#I was alright for a couple of hours but then the drugs making me feel better wore off so now the tears are dripping again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kepamount · 1 year

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let me love you

mason mount x reader - one-night stand, smut and fluff

warnings: discussion and consumption of alcohol, brief mention of drugs, brief mention of infidelity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, praise and degradation, crying during sex, asphyxiation, overstimulation, i think that's it but pls lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 10.4k+

rating: M

a/n: hey guys! this is the first instalment of a new trilogy from the ariana grande series! the next two parts after this will be titled safety net and into you (after the two songs ofc), and hopefully it won't take me too long to get those out! this hasn't been proofread so pls forgive any mistakes lol. lmk what you think, hope you enjoy! <3

‘You alright, love? Can I-’ ‘I’m not interested,’ I respond shortly, not even looking in his direction as I pass by, following after Steph and Isla as they lead me through the club. We walked through the front entrance less than a minute ago, and I’ve already had four different guys try it on with me. They must really appreciate my skin-tight, tiny black dress, and the face of makeup I spent an hour doing.

The back room is cut off by a velvet rope, manned by four big and burly bouncers. They don’t even ask for our names or IDs, moving the rope out of our way as soon as we approach and letting us through without a word. I feel myself relax as soon as the curtain falls shut behind us, the music that was blasting in the main room becoming a low pulse in the background so I can actually hear myself think.

‘Benny!’ Steph exclaims when she spots her boyfriend across the room, forgetting about us and rushing over to him. I almost want to remind her that she’s here with her friends, but I can’t be annoyed when I see his face light up at the sight of her, his arms outstretched so she can fall into them, instantly dropping into his lap and pressing her lips to his.

‘You can go to your boyfriend as well, if you want,’ I say amusedly to Isla, the girl already making eye contact with Cal, the boy beckoning her over with a cocky head motion. ‘Nah, it’s girls’ night,’ she says, though she sounds completely unconvincing, and I roll my eyes. ‘Just go. I’ll be fine. Gonna get myself a drink, or five,’ I say drily, Isla laughing. ‘I’ll be back in a couple minutes though, okay?’ she promises, and I nod, watching her go and join him.

Most girls who have just gotten out of a relationship would feel shitty at seeing their friends and their boyfriends together, but I couldn’t care less if I tried. In fact, I’m relieved I’m single now. My ex was so boring that I can’t even remember the last time I was in the club, and it feels good to be back. I’m ready to get drunk as hell, snort some blow and then get a box of 20 nuggets on the way home.

‘Three shots of tequila and a glass of rosé, please,’ I ask the bartender, the boy instantly starting on my drinks as I get my phone out of my bag, checking through my notifications. I laugh to myself when I see that I’ve got seven texts and three missed calls from my ex. Someone must have spotted me at the bar we went to before this place and reported back to him already, so now he’s saying he’ll pick me up and take me back to his at the end of the night if I want him to. I’d rather crash at Steph and Ben’s and have to listen to them having sex in the next room.

‘Lime and salt with the tequila shots?’ the bartender asks, and I nod instantly. Tequila isn’t complete without lime and salt, and I think I’ll need whatever help I can get to stomach these shots. It’s been a while since I drank tequila that wasn’t in a cocktail, and I don’t wanna end up vomiting all over the boujee back room of this club.

‘y/n,’ a vaguely familiar voice says from behind me, and I turn to see Mason Mount standing there, looking heart-flutteringly handsome with his flattering all-black outfit, his perfectly trimmed beard, and his short hair long enough to tangle your fingers into. Not to mention his dark eyes that sparkle brighter even than the thin silver chain around his neck, visible where his top two buttons are undone.

‘Mason. Hi. Long time, no see,’ I reply with a smile, stepping forward to hug him. The last time I saw him, he was so slim, all skin and bone without an ounce of muscle on him, but he’s bulked up since, his arms feeling strong and sturdy when he wraps them around me. ‘It’s been too long,’ he agrees as we break apart, which is kind of him to say.

We’re more acquaintances than friends, and even that feels like a bit of a stretch. My best friends date two of his teammates, so we used to see each other fleetingly at parties or on match days, but we barely spoke when we did see each other, just polite greetings and superficial small talk. And even those encounters became a rarity after I got into a relationship with my ex-boyfriend, a player on a different team, and became a social recluse. Not seeing Mason for so long has made me forget how beautiful he is.

‘Should I give you my condolences or my congratulations?’ he asks with a mirthful glint in his eyes, and I can’t help but let out a little laugh. ‘Congratulations, definitely. I’m glad to finally be free,’ I say drily as the bartender puts a wineglass down in front of me. I pick it up, clinking it against Mason’s whiskey tumbler, both of us taking long sips of our drinks.

‘I didn’t realise you drank,’ I say, knowing that Ben’s in the minority as a footballer who loves a good drink from time to time. ‘I don’t, really. We’ve been here an hour and I’m still on my first,’ he says bashfully, making me laugh. ‘You chose the worst possible spirit. If you don’t drink often, you’re supposed to have a vodka and coke or something. A drink where you can’t even taste the alcohol. Whiskey’s awful,’ I say, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

‘You’re an expert on alcohol then?’ he asks amusedly, the bartender putting my three tequila shots down in front of me just as he finished speaking. ‘Don’t tell me they’re all for you,’ he says with mild shock on his face, and I nod proudly. ‘I’m newly single and everyone here knows it. I need all the help I can get to get through the night,’ I say drily, putting down my wineglass as an idea appears in my mind. It's a terrible idea – the entire room will be watching if I do this, and it’ll only enrage my ex when he finds out – but the boy standing next to me is far too enticing for me to decide not to do this.

‘Can I borrow your hand?’ I ask innocently, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. ‘My… hand?’ he echoes, and I nod amusedly. ‘To take my shots,’ I clarify, the boy still looking lost. ‘You’ve never done tequila shots before?’ I ask, Mason shaking his head, looking intrigued. ‘Can I?’ I ask, holding a hand out to him, and he nods, putting down his drink and resting his hand in mine.

‘So first, you’re supposed to coat your tongue in salt, so that it’s easier to drink the tequila. Traditionally, you put salt on this part of someone’s hand and lick it off,’ I say, running a manicured nail down the skin that connects his thumb to the rest of his hand. ‘And you’re supposed to lick the skin before you even put the salt on,’ I add, the boy raising an amused eyebrow. ‘Go ahead then,’ he prompts, victory unfurling in my chest as I pass him a lime to hold in his empty hand.

I lift his hand to my mouth, eyes locked with his as I drag my tongue along his skin, his pupils dilating as he watches me. I shake some salt out onto the damp part of his skin, licking that up too, my tongue stinging with the sharp flavour. I pick up the shot, knocking it back and trying my best not to wince, before taking his other hand into mine, lifting it so he can put the lime in my mouth, my eyes on his as I suck the juice out of it, the tips of his fingers touching my lips.

‘Bit much just for a shot, isn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, though his darkened eyes and slightly heavier breathing betray him, the boy clearly worked up. ‘People do body shots with tequila, which is even worse. Licking salt and sucking limes off different parts of people’s bodies,’ I tell him, the look on his face making it instantly obvious that his mind is imagining what it would be like to do body shots with me. I wonder which part of my body he’d choose.

‘Well, if you’re about to ask me if you can do body shots in the middle of the room, I’m gonna have to decline,’ he jokes, prompting a soft laugh from me. ‘I have more decorum than to do body shots in public,’ I smile, the boy grinning. ‘Only in private then?’ ‘Only in private,’ I confirm, both of us laughing.

‘Here, you do one of these. Not as a body shot. Just a normal one,’ I say, and he looks conflicted. ‘I’ll set it up for you,’ I smile, licking my own hand and pouring out the salt before picking up a lime, resting it in my exposed collarbone. He’s instantly convinced, a dark grin on his face as he lifts my hand to his mouth. He licks up the salt along with my own saliva on my hand, before picking up the shot and knocking it back impossibly fast, trying to get to the last step as quickly as possible. He slides a hand around to the back of my neck, pulling me closer and leaning down to take the lime, his lips brushing my skin so lightly that I wonder if I imagined it.

He sucks the lime dry, dropping the peel in the empty shot glass with a grin before licking some juice from his lip, my eyes zoning in on the action, my stomach tightening with desire. He really is a beautiful man, and I know I’ll be disappointed if I don’t go home with him tonight.

‘Gonna do your last one?’ he asks, not waiting for my answer before he sets it up, putting the lime between his teeth, a challenging glint in his eyes. Never one to back down, I lick up the salt, knock back the shot, and push myself up onto my tip toes, leaning in and taking the lime from his mouth, being careful not to let our lips touch. If he wants a kiss from me, he’s gonna have to be a big boy and ask for one.

The disappointment in his face almost makes me laugh as I swallow down the sour lime juice, putting the peel and the empty glass down on the bar. I’m suddenly aware of lots of eyes on us, whispered conversation filling the room, and I smile. ‘We got people talking.’ ‘Your ex won’t be happy.’ ‘Forgive me if I don’t particularly care,’ I say drily, sipping on my wine, and the boy grins. ‘Let’s give him something to be really angry about then,’ he suggests, and I raise an intrigued eyebrow.

‘Come home with me. I hate going to the club. Your friends have ditched you for their boyfriends. There’s no reason for us to be here,’ he murmurs, and I feel butterflies fill my stomach, so tempted by the thought. ‘I’ve only been here ten minutes, if that. It feels like a waste of an outfit, and my hair and makeup took ages,’ I say forlornly, and he laughs. ‘I’m enjoying your outfit, babe, and your hair and makeup. It’s not a waste,’ he promises, and I feel myself swaying even more at the pet name. ‘I wanted to get drunk tonight,’ I pout, and he rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘I have loads of wine at home. You can take your pick,’ he offers, and I’m convinced.

‘Okay. Let’s say bye to our friends and then go,’ I say before downing my wine, the boy offering me his arm so I can link mine through it. He leads me over to where his friends sit, Isla and Steph part of the group, and they all try to pretend they weren’t just watching and talking about us.

‘We’re gonna go and get something to eat,’ Mason says, not even trying to come up with a decent excuse, and badly-stifled laughter runs around the group. ‘Those limes didn’t fill you up?’ Ben asks, Steph elbowing him in his side amongst more laughter. ‘Okay. Just text us when you get home,’ Isla says, directing the comment to me, and I nod though I know her and Steph will be checking my location anyway.

‘Look after her, Mount. I’ll kill you if something happens to her,’ Steph warns, Mason nodding seriously. ‘He’ll take care of her, don’t worry,’ Cal says, clearly making a dirty joke, and Isla hits him with her bag as they all laugh again. ‘You’re all so annoying,’ I sigh, the boys laughing even harder at that, and I just wave goodbye to Isla and Steph as Mason leads me away from them and towards the exit.

We have to walk single-file in the main room because of how packed it is, so Mason untangles our arms, clasping my hand tightly in his instead, leading the way around the edge of the room and looking back every few seconds to check I’m okay. I can just imagine the tabloids in the morning, not to mention the blurry photos and videos of us on Twitter and TikTok. The football world and the celeb gossip scene is gonna have a field day with this.

I can’t help the shiver that racks through my body the second we step outside, Mason instantly shrugging off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. I don’t even have a chance to protest because the valet approaches us, Mason grabbing his wallet from his pocket, handing the valet his ticket.

‘You drove?’ I ask when the valet goes to get his car, and he nods. ‘So I could make a quick escape if I wanted to. I’ve only had three sips of whiskey.’ ‘And a tequila shot,’ I add, the boy grinning. ‘And a tequila shot,’ he repeats, my phone making several text notification noises a moment later. I get my phone out of my bag, unable to hold back a laugh at seeing that it’s Steph and Isla blowing up the group chat, clearly not as cool, calm and collected about the whole thing as they pretended to be before.

‘The girls?’ he asks amusedly, and I nod with a little sigh. ‘They’re freaking out. Sending texts in all caps to the groupchat,’ I say, the boy laughing. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t say anything when we were still inside.’ ‘Girl code. You have to play it cool. Can’t let the guy get a big head from thinking that it’s a big deal that your friend’s going home with him,’ I tell him, his grin growing. ‘Is it a big deal?’ ‘Kind of, I guess. I’ve been in a relationship for a couple years, and I wasn’t one for… going home with guys even before that,’ I tell him, and he tilts his head thoughtfully.

‘What about after your relationship? You’ve been broken up for a while now, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Yeah. Two weeks since we announced it, but I dumped him about a month ago.’ ‘And you haven’t… had a rebound in that month?’ he asks, and I shake my head shyly, the boy looking satisfied at that. ‘I’m honoured.’ ‘You should be,’ I reply, Mason laughing.

The valet pulls up in front of us in Mason’s Lamborghini, jumping out and handing Mason the keys, the boy thanking him graciously which earns him brownie points. Seems basic, but when your ex was rude and arrogant, you appreciate a guy with manners. He opens the passenger side door for me, grinning at my thanks as I climb in, the boy shutting the door behind me before walking around to the driver’s side.

‘Connect your phone,’ he prompts, and I open my Settings app, clicking on the Bluetooth section and scrolling past all my saved devices to connect to his car. ‘Wow. How many cars have you connected to?’ he asks, and I let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. ‘A fair few. I’m a certified passenger princess,’ I claim, flipping my hair over my shoulder, and he just laughs, pulling away from the curb.

‘What music do you like?’ I ask, scrolling through my playlists. ‘I mainly listen to American rap, but I don’t know if that’s the vibe,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘What’s the vibe, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy failing to hold back his smile. ‘Heartbreak music. You just got out of a two-year-long relationship,’ he reminds me, and I scoff. ‘Yeah, right. I was more heartbroken when I was still in the relationship than I am now,’ I laugh, Mason silent for a few seconds.

‘I know you’re probably sick of having this conversation but… what happened with him?’ he asks, and I let out a little sigh, clicking on my ‘gimme the aux’ playlist, full of songs that I play in other people’s cars to prove I’ve got good music taste. Playboi Carti comes on, Mason looking impressed, and I try not to laugh at how successful this playlist is at its purpose.

‘Our relationship got really boring towards the end. He stopped taking me on dates, buying me gifts, even complimenting me. We just spent all our time at home, watching boxsets and having sex. He became really complacent, and I realised that I deserve to be treated like a princess in a relationship, and not taken for granted or made to feel unloved the way I did. I communicated to him that I was unhappy in our relationship, and he turned around and said that he was too and that’s why he slept with the club’s social media girl,’ I say flatly, Mason’s mouth falling open in shock.

‘That is not what I was expecting you to say. Wow. I’m so sorry, y/n,’ he says, and I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, don’t worry. It didn’t really hurt me, because I just wasn’t in love with him anymore towards the end. I felt disrespected and angry, but not upset,’ I say, Mason nodding in understanding as he drives, one hand resting on the wheel whilst the other moves the gearstick every now and then. He’s a sexy driver, completely relaxed behind the wheel, his eyes flitting to the mirrors from time to time.

‘Was he at least good in bed?’ he asks, and I laugh, surprised at the question. ‘He was okay. Not the best, not the worst,’ I say fairly. ‘Same as how he is on the pitch then,’ Mason mutters, surprising another laugh out of me. ‘At least he’s consistent,’ I say, Mason’s response interrupted by my phone suddenly ringing through his car speakers, a familiar phone number appearing on the screen.

‘Spam call?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Sort of. It’s him. My ex,’ I say as I reject the call, Mason’s eyes widening in amusement. ‘No way. You didn’t even change his contact name to ‘dead to me’ or something. Just straight deleted his contact?’ he asks, and I nod with a laugh. ‘For him to be dead to me, I’d have to actually care about him, and I genuinely don’t,’ I say, my phone ringing with another call from him.

‘Please let me answer and speak to him,’ Mason says, and I shake my head instantly. ‘No way. He’ll literally go insane,’ I say, Mason grinning. ‘All the more reason.’ ‘No way. Don’t your teams play against each other soon? He’ll probably go out of his way to injure you if you piss him off,’ I say, Mason scoffing. ‘Yeah, right. I could take him.’ ‘Okay, skinny white boy. It’s not worth the risk,’ I say, Mason looking at me with big, persuasive eyes. ‘I won’t even speak. I just wanna hear what he says to you,’ he says as the ringing stops, disappointment on his face.

‘He’ll phone again. He calls three times and then gives up,’ I say, Mason looking hopeful. ‘And you’re gonna answer this time?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Yeah, okay. If it’ll make you that happy,’ I say, Mason grinning widely. He waits, almost excited for the phone to ring, unable to hold back a laugh when it rings again. ‘Go on, then,’ he prompts, and I press the green button, waiting for it to connect.

‘y/n. Where are you?’ his voice blares out from the speakers, both of us wincing. ‘Fucking hell. Are you shouting directly into your phone speaker? Why was that so loud?’ I complain, my ex letting out an irritated noise. ‘Where are you?’ ‘In a car.’ ‘Whose car?’ ‘Mason Mount’s car,’ I say, Mason grinning at the momentary stunned silence.

‘I didn’t think it was true.’ ‘Who told you?’ ‘Twitter. It’s already everywhere,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Well, yeah. It’s true.’ ‘Why are you in his car?’ ‘What do you mean? We’re driving somewhere. Why else would I be in his car?’ I say irritably, Mason stifling laughter. ‘Where are you driving?’ ‘It’s actually none of your business, at all,’ I remind him, a sigh sounding through the car speakers.

‘I know, but… it’s just killing me to not know what’s going on with you. All the rumours and shit, I just hate it. First, you’ve moved on with Central Cee, and then, you’re getting a marriage proposal from an Indian prince, and now, you’re dating another Prem footballer? It’s driving me insane,’ he says, and I roll my eyes again.

‘You should’ve thought about that before cheating on me and taking me for granted. We’re done now, so you don’t get to ask questions about my life and expect answers.’ ‘Fine, okay. Just at least tell me if you’ve got a new boyfriend now.’ ‘I don’t. I’m single.’ ‘So it’s just casual sex then?’ ‘She’s hanging up now,’ Mason says, a brief stunned silence following his words.

‘Who the fuck do you th-’ ‘Bye!’ I shout, hanging up on him, and Mason and I burst into laughter. ‘Right, I’d better block his number because he’s gonna spam call me now,’ I say, having to reject a call so I can block him. ‘He’s insane.’ ‘Tell me about it,’ I mutter, feeling relieved when I finally block his number.

‘What’s this about Central Cee and an Indian prince then?’ he asks, trying his best to seem relaxed but clearly curious, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Cench and I aren’t dating. We were in the studio together for my next album, and we wanted WingStop, but delivery wasn’t available, so we drove to the nearest one and collected our order instead. People saw me in his car and the rumours started. But the Indian prince stuff is actually true. A prince spoke at some international relations meeting and mentioned wanting me as a wife in his speech,’ I say offhandedly, Mason’s eyes wide.

‘Wow. Have you responded?’ ‘No. How do you publicly reject a marriage proposal from a prince without putting yourself in serious danger?’ I say, Mason laughing. ‘What are you gonna do though? Just ignore it?’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Pretend it never happened and pray I don’t run into him until both of us are married so he can’t bring it up,’ I say drily, the boy shaking his head amusedly.

‘So you wanna get married one day?’ ‘At some point, yeah, I think so. Not for a long time, though. I wasted a couple years of my youth being in a shitty relationship, so I wanna enjoy myself for a while now. I don’t think I’ll even start dating again ‘til I’m close to my 30s. I’m more than happy to be single for a while now,’ I say, Mason nodding.

‘Fair enough. Dating again when you’re… 27, 28? Then marriage a few years later. Any kids?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. ‘Definitely. I want a few. At least four. Two boys, two girls,’ I say dreamily, Mason laughing. ‘You can’t choose, y/n.’ ‘I can if I adopt.’ ‘You want to adopt?’ he asks surprisedly, and I shrug. ‘Maybe. It’s always an option. I’m not sure if I have the pain threshold to go through pregnancy, and the idea of giving kids who would ordinarily struggle the chance for a better life and better opportunities seems really appealing to me. Why bring more children into the world when I can help the ones that are already here?’ I say, Mason smiling softly.

‘That’s really sweet. I think you’d make an amazing mother. Biological or adoptive,’ he says kindly, my heart warming. ‘Thanks, Mase. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing parent too,’ I say, the boy grinning. ‘Our kids will be lucky,’ he says, making me choke on my own gasp. ‘Our kids? Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy just looking content with his own joke. ‘Never say never, y/n. You don’t know what relationship we might have in a few years’ time,’ he says in a mystical tone, and I just roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, we’ll see,’ I mutter, Mason just laughing.

We fall into a comfortable silence, Mason tapping his fingers on the wheel in time to the Lil Baby song that’s playing. I shift in my seat, my dress riding up to a point where it’s barely even covering my crotch, and I pull it down, able to feel Mason’s eyes on me as I do so. I can also feel him smirk to himself, obviously amused at how I’m trying to cover up while we’re literally on our way back to his house.

‘Cold?’ he asks, not even waiting for my answer before he turns up the heat. ‘Your jacket’s keeping me warm,’ I say, pulling it closer around me. It’s still holding the heat from his body when he was wearing it, and it holds his scent as well, something fresh and expensive.

‘You look good in it,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. It makes the outfit, I think,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘I did think it was missing something, to be fair,’ I joke, his smile alerting me to the fact that he’s about to make a joke that he’s already very proud of. ‘It was missing the rest of its material,’ he says, and I gasp, hitting his shoulder lightly as he bites his lip to hold back laughter. To be fair, the dress is pretty tiny. The neckline barely covers my nipples and the hem barely covers my ass, not to mention the fact that it’s practically a second skin and it has the thinnest little straps that just about manage to hold it up.

‘Don’t shame me.’ ‘I’m not shaming you! It’s hypocritical to shame something you like, isn’t it?’ he asks with a grin. ‘You like it?’ ‘Yeah, I do. I love your skimpy little dress,’ he laughs, making me roll my eyes. ‘I had to wear something to give me the confidence to walk into a club for the first time in over two years.’ ‘You don’t have to explain yourself. Honestly, I’m just hoping you’re wearing outfits like this every time I see you.’ ‘I’ll wear it to your next match,’ I smile, and he falls into a thoughtful silent for a moment. ‘Actually… maybe not then. I’d end up shooting into our own goal if I spot you in the stands wearing a dress like this,’ he says drily, the car slowing down as he pulls into a familiar residential area.

‘You live around here?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘About thirty seconds down this road.’ ‘I’m literally five minutes away from here. I’m always at the Co-op at the top of the road,’ I say, the boy looking surprised. ‘No way. I’m always there as well. How have we never run into each other?’ ‘I’m glad we haven’t. I always look an absolute mess when I go, and I’m usually buying alcohol,’ I admit, Mason laughing. ‘Should I be concerned about your alcoholism?’ he asks, and I shake my head with a laugh. ‘It’s not that bad, I promise. I barely had a drop when I was with my ex.’ ‘Oh. In that case, drink as much as you want. I won’t even try to stop you,’ he grins, clearly trying to communicate that he’d be better for me thank my ex, and I just roll my eyes amusedly.

He pulls up to his house a few moments later, reversing onto the drive with his head turned, hand on the back of my seat. It takes every ounce of my self-control to not watch him, knowing I’ll probably throw myself at him the second I see him doing the sexy reversing thing. He turns off the engine, climbing out of the car and rushing around to help me out, grinning like he’s proud of himself for being so gentlemanly. He motions for me to lead the way up to the front door, following me up the drive and unlocking the door using the security system keypad set into the brick beside it.

I step into the front hall, slipping off my uncomfortable heels, my feet relieved at being flat on the cold floor. He flicks a switch beside the door as he shuts it behind us, flooding the room with light, and I find myself impressed at how nicely decorated it is. It’s also spotless enough that I can tell it was cleaned today, and I find myself unusually jealous at the thought of some girl cleaning his house. I try to comfort myself with the possibility that his cleaning staff are male, though the thought’s tinged with doubt.

‘Let me get you a drink before you start getting withdrawal symptoms,’ he jokes, stepping around me and leading me to the kitchen. It’s similar to my own, with a big island in the middle of the room, and I admire the furnishings, impressed at his taste in décor. ‘Your house is beautiful,’ I say quietly, not wanting to disrupt the complete silence filling the room. ‘Thanks. My mum helped me choose everything,’ he admits, making me laugh. ‘Well, your mum’s got good taste,’ I say, the boy smiling at hearing a compliment for his mum.

‘Which wine do you want?’ he asks, opening the wine fridge. ‘I’m happy with whatever,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You must have a favourite. Just come and choose,’ he says amusedly, busying himself with getting a wineglass and ice out for me as I look through the many unopened bottles in the fridge. I spot a bottle of Asti, instantly won over, and I get it out carefully, shutting the fridge and bringing the bottle to the island where he’s standing.

‘Why do you have so much wine if you don’t drink it?’ I ask, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he watches me pour out a half glass, dropping in two ice cubes with the little silver tongs he hands me. ‘So I’ve got something to give the girls I bring home after a night out,’ he grins, and I pretend to hit him with the tongs, the boy ducking with a laugh.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking! The wine fridge was already there when I bought the house, and Mum said I might as well just fill it up so it doesn’t look weird, and so I’ve got options for people to choose from when I host,’ he explains, and I nod in understanding, putting the wine bottle back in the fridge as he puts the ice away.

‘So do you do that on a regular basis? Bring girls home after a night out?’ I ask casually, Mason looking amused at my question. ‘Not regularly. A couple times. But I’ve never let them choose their favourite wine from my wine fridge,’ he adds, making me laugh. ‘I guess I’m special then.’ ‘So special, babe.’ ‘I’m honoured,’ I say drily, taking a sip from my glass as he laughs.

‘Can I use your toilet?’ I ask, the boy nodding. ‘It’s just down that way. Door on the left,’ he says, and I walk down the corridor he points at, opening one of the doors. ‘That’s your right, y/n, not your left,’ he laughs as I stop myself from stepping into a store cupboard. ‘Oh. I struggle remembering my left and right.’ ‘Clearly,’ he says amusedly, my eyes landing on something in his cupboard.

‘Wow, this is quite a board game collection,’ I say, Mason coming to stand behind me as I admire the three shelves lined with board game boxes. ‘I know it’s not why you came back to mine but… do you wanna play one?’ he says excitedly, like a big kid. ‘Excuse you, Mason Mount, but playing a board game is exactly the reason I came back to yours,’ I lie, pretending to be outraged by his insinuation, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, right. The only game you came here to play is an adult version of Twister,’ he grins, wiggling his eyebrows, and I can’t help but burst into laughter at the terrible joke, Mason unable to hold back his own.

‘What game shall we play then?’ I ask, and he looks surprised. ‘Wait, you really want to?’ ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of losing to me, Mount,’ I taunt, his competitive streak taking over when he raises a patronising eyebrow. ‘Can’t be scared of something that has a less-than-1% chance of happening,’ he replies childishly, and I scoff. ‘Put your money where your mouth is then. Let’s play,’ I challenge, and he holds out a hand for me to shake. ‘You’re on.’

And five minutes later, here we are. Two grown adults on the carpeted floor of his living room on a Saturday night in our clubbing clothes, two Guess Who? boards set up between us and my wineglass on the coffee table beside us, music playing from his sound system in the background. Mason’s lying on his front, legs outstretched, while I’m sitting with my legs bent to the side, keeping my thighs clamped shut.

‘Okay, shall I start?’ ‘Wait,’ he says suddenly, that mischievous glint in his eyes again, ‘let’s… raise the stakes a bit.’ ‘Don’t tell me you wanna put money on Guess Who?, because that is a low I’m not ready to go to,’ I say with narrowed eyes, the boy laughing. ‘No, not money. What about… clothes?’ he suggests, and I tilt my head in confusion. ‘The loser buys the winner a new wardrobe?’ ‘No, y/n. You lose a round, you lose an item of clothing,’ he grins, and my eyes widen in surprise.

‘Don’t chicken out on me now, babe,’ he taunts, and I roll my eyes, my own competitive streak appearing. ‘I’m no chicken, but it’s unfair on me. You’re wearing way more than I am,’ I pout, and he’s silent for a moment, obviously working it out. ‘No, we’ve got the same. I’ve got socks, boxers, trousers and shirt. You’ve got dress, bra, pants and my jacket,’ he lists off, and I bite my lip, feeling awkward about having to tell him he’s overestimating what I’ve got on. ‘I’m not wearing a bra. Or pants,’ I say quietly, his mouth falling open for a moment.

‘Nothing under your dress?’ ‘Nope.’ ‘Right. I guess that’s not as simple then,’ he says, clearly trying not to laugh, and I don’t reply for a moment, debating whether or not I’m bold enough for this. And then I decide, fuck it. ‘It’s still simple in my eyes. I told you, Mount. I’m not a chicken,’ I murmur, his eyes darkening as he grins. ‘You’re sure?’ 100%.’ ‘Let’s do it, then,’ he says, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

We start the most competitive game of Guess Who? ever, both of us aggressively tapping down the tiles on our boards. I win the first round, downing half of my wine in celebration as he pulls his socks off. He throws one at me, my scream as I bat it away making him burst into laughter. He wins the next round, and I reluctantly take off his jacket, resting it on the sofa as he gives me a greasy grin, bursting into laughter again when I lean over to swat at him.

‘You’d better pray you don’t lose the next round,’ he says, sitting up with his shoulders in a competitive stance, and I smile confidently. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to,’ I promise, and I’m right. I win the next round, managing to guess correctly when I still have six people left to guess from, and his mouth falls open at how lucky I am.

‘What shall I take off then?’ ‘You’re letting me choose?’ I ask, the boy nodding, lips quirked up in amusement. ‘Shirt. Obviously,’ I say, the boy laughing as his hands lift to undo the buttons on his shirt. Our eyes are locked together as he shrugs his shirt off, but once he’s shirtless, I can’t resist the temptation to let my gaze slide over his bare torso, muscles and tan skin and tattoos galore. Desire settles low in my stomach as he watches me admire him, a darkly satisfied look on his face. His light-hearted and jokey side is slowly melting away, leaving a very intimidating side in its wake.

‘When you’re finished… I’m ready to beat you again,’ he says in a low tone laced with mirth, and I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t bet on it, babe. I’m winning this round as well,’ I say with conviction, and I’m right again. It comes down to the wire this time, pretty much anyone’s game, but I manage to scrape the win at the last second, the boy looking outraged that he didn’t.

He stands up as I sip victoriously on the last of my wine, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers before pushing them down his strong legs and kicking them aside. I feel my pulse quickening as I look up at him standing there in nothing but his Calvins, a noticeable tent in them already. He grins at me as he sits back down, and I avoid his amused gaze, resetting my Guess Who? board.

‘Last round,’ he reminds me, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, knowing what’s coming right after this round. He doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to win, but my nervousness distract me from concentrating, and by the time he makes his guess, I’ve still got half my board up. I can’t even muster up the disappointment at losing, too on edge about the fact that I’m about to strip off my dress to leave myself naked in Mason Mount’s living room.

‘Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?’ he asks amusedly, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his elbows. ‘Too much to drink,’ I say weakly, the boy sighing. ‘y/n, if you’ve changed your mind, you can say so. Don’t worry ab-’ ‘No, it’s not that. I’m just… I haven’t slept with anyone other than my ex in the last three years. And almost every time we slept together, it was boring and never felt special. It was just a really dull part of our routine. This is different. I feel nervous,’ I admit, Mason chuckling softly.

‘Come here,’ he says softly as he pushes the Guess Who? boards aside, speaking in a tone that no-one would ever be able to say no to, and I crawl across the carpet towards him. When I reach him, he slides an arm around my waist, effortlessly lifting me to straddle him, his bulge pressing directly onto my core.

‘There’s nothing to be nervous about, y/n. We’ll take this as slowly as you want to, and we don’t have to do it at all if you decide you don’t want to. There’s only one thing I want you to feel tonight, and that isn’t anxiety,’ he murmurs, one of his hands resting on my back as he lifts the other hand to brush a lock of hair back from my face, butterflies exploding in my stomach.

‘We can play another game if you want? Or I can get you another glass of wine before you start getting withdrawal shakes?’ he jokes lightly, and I can’t hold back my giggle, the boy smiling at the sound. ‘I’m okay,’ I say, lifting my hands to rest on his bare chest, his skin hot against my palms. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I don’t want games, or wine. All I want is you,’ I say shyly, his grin growing. ‘That works out well then.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I’m already yours, babe,’ he murmurs, sliding his hand up to the back of my neck and pulling me closer.

My eyes slide shut as he kisses me, his lips pushing mine apart and his tongue sliding into my mouth. The kiss is sweet wine and bitter tequila, my head going light at the taste of him on my mouth while his hands roam up and down my sides. I slide my hands up his chest to the back of his neck, using my grip on him to press my torso against his, accidently rocking forward against his bulge. The friction makes me whimper into his mouth, and he groans at the noise, gripping my waist to press me down again, stealing the breath from each other’s mouths as though the only air that works for either of us comes from each other’s lungs.

The kiss escalates quickly, my hands gripping onto his hair as his fingers press into my waist tightly enough to leave bruises, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us moaning into each other’s mouths. His skin is so hot against mine, and I realise I want to touch every inch of it, my hands sliding down from his hair to explore the curves and ridges of his strong body.

‘Can I?’ he asks against my lips as his hands slip down to my thighs, tips of his fingers playing with the hem of my dress. I hum into the kiss as response, his hands instantly disappearing under my dress and sliding over my bare skin, pulling the material up with them. We break apart briefly so he can pull it over my head, throwing it over his shoulder as he reconnects our lips, my boobs smushed against his chest. His hands explore my completely naked body as I continue grinding down onto him, unclothed core dripping arousal all over his underwear.

‘Fuck, you’re so wet. I need to…’ he breathes into my mouth, lying back and bringing my body down on top of his before rolling us over, the soft carpet against my skin as he hovers over me. ‘Can I touch you?’ ‘Please,’ I whisper, his hand instantly moving down to push my legs apart, two fingers lightly swiping across my folds to collect up my arousal. He lifts his hand to his mouth, tasting me on his skin, and he lets out an appreciative noise.

‘You taste so good, babe,’ he praises, slipping the two fingers between my lips, and I suck on them gently, able to taste myself. He takes his hand from my mouth, replacing it with his own mouth and capturing my lips in a kiss, absorbing the moan I let out when he pushes those two fingers into me. He remains still for a few moments to let me adjust, distracting me from the stretch with a messy kiss, tongues and teeth clashing.

He breaks away from me when he starts moving his fingers, slowing sliding them in and out of me, my walls fluttering around them as I bite down on my lip to hold back any noises. His eyes are trained on my face, watching intently for my reactions as he presses his thumb down on my clit, my back arching up from the floor as my breath catches in my throat.

He curls his fingers inside me, a pathetic whimper escaping my lips, and he fails at trying to hold back his satisfaction at the sound. ‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, half-soothingly and half-patronisingly, his tone making me gush around his fingers. He’s trying his best to take it slow but he can’t resist increasing his pace, rocking his hand against me so his palm rubs my clit whilst his fingers move inside me, little moans falling from my lips every few seconds.

‘That’s it, babe, good girl. Let me hear how good it feels,’ he prompts with a small grin, replacing his palm with his thumb and rubbing hard and slow circles on my clit, forcing a desperate whimper out of me. I look up at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s still watching me, eyes studying my face as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my back arches up again, a gentle moan escaping my lips.

‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mutters, fingers curling inside me again, and I can’t help but clamp my thighs together, overwhelmed at the sensation. ‘Want me to stop?’ he asks, hand stopping its movements, and I shake my head desperately, needing him to stop but needing him to carry on even more. He grins amusedly as he pulls one of my legs up so it bends at the knee between our bodies, allowing his fingers to go even deeper inside me. ‘Fuck, Mason,’ I breathe out when his fingers brush against that spot inside me, and he curses under his breath at hearing his name on my lips.

I clutch at the carpet as his fingers continue to thrust into me at a ever-quickening pace, an obscene squelching filling the room. ‘God, you’re so wet. Soaking my carpet, dirty girl,’ he chuckles, and I let out whine after whimper as he starts to bring me to the edge. ‘You’re doing all the work now, y/n. Feels good, baby?’ he asks softly, tone laced with cockiness, and I only realise after he says it that I’m grinding down onto his hand, each movement sending gentle waves of pleasure through me.

My body squirms beneath his, walls clenching around him, and he knows that I’m close, his pace quickening as he whispers honeyed filth into my ear. ‘Close, babe?’ he asks, and all I can do is nod, letting out a loud moan. ‘Fuck, bet my neighbours are gonna come knocking soon with a noise complaint. But how could anyone complain about your pretty noises, babe?’ he grins, the thought of being heard only prompting a fresh wave of arousal that soaks his skin.

‘Fuck, Mason, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, feeling myself get closer with every brush of his thumb at my clit and every curl of his fingers inside me. ‘Gonna cum, babe? You wanna cum on my fingers?’ he whispers against my ear, and I just let out a moan in response, teetering at the edge. I’m so close, and then he takes his fingers out of me, my orgasm disappearing within seconds, and I whine, eyes filling with tears of frustration and desperation.

‘Don’t complain, babe. I’m not done,’ he murmurs soothingly as he moves down my body, pressing kisses my skin. He briefly sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, making me sigh in pleasure, before continuing down my body, pushing my legs apart so he can settle between them.

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately burying his head between my inner thighs and sucking my clit into his mouth. I let out a moan of his name, fingers tangling into his hair as he alternates between flicking his tongue over my clit and slurping at my folds noisily like a man starved. It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to build up again, and I fall over the edge when he pushes his tongue inside me, his nose pressing against my clit.

My vision goes blurry as I moan out loudly, fingers gripping onto his soft locks for any form of stability as the pleasure crashes through my body in strong waves, my limbs tense and tight. As my orgasm subsides, my body goes slack beneath him, and he takes it upon himself to continue eating me out. I whine at the overstimulation, body squirming as he sucks and flicks my clit whilst thrusting one finger into me.

‘Mase, I can’t. It’s too much,’ I whimper between moans, tears steadily running down my face, and when he finally gives me reprieve, I let out a long sigh of relief, a dark grin on his face as he sits up on his knees. ‘You’re not done already, are you, babe? Haven’t even let me fuck you yet,’ he murmurs, slipping a hand into his Calvins and touching himself, my core flooding with arousal at the sight.

I sit up, pulling his underwear down just enough to free his cock, mouth-watering at the sight of it. I can’t resist from leaning down and sucking the head between my lips, his salty pre-cum coating my tongue. ‘As much as I’d love to feel your mouth right now, babe, I’d love to be inside you even more. Gonna let me fuck you?’ he asks as I sit up, and I nod shyly, his grin growing.

‘Let me grab a condom from ups-’ ‘No, don’t. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,’ I say, his eyes darkening. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Are you clean?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Then, yeah, I’m sure. I wanna feel you raw,’ I breathe out, his pupils blown out completely with lust. ‘Fuck. Yeah. Okay, then. How d’you want it?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. Missionary’s always been my favourite – I’m a simple girl – but for a one-night stand with a friend of a friend, it feels a bit too intimate. The last thing I need is to stare into his pretty eyes while he fucks me. I’ll end up falling in love.

‘From behind,’ I murmur quietly, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he grins, making me question if I’m imagining it. ‘Get on your hands and knees for me, babe,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, anticipating his touch on me. And then he smacks my ass harshly, making me let out a pained yelp, before he rubs the area soothingly.

‘This is fucking perfect,’ he mutters, groping my ass cheeks like a horny teenage boy, and I push back into him, needing him to fuck me. ‘Okay, okay, I get the hint,’ he laughs, his hands disappearing from my ass a moment later. I let out a moan the second I feel him running the head of his cock down my folds, another escaping my lips when he begins pushing into me.

‘Good girl. That’s a good girl,’ he says, voice soft and soothing as he slowly sinks into me, the slightly painful stretch tearing a sob from my throat, and he rubs my back soothingly as he bottoms out. ‘Feels so big,’ I whimper, and he chuckles lightly, his ego obviously inflated. ‘You’re taking it so well, babe,’ he praises as he stays still inside me, allowing me to adjust. ‘Please, Mason, move,’ I plead, and his hands stop rubbing, gripping my waist instead. ‘Sure?’ he asks, though I can feel that he’s practically itching to fuck me. ‘Yes, need you,’ I breathe out, and he doesn’t hesitate any longer.

He pulls out before slamming back in, winding me. He’s ruthless, pounding into me so hard that his balls slap against my thighs, hands digging into my waist, both our skin damp with sweat. My head falls forward, and he leans over to grab my hair in one hand, tugging it to hold my head up, the pull only slightly painful. He fucks into me, hard, with no restraint, my head bent back at an uncomfortable angle, my moans projecting around the room. ‘Does my pretty baby like being fucked like this?’ he asks, the pet name making me gush, and my moans seem to be answer enough for him, a strained chuckle falling from his lips.

He props one foot up on the floor, allowing him to hammer into me at a bruising pace, cock filling me up completely, having me completely blissed out. ‘You take it so well, babe. So well. You take it like such a good little slut,’ he breathes out between grunts, and it’s heart-stopping, toe-curling, tear-inducing, the way he’s fucking me, so good I can’t think of anything but him, and how fucking amazing this feels.

My arms give way before I can realise how much they’re aching, and I fall face first into the carpet. ‘Shit, baby, I’m sorry. Are you tired?’ he asks gently, his cock stilling inside me, and I try to lift myself back up, desperate to feel him again. He slips an arm around my stomach and, at first, I think he’s just trying to help me back into position but, instead, he pulls me all the way up so my back is pressed to his front, my body weight resting partially on my knees but mainly on him.

He continues fucking into me in this new position, but at an agonisingly slow pace. He rocks into me, cock dragging against my walls leisurely, and I can feel it even more like this, can feel every inch filling me up and stretching me out. I let out a loud moan of his name and he slips two fingers into my mouth to shut me up.

‘You’re so loud, babe. Gonna have the neighbours knocking on the door, but I don’t wanna rush. Wanna take my time with you. Isn’t that what you want, baby? Want me to fuck you nice and slow?’ he murmurs against my ear, and I let out a garbled moan around his fingers, my wetness dripping down my own thighs.

He takes the sound as a yes, grinning against my neck as he fucks me deep, and I whimper and whine around his fingers as he lets out sinfully soft grunts and groans against my skin. He brings a hand to rest at the base of my neck, fingers still in my mouth. ‘Feels good?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod as my eyes roll back, a little laugh falling from his lips.

His hand around my neck tightens, cutting off my airways slightly, and I let out an unintelligible string of curses around his fingers, my breathing quickly becoming laboured. I clench around him sporadically, quickly feeling my high approaching, and he can feel it too, keeping his torturous pace with a smirk pressed to the side of my throat.

He releases my neck after a few moments and I gasp for air, my inhale cut off when he puts a hand on my forehead and pulls my head back far enough for us to make eye contact, his face just as handsome upside down. His eyes are dark, skin flushed, and hair pasted down to his forehead with sweat.

‘Fuck, you’re so pretty, babe. This body is so perfect. So beautiful, and so good for me, with your pretty noises. My pretty baby,’ he murmurs, my body weakening and my heart skipping beats at all the praise. I’m so close, but I just need more – his pace is mind-blowing, and the dirty talk has butterflies going wild in my stomach, but it’s not enough to push me over the edge.

‘Faster, Mase,’ I mumble around his fingers, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘You’re crying, babe. You can’t even handle this, and you want it faster?’ he chuckles before complying, pounding into me hard enough that the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, filling my ears along with the sounds escaping my lips. He slips his fingers out of my mouth, reaching down to rub at my clit in circles fast enough to match his thrusts, and I’m hurtling towards my orgasm.

‘Close, babe? Gonna cum for me? Come on, baby, it’s gonna feel so good,’ he breathes against my ear, one hand groping my boobs whilst the other keeps a steady pace at my clit, and the mixture of all the different sensations whilst he whispers filth in my ear makes me hit my high, my mouth falling open in a silent scream before letting out a moan of his name.

My walls clamp down around him so tightly that he can’t even move, so he keeps rubbing my clit to get me through my orgasm, murmuring praise and encouragement in my ear before pressing soft kisses to my skin. When I start coming down from my high and my walls loosen around him, he pushes me down so I’m resting on my elbows, his hands gripping onto my waist. He pounds into me, chasing his own orgasm, and it washes over him within a few seconds, the sexiest moan of my name falling from his lips as he fills me up with his cum.

For a long few seconds, the quiet music and our heavy breathing are the only noises in the room, and I take a while to try and compose myself with my head resting on the carpet. ‘You okay, babe?’ Mason asks breathlessly as he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty, and I turn over to look up at him, nodding with a small smile. He grins at me, pushing my legs apart to watch his cum drip out of me, eyes trained on my face as he collects it up with two fingers and pushes It back into me. I try to say his name reprimandingly, but it comes out as a moan, and he chuckles as I push his hand away.

‘Come on. Let’s… get you cleaned up,’ he says, easily lifting me up into his arms and carrying me out of the room bridal-style. He takes me up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, putting me down gently on the bed. He puts on a lamp and disappears into what probably is an en suite bathroom, coming back with a damp towel a few seconds later.

‘Your house… really is lovely,’ I say through a yawn as he cleans me up with the towel, wiping up all the sweat on my skin, the saliva around my mouth and the cum between my legs. ‘After what just happened, you’re thinking about my décor?’ he laughs, and I roll my eyes. ‘I mean, to be fair, my head was in your carpet, and it was very soft, so…’ I say, trying to keep a straight face but unable to hold back my giggle when he bursts out laughing.

‘Do you want some clothes? A t-shirt or a hoodie? And you can borrow some of my boxers if you want underwear,’ he offers, and I laugh. ‘I’ll sleep like this. If you don’t mind,’ I add afterwards, though the look on his face clearly shows that he really doesn’t mind at all. ‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ he grins, getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom again. I stare at the ceiling, already getting flashbacks about what just happened, feeling myself getting wet again. I’m praying he doesn’t have training early tomorrow because I need him again in the morning.

I listen to what he’s doing, hearing the tap running and then shutting off a little while later before he comes back into the room. I listen to him leave, his footsteps going down the stairs, light switches being flicked and the music being turned off before his footsteps come back up and he steps into the room. I look over, the boy grinning at me. He’s wearing new underwear and looking fresher, like he’s splashed water on his face and combed his hair. He climbs into the bed beside me, sitting with his head resting against the headboard, back on the pillow. I move to lie in the circle of his arm, my head on his chest, and I can hear his heart beating through his skin.

‘So… gonna let me take you on a date?’ he asks suddenly, and I don’t react for a few seconds. ‘Um… no way.’ ‘No?’ he asks, sounding surprised, and I sigh. ‘Nope. I told you, I’m not looking for a relationship anytime soon,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘A date doesn’t equal a relationship, y/n,’ he says, and I lift my head to look up at him, arms resting across his chest.

‘Yeah, but one date with me is all it would take for you to fall in love,’ I say as though it’s obvious, and he nods amusedly. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’ ‘Yes. I don’t have the time, patience or energy to deal with someone being in love with right now,’ I say dramatically, though we both know I’m speaking the truth, and he just nods thoughtfully.

‘Okay. If you don’t want me to love you, then at least let me… love you,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘You mean physically instead of emotionally, right?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Yeah. Let’s turn this into a thing. No strings attached and all of that,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘What makes you think I’d wanna do this again?’ I ask jokingly, and he clutches his chest like he’s hurt. ‘Your moans and your crying made me think you’d wanna do it again,’ he says, and I cover my face in embarrassment, the boy laughing.

‘Okay, yeah. We can turn this into a thing. You just have to promise me that you’re happy with this not being serious, that you won’t let any feelings get involved.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise me you won’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise m-’ ‘y/n!’ he laughs, ‘we’re gonna be friends-with-benefits. Nothing more. I promise. Okay?’ he says, and I nod amusedly, putting my head back down on his chest. He strokes my hair gently as I trace lines over his abs and, before I know it, I’m drifting off, the steady beat of his heart lulling me into sleep.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagine #chelsea fc

888 notes · View notes

essentiallyleaf · 7 months

Note

Ya know what , I'll give you an idea

As a commercial pilot how bout a kink "plane sex"

And pls write Rosé with this kink

day 15. body worship. with. rosé.

1268 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, body worship, lots of kissing and licking, feet stuff, abs stuff, oral sex, fingering, squirting, minor plane stuff, the dialogue just goes places idk, hold onto your suspension of disbelief for dear life, blasphemy(?).

notes.

this is barely even related to the ask, isn’t it? sorry, icyphilosopher, i really am (thank you so much for the inspiration though). well, my excuse is i watched Queen & Slim (it was alright, the soundtrack might be the best part. that and Daniel Kaluuya) and felt like crime today.

The private jet has barely taken off when Rosé starts taking her clothes off, starting from the black heels, then proceeding with the black cropped blazer, the high-waisted black shorts, along with the belt and the chains attached to them, the polka dot black shirt, and finishing with the black stockings and her black underwear. She puts them all in a black trash bag and throws herself on the beige leather sofa face first, completely naked.

“Fuck this ‘No fires on the plane’ rule.” She complains into the beige pillow.

“I mean, if you want to burn them now and cause a fire, making the jet collapse on itself and getting us buried on the bottom of the northern Pacific, go ahead.” You reply nonchalantly as you take a sip of vodka while sitting cross-legged on one of the beige armchairs.

“Honestly, compared to the prospect of a ten-hour flight with you, that doesn’t even sound that bad”

It’s Rosé’s habit to burn clothes, phones, cars, (people,) anything that can be linked to her in a meaningful way, after every job. This time it was a fairly straightforward drug trade with this Yakuza syndicate in Osaka: give the talcum powder, take the money, go home. The road was somewhat bumpy and a couple heads had to pop, but what can you do. Oh, and the getting naked in front of you part, that was a thing way before you two started fucking.

You stand up from your seat and duck next to the couch as she turns her head towards you. Start caressing her smooth, long blonde hair as you admire her graceful features. How could such a cold, brutal criminal look so angelic?

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Leave no trace.” She recites her mantra matter-of-factly.

“You think someone’s on our trail?”

You lay on top of her and start kissing her shoulders, from the left, then move her hair to kiss her neck, to the right, and back a couple times.

“Someone’s always on your trail.” Your kisses start heading down her back, each a little wetter than the previous. “You know how it always ends with people like us, right?”

You think you hear Rosé’s voice break for a split second, but you could be wrong. Place your hands on her shoulders and start slowly making little circles with your thumbs as you keep traveling down.

“We get greedy and scared and die sad and alone?”

“We always trust one person too many”

As your trail of kisses gets to her lower back, right above the curve of her ass, you flip her body around. Bend her legs on her chest, then start massaging each foot with one of your hands, going from the middle of her soles, to her heels, to the balls of her feet, untangling her muscle fibers all the way through. You hear her humming in the meantime.

“So? Would you stop living your life for that?”

“I would try my best not to end my life because of that.” You bring her feet to your mouth and start pecking her toes, then travel down the inside of her feet and up again kissing her soles. “Plus, it gives me a sense of peace, of liberation”

“Ashes to ashes?”

“In that analogy, I would be… God?”

Take a long lick from her heel to the ball of her foot, ending by wrapping your lips around her big toe and licking all around it.

“Do you feel like one?”

“I don’t think God sees himself like we see him” She moves her other foot towards your mouth to signal you to switch, which you do, as your hands reach towards her small breasts and start softly playing with her rosy nipples. “Powerful men need people to adore them to feel immortal. Immortals don’t need our attention to be powerful”

“You think God is a woman?”

“I think God is a depressed fuck.”

You let out a chuckle. Then lower her knees again and place yourself between them to start kissing and licking her wonderful, sculpted abs. Your right hand almost instinctively starts lightly rubbing her already wet outer lips, your left grabbing her plump asscheek.

“What a short couple billion years alone in the button room could do to ya”

“But honestly, working on the wrong side of the law… I think it’s hard not to feel like one” She starts panting a little in between words.

“Ego?” Your mouth slowly travels down her lower stomach while your fingers play with her nub.

“Just, pure facts. I could kill a man that crosses my path at any time, and I have. Mmmmh. We just, own their lives. The decision to let them live on, or to end them, right then and there. It’s all ours. Yeahh- How do you not feel all-powerful when you have that?”

It becomes hard for her to complete a sentence without any moans in between.

“Does it matter?”

“W-What?”

Rosé’s focus is probably directed away from the conversation, and towards the feeling of your fingers opening her lips wide and your tongue taking one long lick from the bottom of her slit up to her sensitive clit.

“I don’t know them. Are decisions over the lives of people you don’t care about even worth making?”

You take several shorter licks around her slit, side to side, up and down, once in a while penetrating her hole slightly.

“What do y-youh care about?”

As her moans become longer and more frequent, her sentences become simpler and shorter.

“Right now, taking my money home”

Your tongue digs deep into her pussy, you try to reach every corner and crevice of her heat with it, and her whimpers tell you you’re doing a pretty good job at it.

“And th-en, what?”

Your mouth detaches from her right as she sounds like she’s going to give in. You get on your knees and pause for a second, looking at the empty floor of the plane.

“...I don’t know, a legacy?”

“Villains have no legacy, they only leave bloody paper and hate behind them”

You get back down to face her, staring right down Rosé’s deep brown orbs. Your fingers return to her lower lips, and two of them make their way into her slippery walls, drawing a loud groan off of her. You start pumping in and out of her at an ever increasing pace.

“Love. I want someone to come back home to, to be there, waiting for me, to heal my wounds.” She’s now moaning right in your face, her pitch getting higher and higher, signaling her impending high, but her eyes are wide open and locked on yours. “To be able to spend time with, in silence, without it feeling awkward, not needing to worry about the future, just looking at her in the eyes, and, being in love.”

A few final pumps and Rosé starts repeatedly contracting around you, a stream of unholy water covering your entire hand and wrist in a profane coating, only a deep, tongue-filled kiss muting her screams as she finally can’t keep her eyes open anymore. You close yours with her as her arms wrap around your neck. The kiss lasts far longer than the already lengthy while she takes to recover from her strong orgasm. As both of you stare into each other’s pupils again, you’re the first to talk.

“How do you know when you’ve found what you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll start from, looking at the junk I’ve collected on my way, before burning it”

footnotes.

god is a journey. progressively, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #blackpink #rosé #rose #blackpink smut #rose smut #rosé smut #blackpink rose smut #blackpink rosé smut

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1whore1gang · 6 months

Text

it's the little things🤍

part 1

part 2

Enjoy part 3 besties :)

I feel like something bad has happened in every chapter so far, i’m sorry lmao

the next chapter will be fluffier 🫡

WARNING: this chapter contains some tough topics such as SA, read at your own risk!!

Taglist: @ghostslittlegf @sketchyfandomgirl @batw3nch @thedevillovesflowers @gaymistakeboi @almightywdm @under-the-dirt @clear-your-mind-and-dream

(if i forgot anyone i apologize!!)

I feel like these are getting shorter and shorter 😬

The hum of the coffee machine was the only noise in the kitchen as you waited for the coffee to brew. You and Price were able to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before you became restless and got up to make coffee.

You had your arms wrapped around yourself due to the cold air in the compound. Taking a deep breath, you watched as the coffee began to pour out into the container. The smell of it already woke you up more as you breathed it in.

Pulling out the mug underneath, now filled with the liquid, you began to blow on it before setting it down hearing footsteps approaching.

"Morning. Did you make any tea?" Price's groggy voice rang through the silence.

"No, I didn't I'm sorry." You wrapped your sweater closer around your body.

"S'all good." He mumbled, moving around you to get a kettle going. "You still got that training session today?"

"Yeah, new recruits. It was supposed to be me and Ghost, but I told them Ghost got the flu." Price chuckled at that.

"Want me to come help you since you're down a man?" You tilted your head in confusion at his statement.

"Who would watch the boys?"

"Laswell. We can trust her can't we?" You lolled your head to the other shoulder, thinking.

"I suppose so. how do we even tell her? She's gonna report us for illicit drug use." You laughed a little at the thought.

"I'll tell her it's my nephews or something, or we can tell her the truth?" Price laughed along with you.

"Can I ask you a question?" Price hummed as confirmation. "Why haven't we fought yet? Usually when we work together, we're at each other's throats."

Price nodded, obviously contemplating his answer. "I don't know." He said it so simply, as if he hadn't noticed the change in behavior from you both. "Maybe because there's children involved?"

"How many rescues have we done with children where we're still fighting?" Price nods in agreement.

"I'm not sure then." He looks up at the clock, noticing the time. "Let me go ring Laswell while you get ready."

Somehow, Laswell bought the nephew lie. She agreed to watch them for a small amount of time.

"Alright recruits. I'm your Lieutenant, and you can call me that. This is Captain Price, you report to him for any major or emergent situations, otherwise you find me or Sergeant Garrick, who you will meet at a later date. Today, we are going to go over some basic defense maneuvers."

Carefully, you taught the recruits, demonstrating each device with Price. From what you could see, the recruits were catching on quickly. "Finally, my favorite defense mechanism." you signaled Price to come at you, putting you in a headlock. Bending down and quickly pulling your body weight forward, you fling Price over your head.

You hear a couple of recruits gasp. "For the nature of this exercise, we will have each one of you come up to try to flip one of us instead of having you flip each other."

One by one, each recruit came up attempting to flip you and Price. A couple failed, which is normal in these types of training situations. You only had a couple of recruits left. "Private Taron?" you called the young man up. "Try to flip me." You heard Price call up another recruit as you wrapped your arm around the Private's neck. He easily had you flying over him, landing roughly on your back.

You felt the wind being knocked out of you. "Here, let me help you." Taron reached out a hand, helping you up off the floor. When you stood up, he didn't let go of your hand. "Can I ask you something since I'm the last one in your line?"

"Yeah, what's the problem?"

"No problem, I just wanted to see if you could flip me?" You froze at the question but took the challenge since Taron was about the size of Price.

"Why not, I could use the challenge." You prepped yourself, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you. "Ready when you are-"

Your words caught in your throat as you felt him grind himself into you, his erection pressing into your lower back. "See what you do to me ma'am? You won't write me up for sleeping with my superior will you?-"

Quickly, you flung him over your head, him landing with an audible thud. "You have a meeting with General Shephard at 0800. Don't be late."

You left the room quickly, not even bothering to look at Price. You beelined to your room to change and shower as quick as you ever had before going to relieve Kate from the boys.

"Thanks again Laswell."

"Anytime, his nephews are angels." She left without another word as you looked down at the three littles in their playpen.

Soap and Gaz were playing with some little planes you and Price had bought while Ghost was asleep. Soap looked up at you and his little face lit up, making grabby hands at you. You smiled as you picked him up. He immediately snuggled into your neck, letting out the cutest little sigh. Gaz followed suit, giving you grabby hands as you picked him up too. "Come on boys."

Moving over to the pullout couch, you propped the two boys to where each one was laying on a shoulder as you sat back. Both of them seemed calm, almost sleepy at contact. You stroked their little heads, shushing them into a nap since Laswell said she couldn't get them to settle.

You tried to focus on the current moment and not the disturbing event that had happened not even 10 minutes prior.

Your skin itched, feeling exposed, dirty. You felt violated. You felt tears sting your eyes, trying your hardest to focus on the little sounds coming from Soap and Gaz. Deep breaths left your mouth, trying to calm yourself.

Little snores filled your ears as your face became red with tear stains. You moved to set the boys back down, feeling bad for not holding them for very long. You sat with your head in your hands, trying to subside the tears you felt. It was such an icky feeling, your body crawling with an uncomfortable feeling.

You didn't want Price to see you like this, you knew he'd ask about what happened and you two would get into a heated debate about how you could've handled it better than storming out.

You could hear his voice now, telling you how you should've reported him right away, spoke up. His voice telling you that your response was immature.

Sighing, you took out your phone to send an emailed report to Shephard so he knew what was happening when the recruit walked in.

Footsteps filled your ears as you hit send, the door opening slowly as a freshly showered Price entered the room. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm not doing this right now. Yell at me all you want another time."

"No, explain to me why you walked out on those recruits." His voice was beginning to border the line of anger.

"Price, please."

"No, Y/N, what was that?! It doesn't matter who you are, you don't walk out on recruits during a vital training sessions." his stood against the closed door, his arms crossed. His head tilted as he spoke.

"Can we please not do this?" You finally made eye contact with him for the first time since he had stepped in. This made him see your tear ridden eyes.

"Tell me. Now." His voice was almost a growl as it came out.

"Please-"

"WHO?!" He boomed as his hands slammed down on the table in the kitchenette of his room. It made you flinch, which made his gaze soften. "Y/N."

"Price." He moved over a few steps closer to you.

"Tell me. Please." You saw his eyes change from being the angry narrowed look to a more gentle, beckoning one. "I am still your superior, so you report any issues to me, regardless of what it is."

"Don't fucking pull that card." You shook your head in annoyance.

"I can pull whatever card I goddamn want, I am your Captain and you will tell me what happened." You was back to the pointed look he always gave you.

You huffed out a breath. "You don't give up do you? Don't know when to stop talking?"

"Y/N..."

"One of the recruits rubbed their hardened cock on me and told me that they wanted to sleep with me. Happy?"

"Y/N, if you had just-"

"Don't start. I know you're gonna tell me my response was immature and that I'm overreacting or I misheard him. You're going to tell me the statistics of women getting harassed in the military and how one little grope isn't gonna hurt me right?" You watched Price's face turn to one of horror.

"Why the hell would I say that? Do you really think so lowly of me?" Price was hurt now.

"Because that's what you did last time something like this happened. November 4th, 2020. We were on a mission in Dubai and one of the new soldiers on the mission groped me and fondled me. You told me I was overreacting and told me to brush it off."

Price was froze, his mind turning for answers to why he did that. He wasn't speaking nor moving. Instead, he just walked out.

He walked out on your important conversation like that. Left you alone in your state of pain and the familiar feeling of betrayal came back to your chest.

That feeling was a package deal when it came to your Captain. You always felt betrayed and hurt by him due to your common interactions. He was tough on you, and you two never were on the same page.

Except lately, you thought you were. You were so wrong.

You took your things and the boys back to your room that night, wanting to be away from your Captain. You knew the kindness was too good to be true, deep down though you wanted it to linger just a little bit longer.

His offers to cook or watch the boys, the way he would look at you and tell you to rest. You wanted the kindness in his eyes and his smile to stick around longer.

You wanted John, not Price.

And you'd never have that. Not with your Captain's history with you. The constant fighting, the butting of heads, the disagreeing will never go away, and as you realized that, you cried.

You had seen a glimpse of the man behind the title, and you welcomed the warmness he had brought to your eyes. The way his personality shown through instead of his usual coldness. You had felt a tinge of a friendship blooming, but that has quickly been ripped from your grasp.

While you were crying, you looked over to see Ghost standing up in the playpen, staring at you with a blank expression and wide eyes. He whined when you looked at him. "Oh, Simon..."

Moving, you picked him up and rocked him in your arms as he began to sniffle. "I'm okay, just the usual squabble with our Captain." You shushed him, trying to convince this small child that you were okay.

His little hand reached up to touch your mouth, letting out a little sound. he blinked at you a few times, still sniffling as his bottom lip quivered and he eyebrows were down.

You smiled a little at the seemingly meaningless gesture. "How do you know how to make me smile even as a baby?" You laughed a little as he sad expression faded, his little hand dropping back down. he let out a couple of little baby babbles, and you smiled again. "My Simon always comforting me, even if it's incoherent baby noises." He yawned, leading you to move him back into the playpen, giving him a thank you, even though you knew he couldn't understand you. He yawned again as he rolled over, closing his little eyes.

You sat back down in your bed as your mind raced a million miles a minute.

How could your Captain be so double sided, and what triggered him to change from cold to warm, but so quickly snap right back?

#captain price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #tf141 x reader #cod mw2 #johnny mactavish #simon ghost riley

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barbieaiden · 7 months

Text

1. [A month ago]

2. Jordan: Hey, Sam. How are you holding up?

3. Jordan: ...I brought you coffee.

Sam: Thank you.

4. Jordan: Do you want to go home for the night? Sleep in your own bed? I could drive you home, pick you up on my way to work tomorrow.

Sam: I think I'll stay here.

Jordan: Alright.

5. Sam: I keep thinking... [Sigh] It's so stupid.

Jordan: Go on.

Sam: I keep thinking I should call Aiden. So he can help. But obviously I can't, because... I just... I don't know what to do. Nothing feels real. It's been two days and it feels like ten years.

6. Jordan: The waiting is the worst part. I waited for my mom's death for months. You can't cope when you don't know what you're coping with.

Sam: Months?

Jordan: She wasn't in a coma, just terminally ill. For all we know Aiden might wake up tomorrow.

Sam: Or die.

7. Jordan: As much as I wish I could I can't tell you that he's going to be fine. And I can't replace him, obviously, but I am here if you need anything.

8. Sam: Thank you.

10. Aiden: Jordan, you can't tell me you spent a whole day with a man you're not interested in. That is not friends with benefits, that's practically married.

11. Kell: I'd tell you and Zach to get a room but you already have, like, a million fucking times.

Jordan: What I'm getting from this conversation is that neither of you have ever had any friends.

Aiden: It's true. The only man I've ever spent time with is Sam.

12. Jordan: Even if I wanted to I don't have time for a relationship.

Kell: Dude, you are literally already spending, like, all your free time with him.

Aiden: If you and Zach get engaged we can have a double wedding!

Lucas: You should become a tattoo artist instead, Jordan. No 55 hour shifts and you still get to stab people with needles.

Jordan: I happen to like my job.

Lucas: You complain about it every single time I see you.

Jordan: I find your obsession with needles slightly disturbing.

Lucas: I guess I like the artistic part too.

Aiden: That's why I let Michael do all my piercings.

Lucas: I'm such...

15. Aiden: Sam?

16. Aiden: Are you okay?

Sam: Mhm.

Aiden: Are you sure?

Sam: Just... tired.

Aiden: We can go home if you want to.

Sam: It's fine.

Aiden: I wouldn't mind.

Sam: Really, Aiden, it's fine.

18. Kell: You two are literally worse than that one high school couple making out in the corridors.

19. Aiden: You can't say that, that's so homophobic.

Kell: Your dad didn't think I was very homophobic.

Aiden: [Exaggerated gasp] Kell!

Kell: Too far?

Aiden: No, Kell, by all means, if you want to go over to Nettlefield right now and have sex with my actually homophobic father, go right ahead.

Kell: Dude. I'm sorry, okay?

20. Kell: Find something to eat with me? Please?

Aiden: Sure.

Kell: Sam, don't look at me like that, we're not going to smoke weed.

Sam: That was not my issue with this conversation and you saying that unprompted makes me think you are going to smoke weed.

Aiden: I've never even seen weed. Drugs are bad, or whatever. And so illegal.

Kell: Exactly. We're law-abiding citizens.

21. Aiden: Seriously. No weed. Promise.

Sam: Okay.

22. Aiden: Are you sure you're okay?

Sam: Yes, Aiden.

Aiden: Just... tell me if you want to go home. Okay?

Sam: I will.

#i really hope you can tell what is and isn't flashback #if you can't let me know and i'll try to make it clearer next time #shoutout to jordan. the only character #ts4 story #hospital tw #drugs tw #lost #lost: aiden #lost: sam #lost: kell #lost: lucas #lost: michael #lost: jordan

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year

Text

Prettiest One

Summary: Dean's leg is broken and they've given him lots of morphine for the pain. What secrets will he reveal to Y/N?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None. Bit of Dean crack. Silly, drugged up Dean. Soft!Dean. Adorable!Dean. Lots of fluff. And a kiss.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 1,339

A/N: So, I saw this post and was reminded just how much I love this scene. Dean saying, "Hey look! Monster broke my leg." Is one my favourite Dean lines - it's just so ridiculously adorable.

So, it got me thinking what would have happened if the woman Dean was crushing on, came in when he was vulnerable and not all there. Thus this idea was born. Wrote this fast, sorry for any mistakes. 😊

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89.

Masterlist || Tag Lists

Y/N hurried through the long hospital corridors, ignoring the antiseptic smells and the incessant beeps and soft conversations happening around her. She just wanted to see Dean and make sure that he was alright. Sam had texted her to say Dean was injured on a hunt, but that he was recovering.

Y/N texted back that she was on her way. Sam called her then, to reassure her that everything was fine; it was just a broken leg, and she didn't have to make the three hour drive to the Chicago hospital Dean was in.

But Y/N had ignored that advice, determined to be of some help to the boys if they needed her. If Dean was gonna be out of commission for a couple months, Sam might need an interim partner.

That's what she told herself and what she planned to tell the boys. But the truth was, she just needed to verify, with her own eyes, that Dean was okay. He's my friend - I just care about my friends. She thought defensively, ignoring the little voice that was insisting that it was much more than friendly concern she felt for Dean Winchester.

She rounded the corner of his unit and approached the nurses station. The harried nurse behind the desk looked up at her and Y/N smiled.

"Ace Frehley?" She asked, using the alias Sam told her Dean was going by for this hospital stay.

The nurse pointed down the hall. "615." She said before picking up a ringing telephone.

Y/N walked down to the room and knocked quietly on the partially open door, not wanting to disturb Dean if he was sleeping, but just as she was pushing the door open she heard Dean loudly proclaiming his opinion on…Batman?

"Nnnn no no no, Sammy I'm telling you that’s wrong. Cause…cause, how? Ya know, how does Joker even stand a chance against Batman? Like, he's just a guy with, like…a face! Ya know?"

"Sure, Dean." Sam said, clearly placating his brother.

But Dean wasn't listening anyway. "But Batman has the…the bats, and bat…things! The…you know…" He mimed something that looked like he was throwing an object. "You know?" He asked Sam again.

"Uh huh." Sam said clearly exasperated and mostly ignoring his brother’s ramblings..

"Hey!" Y/N said gently and Sam turned in his chair.

He stood up and gave her a hug. "Y/N! Hey! I told you you didn't have to come."

Before Y/N could respond Dean caught her eye and winked at her.

"Hey, Dean! How are you feeling?"

He looked down at his leg covered in a cast from the middle of his thick thigh to the bottom of his foot.

"Monster broke my leg." He said solemnly. "But they gave me lots of morphine."

"Did they?” Y/N glanced back at Sam as she approached the head of Dean's bed. “How much morphine?"

"Lots." Sam mouthed back.

Y/N stifled a smile as she sat in a chair beside the bed and Dean's face lit up.

"You look like the prettiest one." He said, with a sloppy smile.

Y/N smiled quizzically. "The prettiest one of?"

"The hunters." He nodded, and then raised his finger to his lips. "Not supposed to talk about it."

"Hunting?" She asked.

Dean shook his head firmly. "No, the prettiest one."

Y/N looked back at Sam for an explanation, but he just shrugged. "Sorry, I'm not very fluent in Stoned Dean."

Dean grabbed Y/N's wrist and shook it to get her attention back on him. "No, but she looks just like you. The same eyes, and flowy hair, and the mouth I like." He sighed deeply. "I just wanna kiss her."

He flopped back onto his pillows like a lovesick schoolgirl and Y/N could feel herself blushing.

"Ah…Dean?" Sam started to warn him, but Dean looked back at Y/N and grabbed her hand again.

"You look like her, will you give her a message?"

"Um…"

"Her name is Y/N. Tell her she's the prettiest one. And I want to kiss her." He snapped his fingers. "Ooh, and tell her I'm a good kisser. Look!"

Before Y/N could blink Dean yanked her forward across his chest and planted his lips on hers. Sam jumped forward and pulled Y/N out of his brother's grip, but not before Dean proved that, stoned or not, he really was (as she'd always suspected) a very good kisser.

"Jesus, Dean." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Would you sober up? This is Y/N you idiot! She's just here to see how you're doing. Could you stop groping her?"

Y/N bit into her lip as some semblance of realization seemed to dawn on Dean's face. "Oh shit! You ARE the prettiest one! You're here! Can you say sorry!! For the other kissing. I only wanna kiss you."

Y/N stifled a laugh behind her hand as Sam slapped a hand across his face, "Oh, for fucks sake.." he mumbled.

But Dean's face was so sweetly concerned, he looked like a little boy who was worried he was in trouble.

She sat beside him on the bed, facing him. She leaned forward and kissed him softly and briefly. "Don't worry, Dean. The pretty one is very flattered and just fine with the kisses." She leaned a bit closer. "The pretty one would actually really like to continue the kisses when you're…feeling better."

Dean shook his head. "No, not the pretty one. The PRETTIEST one." He clarified.

Y/N nodded with a blush. Dean waved her forward conspiratorially. She came close and he whispered in her ear.

"I think maybe it's you." His voice was soft, but low and in spite of his loopiness Y/N felt her stomach tighten in response.

She pulled back and his face was so beautiful and adorable at the same time that she couldn't help booping his freckled nose.

"Actually, I think the prettiest one might be you."

Sam cleared his throat and grabbed up his jacket from the back of his chair. "And I'm gone." He said, grinning. "Call me when he's normal again. I'm definitely gonna wanna bust his balls over this one."

Y/N nodded, smiling wide. "Will do."

She spent the next hour or so having nonsensical conversations about Batman, Thunder Cats, The Golden Girls and Dr. Sexy, M.D.

Finally Dean dozed off in the middle of a sentence and Y/N smiled tenderly and gently covered him with his blanket. She stretched out alongside him in the bed, and was soon dozing too.

She woke up a while later to a groan from Dean. She sat up quickly to see what was wrong. He was rubbing his eyes and then dragged his hand down over his mouth before giving her a slightly suspicious look.

"Did I…" He closed his eyes. "Did I kiss you and call you pretty?"

Y/N grinned. "Actually, you said I was the prettiest one."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. "Dear God.” He said under his breath. “Sorry! They gave me a lot of morphine. Is there any chance you could forget that?"

When she didn't answer immediately, he cracked open one eye to see her biting her lip.

"Do you really want me to forget? Was it just morphine-induced insanity? Or…?"

She let the question hang there and Dean took a long time before he breathed out deeply and answered.

"Fuck it. No, it wasn't morphine induced. I mean, it was, obviously. I don't remember everything I said, but I promise you that's not the way I wanted to tell you that you're beautiful, and that I can't get you out of my head. But…

He slipped his hand into her hair to grip the back of her head and pull her close. "You're beautiful," he whispered against her lips, "and I can't get you out of my head."

Y/N shrugged. "Then don't try."

Dean smiled into the kiss. "Whatever you say, Prettiest One."

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @nt-multi-fandom @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @saikosheadcanons @lgranger67 @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @sunshineandwings86 @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @awkward-and-indecisive @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @b3autyfuldisast3r @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @mysherlock221b @jensensgotyoudean @stixnstripesworld @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @norman1967 @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @b-i-t-c-h-i-e @twirpbunwarrior @mysweetlittledesire @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester crack

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whump-bunny · 5 months

Text

Can't think

(tw: lab whump, nonconsensual drugging, restraints, nonconsensual medical procedures, fourteen year old whumpee, mentions of torture.)

He can't think.

He can't think and he doesn't know why.

They came in at dawn, when he and his roommates were fast asleep. (Well, Oliver probably wasn't.) The room was pitch black, save for the soft glow of Asa's skin.

They didn't give him time to wake up before plunging a needle into his neck. And then, when he did awaken only seconds later, it was already too late. Asa could only blink at them sluggishly as they picked him up and deposited him in a wheelchair.

And now he's moving, far too fast and far too slow all at once. The walls blur into the floor. The world spins. Nausea licks at his throat, and yet he can’t muster up the energy to say anything in complaint.

His head lolls down to his chest.

He can’t think. God, why can’t he think?

Vaguely, he knows that he’s headed to the lab. He knows that they’re going to hurt him. He should be afraid. But he’s lost in a place where the fear can’t find him. And all that’s left is an overbearing sense of calm, an inability to do anything but sink into his mind and allow his body to be carried away. It’s peaceful, in the same way that a room full of corpses is quiet.

They arrive quicker than Asa expected they would. (Even though the ride over seemed to have lasted an eternity.) The hum of the fluorescent lights and the murmurs of scientists blur in the background of his mind, and he finds himself drifting off to sleep. At least, until a familiar voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know it’s early, but the quicker we do this, the quicker we can be done with it. Are ya with me?” Hamlin chirps, somehow as energetic as ever despite being up before sunrise. The rest of the scientists offer a chorus of unenthused agreement. It seems that Asa isn’t the only one who’d rather be in bed.

The doctor chats with a couple assistants, making her rounds about the lab, before finally turning her attention to Asa, as he knew she would.

“Good morning, Asa! Sorry about waking you so early, but I promise you’ll get to go back to sleep soon.” She gingerly brushes Asa’s bangs from his face, and while Asa would normally bristle at the touch, now he can’t bring himself to even care. He eyes Hamlin intently, as if staring at her might give him the strength to be angry. It doesn’t.

Hamlin says something else that Asa doesn't quite catch, and then he's being lifted. The sudden motion makes him want to vomit, but it only lasts a few seconds before he's lying on the lab table. He doesn't fight as they strap him down, not that he could stop them even if he weren't drugged out of his mind. All he can manage is a frustrated growl, one that gets Hamlin's attention.

"I know, the side effects of that sedative are pretty strong, but it's the only one that works well enough against your Light. We don't want you waking up during surgery, do we?" She explains, methodically sliding into latex gloves and goggles as she does so.

So it's surgery, then.

Amidst the murky haze of drugs, Asa feels a spike of fear at that. He swallows thickly, searching for his voice.

“H… H’mlin?" He mumbles, trying to ignore how big his tongue feels in his mouth. Hamlin's eyebrows raise.

"Oh, you can still speak? Huh, that's not particularly good. Might have to adjust the dosage…"

Asa speaks up again before she can finish the thought, "What are you g'na do t'me?"

It's a normal question, one that he asks every time he gets dragged to the lab. Usually Hamlin will grace him with a detailed explanation of exactly how she plans to study him for the next few hours. Be it a simple blood test or an appendectomy, she always tells him with a smile. But today, she just shakes her head.

"It's probably better if you don't know. We don't want you to freak out, do we?" She replies, punctuating her sentence with another ruffle to Asa’s hair.

Asa’s stomach falls, "Oh."

"Oh? That's it?” Hamlin laughs, “Damn, you're much nicer to work with like this. I wish I could keep you sedated all the time."

If he were more aware, Asa probably would have flinched at the implications of that. But exhaustion smothers his brain, derailing his train of thought

"I…" Asa mumbles, eyes drooping. "M'tired…"

Hamlin smirks, "I'm sure you are. Feel free to go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll get the actual anesthesia started in the meantime." She runs her hand along the side of his face, caressing his cheek like a mother would. As if she didn't cut him open without anesthesia a hundred times before now.

"O...okay…" Asa says, inadvertently leaning into her touch. He doesn't even notice as an iv is inserted into his arm.

"Say, Asa, do you have a favorite food? Something you want me to bring you while you're in recovery?" She asks. Her hand never leaving his cheek.

Asa thinks for a moment, landing on the first food that comes to mind. "...doughnuts."

"Doughnuts?" Hamlin laughs, "Well, it's not exactly healthy, but I suppose you can have a doughnut, for being such a good boy."

Beside her, an assistant scoffs.

"Of course he's being good, he's drugged out of his mind." He says, rubbing the healing wound on his arm from when Asa bit him a couple days ago.

Hamlin glares, finally removing her hand from Asa’s face. "Hm yeah, good point, Ted. Counterpoint: who asked you?"

The two bicker amongst themselves, while the rest of the assistants continue to prep Asa for surgery. All the while Asa's eyes scan the trays of scalpels and tweezers, gleaming in the too-bright artificial light of the lab. Fear is radiating and muted, muffled but there all the same.

"H-H'mlin…"

The scientist turns to face him, "Hm- yes, Asa?"

"I… m'scared…" He whispers, consciousness fleeting. "Pl'se don't… 'lease don't 'urt me…"

His voice breaks, tears threatening to fall. Hamlin clicks her tongue, wiping his eyes.

"Aww, don't worry, sweetheart. I promise you won't feel a thing. And you'll get to have a nice relaxing vacation while you recover. Sound good?"

"N-no…"

Hamlin smirks. "Too bad."

It's then that the drugs in his iv finally take hold. The world fades to darkness, and all the while Hamlin stares at him, smiling wide.

#whump #writing #lab whump #whumpee #whumper #asa #medical whump #dr. hamlin #surgery #nonconsensual drugging #nonconsensual medical procedures

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

Sleepless Seattle

Request from anon: hotch x reader who has insomnia? maybe with; “Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night. Or if you went to bed, for that matter.”

Aaron Hotchner x platonic!reader

Summary: When you can't sleep, you work, and a certain Unit Chief notices you've been working a little too much.

A/N: cheesy title, I know, but it works and it makes sense so we're going with it.

CW: reader has mild depression, talks about medication, medication changes, medication side effects

---

There were certain things in life that could be deemed necessary evils- taxes, politicians, and medication changes just to name a few. Currently the latter was kicking you in the ass.

Your depression was mild enough that it didn’t disturb your daily life until it did- you’d be okay for a while and then spend weeks on end just going through the motions, alive but not truly living. Medication helped significantly, to the point that you could go a few years without falling into the darkness, but sometimes they would slowly stop working. It would start with feeling more fatigued than normal and escalate to feelings of emptiness.

And then you’d have to go through a dreaded medication change.

You’d once heard that psychiatric medications were a crap shoot- the doctor would prescribe something and hope it would work, and when it didn’t they would try something else. That cycle would repeat until they found a drug that did it's job. You were lucky enough that you’d been able to take the same medication for nearly three years before it started to lose its effect, but now that it had stopped working, you were thrown into the chaos of trial and error in an attempt to find some new drug that would help stabilize your mood.

You’d been on this new one for about two months, and so far it was better than the last one you had tried, but it still wasn’t ideal. When you first started it, the dizziness hit you like a truck for a few days. After it subsided it hadn’t come back. Now the only side effects you were experiencing were a mild change in appetite and some pretty terrible insomnia.

You could fall asleep, but after about two hours you’d wake up and be unable to get any more shut-eye for a few hours. It seemed pointless to waste waking hours staring at the ceiling trying to fall asleep when you knew you weren’t going to- so you worked. The hotel you were staying at was right across the street from the Seattle field office, so you packed up your files and walked the short distance in the dark. It was the third night you had done this, so the night security guard just gave you a smile and a nod as you entered the building.

The evidence board was nearly full. You studied it carefully, picking apart every detail of every scene, jotting things down on a blank white board, but you still couldn’t get anywhere. As much as you hated to admit it, the team would probably have to wait for another victim to turn up in order to complete the profile. Still, you kept working. Rain pounded on the roof and clouds blocked out the sun, which is how you ended up losing track of time. Before you knew it, you were on your fourth cup of coffee and the rest of the team was arriving at the office.

“Watch out, Reid,” Morgan joked as he entered the room. “(Y/L/N) is trying to outdo you on the amount of coffee they can drink during this case.” He threw away your several empty styrofoam cups for you.

“How long have you been here?” Hotch asked you as he sat down at the table, ready to review the same evidence again and hoping he would notice something new.

“A couple hours,” you downplayed. “I’m going to get more coffee. Anyone need a refill?”

The murmur of “No thank you” and “I’m good, thanks” answered you as the team got to work and you left to go to the coffee station. You hadn’t even noticed your boss had followed you until you had set up the machine to brew.

“(Y/L/N),” Hotch started. “Is everything alright?”

You replied casually. “Yeah, this case is just making me antsy. That’s all.” It was a lie, and Hotch had been a profiler long enough and knew you well enough to catch it. The coffee finished brewing and you poured yourself a cup, adding in some creamer before turning to go back to the room where the rest of the team was.

But Hotch was standing in your way. The frown on his face was more pronounced than it usually was; the look in his never-blinking eyes less serious and more concerned than normal.

“(Y/N).” The sound of your boss using your first name made you stop. “Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night. Or if you went to bed, for that matter.”

You felt your face blanch. “I went to bed when the team got to the hotel last night.” That was the truth.

Hotch’s expression took on a level of seriousness again. “How long did you sleep for?”

“Two hours. Maybe three?” You looked down, unable to meet his stare. “It’s just a side effect of my new medication. I’m fine, really. My doctor said it should go away in a few weeks.”

Hotch sighed quietly and held out his hand. Reluctantly, you gave him your fresh coffee. He emptied it in the sink and tossed the cup into the trash can. “No more coffee. You can work on the case until you feel tired, but once you do, you need to get some sleep.”

There was no point in arguing. The two of you walked back to the evidence room and began working. The combination of the gray sky through the window and the quiet of the room began to make you feel sleepy. You yawned, your eyes beginning to feel heavy and your limbs feeling fatigued.

Hotch looked at you from across the table. He nodded his head toward the couch in the room- an unspoken “go lay down.”

You closed your work and walked lazily to the couch, flopping down on it and closing your eyes. Within minutes you were sleeping peacefully on the old sofa, your soft breathing and the shuffling of papers were the only sounds in the room.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x platonic!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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lvlystars · 8 months

Text

not your usual saturday night — x.mh

pairing. xu minghao x fem!reader

genre. fluff(?)

summary. when saturday rolls around, minghao expects to be sitting in his apartment, all wrapped up in his blankets with a steaming cup of tea beside him. he certainly did not expect to find himself at a damn frat party, holding a can of beer while a girl's breasts are being pushed up in front of him (on accident, of course). never in a million years did he imagine that. but here we are.

warnings. frat party activities mentioned. alcohol consumption.

wc. 1.6k (FUCK IT UP LESGOO)

minghao huffs out in boredom as he rolls his eyes, unable to tolerate the amount of sweaty bodies around him, yelling and whooping at two people who were grinding up against one another in the living room of the house. to the left of him, he spotted a guy—not any older than minghao is—handing a bag of some kind of white powder (probably drugs) to a younger looking kid, a sophomore at most. along the stairs, he sees two guys making out, their intoxicated smiles and giggles muffled by the blaring music that would probably get the cops here in the next few hours.

so to put it short: not his usual saturday night.

minghao makes a beeline to the kitchen, getting himself a drink from the fridge. he eyes a couple of beers and hard seltzers, and a large bottle of vodka at the bottom. sighing out, he opts for the beer, reaching out for the blue can before he feels a hand on his shoulder. turning his head around, he’s met with the captain of the varsity football team, otherwise known as kim mingyu. but people really prefer to just call him “the tall guy”—not to his face, of course, but who can blame them? the man is literally 6’2.

“minghao? didn’t really take you for a college-frat-parties kinda guy.” mingyu teases, flashing his canine smile at the chinese boy, making the latter just smile and laugh a little. “yeah, i’m really not. seokmin dragged me here.” minghao scratches the back of his head, closing the fridge behind him as he faces mingyu.

“of course he did.” mingyu laughs, patting his back. “alright, i’m gonna join the others in the living room. wanna come?” minghao shakes his head. “no, it’s fine. i’ll just be hanging around here for a bit. it feels really stuffy in there.” mingyu visibly deflates at minghao’s rejection, but he just shrugs, smiling again. “it’s alright. i get what you mean. well, if you wanna join us, we’ll just be chilling there all night.” mingyu says before walking off towards the living room.

“fuck you, seokmin.” minghao curses, cracking open his can of beer before taking a swig of it.

“but it’s my girlfriend’s best friend’s birthday!” seokmin—minghao’s best friend since high school—yells. minghao rolls his eyes at the korean boy’s attempt at getting him to come to just another random party.

“and why do i have to come?” minghao asks, raising his eyebrow.

“i heard the birthday girl is single…” minghao groans as seokmin wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“look, seokmin. i appreciate you being the living version of tinder for me, but i’m not interested in dating, more or less getting involved with anyone at the moment.”

“OH COME ON! please?! give it just ONE chance! if it doesn’t work out, i promise i won’t help your sad, single butt anymore!”

bless his heart for not saying ‘ass’.

and that’s how he ended up in a frat house party with almost half the arts department population in it.

he walks off into the house, trying to find any empty rooms, but in almost every room he looks into, there are people getting high, getting dicked down, or people just hanging out with their friends. finally, he finds a room that’s just occupied by a girl sitting at a desk, the room illuminated by her study lamp.

“hello?” minghao asks as he closes the door, looking around. “hi?” she says back, looking up from her laptop screen. the girl didn’t seem out of place at all. in fact, she was wearing a sparkly green dress that fell off her shoulders, and had a deep neckline. the orange light of the lamp beside her gave the girl a warm glow as she blinked at minghao, who just stood there, before he realises that he’s just been blatantly eyeing down some random girl who was probably trying to get work done.

“oh! uh, i’m sorry, it was just a bit too much out there, so…y’know.” minghao smiles, gesturing towards the room.

“yeah i get it.” the girl says, smiling back at him.

minghao couldn’t help but notice how sober the girl sounded, and maybe also how her voice sounded pretty husky and attractive when it’s resounding off such an empty study room, only filled with a desk, small couch, and empty shelves where textbooks and novels should be.

“you wanna maybe sit down? there should be a couch over there. or i can move to the couch and you can-“

“no! it’s…it’s fine. i’m fine with the couch. thanks.” minghao turns down her offer and goes to sit on the couch.

the two college kids just continue to sit in silence, minghao pulling out his phone and just mindlessly scrolling through his instagram page as the girl continues to work on whatever she was typing away at on her laptop, until she decides to break the silence.

“i’m sorry, it’s probably so awkward. what’s your name?”

“minghao. you?”

“y/n.”

“what major?” minghao asks, putting away his phone as he showed more interest in the conversation than the dog freaking out over a balloon on his phone.

“psych.”

“okay now i’m scared of you.” minghao chuckles, making y/n laugh out loud, shutting her laptop before she leans back.

“i get that a LOT. i just don’t understand why you hate us?!” y/n whines, crossing her arms as her breasts push up, the action making minghao flustered as he looks away.

“i-it’s just that…you guys can like…read our minds! that’s creepy, dude! like if i’m doing a certain action, y’all know what’s going on in our minds and like you know what to do!” minghao throws his arms in the air, accidentally slamming one of them on the shelf behind him. he hisses in pain as he brings down his arm, noticing that he had hit his hand on the sharp edge of the shelf.

“oh shit are you okay?” y/n immediately gets up, rushing over to minghao to hold his arm, turning on the light to get a better look at any damage.

as y/n hovered over him, minghao blushes as he tries to distract himself from the view in front of him: y/n’s chest just being pushed up in front of his face. although hers weren’t as large as some others minghao had seen, he couldn’t lie that they still were just as distracting.

“i-i think i’m okay, y/n.” minghao lowly mutters, making the girl notice their position. she immediately pulls away, pulling up her bodycon dress over her chest as she looks down, mumbling an apology.

instead of saying anything, minghao pats the empty spot beside him on the couch, the two once again sitting in silence before speaking out his thoughts.

“you know what, this party is kinda boring. you wanna like, go over to my place, or we can hang out at yours?” minghao speaks up, looking at y/n, to which she looks stunned.

“i’m sorry, what?”

“i…i just asked…if you wanna…go to my…place…’cause this party is…boring.” minghao just quietly trails off as the girl stares back at him, a dejected yet amused look in her eyes.

“this is…this is my birthday party.” y/n says, making minghao’s eyes go wide.

“oh. OH. OH I AM SO SORRY-“

“it’s fine, my best friend planned the entire thing. i guess she used my birthday as an excuse to party, to be honest. she’s probably making out with her suckass boyfriend. what’s his name again? seok…what? seokjin?”

“it’s seokmin.”

“that’s the one!”

“...he’s my friend.”

“oh…oh shit i’m so sorry, i didn’t–” minghao shakes his head as he laughs softly, his eyes forming into crescents as the ends crinkle. “no, no you’re good. he really does suck up to her like no tomorrow. it’s so sickening sometimes.” minghao brushes it off, making the girl soften at his nature.

“i guess we’re both even on accidentally insulting the wrong party.” minghao starts giggling, his laugh sounding more like a pretty twinkle in her ears, and y/n finds herself being entranced by the way minghao’s eyes form crescents when he smiles widely, and the way his teeth look so perfect and cute as he beams. the way–

y/n snaps out of her little trance when minghao snaps his fingers in front of her, making her blink twice before apologising, flustered at how she was just caught staring at probably one of the prettiest guys she’s ever seen since she stepped foot into campus.

“i was just saying that those two—seokmin and your friend—are just like each other.” minghao gestures towards the door behind y/n, making her chuckle as she nods in agreement.

“they really are, it’s crazy.” she agrees, laughing at herself as she distracts herself by playing with her fingers, trying to ignore the heat creeping into her cheeks. “funny enough, seokmin was trying to set me up with you, playing all cupid or whatever.” minghao chuckles, making the girl’s eyes widen.

“no way! hyejin was going to set me up with you too! saying that you would be just my type and shit!” y/n gasps, throwing her arm onto minghao’s shoulder, making the poor guy freeze and hyperfixate on the way her touch made him shiver (in a good way, of course). clearing his throat, minghao speaks up.

“i’m your type?” he wiggles his eyebrows, making the girl bashfully look away as she retreats her hand, smiling to herself. before she can say anything, minghao grabs a hold of her hand again, grasping it firmly. “if i’m your type, then do you want to go on a date with me? because you seem like my type too, y/n.” minghao smiles with reassurance, squeezing her hand for comfort.

the silence prolongs before y/n smiles again.

“yes, i would love that, minghao.”

tags 🏷�� —

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@preciousillusions-net @cacaokpop-fics @caratsland @k-labels

SVT WORKS

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jaylleoo14 · 14 days

Text

A little Azul brainrot I got when I was thinking about the lion funnily enough

(If you want to be more fully immersed try listening to “My September” by Nastyona :D it really set the mood for me and vibed nicely along throughout the read<3 It may be a difficult read but keep in mind that there are two separate things going on at the same time and it goes back in fourth.)

Amnesiac Asphyxia- Azul drabble

TW: slight gore, Amnesia, stalking, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, implied power abuse, drugging. All characters are aged up and this is a work of fiction

Thinking of something where you're on your way to go get groceries but then suddenly you get into a car crash. Waking up in the hospital you find yourself with a nurse and a complete stranger across from you. With a sigh of relief the nurse quickly leaves the room to inform the other doctors and nurses while you're left in a state of confusion as to what's going on. The light from the window looked shallow and a low contrast of clear yellow, the room looking clean with tile pattern walls, a pattern of scorpion grasses decorating the border of the room. A light breeze falls through and makes the blue-to-white curtains swift in the air. You can hear noises of carts and wheels being heard and the sound of cars leaving and coming outside the window. To the corner of the room near the window you spot a man sitting on a cushioned chair. He looked so pale and worn out, few bandages scattered across his face. Suddenly, the man gets up and goes over to you, hugging your hand with the most tear relieved smile ever. You could feel that his warmth seemed to radiate a sense of relief in this mellow room you both were in while your eyes adjusted to the light of the room.

"What... Happened? What's going on here?" Barely managing to let out a clear voice, raspy and lower than usual from the lack of using it constantly for it to sound like how it did consistently before the accident.

Your head is throbbing and your body is in so much pain, the feeling of your aches soaring through your bedridden state. "Ah everything's alright my love. I'm so glad that we could get you to the hospital quickly enough. I'm so happy you're alive, my angelfish." His voice was so shaky, so full of emotion yet it was as if he was holding himself back from letting it all out.

Noticing your hand is being tenderly squeezed as it lays beside you, you give him a look of hard confusion. "Who are you?" Your voice sounds on edge and nervous, unsure of who this man could be. It soars and scratches against your neck as you speak, feeling pain reverberating hoarsely. So suddenly calling you all these pet names in such a comfortable manner. His expression displays one of shock and distraught, his grip on your hand loosening as if at a loss. Outside, the trees sway from a light breeze, yet so many leaves fall down. The breeze, although light, comes hitting in for a long and continuous time; the curtains moving in motion as it dances along to the music the wind provides and the melody of your interaction plays out.

"Dear? Excuse me? Please be joking right now, you…. You can't be serious, right?" His expression was one of wide eyed horror, getting up closer to you. Flinching back, you withdraw your hands and the nurses and doctors come back into the room. "I don't know who you are sir." Your words of sudden hostility and confusion were like a knife and it looked as if you just physically and visibly stabbed through his chest, and all he can do is just stand there and freeze from the sudden injection. The realization that he was stabbed, not yet registering in his brain. Letting go of the knife, it clattered down on the floor and you looked at him like he was a stranger. Staring back at you, he holds the gaping deep cut of the imprinted knife injury you bestowed upon him while giving you a frozen look.

"Thank goodness you are awake, Mx. (L/N), you were caught in a car accident a couple of hours ago." The doctors are catching you up in the events, but the man standing there is left struck with tears in his eyes. His hands clenched tighter where his heart burns, where blood seeps out of the wound and he looks down to stare at his bloodied hands. Hands that were already stained and tainted.

"Sir? Are you okay? Is everything alright?" One of the nurses comes over and pats his back, but he only comes back up to you and kneels down in front of your bed. He snaps back out of his frozen and dead state, placing his hands firmly on the hand rails making up the bed. The nurses share a look of concern and sympathy, already understanding the situation and feeling of dread he must be feeling at the moment.

You look at the man continuing to bear those confused eyes, staring at his bandaged face. Those pale lips of his open, as if a pot full of trickery only lied in them. "I'm… Azul.” A moment of silence as he pauses to recollect his voice, a hardened look in his eyes as he stares at you in a heartbroken manner. “Azul Ashengrotto. Your boyfriend."

"If it weren't for your boyfriend then we wouldn't have been able to get you here quick enough."

You stare at this man who calls himself your boyfriend. You don't remember anything. Nothing at all. Nothing leading up to the accident, nothing on what you were going to be doing today, nothing about a boyfriend. "I... I don't remember anything." Azul lets go of his chest, letting his blue blood slowly stain and soak his shirt, almost looking like a soaked wet rag. He falls to his knees and droops his head, staring ahead at your standing figure that looked down on him.

The doctors all share the same look of deep concern, saying in a firm but gentle voice. "Your name is (y/n) (l/n), it seems that due to the car crash you suffer from amnesia right now. But with the help of your boyfriend I'm sure you will be able to regain your memories."

"Oh, I see. So... You're my boyfriend?" You turn to look at the man who seems visibly stricken to his core. But with a desperate nod he comes over to you with his hand over his heart as if he means well and true. Slightly standing up as he used the railing for support despite not needing it.

“Yes, I've been your boyfriend for two years now.” He says it so surely to calm you down that he’s known you for so long now. Such truthfulness in his heart as he cant help but give out a worried look. Yet the uncertain and warry expression on your face doesn’t ease him one bit. He sits back down on the chair, bringing his hands to his face with a low drooped sigh. He was devastated. Really.

To think such a tragedy like this could happen to you so suddenly, how was he able to process all this information. “I informed them that you were okay. Your parents that is.” He speaks up once again, his face remaining buried. The medical professionals in the room start to get busy, the wind picks up and instead of leaves falling a bird flies away from the tree.

“They have been worried sick about you since I made the call, but I assured them I would take care of you for the time being.” You notice his shaky and shallow voice, as if he was on the verge of just breaking down. But it gives you a sign on how serious and how real this all was. Even though you didn’t know this man, it felt like all that he was saying was true. He contacted your parents, his claims, and his raw emotions all led you to the conclusion that you in fact do know this man.

Don't remember.

The tree is starting to become less filled around its branches as more leaves start to fall and sway off due to the gradual wind. Azul gets on his knees, crawling towards you in a pitiful manner as a slow trail of blueberry juice follows behind him. “Azul… Was it?” You say softly as you try to familiarize yourself with his name. It comes out so smoothly, the way you say his name, he wants you to say it all the more just to hear you as if you were calling out to him. He crawls more desperately towards you, his hands shaking as you give him a hardened stare. The blue stained knife gleaming a little as if it were a shell on the seashore of a cold beach day.

Why? It was you wasn’t it?

As you repeat his name again to try and regain a sense of familiarity, Azul looks up from his hands with his head lifted. A hurt look splays across his face as you look at his reaction, though it makes you feel suddenly guilty as he softly smiles at you. Well despite how you acted towards him, isn’t that to be expected? You don't know this man, but the past you did. The you before the accident. However you can tell how deeply hurt Azul was and yet he still tries to accommodate your loss of memories and feelings.

The past you did know him. You knew him for two years and he shared a love life with you. He would walk with you hand in hand. You two would watch movies together in your apartment as you snuggled in your blanket together. Taking showers together and sharing loving touches with each other, sharing intimate and passionate nights together. You’ve known him a bit longer than two years, only two years of that lovely dating life that is.

“I’ll go let your parents know that you’re awake though. I’ll inform them of the situation… Hopefully, you remember us soon y/n…” His voice is gentle, as if he just cried his heart out and just recovered. He gets up from the chair, and makes his way out the room while the nurses and doctor work next to you to go through specific procedures regarding your condition.

All so suddenly Azul quickly grabs the knife laying next to your foot and makes a stand. As he suddenly jumps up, you jerk back to try and dodge his sudden attack. You can't see his face because he still hung it low, a groan escaping his lips. Hands suddenly grab at your shoulders to prevent you from moving back any further, instead pushing you forward. The sharp pointed end of the blade can be felt inside of you as you fall into the knife. He holds it firmly as he ensures to sink it into your stomach and you can only let out a bloodshot cry of pain, the feeling of flesh and skin bouncing and tearing seamlessly. You can barely turn your head back due to the amount of agonization you’re feeling in your stomach, feeling frozen stiff as ever. Your clouded and teary eyes are met with a sharp and tall figure with a toothy grin, a shadow covering his face from which all you can see and make out. Turning back to face your attention on Azul who stood firm in his position, you can see your red cherry blood spilling out of you from where the knife stays plunged into you.

I love you, you know that?

The nurses make sure to change out your iv bag and adjust anything in particular if needed. As you sit there on the medical bed, dressed in those polka-dotted hospital gown you actually come to focus on one thing in particular in the room. Zoning out from all the questions the nurses were asking you, your eyes stayed glued to the scorpion grasses pattern bordered around the walls. It was like something that just stook out to you in all of this clean melancholy room. Outside the room, Azul walks away a good amount of distance to ensure his call isn't heard and that he is not disturbing anyone. After a few good long rings, the phone can be heard with a click as someone on the other end picks up. “Why didn’t you pick up right away, Floyd?”

As you sniffle and sob due to the pain, Azul then lets go of the knife. Blue hand prints marked on the handle. In your hot tear-filled eyes you see someone walking up behind Azul, lifting him up to help him stand on his feet. Before you could fall down and hit your head on the floor, the same hands that pushed you into the knife catches you and keeps you still and standing. It hurts. It hurts so bad, blood seeping out of you much more than the amount of blood Azul was spilling when you had stabbed him. You watch. Watch as the person from behind places his hand on Azuls stab wound, and when he removes his hand it was like you had never stabbed him at all. It had disappeared as if it were magic. Or as if it were planned all along. You can see it so clearly yet the quality of your sight was so blurry and fuzzy. Finally, you can see Azuls face.

I hate you.

Azuls voice sounded firm and stern as ever through the phone and Floyd only clicks his tongue, seeming to sound slightly passive. “Why's it even matter? I still picked up.” Floyd sounds uncaring as ever as he holds the phone loosely in his hands, looking like it could slip out of his palms anytime. Though his long fingers ensure that isn't the case as they hold it securely in contrast. “That doesn’t answer my question, I need you to be more quick with it next time. Especially for this case in particular.” His eyebrows furrow a bit as he stands against the wall, your room being a while away down the hall. Sounds can be heard nearby but not close enough for him to worry for anyone to hear. “Yeah yeah I got it already, so hurry up n’ tell me what ya want already Azul. If you don't, I'll just hang up on ya.” Azul can hear him yawn on the other side of the phone and he can only sigh in annoyance, shaking his head slightly. “Did you and Jade take care of everything already? The cameras? The car?”

“Ya wanna find out? I’m kinda bored right now so why dontcha come by and check for yourself? Leave ya little “lover” for a bit since they’re awake, it's why ya called isn't it?” Floyd definitely was playing around with Azul, but he wasn’t having it. Not now, not in the mood to deal with him at the moment. “No need to worry Azul, Floyd is just messing around as per usual when he’s bored. In fact, he only is because we indeed have already finished everything as you requested of us.”

As you coughed out a bit of blood, you looked up to see Azul. A tall grinning figure behind him as a shadow looms across its face. So quickly, Azul pulls out the knife from you and another blood curdling scream is ushered out of you. Sobs and hot tears leak down your cheeks as Azul gives the blue and red knife over to the figure behind him. Swiftly, it grabs it and proceeds to wipe the knife clean away and free from ever being soaked in cherry and blueberry juices. The hands holding you up lets you go once again, and you fall into Azuls open arms. He holds you so tenderly and closely as you continue to cry and weep, crying so hard from the pain that it was getting harder to breathe. He was smiling. Even though he was there shushing you as one would to soothe a baby, brushing your hair with his fingers and holding you lovingly, you saw the look on his face. He was smiling. He looked so happy. Happy as you continue to suffer and become languished in his arms. You can't breathe.

Not anymore

The past you did know him. You knew him for two years and he shared a love life had a one sided love with you. He would walk with you behind you, lurking in the shadows as he imagined the both of you hand in hand. You two would watch movies together in your apartment as you snuggled in your blanket while he hid in your closet watching with you together. Taking showers together and sharing loving touches with each other, sharing intimate and passionate nights together . Ḩ̵̛̘̤͙͔̝̫̖̻̦̞͙̺̅̿͘͝ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ c̵̛̥͊ǎ̴̯̀͠ǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝ ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆y̶͔͗ i̶̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅm̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈ǎ̴̯̀͠ǧ̷̡̟̲̹̩̱͉̮̭͇͚̮̖̟̽̓͊̔̓̕inë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅ m̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈u̷̬̩̰̫͕̘̔́̃̄̍͋̓c̵̛̥͊h̸̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͝ t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅi̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅl̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆ ḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅt̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅǎ̴̯̀͠r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅs̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅ t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅ ǎ̴̯̀͠c̵̛̥͊t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅu̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓ǎ̴̯̀͠l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆y̶͔͗ c̵̛̥͊r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠ǎ̴̯̀͠ṽ̵͇̟̺̣͓̰̭̲̼̻̪̩̰͒̓̿̄̾̔̊͝ͅë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ i̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅt̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅ.

You’ve known him a bit longer than two years, only two years of that lovely dating life that is trying to escape from him. T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕ẃ̸̝̝̰͋͒ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅ y̶͗ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ǎ̴̯̀͠r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅ, ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅf̵̢̻͈̫̬̻͔̘̞͈̆̇̍̈̌͊ͅ ḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝i̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅm̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈ l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅṽ̵͇̟̺̣͓̰̭̲̼̻̪̩̰͒̓̿̄̾̔̊͝ͅi̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝ǧ̷̡̟̲̹̩̱͉̮̭͇͚̮̖̟̽̓͊̔̓̕ y̶͔͗ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅu̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓ s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅŏ̸̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅ ṽ̵͇̟̺̣͓̰̭̲̼̻̪̩̰͒̓̿̄̾̔̊͝ͅë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠y̶͔͗ m̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈u̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓c̵̛̥͊ḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝... T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅ m̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈u̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓c̵̛̥͊ḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝.

…

You’re discharged on the same day. You are to be given therapy to treat and help your amnesia, but with Azuls wealth he instead hires a personal medical professional to tend to your needs. Azul pushes your wheelchair, your legs not at all stable enough to properly walk yet due to the head damage you received. Along with your actual physical injuries as well of course. “Azul, do you think I'll come to remember you again?” You ask as the sound of the wheels roll against the pavement road, his shoes softly clacking as he makes his way over to the slanted curb. “I hope so… I hope you remember all the memories we shared during those two years we were together, though if not then we can start anew. I’ll do my best to make you fall for me once again my dear angelfish.” His voice is full of gentleness despite the rough situation you were in, it felt like he was just putting up a brave front and broken inside.

You’ll love me now.

As you lay in his arms limply, the pain still lingering though your body starting to become peppermint cold, placing a chaste kiss on your head. You cried so much you practically had a hard time breathing. No. This whole thing was suffocating. Because even after all this time of trying to escape from him, he still continued to persistently stuck close by like some sort of annoying parasite. Yet here you are, finally in his arms with those hazing lost eyes of yours. “I’ll make sure to take good care of you, I promise…” Laying still and motionless, your cold body is hugged tightly and longingly in his tight embrace. In the distance of this blank space, a set of scorpion grasses sway in the wind… “We’ll be together forever… Forget me not, okay darling?”...

No response.

A black car with tinted windows eventually pulls up to the side where you and Azul were. As the car slows down to a stop besides you two, you are met with a man with sunglasses on and teal slicked back hair as the windows rolled down. “Came to pick ya up little guppie, ya missed me?” The driver tilts his head down a little as he pulls his shades slightly forward down his nose bridge and gives you a lazy smirk, waiting for an answer. Though you are only left confused and speechless. “Now Floyd, have you forgotten? Our dear friend Azul has a lover who suffers from an ailment traced back to an unfortunate incident.” Another voice can be heard coming from within the car yet you showed no new reaction.

“Guppy?”

“This is Floyd, he’s a little fickle to handle at times but still all the more reliable.”

“Hiyaaaa~” Floyd waves in an amble manner, lazily waving his hand to give off a more lax vibe. His voice sounded playful and refreshing to hear considering the given situation as he props his folded arm on the open window seal, his elbow pointed outwards.

“And you may refer to me as Jade.” A tall, well groomed, and neat looking man approaches you, his appearance was certainly something to take notice of. Something about these three, it bothered you in a quiet and lingering fashion. Despite their propper and civil introductions and interactions, they had this underlying and subtle adroit air around them that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. You give him a nod and Azul gently leads you over towards the car while Jade opens the back door for you.

“How’s shirmpy doin’ back there, comfy?” Floyds voice is painted into the car as he speaks and tilts his head back to meet your eyes – though a dull response slips from your lips as you sit there blankly. A nod is the only thing you give to answer Floyd and he turns his head back, pressing the gas pedal to move the vehicle forward.

“Where are we headed too?” Your voice still not entirely well, it sounded a little on the rougher end. Azul hands you a bottle and you drink it gratefully, while Jade and Floyd who don't move as they sit in front of your peripheral vision listen to the jazzy music playing from the aux. “Azul has a nice and comfortable residence to your taste. I hope it can help recall some forgotten memories.”

“Shouldn’t I go see my parents first?”

“They are rather a long distance away, my dear. For now you should rest up since our place is also quite the drive. I’ll wake you up once we arrive, alright?”

His hands soothe your hands in a comforting manner and you honestly did feel a little tired. Tired enough to lean against his shoulders and close your eyes. His smooth voice can be heard as a lullaby, humming along with the melody of the jazz playing at the moment. It was a nice and comfortable atmosphere perfectly conditioned to better your sleep.

“I’m glad to see that the pills really do live up to its reputation. Maybe I should look into the ingredients myself and do a side trade.”

“Bleh, imagine all the work for that. But it does sound fun, imagine all the sorts of people we’d run into~”

“A capitalist at heart I see Azul, but I agree. If it didn’t work as well as listed then we could have kept the pills for research purposes and have gained more from the sellers.”

The car is down the road, and as the hospital is slowly leaving the line of sight, the tree is seen with no leaves as a single bird is perched comfortably on its branch.

A/N: I'm going to be honest, this has been in my drafts for a damn near a long time and I’m really impatient. I wish this could have had better quality work but I just rushed it off so I could post it, but I hope you enjoyed the little idea I had! And honestly if you have any ideas to continue or add onto the storyline and plot feel free to do so!

#twst #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #i havent posted in a long while #life you know hahahahahaha #twst yandere #yandere azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #i forgot how to do tags lol #yandere azul x reader

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runningfrom2am · 10 months

Text

achilles heel - V: red jetta

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 1.8k

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January 25th, 2019

Grace dropped off the face of the earth for the two weeks that followed. Rotting away in her room, keeping up with readings as best as she could, but she truly struggled to even get out of bed. Her roommates would bring her food from the caf, and despite her not being extremely close with them they were so supportive. They'd all been through it before in a way that Grace never had.

Ben had tried reaching out, and so did Rafe, a couple of times, but Grace would quickly delete them out of embarrassment that they even had to find out. That Rafe had to see her like that- he witnessed the whole thing, and she cringes at the idea of even having to look at him again. He was so sweet, though; he helped her get home, listened to her, and let her cry on his shoulder for what must have been hours. She ruined that party for him.

But enough is enough, and she has to get back into her classes. She can't sacrifice her GPA over Nate, and on some level she knows it will be healing for her if she does well despite him believing that he is so much smarter. She can rub a spot on the Dean's List in his face from a distance, if she must.

She'll go to class the next day. It's settled. She's making an effort to clean the mess that her room became, so unlike herself, when her roommate knocks on her door. "Grace? Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Grace answers, quickly throwing the trash in her hands into the bin next to her desk and facing the door as her friend walks in.

"Hey." She smiles sympathetically. "Woah, it looks great in here!" She says, looking around.

Grace laughs a little bit, looking at the piles of clothes on the floor she's yet to clean up. "Well, not exactly.. I'm just trying to organize a bit before classes this week."

"Oh, you're going? That's great." She smiles. "Uh, there's some guy here to see you- not Nate." She quickly assures her and Grace furrows her brows, thinking on it for a second.

"Ben?"

"He didn't tell me his name." She shrugs. "Should I tell them you're busy?'

"No, no. It's fine. Lord knows I need to socialize a little bit. It's just my brother, anyway." Grace chuckles, putting her slippers on to walk out to their shared living room as her friend leaves, laughing with her.

"She's coming." She hears her roommate say before returning to her own room.

Grace takes a deep breath before leaving her room, closing the door, and walking out towards their entryway. She freezes when she sees it's not her brother, but Rafe standing there instead. He looks at her and smiles a little awkwardly. "Hey. Just thought I'd come check on you, it's been a while."

"Oh, hi." Grace says, returning the smile, her whole body flooding with the rush of embarrassment as she gets flashbacks to what happened weeks before. "Thank you, I'm doing alright." She says, resisting the urge to look down and face the state of her pyjamas that she's been wearing for at least a week consecutively.

"Want to go for a walk, or something? Get some fresh air?" Rafe asks after a moment. It surprises him how good she looks, not physically, but despite the bags around her eyes, she looks polished. Her hair is brushed, and her skin is still as clear as ever. If he didn't know what had been going on, he wouldn't have guessed.

Grace looks out the window behind her, seeing that it does look like a nice day, and the sun is about to set. With some warm clothes, a walk might be really nice. "Yeah, actually. That sounds nice. I'll just get dressed." She agrees, quickly turning and retreating back to her room. She dug through her closet to find something warm (and clean) to wear, throwing it on with a beanie before rushing back out. "So sorry to keep you waiting, I think I'm good."

"All good." Rafe smiles at her, opening the door for her as they walk out. "So, have you left your dorm at all the last couple weeks?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Uh, not really, no." Grace admits, cheeks turning red as she looks down.

"I don't blame you. Breakups are shit." Rafe says, trying to make her feel comfortable. "Once, after my ex left me, I locked myself in my room for a week. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything but smoke the pain away. Ask Kelce, it was hard to watch."

"Oh, I'm sorry you went through that..." Grace replies honestly. It makes Rafe nauseous, almost, how she's so instantly empathizing with him when she is actively going through the same thing. And having been a first-hand witness to her breakup, he is comfortable in the assumption that she is much worse off than he was. He just wanted her to see she wasn't truly alone.

"It's fine, I'm better for it." Rafe shrugs as they walk out of the building. "That was a couple years ago, so being sixteen, I was probably overreacting anyways, even if that was my first relationship."

"I don't think so." Grace shakes her head as she speaks quietly, Rafe having to lower his head to hear her properly. "It's scary, and sad... and lonely, a little bit."

"I agree, and I'm glad you mention that," Rafe nods, poking her arm gently with a smile. "Because I actually lied to you."

Grace looks up at him, confused now as they walk down the sidewalk. "I have a surprise for you, and we're not actually going on a walk." Rafe admits, smiling smugly at her as they continue walking.

"What is it?" Grace asks.

"You'll see." He smirks, and they continue down towards student parking.

When they get there, Rafe stops her by standing in front of her. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He grins and she nods still thoroughly confused as she watches him run into the bushes behind a few cars, coming back with a couple of plastic grocery bags.

"Now, which car is Nate's?" Rafe grins, holding the bags at his side and looking around the parking lot as he stands directly next to her.

"Uh, why?" Grace asks, leaning over to peek in the bags.

"We're gonna wreck it." Rafe answers proudly, smiling down at her now. "So which car is his?"

Grace thinks on it for a second, unsure if that's a good idea. She's never been one for revenge, but she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she'd love to know Nate is facing some kind of karma. "Nothing like.. permanent, right?" She asks, just to clarify they can't get in any real trouble.

"No, 'course not." Rafe shakes his head, knowing full well he's got a bag of sugar with its final destination being Nate's gas tank, but he'll wait until Grace goes back inside for that. "Just thought we could vent our frustrations a little, it'll be totally harmless."

"Okay..." Grace agrees hesitantly, looking over to Nate's parking spot. "It's that one. The Jetta."

"Jeez," Rafe laughs, shaking his head. "Driving that ugly thing around is a crime in itself. He deserves this, honestly, he can’t get away with treating you like that. He’s a jerk, and you deserve better." He says, starting to make his way over to it and Grace is following close behind.

They approach the car and Rafe places the bags down, crouching down to dig out all the supplies he bought. Eggs, honey, peanut butter, grease paint, molasses, paint stripper, if Target had it, he bought it. "Pick your poison, Gracie. All you." He smiles, standing up and placing his hands on his hips, looking over at her.

"Uh..." She looks back at the building they came from, silently assessing the odds that they'll be seen as she blushes from the nickname.

"You want me to go first? I don't mind." Rafe offers and she nods.

"Yeah, yeah sounds good." She whispers, watching him as he grabs the bottle of honey and opens it, squeezing its contents all over the windshield, a smile falling over his lips. She gasps and covers her mouth with her hands, but his smile is contagious, and she ends up giggling as she watches.

"C'mon." Rafe encourages her, nodding his head towards the bags. "It'll feel good."

Grace smiles and grabs a bag of flour, ripping it open and hesitating a bit before throwing a handful overtop of the honey coating the windshield.

"Grace, c'mon. You can do better than that." He insists, chuckling a little at her hesitation. "That asshole deserves worse than that."

Grace nods a little, more determined this time as she grabs more, throwing it all over the honey that Rafe coated the glass with. "He fucking loves this car, it's so ugly. I hate it. I've always hated it!" She's laughing as she continues.

"Yeah! Atta girl, fuck this shitty old car." Rafe laughs, smiling as he watches her loosen up. When he notices she's almost out of flour, he quickly returns to where everything was piled up on the ground, grabbing her the box of eggs. He doesn't want her to lose this momentum she's just picking up. He joins her side, holding the box open for her.

Grace breathes heavily, smiling and looking over her handiwork. "Here, don't stop now." Rafe smiles, and she takes one out of the box, taking a couple of steps back before throwing it at the front of the car. The egg's fragile shell breaks open and sprays its contents over the red paint of the vehicle, making Grace jump up and down a little bit with excitement. She's quick to grab another, and another, and another, effectively coating all sides of the car in raw egg.

By the time they think they're done, both of them are covered in the evidence of their crimes. They stand side by side in front of the mess-covered car, chests heaving with the energy they spent on the task as well as the adrenaline rushing through their veins. Particularly Grace. She's never done anything like this before, something bad. It felt so good. "I think it's missing something, hey?" Rafe asks, tilting his head as he examines the vehicle, now covered mostly in darkness after the sunset.

"What?" Grace asks, turning her head to look up at him. He's got flour and molasses stuck to his face, and she smiles a little to herself. He looks so much more relaxed than the Rafe she's used to, but she first saw this side of him at that party. Suddenly it's not such an embarrassing memory anymore.

"Write something on it." He suggests, his eyes returning to hers as he looks at her expectantly.

"What do I write?" She giggles, looking between him and the car. Rafe just shrugs, gesturing for her to do it.

Grace walks up to the car, leaning over to write across the windshield with her finger. When she's done, she steps back and looks up at Rafe for his approval.

"Oh, that'll piss him off. I like it." He laughs, giving her a high five.

'Worlds Dumbest Engineering Student'

this part was SO cute and so fun to write omg

taglist: @newbooksmell777, @tahliac11, @slut4drudy, @madelynie, @angelw33dz, @mutual-mendes, @winterrrnight, @sadfury, @totalswag, @peachprairie (as always reply or message me to be added or removed!)

#rafe cameron #obx fanfic #rafe obx #outer banks #rafe fic #rafe cameron x oc #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks

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joelswritingmistress · 10 months

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My Boss: Chapter 1

Summary: You're about to enter your senior year of college and Joel Miller is your boss at your summer job. He's a great boss, your coworkers are great and he's even brought up a possible promotion for next summer. The problem is, you're starting to fall for him and you want your constant daydreams to become reality.

Joel Miller x f!reader. Age gap. Smut in future chapters. No smut in chapter 1. 18+

The first time you realized how attracted you were to Joel Miller it felt like electricity shocked your entire body. He was sweating through his white t-shirt chopping wood. The snapback hat he wore was just as saturated and his dark hair peaked out the sides, just barely curling over his ears.

Cliché, sure, but it had kickstarted a laundry list of fantasies that you couldn't reel back in.

Joel, your father's friend. Joel, the boss of your outdoorsy, summer job. Joel, nearly twenty years older than you. It had become an obstacle you had no idea how to tackle, other than manually in your room in your cabin at night. And then you saw him first thing in the morning for campground meetings and assignments, and it started all over again.

"Y/N." Joel's voice snapped you out of the daze you were in.

"Yeah?" Your voice came out in a desperate yelp as you addressed him and you cleared your throat, looking around at your other coworkers. No one looked at you funny, so that was good. And as long as Joel couldn't read your mind you were safe there, too.

"You're with me down at the lake today." He motioned at you with the cap end of a pen. "But we're only going to take out a couple of the canoes and kayaks because it's supposed to rain in about an hour or so." Joel glanced at his watch.

You nodded, feeling tingles in the pit of your stomach that fluttered downward to give you an extra dose of desire. Lust was most certainly a drug.

"Stuck with the boss," your friend whispered, poking you in the ribs with her fingers, making you laugh and squirm.

All heads whipped in you direction, including Joel's and you sat up strait. "Sorry." Your face reddened and a few others around you smirked.

"Alright." Joel clapped him hands and smiled. "You all know the drill by now. Head out to your stations and let's entertain our guests. Show them a-"

"Good time," the group chorused, making him chuckle.

You discreetly smacked your friend's arm and then trailed Joel out of the little pavilion where you often gathered for meetings.

Once you were out on the little trail that led to the lake you apologized for the brief interruption a few minutes before.

"Sorry for laughing in the middle of your talk," you said, causing Joel to glance over at you. He smirked and you smiled and looked down. The rest of the walk was rather quiet until you got to the oversized shed that housed the boating equipment.

"How about two canoes and two kayaks?" Joel suggested, flinging the doors open.

"Sounds good to me."

You worked together to pull out the four water vessels and laid them in a neat line by the little beach. It wasn't longer than two or three minutes before the rain began its steady beat on the otherwise still waters.

"Take cover." Joel waved a hand towards the shed and turned a pair of Adirondack around to face the opening. "Might be an easy day."

You sunk down into the chair on the left and Joel sat beside you on the right.

"So, what's the plan for next year when you're out of college?" He asked. "Any internships lined up?"

You shrugged. "Not yet but the university has helped out a lot of us in getting them, or getting a foot in the door somewhere."

"I take it this may be your final summer working here for me." Joel smiled and your cheeks glowed a shade darker again.

You looked down and back up, meeting his gaze. "I think I may need one more summer to get it out of my system." You smiled, he snickered.

"Angela's leaving us next year," he explained. "If you don't have anything lined up by then maybe you could step in, take her place, be my assistant."

Yes, yes and yes! You were already mentally signed up.

"I think you can sign me up right now." Was that too eager? "You know, in exchange for a recommendation letter?" Was that too much? Was it obvious you were joking.

Joel smiled wide and held a hand over. "Deal."

You glanced down at his palm that helicoptered over your lap and let out a little sigh before shaking his hand. It was electric, at least for you.

Joel's eyes remained on yours and the handshake lingered before he eventually released you from his grasp.

"I gotta keep my better workers around as long as I can, ya know?" He added.

"I'm glad you think I'm a good worker. I try, I mean-"

"You are," Joel cut you off. "It doesn't matter what you're doing here. You do it well, and the guests always compliment how personable and friendly you are."

"Really?" His kind words had you gushing inside.

"Yeah." He nudged you with his elbow, "Just need to get you lifeguard certified and you'll be the Jack of all trades." Joel winked and your heart exploded.

Fuck. He was so hot. Did he know what he did you when he winked like that? How could he not?

"Maybe I should. I'm already CPR certified. It expires at the end of summer, though. I need to renew it."

"I'm actually a certified CPR instructor. I'll give ya the class for free. We'll renew it before the end of summer. You'll be all set."

Can I practice on you? You thought to yourself and then immediately told your brain to cut it out. Your thoughts were becoming too much now that you were sitting alone with him.

Joel's eyes lingered again and he was the one to glance away this time out at the pouring rain that fell just a few feet in front of you.

"Thanks," you said finally, smiling to yourself. "You're a great boss."

He turned to you again.

"I mean it," you went on, unable to control your word vomit. "I love working here. You make everything fair. And fun. I don't know how you organize so many people and keep the guests happy. You get all five star reviews online and the one or two who give fours are just assholes."

Joel laughed at that and you smiled big. Were you batting your eyelashes at him? It was very possible that subconsciously you were.

Damn, why did you have to see him chopping wood? Why did he have to be perfect in every category you could think of? Your hormones were on full blast and you suddenly wondered if he could sense it. You had read an article on pheromones and maybe your body was projecting your feminine attraction onto him.

"Well, thank you." Joel grinned. "I put my life savings into starting up this place so I hope we can maintain this as the years go on. Who the hell knows with technology. I hope families will still take time to get away and enjoy the great outdoors."

"It'll thrive," you tried to reassure him. "People need their escape from the screen now more than ever."

"I can agree with you there." Joel sighed and placed his hands behind his head, slouching a bit in the seat. "Man the arts and crafts tent is gonna be swamped today." His eyes danced across the lake that was spotted with rain.

"We better think of something to stay busy down here," you blurted and suddenly wished you hadn't when Joel turned back to you. His eyebrows raised and the blush returned, yet again, to the sides of your face.

"I'll make my way up there in a bit to make sure they're alright," he explained. "But in the mean time, let's just enjoy a few minutes of downtime. You and I haven't gotten much of that this summer."

You and I. The sound of him pairing you together, even in an innocent way, was music to your ears. This crush was in full bloom.

"Can't argue with that." You settled deeper into the seat and mirrored his position, closing your eyes.

There wasn't a better way you could imagine the start of a morning. Sitting in a shed tucked away from the rest of the world listening to the sound of the rain with Joel by your side. This was kind of how every fantasy of yours began.

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

Text

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

two. landslide

content (for this chapter): (kinda) religious imagery, food as love language, mentions of food, mentions of drugs and drug usage, mentions of death, a little angst from both of them, self-doubt, hurt/comfort, fluff, one bad (and explicit) joke everybody say thank you elvira, mentions of illness

word count: 7.4k

a/n: i'm so unbelievably happy about the response ch1 got, thank you all so so much

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

“I was lost when you found me. I know it might sound like a cliché, like something every couple tells each other. My life had no meaning before you, I didn’t know who I was before I met you, you made me into a better person, I started to live again with you–all that stuff that sounds overused, and pointless. But in this case it’s–I had a life before you, and it was a mess, I was hanging on by a thread just for Alba. But then you came along, quite literally sweeping me off my feet and it’s true, we didn’t do things the proper way, if there even is such a thing–knock it off, Miller, I’m not giving you the satisfaction either. But Mila, amor, my life only got better from the moment you came along, and I’ll never, ever stop being grateful–for you, for the fact you put up with me, and saw in me not the person I used to be, but who I could become. I’ve never been religious, but I do believe you’ve been my salvation.”

Frankie’s head was pounding, Alba’s tears now drying on his neck and shirt, her warm forehead pressed against the bent of his shoulder and her breath calming at last after hours of crying and screaming and trying to scratch her ear.

The house was a mess, multiple attempts at making the child eat scattered on every flat surface, covers she’d drooled over abandoned on the couch and on the chairs he’d tried to sit for a few minutes before she started screaming again, forcing him to resume his walking around rocking her against his chest.

With the throbbing in his temples, he almost didn’t hear the soft knocking at his door–so soft he for a moment thought he’d imagined it and had to wait out until he heard it again, still soft, but definitely somebody’s knocking. He wondered whether it was Alba’s doctor, coming back to tell him what an awful job he’d been doing all day with her, or his mother with one of her home-made remedies he wasn’t sure would be good for the kid or not.

“Mila?” she stood with her back almost to the door, as if ready to go down the steps, turning her head only when he called her name quietly. Her cheeks were red, hair half-piled up on top of her head, and a scarf covered the lower half of her chin. “God–I thought I called you, I must’ve forgotten to call you, I’m sorry, Alba–”

“I know, you did call me,” her eyes flickered to the sleeping child, expression softening. “Let’s get her out of the air, it’s alright.”

Frankie moved almost on auto-pilot at her words, backing inside the house until she’d slipped inside, too, and closed the door behind her, toeing off her shoes the same way she had that first night they’d stumbled inside his house.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated tiredly, his hand coming up to cover the back of Alba’s head when she shifted in his arms. “She just now calmed down, it’s been a long day and I can’t–I don’t think–”

“Frankie, it’s alright, I’m not here for our date,” she smiled gently at him, reassuringly, then lifted what he’d thought was her bag between them–it was a mesh bag, anonymous wrapped up items inside he had a hard time focusing on. “I brought dinner for you–figured you wouldn’t have thought of feeding yourself through the day, so,” she shrugged, glancing away almost shyly.

And she was right–he couldn’t even remember when he’d last taken a sip of water, let alone ate anything. Did coffee count? Had he had any coffee?

“I also got the blueberry muffins Alba likes–I think, hope. For when she feels better,” she added, her gaze drifting towards the asleep child.

“You didn’t have to,” he wanted to get closer, rest his forehead against hers and close his eyes for the first time since the previous night, when Alba had woken him up with her wailing.

“I know,” she nodded, and reached over with her free hand, her cool fingertips brushing his chin–there, then gone, bringing a single moment of clarity to his mind. “I’ll heat up your dinner, then get out of your way, alright?”

Words felt stuck in his throat, a gratitude he wasn’t able to express as she caressed his cheek again, one more reassuring smile that softened her eyes before she walked towards the kitchen–he followed shortly. It was a mess in there, too, and he almost apologized.

Camila proceeded on unbothered, resting the bag on the counter and shrugging off her jacket and scarf before beginning to fix everything–placing the dirty dishes in the sink, putting aside the various attempts of food he’d tried to feed Alba unsuccessfully.

“Can I–” he took a step in her direction and froze, unsure of what to do with Alba still in his arms, and also that he could be of any help with the drowsiness in his head. “Do you need anything?”

“Just go sit down now that she’s asleep,” she hadn’t turned on the light yet, which made Frankie wonder how she moved so effortlessly through the room. In the month they’d kept seeing each other, she’d been back at his house just one more time, to recover her jacket from that first night–it had turned into having a quick dinner with him, ruefully saying goodbye at the door. “I’ll manage, don’t worry.”

For the first time that day, Frankie wasn’t worrying. Still, there was a nagging feeling in his throat–an apology, a justification, worry in the shape of non-formed words–that melted away only when Camila stopped moving and lifted her gaze to him, brown eyes so soft he felt his breath stutter, his shoulders sag. It wasn’t the first time she had that effect on him, he noticed, a way of putting him at ease just with a look.

They’d gone out often after that first night, but always for a short time that left him unsatisfied, yet warm all over. Tranquil. They’d take a walk with Alba in her stroller and the moment she locked her arm with his, he felt like the day got better, brightened up. He’d drop by her workplace for lunch after his shift was over, a little before he had to go get Alba from daycare, and Camila would kiss his cheek as a greeting and goodbye, leaving him to rub the spot multiple times a day with a foolish grin on his lips.

Each time, she seemed to sense the moments he started to grow uneasy–he could never pinpoint the actual reason, he just knew a tightness constricted his chest and his legs tingled with the sudden desire of running away, mind screaming at him that was not where he was supposed to be, not with her. A hand on the nape of his neck, her head on his shoulder, or her gaze locking with his, and he could breathe again.

“Go,” she repeated, voice still gentle but a little firmer. He couldn’t argue with her then. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to, in any case.

Alba didn’t wake once while Camila was in the kitchen–in his half-asleep state, Frankie could hear her move around, the sounds of the stove and of water running in the sink, chairs moved to be put back into place. He should’ve told her to not bother, that he could do it later.

He didn’t realize his eyes had closed until he felt the shift of air in front of him–he went to tighten his arms around Alba, only to notice the absence of her weight on his chest. He sat up abruptly, stopped only by a hand on his shoulder.

“Frankie, it’s alright,” Camila was whispering, and she turned her head towards Alba’s cradle–she’d started to outgrow it, Frankie knew he’d have to replace it soon. “She rolled around a bit, but she’s fine.”

“I didn’t feel–” he looked down at himself, a blanket draped across his legs, similar to the one tucked around the sleeping child. Her face looked more serene, the red spots on her cheeks dimmed slightly to a blush pink. He exhaled, leaning back against the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“It was just a few minutes,” her hand trailed up from his shoulder to his neck and then his cheek, another reassuring touch that had his breath slow down a little. “I made guiso carrero, and there’s coffee ready in the kitchen.”

He picked up the scent of food and coffee just as she said it, sleepy mind catching on–when he looked around, the house had a semblance of order. He brought his hand over hers still resting on his cheek, turning to brush his lips against the sliver of wrist exposed by her sleeve–the smell of the dish soap lingered on her palm, and he closed his eyes with a frown.

“You didn’t have to clean the house, too,” he muttered, and a breathy laugh left her, reaching up to brush his hair back.

“I just did the dishes, Frankie,” she held his face in her hands for a moment, looking down at him with those soft, gentle eyes that made him feel like he could crumble at any moment. “Less for you to worry about.”

“Thank you,” he breathed out, wrapping his hand around hers–his was cooler compared to hers, and when he looked back up at her, she was smiling softly again. He pulled on her hand gently, tugging her closer as he straightened his back, and brushed a quick kiss to her bent lips as she caressed his face again, up to his ruffled hair.

It was a soft kiss, quick and shallow, a support to his words, a further thanking.

“Here,” she let go of him and, reluctantly, he let her move back towards the coffee table, picking the warm bowl to hand him. “You eat up, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” struggling with balancing the bowl on one hand, he reached up again to grab her wrist. He looked at the stew swaying in the bowl, then glanced up at her, his lips slightly parted. “Can you–could you stay? Just a little longer?”

“Of course,” she turned her hand so she could grab his, giving it a quick squeeze before moving to his free side on the couch, sitting down carefully with her legs folded underneath her. Frankie leaned towards her almost unconsciously, until his shoulder was pressed against hers, her warmth spreading all across his side.

Silence engulfed them–familiar and easy, interrupted only by the scraping of Frankie’s spoon across the plate. With each mouthful, he noticed how hungry he’d been the whole day, how much of himself he’d poured in Alba’s sickness.

The child would make a noise, every now and then, a small hiccup that had his head jerk to the side, his whole body tense for a second, two, and then Camila’s elbow dug in his side, rooting him. Alba’s doctor had told him ear infections were common in children her age, that more often than not it was nothing to worry about, it would even heal by itself in a few days.

Still, Frankie felt unnerved. Because Alba was all he had, the one thing he could hope he was doing right, and her ear-piercing cries had made his heart drop in his stomach where it still remained, uneasy.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted in a whisper after several more moments of silence, the empty plate abandoned on the coffee table. “I’ve never had to deal with her like this, I’ve never–it wasn’t easy when she was teething, but it wasn’t like this, and I don’t know–” he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering close as Camila’s hand wrapped around his, gently bringing it on her lap, fingers interlocking. “You managed to do more since you arrived here than I’ve done for the whole day.”

“I heated up some stew and cleaned a couple of dishes, Frankie,” bumping her knee into his, she turned her head to look up at his face, chin brushing his shoulder for a moment as she leaned in, then pulled back. “Don’t sell yourself so short, honey. She’ll be fine.”

Honey. Somewhere between their first night together and the third time they’d had lunch together, the nickname had started making its way into her sentences–the first time, Frankie had stopped dead in his tracks and hiccuped a breath, equally confused and endeared. He’d read the question in her eyes right away–was it too much?–and immediately kissed the tender word onto her lips again. He liked to feel her smile within each kiss.

“There’s something else,” though a hint of uncertainty colored her words, she didn’t exactly pose it as a question. And then, “what’s wrong?”

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he admitted in a whisper, and when he turned to look at her she was frowning, brows pinched closer and her head tilted slightly to the side. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here, with somebody like me.”

“Frankie–” at the beginning of her argument, he was already shaking his head.

“No, you–” he sighed heavily, and she squeezed his hand, interlocking their fingers together. “There are things I’ve done–things you don’t know about me,” he lowered his gaze to their hands, keeping his voice low. “And you should know the truth, but I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll leave.”

“Have a little more faith in me,” still with a light frown knitting her brow, she reached up to brush his hair away from her forehead, “would you?”

“I’m not–it’s bad,” unable to help himself, he sought her touch furthermore, leaning towards her, head tilted into her hand.

“Okay,” thumb rubbing against his temple, the other fingers interlocked between the short strands of his hair, she angled her body so she was almost facing him, elbow propped up above the back of the couch in support of both herself and his head. “Try me.”

“Mila–”

“I mean it,” a delicate tug at his hair made him look up towards her again, her eyes attentive and a little expectant. “Because I’m sure whatever it is that you’ve done in the past, whatever it is that’s making you feel as if you’re not deserving of–” she hesitated a moment, glancing at their still joined hands, “of this, or more, and whatever it is you think is so unforgivable, it won’t change my mind about who you are now. Nor will it change how I feel for you. I’m sure of it.”

Would it be better like this, he wondered? Rip the bandage off before she became too essential in his life, when he was still able to let her go. Perhaps. He wasn’t sure. He was tired, and scared, for Alba and for what his confession would mean to them.

He couldn’t look at her. But he owed her that. He owed her the truth. Before it was late for her, too. It was the least he could do–after all her patience, and kindness and–

“Look at me, Frankie,” she called softly, and his eyes stopped wandering. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Your past is your past–it can stay as such.”

“I know,” he lied–knew he was lying.

He knew that, whatever he decided, Camila would be fine with.

Which was why he suddenly felt so at ease, even with his fear–as long as she kept looking at him with that gentleness in her eyes, his only focus.

Which was why he needed to tell her, in spite of his nerves.

So he told her everything, tiredness aiding the words tumbling from his mouth alongside her thumb rubbing his knuckles and the attentiveness of her gaze. He told her about the military days and the boys, their bond. He told her about the afterwards, how hollow he felt, and about the cocaine, about losing his license–she knew he’d been a pilot already, just not the extent of it. He told her about Colombia, about Lorea and his money, choking up on his words a little when talking about Tom’s death.

He told her about Alba’s mother being pregnant when he left–how she hadn’t wanted to be, how she’d done it for his sake, the sake of their already failing relationship, which a part of him still thought was utter bullshit yet he couldn’t help be grateful for, because Alba was the only reason he’d managed to get some of his shit together after Colombia, to get clean, to keep going. And he told her he always felt like he didn’t know what he was doing, which terrified him, because he’d constantly heard about the parental instinct kicking in when needed and he feared it would never happen for him, that he would fail her.

“You do have that instinct,” was the first thing she said, a tentative smile on her face. It baffled him how she still managed to be gentle with him after all he’d said–he’d spoken, and she’d just listened. “That fear–you’re a good dad, Frankie. You’re good.”

“And now there’s you, too,” her lips turned in a half-pout, a flash of worry in his gaze. “Possibly the best fucking thing that has happened to me since Alba’s birth–and I’m terrified of fucking this up, too.”

“You won’t,” she spoke while a bright flush spread across her cheeks. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, Morales,” she added then, leaning towards him, her hand falling from his head to the nape of his neck.

“You’re too good to be with someone like me,” she scoffed at his whisper before pulling him closer, her hand cupped behind his head to guide him forward until she’d kissed him. Harsh, a little hasty, Frankie’s lips tingling as he freed his hands to reach for her waist to bring her closer, too, that single kiss enough to quieten his mind.

Camila pulled back just as his tongue darted out, a soft groan leaving him as he leaned further forward, his back protesting with the movement. He let his arms wrap around her middle, her knees shifting over his lap as he got her closer still.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he looked up, lips parted ready to argue, and she silenced him again, another hurried kiss that left him aching. “Nuh-hu, you’re too tired to have an argument about it now. Just take it.”

He chuckled then–low and hesitant, although amused, and tightened his hold around her as he lowered his head furthermore, until it was resting on her chest and he nodded, the movement barely visible but perceptible as she locked her arms around him, too.

“Thank you,” he said again in a breathy whisper. She hummed, fingertips scratching slowly up and down the nape of his neck, her chin coming down to rest over the top of his head, a twisted lock of limbs huddled in a corner of the couch.

“I was right, by the way,” he could feel the rumble of her words alongside the beating of her heart, eyes fluttering shut as if lulled by them both, and the smell of rosemary that lingered on her skin that he’d started dreaming of. “None of it changed the way I feel about you.”

Frankie had been to Camila’s apartment only twice–once he’d driven her back and had stopped at the door, a lingering kiss through a dance at the threshold, one step in and two out because he needed to go back home but he really, really wished he could stay; the second time, they’d stumbled inside and barely made it to the couch, barely made it out of their clothes, tangled together with soft laughter and softer sighs.

The third time, he stood with a bag in his hand, knocking against the chipped white wood as softly as possible–still, on the other side, he heard her groan and had to stifle a chuckle.

“Coming,” she called out, voice hoarse followed by a sniffle. The lock clicked after a few more moments, and the door opened just a inch to reveal Camila, wrapped up in a thick blanket, large framed glasses sitting on the tip of her reddened nose. She was frowning, leaning against the frame. “Frankie? What are you doing here?”

“I brought you some medicine,” he spoke softly, yet still she flinched, a little groan leaving her already parted lips. “And some of my mom’s ajiaco–pretty sure it was the only thing I would eat when I had a cold.”

“Oh,” her eyes, a little glossed, moved from his face down to the bag in his hand and up again, a tentative smile making its way on her chapped lips. “You shouldn’t have, honey,” murmured tiredly as she leaned a little more against the doorframe, her cheek pressed to the wood and eyes drifting closer.

“I know,” he shuffled forward, lowering his head towards hers. Her eyes shot open at his sudden closeness, stumbling back from him and pulling her blanket over the lower half of her face, shaking her head quickly.

“I’m gonna get you sick, stop,” her voice muffled, she stared up at him still wide eyed, rocking slightly on the spot with her arms tight against her chest. “Thank you. But go away.”

“Oh, baby,” Frankie chuckled, walking past her inside the apartment–he used the same soft voice she’d heard him use with Alba, a sort of cooing that imitated the child’s speech. She whined in complaint, trying and failing to stop him from closing the door behind him. He took advantage of her step back in his direction to lean down and leave a kiss against her forehead, right above the frame of her glasses, making her mumble again. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t get you sick–what about Alba?” she kept at it, walking after him as he headed towards the kitchen–she’d made coffee for him there and sat on the counter in an unbuttoned shirt and underwear, his frame slotting between her thighs as they spoke before he had to leave again. “Francisco,” though she tried to sound firm–and it worked more often than not, the mere mention of his name making him fumble to get to her–her voice was low and raspy, that whine clinging to her tone.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asked instead, placing the bag on the small kitchen table and retrieving the pot he’d taken at his mother’s when he’d dropped Alba off. Para que tu novia se sienta mejor, she’d said–to which he’d replied, stuttering a little, no es mi novia, mamá.

“Some toasted bread this morning,” she leaned her weight against the doorframe of the kitchen, taking a slow, deep breath that then had her clear her throat and stifle a cough, eyes falling shut again. “It’s fine. It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine.”

Frankie placed the pot on the stove and then, after removing his jacket, walked back towards her–with her eyes closed, she heard him coming and mumbled another complaint, trying to escape him. He held her with an arm around her shoulders, her hands pressed to his chest as he leaned down again and brushed his lips to her temple–he lingered there long enough she eventually gave up fighting him off, her entire body slumping forward.

“How’s the fever?” her skin was warm under his lips, cheeks flushed when he cupped his free hand over one, thumb gently pushing her glasses up.

“Still there,” she muttered, tipping her head back as if trying to get away from him–he could feel her pushing weakly against his chest, too.

“And how’s your head?” he asked, rubbing his thumb across the apple of her cheek.

“I haven’t had any complaints yet,” she retorted, making him snort softly and shake his head. Her eyes fluttered open, lips turning in a half pout before adding, “Sorry, I’m–”

“You need some sleep,” bringing both hands to her shoulders, he slowly guided her out the kitchen and into the living room.

“I was sleeping!” she protested, hands curling above his chest.

“Were you?” he glanced at her glasses, and the papers scattered on the coffee table by the couch. Camila huffed and pouted again, and Frankie stole a quick kiss to her downturned lips. “Off to bed.”

“If I go to bed, I’ll just spend the whole day asleep doing nothing,” she complained, managing to make a little more resistance as he tried to push her towards the bedroom.

“Good–you’re sick, you shouldn’t be doing anything,” he reached over and took the glasses from her face, taking advantage of her rapid building to gain more ground along the short corridor that led to her bedroom. “You lie down, I’ll eat up your soup–”

“I can do that,” he sighed, stopping them both in their tracks and taking her face in his hands, glasses dangling at the side of her head as he gently tipped her head back.

“I know you can,” eyes dancing across his face, she licked her lips and sniffled again. “But let me do it for you.”

“Frankie–”

“Camila,” he mimicked her pouty tone, lowering his face to hers–she held her breath when he got closer, and he almost chuckled again. Instead, he gave her a soft smile, brushing his thumb across her cheeks. “Why are you so against the idea of me taking care of you?”

“I’m not,” she blurted out–a tad too quickly, her gaze darting away before she cleared her throat. “I just–you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he repeated, “but I want to,” her bottom lip jutted out slightly, tired gaze softening. “And it’s not out of some sort of obligation because you’ve been nothing but good to me,” he bowed his head as she turned hers, his kiss landing at the corner of her mouth. “You deserve someone looking after you, too, y’know?” another kiss to the other corner, her head twisting with a soft sigh. “You stubborn woman.”

“First time I’ve been called stubborn like that,” she murmured, his palms gently pressing into her cheeks making her speech a little more slurred, her lips in a perpetual pout.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s not an insult,” her eyes fluttered open again–not sure when she’d closed them, even less sure of how they’d reached her bedroom without her noticing–her glasses had ended up on the drawer right at the entrance of the room. Frankie’s smile was still soft as he leaned in again, and she wrinkled up her nose. “I’m not letting you kiss me, Morales. You’ll get sick.”

“I’m willing to take the risk,” he shrugged lightly, and before she could argue again he pressed his lips to hers, purposefully sloppy, her hands coming out of the blanket as if to stop him–one of his hands slid to the nape of her neck, and the slow touch made her sigh, melting into the kiss. Unlike the rest of her body, her fingertips were cold brushing his neck. “And I like that you’re stubborn,” he murmured, following it with another kiss she submitted to. “Although right now I’d like it more if you got into bed and let me take care of you.”

She tasted as if she’d eaten too many lemon candies, sweet and sour equally, her lips chapped and her breath short when he moved away to pepper the rest of her face in kisses, feeling her hands slide up from his neck to his jaw.

“Okay, fine, fine,” she took a stumbling step back and landed in a seated position at the edge of her unmade bed, her lips turned in a pout again, the tip of her nose even more red as she tightened the blanket around herself, head tilted back as if to look at him, even though her eyelids were drooping already. “But if you get sick, I’m not nursing you back to health.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” he chuckled, slotting himself between her legs to press a kiss to her forehead. Camila’s shoulders sagged, an exhale leaving her as she leaned forward against him, hands shifting up his sides. “Should I go heat up the soup?”

His hand shifted over the top of her head, brushing down the start of her long, messy braid that was tucked underneath the blanket. Camila’s head fell to his chest with a soft hum, her whole body rocking forward and then back and forward again, balanced only by Frankie’s gentle grip.

“Yes, please,” she murmured after a moment of hesitation, face half-buried into the fabric of his shirt. He could feel the warmth of her skin even through the material, and let her linger there a moment longer, one hand on her shoulder and the other still over her head, massaging her scalp gently.

“Go on, scooch,” he said then, guiding her back towards the pillows. Camila curled up on her side with a sigh, curling her hands against her chest and tugging the blanket closer with a tremble. Frankie brought the rest of the covers that were rolled at the foot of the bed over her, waiting until she stopped shivering.

Back in the kitchen, he brushed past the rosemary plant she kept on the windowsill–he’d seen her crush some of it between her fingertips. She would carry the smell of it with her for the rest of the day, smearing it across his brow or mustache when she brushed his face–the one other night she’d spent in his bed, it had lingered in his sheets for days.

Camila had the covers up to her chin when he returned, eyelids trembling when she heard his steps but without opening her eyes, slowly tilting her head towards him.

“Are you spoiling me with food in bed?” she hummed, a tired smile on her lips.

“After all the hassle I went through to get you in there, I am,” he walked around the bed to get to her side, placing the bowl of soup on the nightstand, alongside the water and some medicine. “Surprising, really, since it was so easy to–”

“Don’t try to sweet talk me while I’m sick, Francisco,” she grumbled, shifting a little underneath the covers–when she looked up at him at last, her eyes slightly red rimmed, he was grinning and leaning towards her. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You started it,” he replied, one knee pushing against the bed as he shifted closer–Camila scoffed, then cleared her throat. “Can you sit up?” he asked then, brushing a loose strand of hair back from her forehead. She nodded, her eyes fluttering close for a moment before she pushed herself onto her elbow.

Frankie’s body pillowed her side, her frame slightly askew as she leaned into him with a soft groan, eyes screwed shut. The room was dimly lit, sheer curtains drawn filtering the noon light.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, slightly shaky hands coming out of the blanket to fix it over her shoulders, while he folded the duvet on her lap.

“A little,” he returned, without any other justification. She smiled tiredly, eyelids moving as if she was rolling her still closed eyes. “Food or aspirin?”

“Food,” he moved slowly, so that he could still support part of her weight as he took the bowl and carefully placed it in her hands. He wasn’t sure she’d realized how much she was leaning against him, and truth be told he didn’t want her to move. “Thank you,” murmured so low he wouldn’t have heard it if she wasn’t so close.

So he sat still as she ate, his gaze carefully trained on the light grip of her hand around the spoon–he spoke to her in the meantime, his voice soft as he talked about work, Santiago–who kept asking about her–and Alba, pulling a tired smile out of her every now and then. Camila made it half-way through her plate before her hold started faltering, cold fingers cracking softly and a light hiccup that threatened to make the rest of the food spill onto the covers.

“Alright?” he asked quietly, and she nodded, slow motions as she sank deeper back into the pillows. “Do you need anything else?” she shook her head with a quiet groan, letting him take the plate from her.

“Think I just need to lie down,” her voice remained low, a little nasal. “My head hurts,” she added, bringing one hand as if to shield her eyes.

“Here,” he curled one hand around her jaw, a gentle touch as he brought the aspirin to her mouth. Her lips parted with no hesitation, though wrinkling her nose as soon as the pill brushed her tongue–he brought the glass of water to her lips, too, tipping it back gently to help her drink as he supported her head.

She hummed when he helped her down again, settling more comfortably at her side as he fixed the blankets over her once more, back resting against the headboard–her head sinking in the pillows, she curled forward until her forehead was pressed into his side, one hand shifting up to rest on his thigh, his body working as a shield against the feeble light.

She’d felt on edge all day–the splitting headache slowing the work she was forcing herself to do, cold settling in her bones while she remained on the couch, stomach turning from emptiness because she couldn’t stand to fix herself a proper meal. Frankie’s presence had spread through her limbs like sunlight warming her, a newfound sense of safety that started in her chest and wrapped all around her with his arm around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and though her eyes hurt she still tipped her head back to look up at him–they were glazed over, slightly reddened, and Frankie looked back at her with a softness that made her heart beat a little quicker. “I’m sorry,” she added then, and he tilted her head to the side, confusion in his eyes.

“It’s just a cold, Mila,” he smiled, caressing the side of her neck and the shell of her ear, gently brushing her hair back. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“It’s just–” she curled her hand over his thigh once, twice, fingers shaking until he rested his other hand over hers. “You didn’t have to be here, or take care of me, I’m–”

“I told you, I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted her with a gentle voice, her hiccuping breaths pulling him a little lower on the bed–her head shifted over his chest, standing closer now. “I wanted to–I like being with you,” he squeezed her hand, offering her another smile. “Snot and all.”

She groaned at that, screwing her eyes shut and bowing her head as if to hide away from him. With a chuckle, he coaxed her to lean back again, shifting with her until he was resting fully at her side, one arm trapped under her and the other, still holding her hand, pulling her delicately until she was pressed against him.

“You have enough going on already,” voice low, she let go of his hand and curled her fingers into his side. “Last thing you need is me being a burden like this.”

“Hey,” he tapped under her chin gently, so that she was angled towards his face. “Look at me for a moment,” she was slow in opening her eyes, the pout returning to her mouth for a split second before she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing nervously. “You could never be a burden,” she scoffed, looking away, and he pushed his thumb into her lip to free it from her hold, pinching her chin at the same time. “I mean it, baby.”

She exhaled heavily, a shaky breath as she pushed herself forward and buried her face against his chest, arm curling fully around him to keep herself against him. He locked her in an embrace with a sigh, shifting so his chin rested over the top of her head, slowly rubbing her back as she shook into the circle of his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, voice muffled by the blankets and his shirt. He shushed her gently when she said it again, hand moving to the back of her head and brushing down, freeing her hair and wrapping his finger around the end of her braid. “Frankie–”

“You need some rest, sweetheart,” he chided, soft-voiced. “We can talk about it later, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I am so sorry,” was the first thing Frankie said when he opened the door. “I tried texting you but you must’ve gotten in the car already and–she ambushed me,” he looked over his shoulder and sighed heavily, his head dropping slightly.

“What are you talking about?” Camila frowned, mimicking his low tone.

“Cisco, déjala entrar,” a voice called loudly from behind him, and then he stepped aside–or, rather, was moved to the side. A woman stood by him suddenly, graying hair pulled back from her face and a big smile widening across her lips. “Ay, mírate–tan bonita.”

“Mamá,” Frankie groaned softly, to which the woman responded by backhanding him across the chest before smiling again, opening her arms towards Camila.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, eyes widening a little as her gaze darted between the two Morales. “Lo siento, señora, Frankie no me dijo–”

“Ah, no señora,” she scoffed, and promptly pulled her in a tight hug–Camila huffed at the impact, tentatively wrapping her arms back around her, her eyes turning to Frankie again. His expression looked pained, and she almost laughed. “Llamame Verónica, cariño–pasa, pasa,” she added then, shepherding her inside.

“Mamá, por favor,” Frankie closed the door and watched as the two women walked deeper into the house, his mother’s arm linked with Camila’s. “I’m sorry, I’ll fix it, I–”

“It’s alright, Frankie,” she said, looking over her shoulder with a gentle smile.

“Ah! See, Cisco?” his mother exclaimed, holding her a little tighter. “She has no problem meeting your mother,” she tipped her chin up, then patted Camila’s hand. “Él quiso esconderte,” she added then, lowering her voice in a mock whisper, and Frankie sighed.

“I wasn’t!” he protested, walking with them into the kitchen where Alba sat in her high chair. As soon as she saw them all walk in, she squealed and threw her hands in the air. “Wait, is that why you’re here?”

“Claro,” the older woman shrugged, her eyes following as Camila moved closer to Alba with a wide smile, letting the child grab one of her fingers as she leaned in and kissed the top of her head. Verónica hummed, seemingly pleased, and turned to Frankie with her eyebrows arched high. “¿Cómo sino iba a conocerla?”

“You could’ve asked,” he argued with a loud sigh, shuffling closer to Alba and Camila, her hand still held up by the child.

“I did!” she retorted, scoffing. “Few weeks ago, I gave you the ajiaco and asked when I could meet her, and you just brushed me off,” Camila’s eyebrows lifted slowly, her gaze moving from Frankie to his mother.

“Thank you for the ajiaco,” she said quickly, before Frankie could reply instead. Verónica’s expression softened again, a gentle smile that wrinkled her face. “Estaba delicioso.”

“Thank you, cariño,” she nodded her head, one hand over her chest.

“Mamá, Mila and I–” Frankie started, and got cut off right away.

“Mi-a!” Alba exclaimed, tugging on the woman’s hand. Verónica’s eyes widened, and Frankie’s head whipped around to look at the child as she squealed in delight. “Mi-a, mi-a,” she repeated, bouncing a little in her seat.

“What is it, nena?” Camila asked softly, lowering herself next to the high chair.

“Did she just–” Frankie looked between Alba and his mother, whose lips had parted slightly as she stepped forward. “Alba, sweetie, can you say that again?” he asked, shifting until he was crouching in front of them both. “Were you calling for Mila?”

“Mi-a!” she said once more, wrapping both her hands around Camila’s one. The woman frowned lightly at Frankie’s reaction, her gaze flickering between him, his mother, and back to the child again.

“Once more,” Frankie asked, his face split open by a wide grin. “Come on, sweetie.”

“I’m gonna go, mijo,” Verónica said softly, and he turned his head around.

“Wait, mamá, it’s–” she smiled softly at him, lowering herself to kiss the top of his head.

“Lo sé,” she told him gently, rubbing his shoulder. “Enjoy it–both of you,” she added, winking in Camila’s direction–she looked confused, still, and when the woman chuckled softly it turned into a deeper frown. “It was nice meeting you, Camila.”

“You too,” she said, though her voice sounded uncertain, watching as she walked out of the kitchen with one last pat to Frankie’s shoulders. “I don’t understand–”

“First word,” he breathed out, his eyes wide and shimmering as the smile did not waver from his face. “That was her first word–you were,” he said, turning to look at her.

“What?” Camila felt like the air had left her lungs, warmth spreading across her skin down to where Alba was still holding onto her, and her eyes widened, too. “Coño–sorry. What?” she repeated, words falling rapidly from her lips rapidly.

“I think she heard me say it so many times and it stuck,” he murmured–Alba was looking at them, her eyes attentive and shimmering, tilting her head towards one and then the other, still smiling wide. “Isn’t that right, honey? Will you try again?”

Alba’s only response was a soft babble, waving her hands around and dropping Camila’s. Frankie waited, expectancy bright in her eyes, but when the child just kept blabbering, he sat back on his heels and tilted his head.

“Is that alright?” Camila asked softly, lowering herself at his side.

“Well, she already said it more than once,” he shrugged lightly, his hand shifting blindly to reach for hers across the floor.

“I mean that it was–” she cleared her throat, hooking her fingers around his, “that it was me.”

“Oh, baby,” he said softly, shuffling closer to wrap his arm around her waist–the position was far from comfortable, the hard, cold floor under both their knees unwelcomed, and one hand each still lifted towards Alba’s high chair. “Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged lightly, leaning into his side. “This is still new, and it was her first word, I don’t–” digging his fingers into her side, he pulled in to kiss her cheek, impetuously. “It’s important.”

“Yes,” he nodded, peppering softer kisses down her shoulder. “And I’m glad it’s you.”

“Mi-a!” Alba exclaimed, leaning all the way forward across her chair–they straightened quickly, legs protesting at their kneeling stance as they faced a giggling Alba, both their smiles widening.

“I think she’s gonna abuse her new power,” he murmured, bumping his shoulder with hers. She chuckled, looking between the two of them, and Frankie turned slowly–head first, then his eyes. “My mom liked you, you know?”

“She’s nice,” she hummed, bumping her hip into his. “Did she really drop by because she knew I was coming?”

“Yes,” he sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry–and I wasn’t trying to hide you, I just–”

“I don’t think you could hide anything from her, Frankie,” Camila chuckled, bringing one hand to his shoulder and slowly letting it slide to the nape of his neck.

“No, probably not,” he sighed in defeat, tilting his head back into her hand. “Plus, she’s known about you since the first night.”

“Wait, what?” a little gasp left her with the question, and he laughed softly. “Frankie!”

“It’s not my fault, you were upstairs when she dropped Alba off,” he moved closer again, both his arms coming down to wind around her waist. “You said it yourself–can’t hide anything from her.”

“You know I won’t be able to face her again, right?” still chuckling he inched closer to brush his lips to hers–one kiss, two, one a little deeper than the previous one and so on.

“Too bad,” he mumbled between kisses that widened her smile. “I think you’re stuck with us, now.”

“Mi-a!” Alba added, as if to highlight her dad’s point, and Camila melted into a fit of giggles, the hand resting behind Frankie’s head pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

That same evening, when Frankie looked at his phone after Camila had fallen asleep on the couch–her head on his lap and her arm around Alba, keeping her in place–there was a single message from his mother: No la dejes ir.

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dotster001 · 2 years

Note

For the 300 follower event with 15/"You're all drugged up. You don't know what you're saying." With Lucifer? ❤️ or 🥰 also?

(here ya go . I love spreading soft Lucifer propaganda.)

15. You're all drugged up. You don't know what you're saying.

You weren't going to be allowed to hang out with Solomon anymore. Lucifer had already decided.

He had gotten a call from said sorcerer about an hour ago asking to come pick you up. Apparently, his most recent experiment had been to figure out what to add to Demonus to make humans able to get drunk off it. And now here you were, in Lucifer's bed, only capable of a couple coherent sentences at a time.

When Satan was young, the other brothers had learned how to wrap him in a blanket burrito when his wrath became too much. Now, Lucifer had used that skill on you, as you were insistent that nothing was wrong, and that you "just wanted to look" at his records. It was clear after the first broken record, you were a danger to yourself and others.

"Luci!" You called to him.

"What is it?"

"It's too hot," you pouted. It made his heart melt, you looked too sweet pouting in the blanket burrito.

"Will you feel better if I get a cold cloth for your forehead?"

You nodded happily, and said an incoherent sentence. He left and came back with the cloth, and gently pressed it around your face. You nuzzled into it, and he had no doubts that if humans could purr, you'd be purring.

It was so….domestic. Him taking care of you. He wished you two could have more moments like this. Maybe if things were different…

"Luci?" You said, in a timid voice.

He hummed in response, placing the cloth on your forehead and moving to fluff your pillow.

"I love you," you said.

He froze. It's what he'd wanted to hear for so long, if only he could believe it.

"You're all drugged up. You don't know what you're saying," he said, cool as ever.

You pouted again. "Yes I do. You're my favorite demon man thing. And I love you."

You fixed him with a glare, and he couldn't help but smile softly.

"Alright. Sure."

"You don't believe me?" You looked so sad, so he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. There was no harm, you wouldn't remember in the morning. This seemed to satisfy you, so he moved to go back to his chair.

"Wait!" You called a little too loudly. "Please stay with me?"

"Now that's an offer I'd be a fool to refuse."

….

The next morning you woke up with the worst migraine of your life, and shameful memories to last a millennia. You groaned, and tried to stretch only to find your movements still restricted. Right. The blanket burrito.

You turned your head to see Lucifer sleeping. He looked almost angelic in his sleep. He was just so beautiful. You would have let him sleep longer under any normal circumstances, but you needed some water, and probably should put some food in your stomach.

"Lucifer," you said as calmly as someone who confessed their love to someone while drunk could be.

His crimson eyes flickered open immediately. They affixed themselves to yours.

"Good morning, Y/N. I see we learned a little lesson about self control last night."

You pouted. "Believe it or not, I only had one glass. That stuff Solomon added to it was really potent."

He sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of his nose before sitting up.

"Well, I shall speak to my brothers and make sure no one bothers you today. I will go get you a drink, and a potion to ease the pain."

"Thanks," you muttered as he stood up. As he turned his back to leave, you realized if you didn't address your confession now, you'd never have the courage to again. And Mister Pride certainly would never bring it up.

"Luci," you said faintly, but he still heard you. "I meant what I said last night. I love you."

There was a tense silence for a moment, and your anxiety grew more and more. Finally, he said,

"Are you prepared to truly mean those words? To love me wholly and totally? To be willing to put each other above anyone else?"

You nodded, too nervous for words. He strode back to the bed, and leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss.

When he pulled away, he ran a gloved hand down your cheek and said, "I expect you to keep your word."

You nodded whole heartedly. He moved to leave the room again, leaving with one last smug grin at you.

It was only after he left that you realized you were still trapped in a blanket burrito.

#obey me x reader #obey me #om! lucifer #lucifer x reader #300 followers

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bellofthemeadow · 11 months

Text

The Road Ahead - ch 5 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 4.3K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: An unexpected Sunday morning visit unveils the true meaning of family.

Notes: Hello my lovelies, thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs and comments! I love you all so much <3! Here is new chapter fresh out of the oven, I hope you all enjoy it!! A lovely mix of angst and fluff, exactly as I like it!

Also, I apologize but the next chapter won't come out until later next week as I have some assignments due for the summer semester I am taking at university. After this chapter, I am planning 2 more regular chapters and 1 epilogue.

Let me know what you think, and I hope you are all ready for an extra soft Will Ironhead Miller (Top tier Will Miller imo)

Family

As the door closes behind him, Frankie can hear you sob from inside the house. His first instinct is to turn around, rip the door open, and take you in his arms. He wants to hold you close, apologizes a million more times, and make a thousand promises to you—anything to make you stop crying. He knows he isn't worth your tears. You've always deserved so much more than him. You've given him everything, but all Frankie has given you is pain.

Numbly, Frankie walks toward his truck, his footsteps heavy with all that occurred in the last couple of hours. He mechanically opens the door and sinks into the driver's seat, his gaze fixed ahead toward the house. With tears streaming down his face, he reaches with a trembling hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone, fingers hovering over the familiar buttons.

His heart pounds in his chest as he contemplates dialling the number, knowing that the next few moments could shape the course of his future. The weight of his mistakes and the desire for redemption clash within him, battling for dominance. Taking a deep breath, he musters the courage to press the digits, each number feeling like a heavy decision.

"Catfish? Well, that's a surprise. Good to hear from you, man."

"Pope," he says the name with broken sobs.

"Catfish?! What's going on? Did something happen to the guys?" Pope's voice immediately loses its friendly tone as he switches into military man mode.

Frankie's voice quivers, his words barely holding back the flood of despair that consumes him. "I messed up, Pope," he confesses, his tone broken and defeated. "I messed up big time... with the coke. I couldn't stop myself, no matter how hard I tried. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" His frustration erupts.

Pope's tone softens, carrying a blend of compassion and determination. "Alright, Fish. Take a deep breath. You know I’ve got your back, brother. Tell me everything. We'll figure this out together." His words offer a lifeline, a promise of support amidst the chaos that has engulfed Frankie's life in the past hour.

The weight of his failures hangs heavy in the air as Frankie continues, his voice tinged with remorse. "I promised I'd get better, Pope, but I'm so fucking lost. I've ruined the only good thing in my life, and now I’ve got nothing." The room seems to darken as he confesses his deepest failure, his words laden with self-condemnation, “I don't know what to do Pope. I don't know how to claw my way back from that fucking hole we dug ourselves back there!”

“I know that what happened in Columbia was…” Pope begins empathically, but Frankie cuts him off “FUCK COLUMBIA! It's not just about that. I mean, it is about that, but it's more than that. Her and Ella are the best thing that's happened in my life, and I couldn't talk to her. I was so afraid she'd see me as that... as that monster that I became back there, that I ended up becoming that monster with her. Fuck Pope, I brought Coke into my home. Can you believe that!” Frankie hits the front dash of his car in anger “I BROUGH COKE into the home where I have a baby. The place my wife made into a home for us. How could I do something like? What is wrong with me?!?!"

Silence greets his outburst. Barely audibly, Pope asks, "Where are you right now?"

“I am in my truck, parked in front of my house.” Frankie's voice trembled with helplessness. "Pope, I don't know what to do," he confides, his words echoing the magnitude of his loss as it engulfed him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. "Without her and Ella, what am I supposed to do? They are everything to me, my reason for pushing forward. I am nothing without them," Frankie admits, his voice tinged with resignation. The burden of past mistakes, tangled with the relentless hold of addiction and the haunting memories of PTSD, has reduced him to a mere shadow of who he once was.

"I'm just a washed-up coke addict," he confesses, the words carrying a mixture of self-loathing and regret. The image of his own deterioration gnaws at him every day. His grey reflection in the mirror is a constant reminder of the battles he had fought and the battles he had lost. The tendrils of addiction weaved their way into every fibre of his being, leaving him stripped of his former identity.

Pope’s heart breaks, hearing the words of his best friend. His brother. But Santi was always a pragmatic man and effusive shows of emotions were always more of Benny’s realm. "Can you make it to Will? Or Ben.."

"Not Benny."

Tense silence fills the air, "Did something happen?"

"I can't deal with Benny right now, not after... What happened today."

"Alright, are you able to drive yourself to Will?"

"Yes, I should be." Efficient and precise, Frankie resorts to the mode that comes easiest to him.

"Then drive to Will, and I'll meet you there. I'm jumping on the next plane that leaves today

"Pope, wait. What about your girl?"

"Hey, how long have I known you, Catfish?" Pope's voice is filled with unwavering support. "If my brother needs me, I'm going to be there. Besides, most of what happened is my fault. You wouldn't have touched that shit again if it weren't for my dumbass coming up with a shit plan that went to hell."

“Pope, you can't blame yourself for everything. The fuck ups I caused in my marriage and the fucking coke aren’t your fault. Those are my crosses to bear. But I appreciate you being there for me, brother. It means more than you know."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, as Pope takes a deep breath before speaking again. "Listen, Catfish, I can't change what happened, but I can promise you this: we'll do whatever it takes to make things right. We'll find a way to fix this mess, for you, for your lady and for your family. You're not alone in this, brother."

"Pope..."

"Don't say anything. Drive to Will, and I'll see you as soon as I can. Understood?"

"Roger. Pope?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"It's the least I could do. I know how much you love your lady. And you know how it goes with us, we leave no man behind."

1 week later

You had always been more inclined toward solitude. Even as a child, you found solace in playing alone with your dolls in your room, rather than engaging with your siblings. It wasn't as if your brothers had any desire for you to join their activities. With their significant age gap, they viewed you as an everyday nuisance at best or, at worst, the cause of all their problems. Your mother's words still lingered in your mind at times: "Sorry, boys, we can't afford a vacation this summer. Money is tight with the extra kid." "Sorry, boys, you'll have to share a room because your sister is a girl.” “Sorry boys, your sister needs to go on a diet so we can’t have cookies in the house, otherwise she’d pig out on them.” These constant barbs had shaped your life and fueled resentment from your three older brothers. Even to this day, they seldom reached out to you. When you got married to Frankie, the eldest didn't even bother attending, despite RSVPing for his wife and five kids. Your mother simply glanced at you and remarked, "Well, what do you expect? It's just a backyard wedding. No reason for your brother to disrupt his life.”

So yeah, you never minded being on your own. But, as you reflect on your years with Frankie, you realize that you had become unaccustomed to being alone. Although you were physically independent for most of your relationship, mentally and emotionally, Frankie was always there with you, sharing your life in the deepest and most meaningful way. But now, you find yourself truly alone in a way you haven't experienced in a long time. Frankie is not here, and you're uncertain if you should allow him to linger in your emotions. If it weren't for Ella, you don't know how you would cope. You feel like an automaton, mechanically going through each day's motions: waking up, feeding Ella, tending to yourself if time allows, taking Ella next door, going to work, completing your shift, returning home, feeding Ella once more, putting her to bed, pumping milk, squeezing in dinner if you're not dozing off on your feet, taking a shower, and going to bed. Then Ella would surely wake up at least 4 times during the night. As if your peanut could feel your distress and the absence of her father.

You had briefly considered taking a second job after Frankie's departure until you noticed the usual pension deposit from the army. While not a significant amount, it would be sufficient to sustain you and Ella without needing to work two jobs. Tears had welled up as you realized Frankie hadn't cancelled the deposit. Right after that thought, guilt had set in for even entertaining the thought that Frankie would do anything to harm Ella. You tried to convince yourself that Frankie had made that choice for the sake of Ella's well-being and preferred not to let your mind wander into other possibilities. And what they would mean for you and for you-and-Frankie. Better not to dwell on them, you think.

But today was Sunday, a day meant for being at home with Ella. Normally, Frankie would be by your side, flipping pancakes in the kitchen while cradling Ella and singing along to the radio. His singing voice might have been terrible, but you adored it, just like everything else about him. Once again, you suppress the budding regret that has threatened to take root within you multiple times over the past week. You couldn't allow it to grow and taint the decision you had made. It was the right decision—for yourself and for Ella. It was also the right choice for Frankie. He deserved a chance to heal, and you know that you were no longer fit to help him in that journey.

As you held Ella to your chest, she began to fuss. You cooed softly, and miraculously, she settled down, closing her eyes and nuzzling against your upper breast. With a smile, you planted a gentle kiss on her soft, fuzzy head, whispering, "Papa and I love you, my little peanut."

Suddenly, three soft knocks interrupt your tender moment with Ella. Glancing at the clock, it reads 8:15 am. Your heart skips a beat. Frankie? You can’t help but wonder. Carefully, you place Ella in her portable pram and quietly position it next to the couch.

Hurriedly, you make your way to the door and swing it open. "Will? Is everything okay? Is Frankie all right?" you gasp, trying to catch your breath.

Will looks at you with a sad smile. "I'm sorry for disturbing you so early on a Sunday. I don't think we should have this discussion in your doorway. Do you mind if I come in?"

Your grip tightens around the doorknob as anxiety courses through you. "Will, please," you pleaded. Seeing the desperation in your eyes, Will's expression softens. He extends his hand and places it gently on your shoulder. "Fish is okay," he reassures you.

Relieved, you let out a shuddering breath and open the door a bit wider. "Come in," you say softly.

Will steps into your house, and he hesitantly asks, "Should I take off my shoes?"

"It's alright. I need to vacuum later today," you explain awkwardly. Will hums in understanding.

"Would you like coffee?" you offer. "If that's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate it. Thank you."

"It's no trouble. I have a pot going. I always make enough for me and..." You stop yourself, clearing your throat and suppressing your tears. "I always make enough for two."

Will smiles sadly, expressing his thanks once again.

Pouring a second cup of coffee, you join Will at the kitchen counter. After a minute, he speaks up. "Ella seems well," he offers.

"She's doing alright, as best as she can be. She decided to be a little angel this morning, so you chose very well," you reply with a small smile.

"And how is work treating you? Do you need any help around this place? Benny and I could lend a hand if you need anything—mow your lawn or fix screws here and there," Will offered.

"Thank you, Will. That's really kind of you. If something comes up, you'll be the first to know," you respond. A moment passes before you ask, "Is this why you're here, Will?"

Will sighs softly, taking a long sip of his coffee. "I guess there's no beating around the bush. First, I wanted to apologize for Benny's behaviour last time. He was way out of line, putting himself where he shouldn't have. I apologize."

"It's okay. I was angry, but not at you or Benny," you assure him.

"Regardless, this should have been a private conversation, not one held in a bar," Will admits. You fix him with a soft smile. "Thanks, Will."

"I came for two reasons. And, yes, before you ask, both concern Fish," Will begins, his gaze shifting towards Ella, who remains thankfully quiet in her pram. "Fish checked himself into rehab on Friday morning."

A gasp escapes your lips. "He did? By himself?" It was almost hard to believe. The possibility had been discussed before, especially after he lost his license. You had thought that seeking in-care help would be the best course of action. However, Frankie had been resistant, insisting that he could quit on his own. He didn't want to be separated from you, especially during your pregnancy, and felt he couldn't be away from you during such a crucial time. Reluctantly, you accepted his decision, believing it was the right choice since Frankie had managed to stay away from cocaine. Or so you had thought, until a month ago.

"And... is he alright? How was he?" you ask, concern evident in your voice.

Will looks pensive. "It was tough, not gonna lie. Pope flew in from Australia the day after... after the memorial. I think Fish called him. I wasn't there when Pope arrived, but whatever he said, it got through to Fish. The night after the bar, after it all went down, Fish crashed on my couch, and... Look, are you sure you want me to tell you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like any of this is your fault. For what it's worth, I think you showed remarkable patience, more than most people would have. None of what happened was your fault— What happens in the field, when we are out there fighting some enemy, really messes with the best of us. And Fish, well, he was always the most sensitive among us. He never meant, he never wanted to hurt you. But in the end, it happened, and I know he despises himself for it. He used to walk around the base, showing your picture to everyone, telling them how lucky he was to have his soulmate waiting for him at home. And you know… Shit, sorry, I don't mean to make you feel sad."

A small, teary laugh escapes you at Will's words. You reach for a tissue, dabbing at your eyes. "It's okay, Will. I want to know what's happening, for my own peace of mind."

"If you are sure, then alright. But stop me if ever it gets too much. So, when Fish got to my place that night, he must have cried from the moment he stepped into my apartment until Pope arrived. They went for a drive, and when they returned, Fish wasn't crying anymore. He looked me in the eyes and, honestly, that was the most transparent I’ve seen him be in a long time, he said: 'I am checking myself into rehab. I am getting my shit together for Ella and for my wife. That's what matters, nothing else,'" Will recounts.

You gnaw anxiously at your bottom lip, your eyes shifting to Ella. "He really said all that?" you inquire, seeking confirmation.

"Affirmative," Will responds. “You’re such a dork, you know that, Will Miller?” You snort at his overly formal answer.

Will smiles before his gaze turns to a now fussy Ella. "He left you with these as well," he adds, reaching into his old brown leather bag that had been resting at his feet since his arrival. With care, he retrieves an envelope and what appears to be a... recorder? Memories of your university days flood your mind, recalling how you used a similar device to record your professors' voices during lectures. "Those are ancient," you can't help but think, considering how iPhones have now made them somewhat obsolete.

"What's all that?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"That," Will says, gently pushing the envelope toward you, "is a letter Fish wrote for you. He said you should open it when you feel ready."

You accept the envelope with trembling hands, fixing Will with an uneasy look. "Do you know... Do you know what's in it?" you inquire, seeking any insight Will could provide you with.

"I'm afraid I don't," Will responds with a sincere expression. "Fish wouldn't say. He was really secretive about it. He made me promise not to open it before giving it to you, as if I would do that. He said it's for your eyes only and that you would understand why he wrote to you."

"Frankie and I used to write letters to each other for years," you reveal to Will. "Even when he came back for good, we continued writing letters. It was our way of showing we cared. But we stopped writing them... It must have been around the time we realized I was pregnant with Ella."

"Then maybe Frankie wanted to show you that he still cared," Will cautiously suggests. "Maybe he wants to demonstrate that he wants to move forward, and that letter is the first step."

"Should I open it now?" you ponder aloud.

"Fish was adamant that you open it in your own time. If it takes you a year, he said he'd wait for you," Will explains.

You close your eyes briefly, but Ella's little scream pierces the room's silence, prompting you to rise and gather her in your arms. With a smile, you softly rock her. "Well, someone's a fussy lady," you comment, nuzzling her nose. Then, you turn Ella around to face Will. "Look who's here, peanut! It's your Uncle Will!"

Will smiles warmly as you approach with Ella, who continues to fuss in your arms. He makes some faces at her, and Ella seems enchanted by her handsome uncle. You settle back down in front of him, gently rocking Ella as you resume your conversation.

You gesture toward the other item in front of you and inquire, "What about the recorder?"

Will smiles gently before reaching for it and pressing play. "Hola Estrelita," Frankie's voice resonates from the small device, causing you to freeze in place. "I hope you're being good for your mama. You know how much she loves you. I love you so much, mi corazon. Papa loves you bigger than all the stars in the universe because you are Papa's favourite star!"

Tears stream down your face as Ella's fussing ceases, and she looks at you with curious eyes, as if silently asking, "Papa?"

"Frankie recorded around two hours of his voice on there. He said it was for Ella, so she wouldn't forget his voice while he was at... while he was away," Will explains. "You know how sentimental that old fish can be."

Overwhelmed with emotions, you struggle to find the right words as the recording momentarily stops, then resumes with Frankie's voice saying, "Hey Ella, mi amor..." In a rush, you press the stop button, needing a moment to collect yourself.

"This rehab... How long is it?" you finally manage to ask. "Frankie wouldn't have recorded 2 hours’ worth of content if it were just for a two-week stint, would he?"

Will takes a deliberate sip from his coffee, his gaze thoughtful, before he responds, "It's a four-month program. No outside contact for the first three."

You close your eyes, feeling a surge of anxiety as you tighten your grip on Ella. Sensing your unease, she pouts unhappily in your arms. "Four months? That... That's really long," you express, your voice filled with concern.

"It is," Will acknowledges, his tone understanding. "Frankie wants to make it stick. He doesn't want to half-ass it. When he sees you and Ella again, he wants to be worthy of you both. He wants to be worthy of this family."

"Is that what he told you?" you inquire, searching for clarity.

"His exact words," Will affirms, extending his hands towards you and placing them gently on your forearm. "Look, I know Frankie better than he knows himself. We served together for more than 10 years, and I genuinely consider him as another brother. But as much as I love him, I can see when Frankie is going down the deep end, just like I know you can. I guess we're all guilty of letting Frankie fall too far. We've always been accustomed to Frankie being the quiet, responsible one, so when he can't cope, we don't know how to help. But..."

"Will, please, you and the guys can't carry all that burden. I am his wife," you sniffle, your voice trembling. "I am his wife, and he has never come to me for anything. I thought I could help him heal, but I couldn't. It was my one job as his wife to take care of him. I even told myself that on the day we got married, you know," your voice wavers as you try to steady yourself for Ella's sake. "I told myself, 'You're going to care for that beautiful, kind man and you are going to make a home for him; he's been through enough.' Now tears stream down your face as you try to hide in Ella's tiny neck. "I couldn't help him, Will. I couldn't help him."

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor fills the room as Will makes his way around the table. He sits down next to you, pulling you close and wrapping his strong arm around you. "Come on, honey, let it all out. I'll hold you for as long as you need," Will says gently. And cry you do, releasing the pent-up stress, anger, and sadness of the past months, dissolving into Will's embrace. He remains sturdy, as he always has, holding you tightly while making sure not to disturb Ella, who rests quietly between the two of you. As you cry, Will softly hums, and strokes your upper back. Will has always felt more like a brother to you than your actual brothers. His love and kindness aren't contingent on anything. He is simply kind and understanding and oh-so wise. These days men like him, men who really listen are a rare breed. You know you can cry in front of Will without any judgment. In moments like this, when everything is dark and engulfing, it feels like the most precious gift to be heard and to be seen.

When your tears begin to subside, Will continues quietly. "Fish didn’t talk to you because he loves you," you can’t help but scoff at his words, but Will continues, steadfast as ever. "Now, wait, listen. I'm not saying it's right, or that Fish couldn't have handled things better. What I'm saying is that the things we've seen, the things we've done—it changes a man. The person we become out there, it's not the kind of person we want to bring back home. It's not someone we want to show to the ones we love. And you know Fish, he was never very good with words. But I do know one thing: Frankie loves you more than anything." Will lifts your head gently, meeting your teary eyes. "Fish made a lot of mistakes, and I'm not excusing any of them. It was unfair to us and unfair to you and Ella. But I know Fish, and you know Fish. I'm not saying you have to give him another chance once he's out of rehab.” Will continues

"All I'm saying is that it's really hard for people like us, and I know that even if you can't take him back, he will never regret striving to better himself for your and Ella’s sake" Will assures you. "And know that whatever you decide to do in 4 months, or in 6 months, or in a year, you'll have me and Benny in your corner, alright? We won't let shit go too far this time around. Yes Frankie will have us, but you'll also have us. We'll take care of you, and while Frankie is gone, Benny and I will hold down the fort. You won't be alone in this, I promise you."

His words wrap around you like a comforting embrace, offering solace and support. The weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter knowing that you have Will and Benny by your side. You glance up at Will, gratitude shining through your tear-streaked eyes.

"Thank you, Will," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for being here, for understanding, and for taking care of us. I don't know what we would do without you."

Will's grip tightens around you, his voice filled with sincerity. "You don't have to thank me, sis. We're family, and family looks out for each other. We've got your back, no matter what. We'll weather this together."

As you nestle back into his comforting embrace, a flicker of hope begins to burn within you. Maybe, just maybe, with Will and Benny's support, you can find the strength to face the uncertain future and make the best decisions for yourself, Ella and for Frankie.

Next chapter

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