didn’t come here for something. You left something and you came here to make sure whatever it was didn’t follow you.”

“Is this really the date you had in mind?” you ask.

“Nice deflection.”

“I just moved. No story there.”

“Also. Almost a year? And no one’s asked you out?”

“I can say no, you know.”

“You didn’t say no to me.”

“Maybe I should’ve.”

“Cold. Come down here. I’ll walk you out to my car.”

————-

“Ah. The bitch arrives,” he says, looking you up and down again, not hiding his checking you out. You’d changed, red blouse with a leather jacket and most likely the same black slacks you were wearing earlier. “Not quite slutty enough.”

“Could say the same for you. Where’s the assless chaps?”

“I could never pull that off,” he says. “You could, though.”

He’d changed, too, a button down with slacks for once instead of jeans... at Wilson’s nagging of course.

“Here,” he says, handing you a bouquet of flowers he thought for a second were going to wilt away at his desk.

“Flowers? don’t tell me you went all out. Maybe you’re not as much of a disaster as I thought.”

“I shouldn’t give them to you since you stood me, a cripple, up.”

“Stood you up? You didn’t come get me.”

“You never told me where to get you. Ergo… you stood me up.”

“You were supposed to figure it out.”

“Yeah. Right. Wilson didn’t know and Cuddy wouldn’t put out. And you knew I wouldn’t figure it out. That’s why you stayed here.”

“You actually asked Cuddy?”

“What? I’ve asked her for much worse.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Falling head over heels for me already, Greg?”

“Puzzles are no fun if you can’t figure out the answer.” He doesn’t say that the unsolved cases haunt him, nag him and he sees them where they’re not.

One day he knows you’ll haunt him, too. One day, when you leave, when he pushes this until it breaks.

“Mm. Try harder then,” you say.

“You gave me an unsolvable puzzle.”

“Mm. Not really. You gave it to yourself. You said you were picking me up at my place. I stayed here and gave you the easy way out.”

“You could’ve left it—“ he cuts himself off, lest he incriminate himself.

“Left it where, Greg?” you ask, bemused.

“Nowhere.”

“Right,” you laugh. “So what opiate do you pop constantly?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Funny.”

“Why would that be funny, Greg?”

“Let me sleep with you first.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, I shouldn’t have thought you’d be easy if you’ve put me through hell just to take you out,” he sighs.

“Don’t think I’ll leave you completely wanting, though,” you say, reaching out to touch his face, his stubble scratching your hand pleasantly, a shiver running down your spine. You run your thumb over his bottom lip gently.

Tentatively, he reaches out for you, too, copying your movements, hand on your cheek, thumb over your lips, but then your tongue darts out to run over the pad of his thumb and he thinks he might die right there. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles, smirking.

“Mm. You’re pretty, Greg,” you say, with enough sincerity he almost believes you’re not bullshitting him.

“Pretty? That’s a first.”

“Like no one’s ever told you.”

“Maybe ten years ago.”

“Mm. It’s those eyes,” you say, stepping a little closer to him, letting your breath mingle with his, snaking your hand around the back of his neck. Your lips almost touch, once, twice, wordlessly. “You gonna kiss me or not, Greg?”

You expect him to be rougher but he’s soft, testing the waters, lips still barely touching yours until he gives in, gives you what you want, kisses you like he means it. God, it’s been too long, and you missed it, the thrill of kissing somebody new, and you can feel his anticipation, electricity from your skin to his.

“Come on,” he says, breaking away from you after a few minutes. “I said I’d take you to dinner.”

———

“So what is it? Percs?” you ask once you’ve been seated and get waters. It’s a nice place he chose, somewhere a little out of the way, mostly serving Italian fare and seafood. It’s where men who haven’t been on a date in a while would choose to bring a woman, you figure.

“Percs? You do some time on the street?” he asks.

“So what if I did?” you counter.

He shakes his head. “Not your story. I’m not buying that.”

“Fine. Used to work at an addiction treatment facility when I was a nurse. Everyone calls them percs, though. Not exactly some down low street name.”

“It’s Vicodin.”

“Nasty drug,” you say.

“Really? I think they’re yummy.”

“You would.”

“What’s your personal aversion to them? They take you on a bad date?”

“Got them prescribed after a motorcycle accident. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Hm. You driving?”

“No.”

“What’d you break?”

“My leg.”

“Which one?”

“Right femur.”

Wilson was going to have a field day. Match made in hell, alright. Wilson’s personal hell, that is.

“Femurs are hard to break.”

“When your partner is drunk and doesn’t care about anything it’s not that hard,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Lucky I didn’t die. I mean, not that I cared so much then.”

“Partner? What were you, 19?”

“22,” you say, silently cursing yourself for not just saying boyfriend.

“Did they not make it?”

You look at him questioningly but don’t say anything about his use of the gender neutral. You don’t want to have that conversation tonight. “No. Life support for a couple weeks until they pulled it.”

“Hm. So that wasn’t the reason you left.”

“No. There was no reason. I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Right,” he says. “Jersey isn’t usually the place people pick for a change of scenery.”

“How’d you end up here, then?”

“There was a job opening,” he answers.

“You were running away from something, too.”

“No, I was running to something. I needed a place to hire me and Cuddy was the only one insane enough to take me on at that point.”

“You’ve always been discourteous and unprofessional?”

“Those are my middle names,” he snarks.

There’s a natural break in the conversation as the waiter comes back to take orders. Greg takes notice of what you order, a baked scrod, certainly not the least expensive thing you could have ordered but not the most, either. It’s an assessment of how you value yourself, he thinks. Average. Average is boring.

Or you could just like scrod, he supposes.

“Why are you single?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Life was busy. Didn’t have time for relationships,” you say, shrugging. “Why are you?”

“Myriad of reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“My leg,” he responds indignantly.

“What happened to it?” you ask.”

“That’s a second date conversation.”

"You're in pain."

"How'd you know?" He asks sarcastically.

"Was it the cane? The Vicodin?"

'I think it was your charming personality.

Anyway. If you're going to cite your leg as a reason you're single, I'd love to know why."

"I was with someone when it happened. It's a long story."

"We've got nothing but time,” you say.

"You really won't sleep with me if I don't tell you?" House asks.

"Nope. Keep pushing me and I never will.

Tell me."

House sighs dramatically. "I had an infarction in my thigh muscle. No one knew what it was, I diagnosed it, but... so much of the muscle was dead already. I didn't want an amputation, I wanted a bypass. I didn't care about the pain. I just wanted to be able to use my leg. I asked them to put me under sedation to cope with the pain at the time... and the woman I was with decided it would be a good idea to remove the dead muscle completely."

"You made her your medical proxy?”

"Mm. Stupid decision on my part,” he says.

"Any medical background?"

"Nope."

"Then yes. Stupid decision,” you agree.

"I'm sure you've made plenty of stupid decisions. Getting on that motorcycle, for one,” he says, adding a jab at the end so to help heal his wounded ego a little.

"We all make mistakes. It's human. So... what's the reason now? You resent people who can walk without pain so you don't get close to anybody? It interferes with sex? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it long term?"

House sighs and rolls his eyes. "Do you really think it interferes with sex? Is that what you're worried about?"

"No. I'm asking if that's what you-"

"No. You see me as a potential sexual partner, correct?"

"I never said that."

"We're going with it. You ask me as if you're posing the question to me... but you're projecting."

"And you're deflecting. I asked you three questions and you didn't answer one" you point out.

"No. It doesn't interfere with sex, at least not to the point where you have to worry if I

can get you off or not. Whenever you decide to spread your legs for me... you'll see."

You feel your cheeks redden a little and cough. "I asked you two other questions."

"They weren't what you were getting at."

"Entertain me."

"No. It's not that I resent people. Am I jealous? Sometimes. I'd love to know what it's like to wake up in the morning without pain. But I'm not going to wake up every morning wanting to kill my partner because she jogs every morning and I can't."

"Is it because you've been able to accept it?

Was it an issue with your girlfriend at the time, coming to terms with it?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes."

Greg shrugs. “Not hard to put that together. I bet I could get a psychiatric nursing degree too.”

"Third question? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it?"

"Mm. Or she'd want to deal with it for the wrong reasons, take me on like I'm a charity case. That's unattractive for an abundance of reasons. You could go that way, I think, or you used to."

"You think I'm taking you on as a charity case? You pursued me.”

"You agreed. You didn't think for a second,

'well, he's a cripple, I'd better at least give him a shot'?"

"Your leg is not the reason I am here," you say firmly.

"What is it then, my deep blue eyes? This big, thick cane? My ray of sunshine personality?"

You chuckle. "It's your drive. You barely knew me, decided I was interesting and pursued me without abandon. That is attractive."

"You're not curious as to why you?"

"Little tits and ass, as Keith Richards would say?" You ask. "I'm used to being objectified. Pretty privilege is a thing. I'm sure you have noticed that yourself. If there's something deeper, enlighten me."

"Well, you are attractive, there's no doubting that. But I intend to find out why you're in the medical field, and psychiatry at that. It's like Cameron, on my team. You're gorgeous enough to have become an actress, marry a millionaire. Something happened to you to make you choose this."

"Did you take Cameron out until you figured what her deal was?"

"No. Cameron pities me. I have no interest in her that way."

"Well. Why do you assume brilliant minds reside only in unattractive faces? Why do you assume I worked my ass off to get here because of some past trauma when this could have just been a goal of mine like it could've been if I wasn't as hot as you think l am?”

"Okay. Then why did you choose psychiatry?"

"That's a second date conversation." You quip.

He smiles wryly at you. "You coaxed my issue out of me. Come on."

“I hold fast to my principles. You're weak,” you say, grinning back. “Why are you a doctor, then, hm?”

“I’m not a beautiful woman.”

“Right…” you say. “Chase is pretty. Foreman is too, you know. Either of them could’ve done something easier.”

“Chase is trying desperately to fill his father’s shoes. His father was a doctor, and well, you know how that story goes. And Foreman is an overcoming adversity case. He could’ve been a hood rat. He was on that path.”

“You know… women just started to be able to open credit cards in 1971. Maybe I don’t want to have to rely on a man to make a living.”

“No. Believe me, I get that. My point was there’s easier ways to make money. You chose the hard way,” he says. “And unpopular way. People become doctors and they fantasize about cutting people open and diagnosing infections, not getting hit and restraining children.”

“Your hypothesis is stupid. Maybe I don’t want to be an actor or model… or an infectious disease specialist,” you say. “And I think we’re all damaged. All of us. No one gets out unscathed.”

“No one just chooses psychiatry because it’s such a good time.”

“They do when it can make them ridiculous money without as many hardships as medical school. I could be using my degree to write suboxone scripts and make more than I’m making right now. I know a lot of people who went back for that.”

“Proving my point. Why are you doing things the hard way?”

“You take on the most difficult cases across the country, cases no one else can solve. You’re doing things the hard way, too. Why? Because the easy way is boring.”

Greg smiles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

—————

You don’t quite know how you got here. Or well, you do. Greg asked you to come back to his place for drinks, and you agreed, and you should’ve known better but it’s been years and you can’t really care too much when his warm body is underneath you, his tongue down your throat, his hands everywhere he can reach.

“How bad are you hurting?” you ask him, breathlessly.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he whispers back, reaching a hand back to touch your chin. “What do you want to come of tonight?”

“Let’s just see where this leads us,” you say, leaning back to kiss him again.

But he stops you, gentle pressure on your jaw to prevent you from closing the space between your lips. “I need to know what you want.”

You sigh, pressing your elbow in his chest as leverage to lift yourself off him, and you sit next to his feet on the other side of the couch. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I don’t want this to head somewhere we can’t get back from. Move over,” he says, and winces, moving his legs back over to sit beside you again.

“It wasn’t sexual trauma,” you huff, aggravated. “You can say I’m damaged all you want but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like glass.”

“I tried to take your shirt off and you pushed me away but you kept kissing me. What do you want?”

“What do you want?” You ask, glaring at him.

Truth was, you were using him, maybe just like he was using you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to make quite as bad of a decision as sleeping with the man in front of you in a long time. And as bad decisions go, he wasn’t so terrible anyway. You like him so far, you think he’s attractive. But you know Wilson is right, that he might drag you down to places you haven’t been in a long time.

Still.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt something. You want the hating yourself in the morning for giving yourself away so soon, you want the walk of shame as he drives you back to the hospital where you left your car, you want to revel in the fact that Greg will be telling people how you were in bed, bragging that he got you in between his sheets. You want the dopamine hit and the subsequent crash.

You spent so long getting healthy but you had to keep everyone at arm’s length to do it. It was probably the worst idea to try to get close to someone else who also isolated people and couldn’t even be healthy then.

Why didn’t he just want it to be easy? Just fuck you and be done with it, continue if it’s convenient and worth the effort. Easy is boring, sure, but sex isn’t boring even if it’s easy (if so, he wouldn’t be seeing hookers, would he?). And you know he wants to fuck you, but why he wants to make it difficult… it’s beyond your reach at this moment.

“I want… I don’t know,” he admits, because he doesn’t.

Prostitutes were one thing. Vulnerability there didn’t really matter. They were doing a job and they didn’t even take a second glance at his leg. As long as they were getting paid. If he wanted attention drawn to it, they’d kiss it red with their lipstick but because he tells them to leave it alone… they do.

Sleeping with somebody new… it’s so much harder. It’s so much easier with someone you know. Or someone you don’t have an obligation to know.

With an aim to please rather than take, he doesn’t know how he’d perform.

Looking at his face, reading the ambivalence there, it suddenly clicks. If Wilson knew the truth, if you really are the first woman since his injury, there’s a lot of insecurity in being seen.

And you know all about being seen.

It’s easy to come off with bravado and arrogance but when you’re actually in the situation, when you’re called to be vulnerable… it’s something else entirely.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” you ask quietly.

“Yes. God yes,” he affirms, nodding his head. “Don’t take tonight as an indication.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you say, nodding.

“That doesn’t mean… that doesn’t mean I can’t help you get off.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s still sex.”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re in high school.”

“What do you think lesbians do?”

He raises his eyebrows, chucking a little. “Are you a lesbian?”

“You wish,” you laugh. “Say you could be the one that changed me.”

“I would. Except people don’t change.”

“Yeah. They do. They change all the time,” you counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Every day, every hour, every moment… it changes you. They’re minuscule changes, changes you don’t see immediately, but you look back a decade and then it clicks.”

“Right. Maybe. But fundamentally people don’t change. The parts change, but the whole never does.”

You want to say that he has been changed, that his leg injury changed him, that he holds so steadfast to that belief that people never change so he can convince himself he was always this miserable. Sure, you get the feeling he was fucked before, but this did change him. Made him worse. Made him push people away.

You don’t say that, though. You know deep down he knows it and doesn’t want to face it.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, insecurity creeping in, and he doesn’t know why this is so difficult or why he cares at all. He could pay for what he wanted, live his hedonistic lifestyle and not have to worry if the woman in front of him wanted to fuck him or not.

You aren’t boring.

But that’s not true, anyway, that’s not why he keeps people at arms length. Routine medical cases are boring, but people aren’t. It’s why he went through all the files he could of the applicants for his team, trying to pick the combination that would interest him the most, play off each other in ways he could live vicariously through. They weren’t the most deserving, or the most academically gifted, they were the most interesting. It’s why he loves gossip, loves knowing about things that don’t concern him, always living life like it’s a spectator sport and he’s got front row seats.

It’s always the people that love to watch that hate to be seen.

“I could be convinced,” you say, in that bitchy tone he knows hes going to love to hate. You soften; though, turn to him, your hair falling a little in your face, kiss him gently on the mouth.

Greg responds in kind, deepening the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling lightly before traveling to your breasts, kneading your flesh through your shirt.

“Could you be convinced to have lesbian sex with me right now?” he asks.

You’d burst out laughing if you also weren’t so admittedly and ashamedly turned on right now. “Yeah. Sure. Think you’d have an easier time in bed though.”

“You treat me like all your girls?” he asks, a glint in his eye, and oh, there’s the being seen. You’re not a fan, either. You’re surprised he’s not being forthright about what he no doubt is putting together, but ultimately you’re thankful.

“A slut’s a slut,” you quip as he leans back in, his mouth barely touching yours and he chuckles against your skin.

“You really are a bitch.”

“Mm,” you agree, closing the distance between you again, pulling him to stand up with you, letting him lean on you as he puts weight on it again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, without thinking, never one to apologize for his actions but never one to let his disability affect others, either.

“It’s okay, Greg,” you whisper. “I got you.”

“No, I’ll go get—“

You stop him, holding his jaw gently in your hand. “It’s okay.”

Empathy. Not sympathy.

You had been here, in a way. Femur fractures take a good six months to heal. You walked half a year in his shoes on the same medication he was on.

Now it all clicks, what James had done, keeping you two apart to bring you together, doing something by not doing anything, letting it all happen by chance. He had been patient enough to let time do most of the work, something Greg could never do, but something that ultimately worked in his favor.

It’s okay. We all need someone we can lean on. If you want it, you can lean on me.

You still lived a life without pain.

Greg hates it, hates it all, and if you had had just the slightest twinge of force, the slightest indication that you were saying it was okay just to say something he would’ve told you to get out. He hates the way it kills intimacy, makes him older, more decrepit, makes him dependent, in a way. There’s certain things he can never do, or that he’d need help to do, and it’s something a woman would leave him for.

It’s something a woman did leave him for.

He wants to hug you, but that would feel too much, too intimate, too soon, so he kisses you again instead, and then the two of you hobble on to his bedroom. It hurts. God, it hurts, aches like it always does, maybe more so—the last pill he took was at dinner, but you make it, helping him ease onto the bed and wasting no time, knowing he was insecure, wasting no time to prove you still wanted him, mouth on his, your legs straddling his good thigh, moving on to his neck, laving your tongue over his skin, biting gently, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“Hey,” Greg says, stopping your hand’s ministrations.

“I’m only taking your shirt off,” you assure him. “I won’t go further than that.”

“Fine. Not much to see there, either,” he mutters.

“I like tits,” you blurt without thinking. Jesus Christ. You have to stop doing that.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling. “Sure you do. Good thing mine are bigger than Cuddy’s.”

“They absolutely are not.”

“You familiar with their size?”

You stop yourself just in time before you say “I wish.”

He lets you finish, helping you take his shirt off, take his undershirt off, shivering as you kiss down the length of his torso to the top of his pants. “I’ll show you mine,” you say, unbuttoning your pants and slipping them off, throwing them on the floor haphazardly. You move over so he can see the scar down the side of your leg, deep gash where they cut you open, you were a month away from a nursing license and you were in the OR, someone’s patient before you could ever be on the side you studied for.

You were lucky, they kept saying. You didn’t feel lucky at all.

Tentatively, his hand comes to touch your skin and you nod, silent agreement that he could touch. He’s gentle even though he doesn’t need to be, touching carefully, tracing the line of the scar up and down, hard keloid under his skin.

“This isn’t what you don’t want me to see,” Greg says.

“Hm?”

“Your upper body. That’s why you didn’t want me to take your shirt off.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“I don’t care,” you lie.

“Yes, you do,” he counters immediately, looking at you knowingly. “Why are you lying?”

You sigh, pulling him back to you, kissing him hard, hoping he’ll shut up if you don’t give him the chance to speak. “Just touch me already.”

It would be so much easier if he just fucked you, fucked you over, fucked you up all within the course of a month. You get the feeling right now, as your tongue is down his throat and you’re letting out moans against his lips you try to suppress as his fingers enter you, stretch you out, reach angles you couldn’t reach by yourself, you get the feeling this is going to be for the long haul. Not that he’s necessarily going to be down on one knee, but that he’s going to drag out hurting you like he’s dragging his fingers against your walls, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but never quite bringing you there.

“You okay?” you ask him, breathless, head hazy, you just want him, want him closer than this, want him deep in you.

“Shh,” Greg whispers, almost a little irritated. “I’m busy right now.”

You can’t really focus on coming up with a retort because he starts rubbing your clit and as you tilt your head back into the pillows, he starts biting at the flesh he can now easily access, starting gentle but then applying more pressure with his teeth, smirking as you whimper.

Sweat trickles down your back and you wish this was different, but he’s naked from the waist up and you’re unclothed from the waist down, and it’s stupid, you know it’s dumb, that you’re letting this man fuck you with his fingers before you let him see you fully naked. It’s not like no one has before. It’s just a conversation you don’t want to have again.

Still. All this is making you a little too hot to be half-clothed.

Greg wonders why he let you in at all. Why he went through the trouble, bought you dinner, why he’s trying to get you off right now. Maybe it’s to fuck with James. Sure, it was originally, but now he feels like it was James who fucked with him, set him up, used predictable behaviors to create a predictable outcome. Still. If you’d been professional with him instead of giving him crassness right back, he would’ve decided to make your life a living hell instead of getting you in between his sheets. Either way, he was going to make someone miserable.

Himself, first and foremost.

Not that he can really be miserable right now. It’s not terrible being needed in this sense, he’s remembering.

You weren’t like Stacy, though, not here. You’re louder, not in a patronizing way where you exaggerate your moans to try and stroke a man’s ego, but it’s like you genuinely can’t hold yourself back. It’s hot. It’s unreserved. It’s… passionate in a way Stacy just wasn’t. She loved him, he knows that, but when things got hard and he got mean instead of fighting back she got cold and walked away.

Not that he can glean exactly how you’d be in an argument from how you act in bed, but he has a feeling you don’t let go of things easily.

And… well. Takes one to know one.

Who would give in, though?

His relationship with Stacy worked before his leg because Stacy would accommodate, she would compromise herself for him. It’s why his friendship with James works now. Sure. Both of them gave him some pushback — it’s not like they in good conscience could let him get away with all the things he wanted to do. And eventually he pushed Stacy until she broke.

You, though? You don’t seem like you shatter easily. If anything you seem like you’d harden like a scar, healing over stronger, uglier, thicker, nothing really hurting you because you’d just put more walls up. You’d fight him to the bitter end.

And you know, maybe he wants that. Someone he’s not afraid to push too far because he knows you’ll push right back the second he gets even an inch.

All he really knows is your vague med list, that you got into a motorcycle accident almost a decade ago, and that you chose to be a psychiatric provider among all other things you could have been. And yet… he feels like he can glean much more.

All he really knows in this moment is that you’re coming apart under his fingers, gripping his forearm with your hands as he drags out your orgasm, trying to get him away from your now overstimulated cunt.

“She comes in colors everywhere,” he mutters, smirking lazily at you, dragging his fingers out of you, finally, then brings them to his mouth, sucking slowly on each one.

You scoff at his comment, but just as quickly he sees the light turn green again and you straddle his left thigh, coming to kiss his mouth, hard, bare cunt against his slacks and he can’t help it, he’s thinking about you wrecking them, thinking about your wet pussy on what could’ve been his bare thigh… and he groans despite himself, in pain, yes, but also pleasure - and he’s pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, and he begins to remember why men put themselves through what could very well be the potential torture of dating a woman.

It’s just so much better when it’s with someone you know. Or… someone you need to know everything about, need to memorize like they’re an extension of yourself.

You’re not soulmates. It’s not love. It’s not romance, like James would decree.

You won’t fix him. He sure as hell won’t fix you.

But you’ll do something to each other, alright.

#greg house x reader #house x reader #greg house x you #gregory house x reader #house md #gregory house

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lookwhatitcost · 2 months

Text

How can you love me? Chapter 1: What the fuck is going on?

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x !OFC

Warnings!: mentions of sex, slight drinking, Mentions of self harm, Noah is just a warning himself, let me know if I need to add more!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Noah and Adriana both rockstar's, both caring, both don't really believe in love.

They met as children in a park in Richmond, since Noah helped Adriana with a scrape on her knee that day, they'd been inseparable. Even though they do live together and have known each other for almost 20 years they've never even had the thought of being each others other, being their partner, loving each other unconditionally, except as friends of course. Even though they were each others first everything, first friend, first kiss, first time, first home, they would never admit their love for each other because it would ruin their friendship, and especially not now that Adriana is not looking for love and, Noah is in love with his girlfriend Chelsea, right?

Will they let each other break their glass houses or will they stay eternally quiet?

May 13 2020 (Adriana's POV)

"Noah where the fuck are you!"

I was out of breath from running after him after he shot me like 20 times with a fucking nerf gun! I was getting payback right, now.

I was trying to be as quiet as possible until I reached my room, of course the motherfucker would be here right? I was creeping through my room, I looked under my be-

"HOLY SHIT NOAH PUT ME DOWN!"

He was carrying me and maybe I had no way out.

I knew what his next move was, he was going to throw me on the bed and try to attack me, so I did what I first thought of, I hooked my leg around his waist and I basically threw myself on the ground, but if I was going down he was coming with me. I'm pretty sure everyone heard the loud BOOM downstairs but at least this time I beat Noah to attacking me.

Of course it hurt a little but I'll get over it.

I stood up and fixed my hair and clothes.

"Aughhhh why the fuck would you do that adri?" Noah said in pain

I just giggled while looking at the 6 foot 3 giant on the ground groaning.

"come on I'll help you get up dumbass."

I grabbed his hand and helped him get off the floor, we were laughing until we heard footsteps coming upstairs, me and Noah scrambled to the bed trying to look as calm and normal as possible, with me finding my phone on the floor and picking it up and Noah quickly snatching a blanket off of my bed and pretending he was tired.

"Did you guys finally kill each other this time?" Jolly asked as he walked into my room.

"What do you mean? We weren't doing anything, we're just here chilling" Noah falsely explained. Jolly just rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, me and Noah looked at each other and started laughing until our ribs were tired.

"NOAH YOU'RE PHONE IS RINGING AND ITS GETTING FUCKING IRRITATING" jolly yelled clearly irritated of our bullshit.

"WHO IS IT?"

"THE GIRL YOU LIKE TO FUCK A LOT"

"Oh shit its Chelsea let me go get that" Noah said as he panicked running out of the room to his room, I obviously also left the room but I went to bother jolly instead.

'hey jolly can I ask you something?' 'What do you need now adri' he said with a fake annoyed tone. ' its nothing serious, I was going to ask if you could make dinner tonight because me and Noah were going to be in his room gaming.'

"well actually.." I hear from behind me. 'What happened noah?'

"um look I'm gonna visit Chelsea at her house so I probably won't be here until very later on."

"oh ok yeah that's fine, are you going to be here for dinner or do we eat without you?"

"Nah adri I think he'll be eating something better than what we're having" jolly said in jokingly matter. 'Oh shut the fuck up jolly do I ever make fun of you when you bring girls home?' Noah said clearly rushed and irritated.

"yes actually you do." Jolly said in a matter fact tone.

"No I dont!"

"YES YOU DO last time I brought a girl home you literally said to he-"

"OH MY GOD GUYS, just shut the fuck up and stop acting like 17 year old boys, noah, are you going to be here for dinner or not." I say sternly. 'No I don't think so bu-' ' okay then I'll make dinner for me and the guys and you go visit Chels ok?'

"Um ok..." He stood like I just gave him a lecture. 'Cool, oh and can you give Chelsea the dress that I told her I would gift her please?' I asked as I remembered the promise that I made her.

"Yeah sure but, I could try to get here before dinner so we can all eat togeth-"

"Noah." I cut him off

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go visit your girlfriend."

"Ok"

Time skip.

I was cooking dinner for me and the guys, listening to music while they were upstairs in their room. I was cooking spaghetti with meatballs and also making a salad on the side. I was doing the usual, chopping up vegetables, using the knife as a mic, which I know is dangerous but its fine.

"WHO THE FUCK IS BLASTING SUGAR BY SLEEP TOKEN RIGHT NOW!?!" I hear and know right away who it is.

Jesse.

"Jesse shut up I wasn't the one screaming the lyrics to Taylor Swift's You belong with me 2 days ago."

"you have no right to say that when you know its quality music." He said as he stood in front of me.

"yeah yeah yeah, I will admit it is amazing music."

"Hey do you need help with anything there?" He said. 'Oh yeah please, um could you help me chop those vegetables while I make the sauce?' I say as I'm pointing to the needed vegetables.

"Okay yeah, oh my god did you see the news?" Jesse said beaming with excitement. 'No what news?'

"Okay so do you remember whe-"

SLAM!

What the fuck who's slamming doors right now?

Me and Jesse stood there wondering who walked through the door like he fucking could do whatever he wants

"Noah"?

he passed through the kitchen and stood right in front of us with his eyes bloodshot and puffy as if he'd been crying for hours.

"If Chelsea calls any of you and asks for me, don't tell her anything. Got it?" Noah said as he walked and reached for the alcohol cabinets.

Now what the fuck is going on?

Noah stormed out of the kitchen with a bottle of tequila to go to what I imagine would be his room. 'WAIT, DID SHE NOT CUM?' Jesse called after Noah probably trying to get him to laugh, 'JESSE! Why the fuck would you say that to him can't you see he's pissed?' Jesse looked at me while trying to hold in his laugh.

I was wondering what had happened if he left so happy that he was going to see her and even though Jesse went a little too far with the comment he was right he was also happy because he was probably going to have sex with his girl. I needed to figure out what happened to noah, I mean I'm pretty sure I could fix this, I was the one who introduced them to each other.

"Jesse can you finish this while I try to see what happened to him?"

"sure thing."

I walked in to Noah's dimly lit room excepting him to tell me to 'FUCK OFF!' Like he always does, but when I spot him on the edge of his bed he just looks at me and takes a swig of the tequila.

"Noah what the fuck was that out there?"

"Nothing, why?" He said in a monotone voice. 'You want some?' He asked as he was putting his arm out to hand me the bottle.

"No, Noah what happened with Chelsea? Did you guys fight? Or was it something else?"

He just sat there with his head down, and I thought he wasn't crying until I saw a tear glisten down his face. I sat on the edge of the bed with him and put my hand on his back, rubbing it in circular motions, just like did THAT night.

Noah took yet another gulp of the drink and sighed.

"She broke up with me."

What?

"Noah what do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean, she broke up with me just like that." He said clearly trying to keep his anger inside. 'oh, Noah I'm so sorry. Do you know why she did that?'. Noah chuckled before he said.

"No, I got to her place and when I said hi to her she asked me if we could talk, when we sat down she just said it, no sugarcoats, she just said, I wanna break up."

Oh. My. God.

"well maybe she was just confused, I mean, you guys have been together for 2 years, that's a lot of commitment and maybe she was just nervous."

"nah, its fine she's just like any other girl who's dated me, they spend time making me fall in love just so then they can throw me away like some type of garbage."

I understand how rough it is for him, I mean the last relationship he got into before Chelsea made him almost commit suicide when they broke up, she was cheating on him with two guys so the night he found out, I saw him in locked in his bathroom gripping a piece of glass in his hand from the mirror, thank god I found him before he did anything, but I understood him especially since I already had tried to do that before, so I guess you could say I was an expert.

"Noah, please don't say that, look lets do this, you stop drinking so the hangover isn't as bad in the morning, I will try and call Chelsea tonight and if she doesn't pick up I'll call her tomorrow, and you can get some rest in the meantime ok?" I said as I gently took the bottle from his hands and stood up.

"I guess, sure." He said still looking depressed.

"Okay, well goodnight Noah I'll tell you if anything happens tomorrow."

I gave him a kiss on the forehead and heard him say a quiet 'thank you'.

When I say I keep my promises, I'm not joking.

I called Chelsea about 50 times on my phone, on Noah's phone, on jolly's phone, and the list goes on and on. I was just trying to figure out what happened even though yesterday her and Noah were smitten over each other, calling each other every five minutes, which at some point did get a little irritating but it was fine. I sorta feel guilty because I introduced them to each other and I was the one who told chels that she should date noah, obviously she had a crush on Noah first, who doesn't? I mean, even I had a small crush on Noah when we were teenagers, but that passed after a while. I could feel the frustration creeping up my body as I tried calling Chelsea for the 52 time in a row. I let out a frustrated sigh, 'what the fuck do I do now?'

"Don't stress about it adri, at this point she's not gonna talk to anyone." Noah says behind me leaning against the bedroom door with only his gray sweats on,

"Noah? What are you doing up? I thought you were asleep."

"nah I couldn't sleep, plus I didn't want to anyway" he waves it off as if I can't see the tired and sadness in his eyes. 'uh huh totally, because you hate sleeping.' I say sarcastically. 'Where are the other guys?'

"ah shut it, the guys are all asleep." he says then looks at my phone in my hand, then grabs my hand gently and holds it up in front of him. 'How many times have you called her?'

"52 times" I whisper embarrassed. 'what? I couldn't hear you.'

"52 times." I say clearer. 'WHAT. You called her 52 times!?!'

"Yeah... Look I'm sorry but I just don't like seeing you like this plus I also have to check up on her, remember she's also my friend." I say trying to justify my devotion. 'Look, I appreciate that but at this point please, just give up.'

I knew what I was about to do, I was going to rant.

"no Noah I know you love her and I at least want you two to talk so you guys can at least see what happe-"

What. The. Fuck. Is. He. Doing.

I felt his soft lips lightly touch mine testing the waters, until he kissed me... He took my face in his hands and he kissed me. The kiss felt soft, he was kissing me as if I were fragile, I kissed him back and put my arms around his torso feeling as if this was a piece of heaven. He pulled back, eyes soft, and lips rosy pink from kissing me.

What the fuck, this man was heartbroken an hour ago why is he kissing me now?

"Noah?" I said confused. 'Yeah?"

"What the hell was that for?" I said thinking he wasn't in his right headspace. 'Nothing. I knew you were gonna rant so I needed to shut you up in a kind way.' He said in a mocking way.

We just stood there in front of eachother, I swear we were having a secret eye contest.

"Well adri um I'm gonna head to bed, ok? Goodnight." He said giving me one last peck on my mouth.

This guy is out of his mind.

He walked out of my room like if nothing happened. until he turned around and quickly came in to my room just to say.

"sweet dreams angel." He said adding a wink at the end.

I was shocked, and asking myself so many questions.

Why would he do that?

Is he drunk?

Was he actually trying to shut me up?

I didn't know what happened. What I did know is that, I ended up with an aching need that night, so lets just say my vibrator was dead by the time I went to sleep.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #heavy metal #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens band #noahsebastian #badomens #noah sebastian x reader

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