#One of the only things with just those four-
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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( sixth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .
୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six.
୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami
୨୧˚ cw; profanity , mentions of sex
୨୧˚ an; so sorry if anyone asked to be tagged recently and you didn’t get tagged!! tumblr is being screwy again and i can’t see any of my comments😭😭 also apology time from nanami woo hoo!!!
Nanami stole yet another glance at the expensive watch wrapping around his wrist. Your promptness was certainly an issue; how does she show up nearly thirty minutes late to a meeting she called?
And then he scoffs at himself, giving a little shake of the head. Meeting? There he goes again, speaking in corporate tongue.
But finally, you do show up. Bursting through the entrance of the quiet café, making an embarrassing show of noisiness with your heaving breaths and wheezes. Not that it had been much of a disturbance to anyone else—only two other patrons resided in the small establishment; one too engrossed in her book to care, and the other scrolling mindlessly through his cellphone with a pastry in his free hand. Even so, you bashfully clapped two hands together as you peeked around the room. “Sorry!”
The older woman behind the counter nods in appreciation. Nanami can’t help but exhale roughly through his nose in sort of an almost-chuckle. God, you were a mess, weren’t you?
“Sorry, I’m so late!” You approached the table he resumed, one near the front window like you’d asked for. Your heels clopping against the grainy tile, knee-length dress flowing like water around your legs. He stands, walking to the opposite side of the tiny, rectangular table and pulling out the chair for you.
“Impressively late,” Nanami derides, but it’s not full of any malice. Truth be told, he did have the patience of a saint when situations like these were called to question. He didn’t mind waiting, because despite your utter tardiness, he trusted that you'd show up eventually, rather than ditching him altogether and leaving him to sulk in the humiliation of being stood up over a cup of black coffee. You were scatterbrained at times, yes, but dependable? Always.
Nanami returns to his side of the table after pushing your seat in. It wasn't meant to come across as a romantic gesture; Nanami had made it a habit of serving the women in his life nothing but a respectful demeanor. Whether it be lovers, colleagues, friends, and anyone in between. Though admittedly, his behavior towards you these past couple of months has been anything but respectful. It’s too late to start making amends to things, but the least Nanami can do now is try.
You shudder. Flustered, maybe? “Y’didn’t have to do that,” you tell him, placing your phone and clutch bag onto the table.
Nonsense. “My mother would have my head if she knew I let a lady pull out her own seat.” While true—his mother, bless her heart, raised him to be the gentleman his is today—he also just… wanted to do it. It felt right to serve you a seat.
Your elbow slams rudely on the table, finger reaching across to wag in his face. “Sounds like a good woman!” You laugh, and Nanami gingerly swats your hand away. He’s about to say something, but you beat him to the next sentence. “Hey, what gives? I thought this was supposed to be a day of relaxation?”
He worms under the scrutinized glare you wave up and down from his face to neck to chest to abdomen, finally peeking under the table to gawk at his shoes. Nanami curls his toes, a feeble attempt to shrink away from the judgement casted in your eyes. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”
“You’re dressed in fancy-man clothes.” At that, he takes it upon himself to look down at his wear; an ironed dress shirt clung to his chest, tie resting flat and perfectly centered between his pectorals. His slacks were ashy grey and devoid of any wrinkles, cut and hemmed around his ankles just above those stiff, leather shoes snug on his feet. The matching suit jacket was slung neatly over the backrest of Nanami’s chair, sleeves tucked away into its pockets.
His least expensive suit, sure, but still far too pristine and tidy for a little coffee shop outing. "Is it so bad that I like to remain presentable?" Nanami offers the question while he busies his hands, plucking open the pearlescent buttons at his wrists and rolling back the sleeves off the off-white button down.
"Presentability and discomfort don't always go hand in hand, you know. I mean, look at me," your voice echoes the mocking tone of cockiness, clearly a joke but also not at the same time. With a gesture towards yourself, you beam and shimmy in the simple, breezy dress. It had a floral pattern, Nanami notices. "Cute, stylish, and comfortable."
He isn't jumping to disagree with that. "Sorry, all my sun dresses were in the wash." He surprises himself with the jest, but it has you splitting an unladylike snort, so he doesn't come to regret it.
The toe of a thick, wedged heel jabs into his sock-clad ankle. "You business men are all so sassy." Nanami glowers at the adjective chosen to describe him, but doesn't refute. You sigh. "It's fine, I guess. Nothing we can do about it now. Wear some sweats next time though, would you?"
Next time. There’d be a repeat of this?
“Sure.”
“Great.” Your toothy grin beams over your clutch purse, of which is now wrangled in your grabby hands. Rifling through its unorganized contents, dumping out tubes of chapstick, loose change, and sticks of gum onto the table before fishing out a wallet. “Right, I’m starved. Did you look over the menu any?”
Nanami looked it over five times during the wait, if not for anything other than something to pass time. “Not really. Tell me what you recommend.”
You bite. Rambling about the array of pastries and baked goods that have been worthy enough to be placed in the category of y/n’s favorites. Nanami soaks in your excited, leaning in ever so slightly with open ears a you passionately ramble about cake.
“I take it you come here often?”
The question has you nodding. “Like, all the time man. This is my spot, you should be so grateful that I’m not a gatekeeper.” You look back at the menu once more before verbally deciding: “I want pistachio cheesecake and peppermint tea.”
The man poorly stifles his chuckle, rising from his seat. "Alright then, stay here. I'll go order."
"Oh, okay thanks." You shove your wallet into the wall of Nanami's chest, "take my card with you."
He is bewildered that you would even think he'd let you pay for your own meal. "I've got it," Nanami tells you, gently pushing the leather thing back to you.
"Nanami, stop."
"Stop what?"
"Take my fucking wallet," you gnarr, and he thinks you look much like a soaked kitten in this state of agitation. "Don't make me slap you."
It's an unserious threat, but Nanami plays a long. He raises two thick, blonde eyebrows. "Jesus, okay, you win. Just please keep your hands to yourself.” He revels in your little smirk of satisfaction, snatching your wallet back before making his way to the front counter.
Nanami kindly asked for two slices of pistachio cheese cake and two drinks; for you, peppermint tea, and him a coffee, black. Of course, everything was charged to his card. You didn’t need to know that, though.
You scarfed your portion down with swiftness, slinging spoonfuls of chartreuse custard into your mouth with such savagery that Nanami feared you might choke. He was a much more serene sight, preferring to savor each bite between slow swigs of piping coffee. The dark roast complimented the nutty pistachio flavor stunningly. For such a nameless little eatery, the food was exquisite. He takes another calculated bite of cake.
“You like?” The question was garbled behind a mouthful, cheesecake clinging to your milky teeth as you smiled brightly. A childlike excitement radiated warmly off you, clouding across the table to heat him up, too. It was sweet how wired you were, hopeful that he’d, too, enjoy your choice of confection.
Nanami huffs, amused. “Swallow before you choke.” You make a show of swallowing, a big hearty gulp with your eyes squeezed shut. “And yes, I like it a lot. Your tastes are surprisingly refined.”
“Surprisingly?” You gape, offended.
Nanami wants to crack a quip, something referring to your sub-par taste in men, but this little get together was nice. Yeah, it was really nice, actually. So he refrained from ruining it like the asshole he’d been lately, and drowned the snide remark with another toss of coffee. “Sorry, sorry.”
The remainder of the evening was cushy; you both fell into easy conversation about the randomest of topics. Discussions that never breached corporate subject matter, and he was eternally grateful for that. You spoke in tangents, whistling appreciation for a new movie you caught recently, to describing a long list of bands you enjoy, to lamenting about the headache that your minty iced tea sprang upon you: “Ah, brainfreeze!” Nanami doesn’t add much to the conversation, but he is content to listen and provide little hums of encouragement to urge you to keep talking. His eyes, inquisitive honey-colored things, found your lips and stayed there. Despite the uncouth display in which you carry yourself ( Nanami had been itching to tell you to close your legs, what with the way you sit spread-thighed in your seat donning that dress. So careless and unabashed. If the cafe had been a little more crowded, had a little more men around, and he might’ve slipped his foot over the imaginary boundary line to your side underneath the table and nudged them shut himself ) there was an elegance in the way you spoke about topics of interest. Passion flourished from the little curve of your lips, teeth bared in a great smile because you really were just that happy. Nanami feels envious when he watches you.
“I’m shocked at how well this is going.” You grin cheekily, licking cream from the pad of your thumb. “Kind of makes me sad that we didn’t get off on the right foot, you know? I think we could've been good friends.”
“Is it too late for atonement?” Nanami bites back a frown. “I understand if you can never see me as anything other than an asshole. But I never got to formally apologize for my behavior these past few months, Y/n. And I’d like to, if you’ll let me.” Why was this humiliating? It was a seldom occurrence when Nanami was in the wrong, but he was never one to let his faults drift by unaddressed. You deserve an apology—a proper one, not over measly text messages. Still, he miscalculated how awkward this would be.
You flail. “A formal apology? Nanami please, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will work. It doesn’t have to be a whole thing, I’m mostly over it anyway.” But that was a lie and an obvious one, at that. You weren’t over it, he could see it in your eyes.
The blonde clears his throat and rubs his hands together mindlessly. “No, please. It’s long overdue, and if we’re going to be working in alliance, then you deserve to feel secure with me.” Though Nanami’s hands wrench restlessly, his gaze never detracts from yours. He bares his sincerity in the intense eye contact, offering a peek into his soul. Vulnerability. “I’ve been nothing but rude and ignorant and vulgar towards you, ever since…”
“That night.” You finish for him. “It really upset you, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess it did.”
“Why? Do you have a revulsion to sex or something?”
“What? Wh—I—No, t-that’s not…” Nanami sputtered, his ears growing warm from your accusation. “I don’t… mind sex?”
You play with the dainty straw flouncing around your drink, seemingly oblivious to Nanami’s flummoxed reaction. “You seem to have a strong opinion of whores, though.”
He groans, embarrassed with himself, and drags a palm down his pallor face. “Who you choose to sleep with does not make you a whore. It never did, I was just being petty and grasping at straws for anything that would get a reaction out of you.” Nanami runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth, inwardly wishing that the mug of coffee before him would turn to water so he could cure the dryness that ached in his throat.
“Why go through the trouble?”
Nanami opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens again, “I don’t know.”
A piss poor attempt at playing the fool. Surely there was a reason for his unabashed cruelty towards you, but what the fuck was it? “Well, when you figure it out, let me know?” To his utter surprise, your expression doesn’t hold an ounce of animosity; you’re smiling at him. Finding humor in any situation had to be your special talent. Nanami nods dumbly. “In the meantime, you’ll just have to start making it up to me. You were a dick, big time.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmmm,” you make a comical show of humming, touching your index to the point of your chin, and now Nanami knows you’re fucking with him. “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. I guess I can start the forgiving process if…” A pause for dramatic effect? The man raises his brows expectantly. “You and I make this,” you gesture between both bodies at the table, “a weekly thing.”
Nanami was expecting a punishment, but this suggestion was anything but. “I’ll need to take a look at my schedule first.”
“Listen, man, do what you gotta do. But I’m telling you, we are getting together at least once a weekend.” You scrub the corners of your lips with a napkin before crumpling it into a tight ball and discarding it on your empty plate. Nanami looks down at his own to see a healthy portion of his cake left. Wordlessly, he slides his plate across the table, and you accept the offering with open arms. “Oh shit, thanks! Like I was saying, this is fun, what we’re doing here. You’re having a good time, right?”
Sitting in a desolate coffee shop and listening to you prattle on has been the most fun he’s had in a devastatingly long time. “Yes, I am.”
“Good. You look fun-deprived.”
Fuck, I am. “I’m not.”
“Keep lying, I see through them all.” You scoop the last bite of Nanami’s cheesecake into your mouth, sighing with satisfaction and rubbing over your full tummy. “Anyway, I think hanging out would be good for us. Healthy, you know? Besides, I’ve been dying to know what off-duty Nanami looks like.”
He cracks a chuckle. “He’s nothing special.”
Your finger snaps in his face, invading his bubble of personal space, but this time he doesn’t shoo you off. “Another lie!”
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tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni @lololooolleonnaaa @nanamiswife22 @r0ckst4rjk @mizzfizz @saiki-enthusiast @taelattecookie @enchantingkitty @kindadolly @reinam00n @hqtoge @syamamas @numblytemporary @xxravenxstarxx-blog @bloomedintome @guacam011y @jameinfrau @luvvmae @kazisupreme @nowhoremones @https-tank @venjrnjrbhrr19 @ya9amicide @darkstarlight82
#❝ 𝐑𝐀𝐄’𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ❞#jjk smau#jjk texts#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk crack#jjk smut#kento smut#nanami kento#nanami x y/n#nanami fluff#nanami x you#jjk nanami#nanami smut#jjk kento#toji smut#geto smut#choso smut#gojo smut#social media au#enemies to friends to lovers
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Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?
And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!
Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???
JUST SOME DUDE™!
Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?
On the SURFACE!
This place seems utopian!
No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!
Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!
Cause see?
There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?
Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)
Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.
Through the Zone.
Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.
They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?
And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!
If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.
No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.
Just? Imagine~☆
The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"
Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.
He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.
They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏
I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.
As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.
I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.
He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.
And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.
Either, Or.
I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.
There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!
@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation
#dpxdc#dc x dp prompt#danny phantom#dpxbnha#dp x bnha#dp x mha#dpxmha#minji's writing#dp prompt#dp x bnha prompt
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can we get something about reader having a kid before she met Miguel. her ex was treating her poorly while she was pregnant and after she gave birth, having her to clean the house and take care of their newborn cause the ex was too lazy and verbally abusive? After knowing Miguel for awhile, reader becomes preggo and she’s super scared that she’ll be neglected, but Miguel’s with her the whole time. or a happy ending of your choice🫣
Yee ✨
Parallels and Opposites
Landlord! Miguel O'Hara x Reader
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Verbal abuse, manipulation toxic relationships dynamics, controlling behavior, gaslight, mild graphic depictions of domestic violence, hurt, struggles, fluff towards the end. No proofread.
Summary: Miguel shows you what true love and family means.
If someone asked you, what would be your biggest regret, a simple name would come to mind. Samuel 'Sam' Lawson.
The man that with his sweet words and lies had stolen you out of the comfortableness and stability of your home. A man that had seduced you right after you finished college and spoke about how you'd be his perfect little housewife.
Someone that played a perfect house angel role and had convinced your parents to live with him a couple of days after the graduation ceremony. Someone that without a doubt, would've teached Judas his own lying game since it proved effective on you and everyone around you.
Samuel was loving, always filling you with gifts and smiles, always making sure you knew his heart was yours, and always making sure you wouldn't have to worry for things such as money. You were happy.
So happy that ignored the micro-aggressions that hid between the loving noise. Beyond happy that you grown used to his presence, even when he didn't need to be there and ignored your few friend's warnings of his controlling and possessive behavior.
They were just jealous that they didn't have someone like him. Right?
It was normal for your loved one to pull you apart from those friendships that deemed toxic, right?
"They're always criticizing us, babe. They're just jealous I take care of you the way they wished their simpleton partners would. You don't need people like that in our lives."
And little by little your friend's circle decreased considerably, but Sam was always there. Ever loving and supporting. Even when in his outbursts he always made sure to say it was all for your good, because he loved you. That everything he did was for you, like it's always been.
He loved you so damn much that it hurt and his relief was beer, staying outside home until late, or fucking you till your body begged for a break.
Life was generous and good, so good you had gotten pregnant. Sam was ecstatic. You finally were carrying his child. And it was enough to make you his fiancé.
"We ain't married yet, but til death do us apart, honey." He'd say, peppering your face in kisses.
There was nothing to fear. All those seedlings of doubts your friends had put, were sapped away, He loved you.
Until he found out you were having a baby girl.
His loving and protective facade begun slowly chipping away.
The beer's stench stuck on his body and breath most of the times Sam was awake. His bad mood was always rampant, making every little thing an inconvenience that didn't help your crumbling relationship.
A few dishes rested comfortably on the sink? He'd scream and to calm him down, you'd rush to clean it all up. His snacks crumbs were in his favorite seat? God forbid to Sam see them cause it was another round of cruel jokes.
"Maybe if you weren't that fat to clean, this place wouldn't look this bad."
It was his bad humor. You thought at first. You knew he had a bad temper, but you were too busy falling inlove to actually notice it seeping through the cracks. You were too busy loving him that ignored the liquid anger pooling at your feet. Slowly filling the four walls you inhabited.
He'll change.
You clung to that thought alone, hoping that this phase was only temporary. That he'd go back to the same man you met. The same mn that got you breakfast in bed and took you to dance the many times you wanted.
Not this man that hurt your mind with whatever nonsense about your body he thought and his mouth spilled. Or hit the walls, instead of hitting you because he loved you.
He loves me.
"Where's my fucking dinner?"
He's just having a bad time with the medical expenses. That's all.
"You fucking stay here all day long doing shit, instead of keeping it all together while I work my ass off to get your fatass whims."
"I clean and cook, Sam." your mouth mumbled and it was enough for him to be invading your space, his taller frame cornering you against the shiny counter you always cleaned up.
"The fuck did you say?"
You gulped. The words replaying in your mind but unable to come out of your mouth. He seemed pleased on the smell of your fear.
"Wouldn't it the least you could do to your hard working husband, hmm?"
You didn't want to admit that these sudden hot and cold games confused you to no end. But they fed your hope of bringing him back.
"I'm sorry." You hushed and he caressed your chin a bit roughly, making you look at him.
"I know. I know pregnancy is hard on you, but your babygirl is not an excuse to not tend your husband's need, honey. You gotta do better. For me."
You nodded while he kissed your forehead and you got away to serve him his dinner.
"We can't have any more mishaps, can we?"
"I'll do it better, ok?"
He squeezed you against him, satisfied you'd acknowledged your mistakes.
"Good girl."
-----
As the pregnancy went on, so did Sam's moods wings. One minute he had all the hots for you, and when he was done, having his fun, he'd go back to his cold and rude self.
Any little mistake on your end was the perfect excuse for him to throw his harbored venom your way. If he didn't attack the apparent laziness, he'd go for how weak and pathetic you were only cause the baby.
And the more he pressed, the more you got tired of only nodding with a head down. And when you talked back, he only laughed and blamed your hormones for being such a drama queen.
You amused him, and your fight response even better. Yelling became the new thing in the Lawson's home. And each made sure to have a proper turn.
Until little Lily was born.
Things grew obnoxiously quiet for Sam as you were too focused on Lily to indulge his outbursts.
At least he was gentleman enough to keep it quiet, for a bit. But Sam needed that hatred, that yelling and anger to fuel him. So he found a new way to make sure you engaged into his baiting.
He'd make noise on purpose, waking you both and Lily, keeping you exhausted and at the verge of tears. You even begged him once to let you sleep, you couldn't allow another accident due to you being beyond tired.
The bag under your eyes were heavier, weight fluctuated, but even so, Lily remained your priority. And that pissed him to no end.
That in and out continued, stretching for a long long time, everyone around you kept warming you, but you always managed to spin the conversation around. Tired was always something that described you. Your parents grew concerned and the few friends that remained on your side only supported you and Lily
Sam always had an excuse to skip family reunions. But everyone knew that it was a matter of time things to go sour.
And when your final wake up call arrived, it was like a blindfold had been removed from you.
It wasn't the argue this time, neither the beat down he awaited for so long to deliver you, despite your protest and pleas for him to stop hitting you, but the fact Sam was targeting Lily as the new victim of his rage out of control. Only cause you refused sex to him.
Because of her, you never wanted to fuck with him like the old times, you were never in the mood for anything since she arrived. Would it all be better if she was gone?
Definitely.
His mind reasoned.
But before any more tragedies could happen in the day, the vase he always complained about silenced him as it crashed on his nape, knocking him out.
And it was enough time for you to pack up whatever thing you felt necessary, grabbed your two year old crying toddler, and ran away. Ran into the freedom of the night away from Sam's suffocating claws.
No bruise or pain in your body mattered. No scream or insult engraved in your brain by his commanding and absolute voice did. Sam didn't matter anymore.
"We'll be fine, sweetheart." A reassure to you and your toddler.
----
After sojourning through different shelters and housing programs and financial aids, you finally managed to land a proper job that eventually managed you to afford a car. As long as it was functional, in good conditions, and safe wise for Lily, you couldn't care less about the model.
Your baby was three now, and finally you had managed to get a lease in a place in the middle of Nueva York's city. Perfect to reach Lily's school and your work. Life was making sure to reward your suffering with a fresh start.
The new landlord, however was everything you expected a landlord to be. Quiet, reserved, perpetually busy, grumpy at times but surprisingly, gentle and careful with the kids in the building.
Thanks to Lily, and her need of running away in random moments for you to play with her, you had ran into his apartment, your baby giggled as she stumbled upon a curious and surprised looking Miguel in the doorway.
"My goodness, I'm so sorry! Lily, darling come! This is not playtime."
Miguel chuckled softly as your daughter hid behind him.
"I think your mother is right, princesita. Go to her."
"But she is no fun!" Lily pouted, "And she's always busy and tired to play with me."
Your cheeks flustered and your eyes blinked, truly not expecting for her to vent your personal occurrences, but also hurting for the tinge of disappointment in her voice.
Miguel picked her up, and your heart leaped nervously, ready to take the harsh and judging words for not being able to properly take care of your child, like everyone.
But they never came.
"I know it must be frustrating for you to not having mommy to play with you, corazón, but running into places like that is wrong. And quite dangerous. Something could happen to you, and mommy would be extremely sad and upset."
Lily nodded apologizing, as he delivered her back to you.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. O'Hara. It won't happen again."
"Don't worry about it. They're children."
"Say sorry to Mr. O'Hara for running without his permission into his home."
Your baby girl apologized, and after him reassuring it was fine, that she only needed to be careful, you returned to your apartment.
Miguel O'Hara or Mr. O'Hara for the other tenants, seemed a regular man, always up to something in the building and making sure everyone lived in perfect conditions. A place that most in the neighborhood wanted to live in.
Not only because of him and his gorgeous looks, but the actual quality of life the building had, despite being an old one.
If the sink was dripping, he made sure to see it as soon as possible. You found out that plumbing, wall repairing and other appliances were in his repertoire of knowledge, he was a multitasking man, that always waved your little girl of they met in the hall, no matter how busy he was.
The 'Hi, Mr. O'Hara!' echoed every morning through the halls along his 'Good morning, princesita.' and every evening when you returned from work and picking up Lily.
But besides your toddler interacting with him, there wasn't much reason for you to approach him. Matters of the heart were too recent and fragile to approach. Your heart had so much to do to glue back the pieces Samuel had made sure to break.
And he was always busy. Always with his head into something. Life however had these little moments that conceded you a hint of what ifs and what not.
Like Miguel helping you with the grocery bags that gave you trouble, Him making sure everything in your apartment worked properly, fixing a tire from your car and sharing a bit of his food, something that Lily rambled once to him. She told him about you praising the smell of his food from across the hall, and next thing you know, is him delivering a bowl of freshly made Tinga in your hands.
"Made a bit too much of it." He mumbled with a coy smile after greeting Lily with a smile.
He was good with the other kids, but with Lily he interacted the most. The other kids just greeted him and kept it to themselves.
Food sharing however, was only the start of something neither were aware of it brewing.
It all started with you, retrieving the favor with some baked goods, a flan. Something your daughter saw him eating a couple of times along a pack of coffee. He was always smelling like that fancy colombian package with extra roast. And a little Thank you note.
He replied with an envelope full of coupons from the supemarket on things you'd need, along a 'Saw these in my mail, I think they're more useful to you."
Cause in truth, what other concerns a single and childless man like him could have?
He realized you were a single mom cause of Lily. He noticed how she never mentioned her dad.
"Mommy doesn't like talking about him."
The girl said and it was enough for him to understand.
A couple of days later, you'd have him in the kitchen sink, looking through the pipes of the dishwasher. As it refused to work.
Miguel was patient, and explained what was wrong and pulled out a couple of toys in pieces that obstructed the blades.
Your cheeks were burning from the embarrassment, but he wasn't mad. He wasn't angry at your toddler for behaving like a child. Unlike Sam, that yelled whenever Lily cried.
"Don't you worry about it. It happens way too often than you think."
"Still, sorry, There's times when I just wanna come home and crash on bed. Work is a bit stressful and I just wanna do my best for her."
"Hey, relax." His hand caressed your arm gently, a brief yet soothing gesture that had your heart running leaps in your chest, "She's lucky to have you as a mom."
"You think? I felt terrible when she said I didn't have any time to play with her."
"She's too young to understand all what you must do for her, preciosa. Don't rack your brain about it."
"Thank you, Miguel." His words had been like a balm to your aching soul. None had actually had the decency to acknowledge everything you did for your kid, as they were all too busy judging. But not Miguel.
He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck nervously.
"I... I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place and have some dinner?"
"Oh?"
He gulped on your surprise, "It's alright if you don't. I think... fuck. I think that was too soon." He swallowed again, tensing.
You chuckled, "It's alright. I'll bring the dessert. And Lily if that's okay."
"It's perfect" He breathed, relieved, "She needs to keep me updated in this story on the beetle she saw in her classroom."
You laughed and his heart shuddered at the sound.
"Seems we both need an update on it."
----
"And it flew! It was buzzing and then landed on a flower outside."
"No way! Look at that, you fought the beetle! "
"Mommy says they help the flowers to grow. But everyone was scared and I fought it off!"
"Good job, princesa." Miguel chuckled as he served Lily her plate of food while you cut the flan in pieces.
The not so-date was fun and offered you a new perspective on eachother. And so the many others you had.
But life had been in a weird mood that pressed enough just to remind you, the dangers out there.
You had just came from a true date with Miguel as Lily was with her grandma. You really never lost contact with your parents, and when you grew quiet, they were concerned. But now that everything was going as smoothly as it could, the weekend visits were a must to make up for all the missing time.
You took the elevator first, to change into something more, sultry to match the night overall's mood. The soft caresses and lingering looks between Miguel and you were undeniable. And rightfully so, he had earned that spot into your heart, and what a better way to reward him with something you both died for to enjoy?
As you grabbed your keys and opened the door, a rough calloused hand grabbed you by your hair.
"Well, well.. Long time no see honey."
He pushed you in, but you budged, moving away from him yet his firm grip tightened.
"Let me go!"
Samuel had found you, after years of looking on his own. His beer breath wasn't news, yet the stench of it all made you retch and move away.
He slammed you against the wall and hovered over your trembling form.
"Where's Lily?!" he grabbed you by the collar of your dress and you spat his face.
"Fuck you!" A punch landed on your cheekbone, sending you to the floor, stunned.
"Do you know how long it took me to find you?! Where the fuck is my daughter!?"
He sat on your hips to ground you as his fist hovered over your face. No harm came however.
Strong and tanned hands pulled the paler guy away from you, like a ragdoll, growling as Miguel squashed him against the floor.
Samuel was no match for him, but the last thing you needed was more violence. Despite the anger consuming him, Miguel tossed Samuel off the stairs, earning him a pained groan from the man.
Your ex laid on the floor, unable to get up as Miguel dialed the police. Within matters of minutes, Samuel had been taken care of and took away.
You on the other hand, cried in Miguel's arms. Shaking and sobbing as the landlord himself tended your wounds, apprehension in his face.
How dared that man to touch you?, How dared that man to even think about hurting his own child? He was thankful Lily wasn't around, or Migue truly didn't know what he would be capable of.
You had explained everything to him. How it all started with Samuel, how everything changed and how you had to escape him in order to save Lily from a certain death.
To your little surprise, Sam had been escaping the law for a few years now. But that chapter in your life was now closed and tossed forever to a vault underground and threw the key somewhere you couldn't care less at the moment, nor later or ever.
"You're safe now, corazón." He cradled you against his chest, promising not a single harm would come to you now.
----
The two parallel lines in the pregnancy test finally showed up, announcing the start of a new life within you.
Moving in with Miguel in his apartment, was only one of the many perks that came in hand when dating him.
Your heart finally had the chance of opening and receive and give all that love you always dreamed of receiving again.
Miguel didn't lie, Miguel didn't treat you good because he wanted something out of you, he praised you whenever your efforts came to fruition, and was always pampering Lily, to the point of her calling him by accident dad a couple of times.
But he liked it. He loved the sound of that title in your daughter's life. Miguel was everything that was good in this world. Sure, he had a temper, but never lashed out on you or Lily. He never yelled or screamed, or bait you into a fighting game.
And it terrified you at first. You were so used to chaos that anything like calm and conflict resolution was something you had to learn if you wanted him to be at your side.
Therapy always worked and it helped you to improve all those pestering thoughts Samuel had planted on your mind.
Miguel had taken his sweet time into proving that you no longer had to fear for your life and Lily's. That you no longer had to scream to have your voice listened or that you had to fight in order to have something done.
You didn't have to be on survival and flight or fight mode.
And when you delivered the news to him? He showered your face in affection, praised you for making him the happiest man ever. Even thanked you for making one of his dreams come true.
-----
And when you found out another girl was on the way, you braced for impact.
At first, a deep part you thought that Miguel would act exactly like Samuel, and as much as it hurt you to think that way, some pains never truly left. They just remained dormant and buried away.
But again, nothing but love came your way. Miguel rambled to no end about the baby's room color, how Lily would be an amazing big sister and how she was also thrilled to have a sister.
He was excited. Not yelling. Miguel complimented your body changes and kissed your baby bump in every chance he had, not calling you a lazy fat ass.
He'd cook for you and even going to the extent of visiting the convenience store at wee hours of the night to have your cravings met, not telling you to shut the fuck up an let him sleep.
Miguel didn't allow you to stand too much time once your last trimester hit. He took charge of your home and kept it clean and comfortable for you, not insulting, yelling and accusing you for being exhausted and putting up excuses to have the house clean and his dinner ready.
Miguel was gentle and always praised you. He spent those times when you needed him buried into you, worshipping your body with such care and love before, during and after he was done pleasing you, not fucking the daylights out of you and leaving you to clean after yourself the mess he created, not caring at all if you were sore.
The sole idea of hitting you, terrified him, he confessed once, not amused him. Miguel didn't get off by taunting you with slurs like Sam did. He didn't had fun into competing for who screamed more before your voices gave out, like Sam did.
He accompanied you to every single doctor appointment and even bought you vitamins and supplements, not complained all the way home on how expensive everything was and how much you owed him for the appointment and medicines. If he bought you any.
Thank heavens Lily came perfectly healthy thanks to the vitamins your parents gave you.
And he definitely didn't hit you, dehumanized you and treated you poorly, like Samuel did.
You felt ashamed for even daring to do such comparison, but it was unavoidable. Not when everything you had know was chaos and this man offered you a complete opposite spectrum of a love you always dreamed off.
And when Gabriella was born, yours and his dream was finally complete. You got true and untampered love, and he got a family on his own, ready to show you the true meaning of such word.
#t writes✨#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#landlord! Miguel#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara fluff#miguel ohara angst
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From people you know, to people you don't
𝝙 Boyfriend!Yunho 𝝙
∞ Author: bvidzsoo
∞ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader
∞ Warning: cursing, blood, manhandling
∞ Word count: 3.6k
∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, lovers to exes to acquittances!au
∞ Summary: Yunho wasn't the same man you had once known. What he had turned into, you didn't know. But you did know one thing, you'd do anything to keep your daughter safe and away from him.
∞ A/N: Hello...we don't speak of this. I know I'm supposed to be writing my thesis and Love Me Like A Rockstar (and Beyond The Obscure), but my mind had been plagued with short drabbles for all of our boys so...yeah, I'm writing a mafia drabble for all of them, it seems like it:) Yunho is the first one to start off this new mini-series, and the next members will be posted randomly. I'm not starting a taglist for this one, sorry<3 (you'll have to lurk around) Feedback is much appreciated, I hope you enjoy!
𝝙 Listen to this before or while reading! ^^
∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥ Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥
It hadn’t always been like this. Yunho hadn’t always been like this. Five years ago when we had met, he was a sweetheart. He was attentive and the kindest man I have ever known, so loving and a safe place. He bought me flowers every third day and took us out on dates every Friday, all throughout those two years that we had been together for. But then…somehow the cracks in his character started showing. His smiles became less genuine and his once protective hold became possessive and painful. There was something about his eyes that didn’t hold any warmth anymore, just scary, icy coldness that kept you rooted to your spot, shaking and praying to a God that he wouldn’t pounce on you and do only God knows what to you. He became a predator ready to hunt his prey…even if his prey was me. The woman he had once claimed to love furiously and ardently, an emotion now turned into constant anger and hatred whenever he looked in my direction.
I have never truly understood what I have done wrong, but after a while, I stopped trying to understand. I stopped trying to decipher who Jeong Yunho truly was, and why he was the way he was. I stopped trying to make it work between us when I found out that a fragile life was growing inside of me. I wasn’t ready to become a mother at the fragile age of twenty-four, but I wasn’t capable of letting the baby go no matter how hard I tried to convince myself. Despite our quickly deteriorating relationship, that baby had been conceived with love, and I knew deep down Yunho was a good man, he had just lost his way in life. And I was scared of him and of whatever he was capable of after that fated night.
A storm was raging outside, lightning illuminating the night sky every few minutes, thunder shaking the ground. I had a bad feeling, a really bad one, as I gripped my warm mug tightly in my hands, staring out the window. Yunho was supposed to be home by now, hours ago, actually, but he wasn’t. And he wasn’t answering my calls nor my texts. A tightness seemed to grip at my throat, prohibiting me from drinking any tea furthermore. The crash of the front door made me jump out of my skin, heart racing as I hurried to the hallway, stopping in my tracks at the sight of my boyfriend. Except that he looked nothing like my boyfriend. Dripping wet from head to toe, black hair falling in his cold eyes menacingly, panting through his open mouth, something red tainting his white t-shirt and seemingly dripping down his forearm. The right sleeve of his leather jacket had been sliced open and I could see a red wound peeking through angrily. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to make sense of the situation, hands slightly trembling as Yunho’s eyes slowly drifted upwards, settling on my form. I had planned on telling him tonight that I was pregnant, that we were expecting a baby, but I wasn’t so enthusiastic about it anymore. I was…scared of the man standing in our hallway, in our, once, safe home.
“Yunho,” I whispered, trying to mask the fear in my voice, “what happened to you?”
Yunho said nothing as he kicked his shoes off, my body stiffening as I finally noticed what he held in his left hand. A knife. A knife coated in red. A bloody knife. My heart started racing as Yunho’s eyes never left my form as he advanced towards me, unknowingly backing me against the living room’s closed door, making me gasp. He smelled…like smoke and like iron, like blood. What had he done? Who was this man standing in front of me?
“I had to take care of some business.” My once beloved boyfriend’s voice was deep, eyes dead as he looked me all over the face, his jaw clenching, “Business you fucked up, apparently.”
“M—me?” I stuttered, avoiding eye contact when Yunho’s eyes sharply found mine. He chuckled, but it wasn’t amused, it sounded sarcastic and irritated.
“Yeah, you.” He hissed, closing the gap between our bodies, reflexively making me hold onto my tummy. I was too early on in the pregnancy to show, yet I was already oh so protective of my little fragile baby, “And it’s the last time this happens, understood?”
“I—I don’t understand—” I stilled when Yunho’s large palm caressed my cheek, just a remnant of how he once used to do it, “I don’t understand what I had done.”
“Of course, you don’t,” Yunho chuckled, sneering, “you are too dumb to understand. How about you change workplaces?”
“What?” I muttered confused, flinching when he gripped my jaw tightly, yanking me forward, “Why?”
“I wouldn’t want the police tracing back anything to me, you know?” Yunho mused, the look on his face anything like him. He looked almost crazed, he looked dangerous.
“Did you kill someone?” My voice was barely above a whisper as we stared into each other’s eyes, my heart almost beating out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe as Yunho remained silent, a small smile stretching onto his lips as if I had said something funny. But instead of an answer, he just pressed his damp lips against mine, almost making me jerk away from him. But he held me in a vice like grip and the door behind me stopped me from going anywhere. When I didn’t kiss back, he bit my bottom lip and forced my lips apart, pinning me against the door as his tongue slipped inside my mouth, bringing tears to my eyes.
Yunho wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with anymore. He was someone else, someone that resembled the devil and was capable of anything. And so I had realized I had to save myself and our baby before it was too late for the two of us, before Yunho did something horrible to us.
And after that night, I ran away without even as much as glancing back, without having any regrets. I was scared that he’d try to find me, but he never reached out. I left a note on the fridge, in the kitchen, saying that I couldn’t do this anymore and that I was breaking up with him, starting anew. I moved towns, somewhere far away from him, to a city that was filled with life and so many people that even if he looked in every nook and cranny he still wouldn’t be able to find us. Hyeri, our little daughter, and I, that is. Who will be turning three years old today. Life had been…quiet ever since I decided that Hyeri and I would do just fine on our own. Except for my mother, nobody knew where I had moved to. I was too scared that our mutual friends would tell Yunho about our whereabouts, therefore I broke contact with everyone from my old life.
Here, in the big city, I was cautious of who I allowed close to myself and to my daughter, but so far I was lucky enough to only meet genuine and lovely people. Hyeri seemed to like it here too, the little girl growing quicker than I could wrap my mind around it. Soon, she’d be going to daycare. Our day was long due to the little birthday party I had thrown for her, only inviting over my mother, my best friend and colleague from work, Hyeri’s two friends she met at the playground a year ago, and well, the landlord of my previous apartment whom I had become friends with soon after moving here. He was a funny and considerate man, always eager to help me out. My mother kept saying he had a harmless crush on me and that I should give him a chance, but I wasn’t ready to date yet, and besides…my mother somehow missed the fact that he was gay and happily in a relationship.
After having tucked Hyeri in and cleaned the house as best as I could once everyone left, I finally had a moment to myself as I went back to the kitchen and opened the highest cabinet I could reach to grab a glass and my favorite brand of wine. I settled at the table and popped the bottle open, pouring myself an acceptable amount of wine, relaxing into the chair as I placed one leg up on it, hooking my arm around it. I closed my eyes and savored the almost sweet taste of the wine, sighing quietly and being thankful that it was finally the weekend. I could forget for two days about the massive workload I had at my job, papers upon papers pilling up on my desk, a constant reminder of how overworked I was while being underpaid. But I suppose that’s just how things seem to work nowadays. I must be thankful that I make enough to provide for myself and my lovely Hyeri, still.
As I let my head fall forward and rest on my knee, a floorboard seemed to creak in the hallway. Did Hyeri have another nightmare? Or was just the house settling? I listened closely, but I haven’t heard Hyeri’s door opening, so it couldn’t have been her. Suddenly, the hairs on my arms stood and my body froze, sensing danger before I could even see it. I shoot up from the chair when I heard the floorboards creak again, and prayed to God that it was just my best friend coming back, having left something here. She had a key, after all, she was allowed to let herself in without announcing that she was coming. However, the tall and sturdy figure standing in my kitchen’s doorway made my heart drop to my stomach, hand clenching tightly around the glass of wine I was still holding onto for comfort.
Jeong Yunho.
But how—I had escaped him. Forever. I ran away, I did everything, I—my thoughts kicked into overdrive as I realized Hyeri was just a few doors down, sleeping in her bed, unassuming of the monster standing inside our home. I had to protect her. I just had to. Yunho could never know, he could take me, he could kill me, but he would never touch my Hyeri.
“Fancy little house,” Yunho’s voice was just as deep as three years ago, perhaps deeper now, as his eyes scouted the place, “looks like the dream house you always told me about.”
I gulped, unable to respond as Yunho pursed his cherry-red lips, stepping further inside the kitchen. Strangely, his shoes were missing and so was his jacket. Blue jeans clung to his long legs, a little baggy, and a grey sweater warmed his torso, some university’s name printed on the front of it, his silver rosary hanging over it. Yunho looked like—the man I had once loved. Like the dream guy I thought I was lucky to score. But I knew who he was, what he hid underneath that sheep mask of his. There was a wolf underneath, a dangerous predator waiting for you to lower your walls, to let him in, to be vulnerable.
“What are you doing here?” I found my voice at last, when his fingers touched the petals of the flowers I had placed in a vase, in the middle of the round table I had in my kitchen. Those were my favorite flowers; the same ones Yunho would always buy for me.
“I was passing through the city,” Yunho explained, smiling a little as he noticed a picture of my mother and I stamped onto the fridge, “thought I could stop by and say hi.”
“No.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as my heart did somersaults against my ribcage, “No, you can’t—you just broke in, Yunho! I’m calling the cops—”
“It’s not called breaking in when you have a key.” I all but blanched as he grabbed some keys out of his pocket and dangled them towards me. My blood froze over, body going numb. How did he have that? Just how?! “And the cops won’t be doing anything, my dear—”
“Don’t call me that,” I all but almost shouted, forgetting for a second that I had a little child in the house, “Don’t—you can’t be here, Yunho. You have to get out, right now.”
The friendliness slipped from his face as his eyes darkened, slowly walking around the table, coming closer. I backed away from him, trying to aim for the door, but before I could make a run for it, his hand had already wrapped around my arm, yanking my body into his. I gasped, his once familiar cologne wafting through my nose as Yunho’s dark eyes focused on my face, the same chocolate color as they used to be. But they were cold again, just like three years ago. He really wasn’t the man I had once loved.
“Oh, Y/N,” He sighed, leaning down and nuzzling his head against my neck, nose pressing into my skin, “I have missed you so much.”
I was shaking, frozen to the spot, trying to come up with an escape plan. I would have to go to the police, I needed help. How did he find me?!
“Get off.” I whispered, hands gripping his arms to the point my nails dug through his sweater, “Yunho, let go of me!”
Yunho groaned, pulling back to grab me by the nape as he lowered his head to be eye-level with me. I glared at him fiercely as I tried to wrestle myself out of his hold, but he grabbed my right arm and flushed it against himself, pinning my arm to his back.
“Did you think I wouldn’t be able to find you?” He sounded amused, yet his expression conveyed annoyance, “Did you think you could hide from me?”
My chest was rising and falling quickly as my glare bore into his eyes, his glare just as menacing as mine, “Did you think you could end things like that between us?”
“Yes.” I hissed, fed up by always feeling so small and scared of him, “I left you. There’s no us anymore and there’ll never be, Yunho. You’re a—criminal! You’re not the man I fell in love with, and I have nothing to do with you anymore.”
“That’s not how a relationship works, my dear, we take that decision together.” Yunho snapped, his perfectly calm mask finally slipping as he seethed, jaw tense and a fire in his eyes, “I am still the same man you fell in love with, I’m just not afraid to show all sides of myself to you anymore, Y/N.”
“You tricked me.”
“I didn’t.”
Silence fell around us as we both breathed through our mouths, breaths mingling as our faces were close to each other. My cheeks were slowly flushing from the adrenaline that was coursing through my bloodstream, ears ringing as I started feeling helpless. I had to get away, I needed to get Hyeri and flee this place.
“You would’ve ran away if you knew who I truly was so early on, Y/N.” Yunho sounded defeated as he averted his eyes to the floor, finally releasing my arm he had pinned to his back, instead cradling my face with both hands as he walked me backwards towards the table. I gasped as the back of my thighs hit the sturdy surface, and I held onto Yunho’s sides, trying not to fall backwards.
“Yet I still ran away, Yunho.” I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, “You scared me away. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“That’s a wish I can’t grant you, I’m sorry.” He licked his lips as his thumbs started caressing my cheeks, his chocolate brown eyes falling onto my lips. My heart seemed to stutter when he leaned closer, his eyes fluttering almost shut, and when he was mere centimeters away from my lips, he paused. I gulped, heart hammering in my chest as I gripped his wrists, his hold turning painful, “When were you going to tell me?”
It was merely a whisper, but with how close he was to me, I heard it crystal clear. I went rigid, suddenly fearing for my daughter’s and my own life again, “What are you talking about?”
When Yunho’s eyes shifted to the side, where the fridge was, and I followed with my own, I stopped breathing. We were both looking at the drawing made by Hyeri, a little girl standing in the middle, holding two women’s hands. Mine and my mother’s. They stood in front of a house, smiles on their faces and with a sun that was a little too big for the otherwise cute drawing. I have never felt dread up until that moment consume my whole being, and before I could stop myself, my eyes glassed over and I gripping onto the collar of Yunho’s sweater, trying to breathe regularly.
“Yunho, no—please—you can’t—”
“I can’t what?” He looked beyond furious, hands crushing my cheeks as a few tears rolled down the,, “She’s my daughter too.”
“No, please.” I tried not to sob, scared it would wake Hyeri, “You can’t—I—I won’t let you. You can’t hurt her. I won’t let you, Yunho, she’s mine—”
“She’s ours.” Yunho snapped, shaking me in the process, making me whimper as I grabbed onto his face.
“Please, Yunho, just leave—just leave us alone.” I begged him, flinching as he started wiping my tears away, almost with a fascinated look on his face.
“You were never going to tell me, right?” He asked in a whisper, suddenly looking very sad. My heart stilled and I felt bad, but then I had to remind myself that he had killed someone and that he had probably done so many worse things that I didn’t know about, and didn’t want to know about. I never truly knew who Jeong Yunho was, and I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t let him come back in our lives. He would ruin everything again.
“I—”
“Mommy?” Both Yunho and I froze, our eyes going wide before Yunho was letting me go, stepping back, looking shocked as his eyes quickly fell on his daughter. I quickly wiped my cheeks clear of tears and tried not to sniff as I turned to smile at our daughter, forcing myself to mask my distress.
“My love,” I chuckled, walking around the table to get to her, scared that Yunho would try to do something, “you’re awake?”
“Bad dream.” Hyeri whined as she rubbed at her eyes, giggling when I hastily picked her up. My heart was beating even faster than before as I tucked her head against my neck, shielding her view from Yunho, who was unresponsive as he stared at us wide eyed. I didn’t know how he’d react, and I was terrified. The resemblance between Hyeri and Yunho was unmistakable. She was an exact replica of Yunho with her round cheeks, freckles spreading around it, and pouty lips, even her eyes were the same light color as Yunho’s in the sunlight. Her temperament, too, was similar to Yunho’s. My daughter was a constant reminder of who I once used to love, yet I could never hold that against her. She was everything I have ever wished for, my light, my life.
When Yunho went to take a step towards us, I quickly backed away, walking out of the kitchen altogether, seemingly making him freeze. He gulped, eyes searching my face for something, but I was begging him to stay back and leave us alone. His hands balled up into fists at his side and I feared what would come next.
“Who is man?” Hyeri mumbled against my neck, peaking at Yunho with her eyebrows furrowed. Yunho and her shared a long look, and it broke my heart as Hyeri gave me an even more confused look than before, “Is he uncle?”
I could only hope she was too young to understand reality.
“No,” Hearing Yunho’s soft voice made me jump and caught Hyeri’s attention again, “just someone—who loves mommy and you.”
I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying in front of our daughter and instead forced a smile on my face as Hyeri looked at me wonderingly, “Really?”
“Yes.” I answered her, my own voice sounding unsure and shaky, “Let’s go to sleep while this man leaves, alright?”
“Mommy,” Hyeri mumbled, looking at Yunho again, eyebrows furrowing, “can man tuck me in?”
“What—” I whispered confused, looking at Yeri with furrowed eyebrows, “no, he—”
“Please.” But Yunho’s pleading voice full with regret shut me up quickly as he slowly approached us, very reluctantly reaching his hand out to pet Hyeri’s fluffy hair, “Please.”
And when Yunho’s eyes found mine again, I was alarmed to see the man I had once fallen in love with. Desperate, begging with everything he could, yet reluctant to reach out. Just who was Jeong Yunho?
“Just this once.” I whispered, arms tightening around Hyeri as Yunho’s face lit up, eyes clearing of the tears he was holding back.
“Thank you.” He’s never looked so grateful before, and my eyes widened when he pressed a swift kiss against my lips, making Hyeri giggle in my arms. And before I could interfere, Hyeri was making grabby hands at Yunho, smiling brightly as he carefully took her in his arms, cradling his daughter against his chest like it was his most prized possession. Yunho’s eyes shone like they were the sun and I stood frozen as he walked towards her bedroom, Hyeri muttering things to him that I couldn’t hear.
What was I going to do now?
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Consider, male secretary darling, summoned by accident to work in an office of demons ☝️🤑
Male secretary darling who starts off his new career as a jobless nobody down on his luck searching for whatever opportunity is handed to him. The ad that popped up in his email said it was a janitorial position. Pay was pretty decent too- Not much information beyond that and a phone number, but he's sure the finer details will be laid out once he makes the call.
"Jan-it-or? Ohhhh, yea we just put whatever on those ads so people will answer. You'd be surprised by how quickly your kind try to quit. What you'll be doing is far easier than whatever that is!"
"What is the job then?"
"Well, you already seem good at talking over the phone. Do you think you can manage a coffee machine?"
"I guess."
"And do you think you would good in a skirt?"
"....I guess?"
"Perfect! Then your employment begins....immediately. Happy to have you apart of the team!"
That was weird- Darling goes to hang up his phone only to find the four corners of his bedroom morphed into the walls of an office lobby. Fright and panic ensues, intensified by the unholy beasts sitting on either side of him. What appears to be a woman missing the top part of her head applies another coat of lipstick to her plump lips on his right- a lanky figure wrapped in medical bandages rehearsing its resume to a decapitated head in its many hands on his left-
This is all a dream?
" 'fraid not, fresh meat. You are one of few mortals to have the privilege to work here at our lucrative place of business. Us demons need some way to manage all the work we do up top with your kind. Our glorious boss came up with the idea for our company eons ago- Modern times call for modern changes and all that."
"Can. Can you explain the reason by the skirt thing you asked me about?"
"Company policy. Best to leave it at that."
The higher ups take an immediate liking to their new toy. For one thing, the fear wears off after his second day on the job. He really needs the money after and they can't be that much worse than his old colleagues. An additional bonus is how well he wears that skirt of his. The way it clings to his figure, how it rides up his thigh when he picks up something a coworker "accidentally" dropped on the floor. A soul with a body that appetizing was ripe for the picking-unfortunately company policy forbid them from striking a deal with their favorite mortal. Hardly any of them want to get rid of Darling with how willing to please he is- doing everything he can to fulfill their needs in a professional sense. If only that meant joining them or a date or allowing those with tails to sneak the appendage beneath his skirt during office hours.
Even the big boss himself has a soft spot for the new secretary- Dialing back his authoritive demeanor in favor of greeting the human with the gentleness he deserves.
(I'm rocking with this, y'all want more?)
#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere insert#yandere blurb#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere demon#yandere harem#secretary reader
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Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.
How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨
YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍
Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨
Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3
Wonderland
John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.
The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.
Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.
“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.
John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding.
“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,
"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"
"No, boss," was their quiet reply.
"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”
Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.
Vinson didn't say anything after that.
"Let's get outta here, Gaz."
"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.
He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.
John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.
He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month.
"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.
But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.
As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.
"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.
"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"
They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.
"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."
"Sure thing, boss."
Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.
"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"
"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.
John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside.
The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,
"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."
"I'm sure it will."
"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s.
Gaz cleared his throat,
"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."
It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.
"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.
The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found.
"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table.
"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.
Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,
"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."
The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.
"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."
"Yes, sir."
John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.
By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.
"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.
To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice.
"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.
He smirked,
"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."
"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly.
You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,
"Thanks."
You grunted in a minimal response.
"So, you're a chef?" He asked.
You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.
He back pedaled,
"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."
You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,
"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."
"Bill?"
"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."
He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,
"Well, I might be."
"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.
"I might be," he wouldn't give in.
"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."
You both laughed, but then, you sighed,
"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.
He couldn't have that.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."
You had the audacity to wink at him.
"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."
He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.
"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."
"You as well. You've never heard of me?"
"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."
"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”
“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”
He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,
“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”
A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was.
“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed.
“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”
John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor.
Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself.
“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”
“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”
Another smile, a little colder than the first,
“No, they don’t.”
“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.
“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.
As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?
You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you.
You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.
What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you.
So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant.
You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway.
Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland.
The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him.
The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse.
You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground.
You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body.
You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine.
A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched.
You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date.
Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.
“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him.
He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,
“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”
“But —”
“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”
Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily.
While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.
There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth.
John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.
What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?
Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike.
He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.
He sighed,
“What did you see?”
He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight.
You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.
“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words.
He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,
“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”
“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye.
“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”
You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest.
“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.”
You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.
When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again.
John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,
“What are you waitin’ on, love?”
A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will.
“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”
“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady.
His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin,
“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?”
He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband.
It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap.
Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions.
The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring.
Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.
His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal.
You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention.
“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”
You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest,
“No, I —”
“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”
His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.
Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth.
Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss.
Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you.
His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed.
When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath.
Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time.
That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex.
“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”
You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth.
He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth.
“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs.
You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time.
The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric.
Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.
The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh.
You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it.
“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below.
You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,
“John…”
That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped.
John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center.
You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in.
“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure.
“Holy shit,” you breathed.
“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise.
“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was.
He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,
“Alright, love?”
“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body.
“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum.
“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence.
You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed,
“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”
“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life.
You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar.
A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling.
“You alright, love?” He checked in on you.
He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus.
“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”
“You have work, or…” John looked confused.
You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.
“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”
Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.
You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.
You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again.
He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?
Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping.
John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,
“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”
“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…
“Hey! Now!”
He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below.
“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”
You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears.
“...to my car. Stay close to me.”
“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.
“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Okay.”
The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino.
He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away.
The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could.
“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.
“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car.
Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth.
John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively.
“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side.
Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers.
“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down.
“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase.
“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”
“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.
“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.
“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”
“Aye, good call,” John agreed.
Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries.
“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears.
“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”
“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.
“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”
You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.
#call of duty fanfic#cod mw2#cod mwii#captain john price#john price#cod#captain price#captain price x you#call of duty#captain price x reader#captain price smut#john price smut#captain johnathan price#john price x you#john price x reader#price x reader#captain price x female reader#captain john price x female reader#john price x female reader#x female reader#alternate universe#wonderland by the californicationist
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Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Four
pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader
rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, fem masturbation, things get very flirty for a second, reader deals with the aftermath of chapter three, brief mentions of SA (from chapter three), the story's getting good babies!!!
word count: 4.1k
series masterlist
“Make yourself comfortable,” Javier said, leading you into his office—not the one attached to the lecture hall that you’d been used to visiting this week, but his real office. The walls were a shade of walnut with crown molding around the ceiling, bringing a very sophisticated and gentlemanly feel to the space. In front of his large wooden desk were two leather armchairs that matched the same tan leather of the large sofa pressed against the wall closest to the door. Along two walls stood ceiling-high bookcases that were so crammed with texts that they’d begun to stack up.
“Fancy,” you noted, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched him unpack the contents of his leather messenger bag onto his desk; his laptop, then a portfolio, before finally pulling out his phone. A strange pang of jealousy laced with curiosity hit you. What secrets did that small rectangle hold? How many lovers did he have on speed dial? How many memories of his past were hidden away in his camera roll? You longed you know him half as well as that tiny device did.
“Yeah, it���s not too bad,” he smiled, sitting down in the large swivel chair at his desk with a humph.
“You, uh, you’re sure no one will snoop on us?” you asked, dragging your fingertip along the spines of the books as you studied them.
“Not at this hour,” he said, clearing his throat. “Although maybe it’s best if we weren’t completely alone.”
“I trust myself not to do something stupid.” You shrugged, shooting him a playful, almost taunting look from over your shoulder. “Do you?”
Javier bit lip, shaking his head at you before letting it hang, a breath of amusement escaping him. “I suppose we’ll see.”
You decided to leave it at that, not quite ready to test those waters given the events of the night. But one day—maybe tomorrow, maybe ten years from now—you’d like to see just how stupid he could be over you. “Guess I’ll just leave you to it, then.”
You could feel him watch you as you made your way to the couch, your skirt riding up as you sat down on the plush leather. You caught him staring as you tugged at the hem, but Javier quickly turned his eyes back to his screen the second you met his stare.
“There’s a blanket and pillows in the closet over there,” he said, clearing his throat for the millionth time tonight.
“Thanks,” you muttered, standing to walk over to the coat closet near the door. Unfortunately, the blanket and pillows were on the highest shelf, and even with your heels on you’d have to stretch to reach it. Given the fact that your ass was already threatening to make its debut, you decided to enlist the help of the man who put it that high in the first place. “Would you mind?”
“Oh,” he blurted, once again being caught staring. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“You’re fine,” you breathed out, your heart beating out of your chest as he strides towards you, his eyes locked on yours. Once he was close enough to warm you with his body heat and that whiskey-warm cologne of his, you stopped breathing altogether. Keeping his eyes locked on you as you stood beside him, he watched you watching him, watched the way you all but panted at the sight of his arms flexing, watched the want in you skyrocket into dangerous territory.
“Here,” he husked, his voice suddenly rough and heady as he held the basket out towards you.
Your eyes carefully trailed up his strong hands to his forearms, his chest to his neck, his lips to his eyes.
“Just gonna keep me waiting?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. No, there was no amusement to be found in those rain-soaked soil brown eyes, only a challenge.
But if he truly believed you’d be the first to act on whatever tension this was, he was sorely mistaken.
Grabbing the basket, you offered him a cordial smile. Teasing. Taunting. “Thanks, Professor.”
Javier nearly groaned at the title but caught himself, although the reigned in sound of pain still registered for you, bringing a proud smirk to your face as you turned to walk back to the couch.
Javier seemed to gather his wits, quickly turning back to his desk with a grind of his jaw.
“So what did you do before this?” You gestured at his desk, at the papers he was grading.
“Couple things,” he said, a sigh slipping from his lips as he sat down.
“Secretive,” you teased, biting your lip as you made yourself comfy across the couch. “Did you practice before you became a professor?”
“No,” he said, reclining in his chair as his eyes lifted to meet yours. “You’re not gonna stop asking until I tell you, are you?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
He laughed, soft and honey sweet. “Out of high school I worked at the Sheriff’s Department in Laredo.”
“That’s where you’re from?”
“Mmhm,” he nodded. “Got my bachelors in criminal justice while I was there, then I went for my PhD.”
“Then you came here?”
“No,” he replied, stroking his mustache in consideration. “I, uh, wanted to do more. Make a change and all that. So, at twenty-eight I decided to join the DEA. Did four years with them, then decided I’d seen enough death for a lifetime and came home. Helped my dad with the ranch for a year while I figured my shit out. Then I found myself here, telling nosy TA’s about my life.”
You smiled at his playful jab. “Was that plural? Should I be jealous?”
He laughed again, sighing as dramatically as he could. “You’ve gotta stop.”
“Sorry,” you said, not feeling sorry at all. In fact, it felt empowering knowing that you could have such an effect on a distinguished, intelligent, decent man like Javier.
The room fell silent for a few minutes, Javier’s typing and occasional sigh the only sounds to be heard. You stared up at the ceiling, tracing the lines of the wooden ceiling squares while trying to find any reason not to walk right over to his desk and present yourself as a midnight snack.
Of course, there were reasons. Good reasons, if you were being honest with yourself. Beyond the fact that Javier was your professor and that a relationship between the two of you, if discovered, would certainly end in an expulsion from the Law program, you weren’t sure who he was beyond the intoxicating persona he’s chosen to show you.
Was he just as bad as the rest of the men your age? Had he learned from his past and became a better man? A better partner?
Judging by the fact that you were, as he claimed, the first student he’d ever been interested in, you could at least say that he was a man who understood boundaries. But was that all it took? Had the bar truly gotten so low that all you asked for was a man who knew when to back off?
“Do you have a girlfriend?” you blurted, causing the typing sound filling the room to cease, a tense, pregnant silence taking its place. You turned your head to look at him, finding him already watching you with a quizzical look in his face. “Just…curious, I mean.”
“No,” he said your name, “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”
“Mm,” you hummed, turning back to the ceiling. “You a cheater or something? Workaholic, maybe?”
He chuckled. “Not a cheater, but maybe the second thing has a little to do with it.”
“So you don’t...sleep with—“
“Dangerous territory,” he warned, tutting his tongue.
“How am I supposed to decide whether or not I want to fuck you if I don’t know anything about you?” you asked, giving him a playful smile. Javier didn’t look amused. In fact, he looked near the end of his patience.
This made his next few words all the more shocking. “Guess you’ll have to figure that out on your own. Now, will you please sleep so I can focus on my work? You’re distracting enough without all your questions.”
“You’re really not going to do anything with me, are you?” you asked, turning so that your back was facing him. It was bad enough you felt the need to be so honest with him about your feelings, you didn’t need to look at him while you did it.
“Go to sleep,” he muttered, soft and full of care. “I’ll wake you up before the sun rises.”
Javier stayed true to his word, both the wake up call and his not touching you. At five in the morning, you let him escort you out of the administration building, both of you careful to keep an eye out for any potential witnesses to the very mild crime of having spent an eventless night together in his office.
“What’re you gonna do about the whole roommate situation?” he asked, covering up a yawn. Poor guy likely hadn’t slept all night, but thankfully it was the weekend. Plenty of time for him to rest and do whatever it was that he did with his free time. You just hoped those plans didn’t include some beautiful woman in his sheets.
“Don’t know,” you shrugged, tugging the blanket he allowed you to keep tighter around your shoulders as he walked you to his car. “Might try and get a place to myself. It’s about time. Lived with them for four years now.”
“Mm,” he nodded, opening the passenger door for you. You slid into the seat carefully, not wanting to flash him. Javier leaned against the open door, his tired eyes looking oh so boyish. “And for today?”
“Just gonna try and make it through,” you managed, feeling a lump form in your throat at the thought of running into Derrick. Or Alondra. Or even Nina, really. He studied you for a minute, so long that you wondered if perhaps he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open.
“You remember asking me if I trusted myself not to do something stupid?” You nodded. “How would you feel about spending the weekend in my guest room while you figure out a place to stay?”
Your lips parted, eyes bouncing between his own to find any sign that this was some cruel joke. But he was serious. That expectant look in his eyes the proof.
“You don’t have to, of course,” he added, looking down at his shoes. “But I could help you find a place. I have a friend who runs a complex near campus, she could get you set up before Monday if I sweet talk her enough.”
Great. Female friend of his in need of sweet talking. Just what you wanted to hear.
“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, jealousy turning you cold as you turned away from him.
“I didn’t mean—“
“It’s fine,” you snapped, shedding the blanket around your shoulders and tossing it in the backseat. “You can keep your blanket too.”
“Did I say something?”
“No,” you said. “Just…I’d like to go home.”
Javier took a beat to move, that time likely spent trying to figure out how your mood had shifted so quickly. He seemed to come up short as he gave in, shutting your door softly before making his way into the driver’s seat.
He didn’t speak the entire drive and neither did you. Instead, the soft lull of classical music played on the radio, cushioning the tension a bit. When he pulled into your complex, he finally dared a glance.
“What did I say?” he asked, a pleading tone to his voice. “Did I…make you uncomfortable? I didn’t mean to assume or overstep—“
“This female friend of yours sounds great,” you chided, giving him a forced smile as you opened the passenger door. “Maybe you should spend your time worrying about her.”
You didn’t give him time to respond as you made your exit, almost slamming the car door on your way out. You hurried into the building you’d called home for so long, suddenly feeling like a stranger there.
The feeling only worsened as you reached your floor, the sound of music and laughter filtering out from beneath the front door of your apartment. You weren’t sure what hurt more, losing this place and these people or knowing that they hadn’t even noticed you were gone.
But none of that mattered right now. You had to go inside, had to shower off the night, had to prepare yourself for a long weekend of apartment hunting and packing. You couldn’t cling to the good memories anymore, at least not the ones involving Derrick. And if Nina and Alondra decided they believed his story and not yours, well, then you’d have to find a way to forget them too.
You unlocked the door with a deep breath, kicking off your heels by the shoe rack as you tiptoed into the apartment. Nina and Alondra were having what looked like a dance party in the living room, but stopped dead in their tracks when they noticed your presence. Quickly, though, they looked over your shoulder into the kitchen. Derrick.
“Hey,” Nina started, her tone careful as she turned down the music. “We were worried about you.”
“Yeah, looks like it,” you said, forcing your tears to wait until you were alone to spill over.
“Hey, can we, uh, talk?” Derrick asked, his footsteps coming closer to where you stood. You tensed at his presence, his cologne only reminding you of last night. He dared to try and put his hand on your shoulder, causing you to step away from him with a glare. “C’mon,” Alondra pleaded, “he’s trying to apologize.”
“Apologize?” you snapped, turning your eyes to meet theirs. “Do you have any idea what he actually did, or are you guys happy believing his side of things?”
“It wasn’t like I fucking tried to do anything,” Derrick snapped, pacing the room like he had any right.
“Didn’t you?” You chuckled darkly. “Fuck you, Derrick.”
“He was drunk,” Alondra interjected.
“Being drunk doesn’t negate the fact that if he had it his way, he’d have done a lot more than grope me last night,” you said, eyes now brimming with tears. “But you guys don’t give a shit. Not when he pays for all the spring break trips and covers your ass when you can’t make rent. Not when he has connections you guys want. No, you’d rather side with a fucking creep than me because the only thing I have to offer you is friendship. So both of you can kindly fuck off as well.”
They called your name but you refused to turn around as you made your way into your room, locking the door once you were inside. Crumbling to the floor, you allowed yourself fifteen minutes to cry before it was time to get your shit together. Fifteen minutes to mourn the last four years of your life.
Finding the first shitty studio apartment in your budget that had a short-term lease in case shit ended up hitting the fan—again—was relatively easy. Moving out proved to be an entirely different obstacle.
Having only one day to pack your shit up and leave was hard enough, but having Alondra and Nina constantly chiming in with how unnecessary they found the whole ordeal made it unbearable.
“It’s literally not this deep,” Alondra said, carrying a box of your clothes down to the moving truck you’d rented for the day—even when you insisted she didn’t. “Like I don’t get it. Were you just looking for a reason to dip, because you could’ve just said that.”
You said nothing because she didn’t deserve the energy it would’ve taken to tell her to shut the fuck up.
“We love you, hermanita.” Nina pouted as she waited by the moving truck. “We just don’t get it.”
“I know,” you muttered, breezing past her to load the last of your things into the truck. With the metal door shut and locked, there was nothing else keeping you around, no reason to endure this special kind of torture. “I guess I’ll see you guys around.”
Nina whined your name. Alondra rolled her eyes. You didn’t give a shit about either reaction, choosing instead to lift yourself into the cab of the moving truck without another word.
Besides, what did you have to say to these women who chose to side with a manipulator like Derrick?
The first night in your own place was spent unpacking and trying to catch up on assignments. All those movies fooled you by glamorizing independence with their takeout boxes and solo dance parties in pajamas. The reality looked a bit more harsh. There were no takeout boxes, just an empty fridge and a half-eaten bag of chips to sustain you. There was no cathartic sing along in a matching set, just a concerning amount of sobbing in old tattered sweats.
Still, you couldn’t help but feel a silver lining of hope in the dark cloud that was your loneliness.
You’d never have to share a bathroom again or complain about the loud music your roommates insisted on waking you up to every morning. You were free to sob and to wear the ugliest—and comfiest—clothes you owned. You were free to fill your kitchen with food you liked without having to worry about taking up too much space. But most importantly, you were free to finally use that vibrator you’d bought for yourself sometime during Freshman year that you’d never had the courage to test out with three other people around.
And what better way to distract yourself than by making yourself feel good?
Slipping into the bed that you had disassembled, moved, and then reassembled all in the same day, you tugged the pink rabbit eared toy from beneath your pillow and turned it on, its soft purr filling the room. You bit your lip, shimmying out of your sweats before making yourself comfortable against the pillows. Taking a deep breath, you held it against your bud, testing the sensation and allowing yourself to acclimate to it as your mind conjured up a fantasy to whisk you off into.
Of course, there was only one fantasy floating around upstairs these days.
That beautiful man and his beautiful eyes peering up at you from between your thighs. This time you were seated on his desk, his strong hands holding your thighs open as he kissed his way along your inner thigh, teasing and sinful. A soft moan slipped from your lips as you imagined him placing a feather soft kiss to your clit, a playful smirk growing on his lips at the way your body shook with desperation.
“Fuck,” you moaned, imagining his tongue flattening along your seam, his deep groan vibrating against you.
Your thighs shook from the image, your end creeping on you faster than it ever had before. You imagined yourself burying your hands in his hair, holding him against your cunt as he took his time relishing in both your taste and your pleasure. And when fantasy Javier moved to slip his fingers inside of you, you saw stars. Throwing your arm over your mouth to drown out the sound of your choked moan, you came to the thought of your professor sucking your sweetness off his fingers, his dark eyes locked on yours.
Monday signaled the start of a new week, one that meant deadlines and quizzes rather than the simple assignments that your professors dealt out during the first week back. You navigated through your day without the irritating presence of Derrick following you around, though the fear of running into him surely hadn’t left you alone as much as the man himself did. But it still shocked you how little life seemed to change, how unaffected you were by the loss of your “friends”.
You’d expected there to be some longing for Nina and Alondra, some yearning to make amends just to have them back, but there wasn’t any. In fact, you’d been the most productive you’d ever been without their constant distractions. In between Dr. Brown and Dr. Arman’s lectures, you managed to complete a few of their assignments and finally start prepping for the Bar Exam—something you’d been putting off thanks to Nina convincing you you had plenty of time.
All that was left in the day was facing Javier—no, Dr. Peña. That’s who he had to be from here on out.
Finding a spot near the back of the room, you hoped to blend in with the crowd. Nina and Derrick were seated a few rows ahead of you, both of them taking calculated glances at you as the room slowly filled, though you pretended not to notice.
Dr. Peña’s arrival caused everyone to quiet down as usual, though you couldn’t help but notice he lacked his usual confidence.
Perhaps he was exhausted after spending the weekend inside of his female friend.
“Afternoon,” he said, dejected and monotone. “Today you’ll all be working on—“
You watched as he scanned the front row with a look of concern before doing the same with each row. You shrank in your seat, hoping that the six-foot-something guy in front of you was tall enough to shield you from his view. When it appeared that you’d gone undetected, Dr. Peña clearing his throat before picking up where he left off, you allowed yourself to relax a bit.
“I’m feeling a bit under the weather so I’m going to have you all complete the guided notes to today's presentation on Homicide,” he said, taking his seat at his desk. “Once you’re finished, please bring your papers up to the front and then you may leave.”
Fuck.
You thought you were in the clear, but no. Now you had to walk up to him, look him in the eye, and pretend you hadn’t gotten off to him the night before.
You were quick to finish the assignment, though it took you up until the end of class to finally muster the courage to take your paper down to him. With only ten or fifteen people left in their seats, you decided it was now or never. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder before braving the steps down to his level. He hadn’t looked up, not until you were standing in front his desk.
He spoke your name with a hint of shock, his tired eyes softening a bit as he looked up at you. “I didn’t see you earlier.”
“Mmhm,” you hummed, swallowing down your nerves as you held your paper out for him to take.
Except he didn’t.
“Are you alright?” he asked, keeping his voice hushed. “Did you…get everything sorted?”
“Yep,” you nodded, wagging the paper in front of him. “Will you take this so I can leave?”
“Would…would you mind coming to see me during my office hours?” he asked, finally taking the paper from you. “I’d just like to apologize.”
“You don’t have to.” You shrugged, giving him a forced, but polite, smile. “So if that’s all—“
“Office hours,” he repeated, this time with a bit more command than before. “Please.”
You considered him for a moment, but there was no chance of you turning him down. Not with those fucking forgive me puppy dog eyes. “I’ll think about it, Dr. Peña.”
He looked wounded by your formality, though what did he expect from you? He said nothing could happen between the two of you, and he was right.
He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by another student lining up behind you to turn in their paper. “I’ll see you at office hours.”
“Maybe,” you replied, forcing yourself into coldness as you breezed off and out of the hall.
There was one thing keeping you standing at this point, a pink, rabbit eared thing that carried the weight of your entire sanity. It beckoned you home—to your home. One you got all by yourself, one that offered you a safe place to break down if you needed it. And with the weekend you just had, boy did you need it.
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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 17
Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.
Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.
And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?
Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude
Chapter word count: 6.5k
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻
Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude arrive home to their respective families, and begin to face the realities of their separation.
Enjoy! 🖤
Chapter 16
You’ll be surprised to know that the odds of surviving a plane crash are pretty much in your favour; despite the fact I killed everyone off in this story except for our Delta hero and his heroine.
Around ninety-five point seven per cent in your favour to be precise. However, the doomed flight eight-sixteen defied those perky odds when the engine caught fire and the plane plummeted out of the sky and crash landed into the ocean, nose first.
The survival rate was hampered by several factors: the storm, the pilots being unable to regain control of the aircraft, and the fact that the plane hit the water at such a speed that it broke apart upon impact.
There were no other survivors; the plane’s black box was never found. A search party ensued of course as soon as the plane didn’t arrive at its intended destination, but the searches were only conducted in and around the immediate area where the plane was last spotted on radar. The point of its disappearance was just past the tip of South Africa, having been tumbling off course as it was crash landing, towards the Kerguelen Islands; a group of islands in French Southern and Antarctic lands.
The original destination for flight eight-sixteen was Madagascar - Jude’s choice for a sunny getaway and Frankie’s work taking him there for a fresh start. To relax and unwind and do some lemur spotting whilst getting over their respective break-ups and life kicking them in the mutual grits.
A distance of two thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles separates Madagascar and the Kerguelen Islands. And a distance of one thousand, three hundred and thirty-four miles from Cape Town on the tip of South Africa to the Prince Edward Islands.
The islands are for the most part uninhabited, except for a native colony of penguins. However to the north east of the islands, there are further tinier islands that are also uninhabited and isolated, and this is where our two survivors ultimately washed up.
The climate around the islands is predominantly warm with generous helpings of rain and it’s for this reason that Frankie and Jude were able to survive and collect water on a regular basis, although sometimes dangerously sparing. Sheer dumb luck in brute honesty, I mean, they could have crash landed anywhere, right?
Of course this knowledge now seems useless and pointless to them because every day on that island was a constant battle for survival and no amount of facts or ‘you were lucky you landed where you did’ spiel is going to change that harrowing thought.
The flight back home to The States was as anxious as they come. Stepping foot onto that plane was one of the bravest things they both had encountered and achieved. And the pair didn’t let go of each other’s hands at all, occasionally squeezing tight when the plane would dip or jolt from turbulence; their hearts trying to make a dash for it and their bowels equally bracing for carnage in their seats.
The flight from Cape Town to New York’s JFK was approximately twenty-one hours with a stop-over in Amsterdam for a re-fuel. They sat in business class, with that extra leg room for Frankie of course, and Jude marvelled at the space, courtesy of the US Embassy.
The luxury and the service came with a bright bleached smile, whilst Frankie admired and watched Jude as though she were a caged animal being let loose for the first time.
They had no physical luggage aside from a tiny carry-on with a spare pair of clothes each, their phone chargers and a small amount of cash that Benny had wired Frankie through the help of a local bank; other than that, they just had their new passports, out of date iPhones and each other.
Jake had arranged for a security escort to meet them at the airport and to drive them to their Air Bn’b in the city, close enough to Jude’s parent’s house.
They eventually dozed off together, Jude’s head resting on Frankie’s bony shoulder and his head on top of hers, clutching tightly onto one another’s hand still, even in their drowsy state.
The plane touched down at JFK and it was raining out; a grey sky greeted them, seemingly following them home from the island, and despite it, it was good to be finally on firm ground that wasn’t sand.
They waited to exit the plane under instruction from their escort, after the flurry of the other passengers who paid no mind to them at all, and in no real rush to face the inevitable - Jude’s stomach was already in knots.
They went through border control, handing over their passports for inspection and scrutiny with Frankie taking his cap off to reveal his long, overgrown locks to the officer.
They both were in dire need of a haircut amongst other things, but Frankie was kinda rocking this shaggy grown out look and even attempted a man bun.
“You look like a pretentious dick, take it out,” Jude had said to him, laughing, when he modelled it for her back in the hotel room in Cape Town.
“It was the look I was going for.” He’d mused to her.
Just outside the arrivals hall on the other side of passport control, an officer is holding up a plaque with Frankie’s last name printed over it, and they both approach them cautiously.
“Captain Morales, I presume?” The officer enquires. He’s flanked by several other border patrol and burly military officers, and their escort from the consulate in Cape Town hands over their documents.
“Just Frankie,” Frankie greets as the man offers his hand to shake it.
“We’re here to escort you both through arrivals and get you home. It’s a little crazy out there. Everyone is glad you’re both home safely.”
Jude can hear the ruckus already - an animated fracas of chatter and excitement. The sounds of camera shutters are already going off and flashes of lights pulse down the entrance hall.
“You ready?” Frankie asks her, tightening his grip on her hand.
She smiles. “No.”
Frankie takes his cap off and places it on her head, pulling the visor down over her face.
The officers flank them in an arrowhead formation, closing the gaps on the sides whilst two officers head up the front.
“Just keep your head down, hermosa,” Frankie says, and squeezes her hand. “It’ll soon be over.”
They begin to walk in unison and it’s like they’re walking in beat to the rhythm of her heart, slowly getting faster and faster as they break through the automatic doors into arrivals and into a deluge of carnage.
The crowds start clapping and cheering. The terminal is a whirlwind of noise and motion, a stark contrast to the quiet isolation of the island.
“FRANCISCO! JUDE! OVER HERE! FRANCISCO!”
The crowds are cordoned off with barriers and police officers lining the route. A plethora of journalists and paparazzi flank them, following through the crowds, and a glitter of flashing lights blind them both as they push on forward with the military officers surrounding them.
“Francisco, how do you feel about being rescued?”
“What's the first thing you’re going to do now you’re back?”
The questions come rapid fire and are yelled through the gaps of the officers, each one more intrusive than the last.
“How did you become a couple?”
“Do you have anything to say about the Airline? Are you going to sue?”
Frankie tightens his grip on Jude’s hand, drawing strength from their connection. He can feel her trembling, and he knows she’s just as overwhelmed as he is.
The cacophony is deafening and Jude feels Frankie squeeze back onto her hand tightly before he pulls her inwards, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and she buries her face into his armpit and squeezes her eyes closed, wishing it was over.
“Keep moving,” one of the soldiers instructs, his voice firm but reassuring. “We’ve got you covered.”
They push through the throng, the military personnel forming a protective barrier around them. The crowd is relentless, cameras flashing in their faces, microphones thrust forward in the hope of catching a soundbite.
Frankie tries to keep his focus ahead, his hand pressed up against the shoulder of one of the army guys so as not to get separated, but the sheer volume of attention is staggering.
“How does it feel to be back on American soil?”
“What was the hardest part of your ordeal?”
“Can you tell us what you remember about the crash?”
The noise seems to die out a little as they exit the terminal and are practically manhandled into a large car with tinted windows, which speeds off as soon as the doors are slammed shut. Jude clocks a few wayward journalists taking photos of the car and running after it.
The car heads out of the airport, picking up speed as it hits the freeway and she finally breathes.
“You guys okay back there?” The soldier who greeted them turns in the front passenger seat to face them.
They both nod with eyes wide and frightened.
“You okay?” Frankie asks her, still moulded tightly under his arm.
“Yeah. Just a little overwhelmed. That was insane!” Jude whispers back to him.
“Yeah, fuckin’ crazy…” Frankie murmurs.
They’re dropped off with their documents and the soldier informs them he’ll be back tomorrow to escort Frankie to the airport and drop Jude at her parents.
Once inside the safe confines of the Air Bn’b, which is a little apartment, with a double bed and bath tub big enough for them both, they both sit back in the hot bubbly water as Frankie cradles Jude against his chest after washing her hair and listening to her humming and singing her favourite songs. He automatically braids it and she smiles at him over her shoulder.
“Habit,” he replies as she runs her hand down the tight weaves of the braid. He leans forward and kisses her shoulder.
After making a small meal, which they barely manage to eat, they lay in bed together, their limbs knotted and entwined as they kiss and touch and stain their skin with one another.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” Jude says to him as the room darkens around them.
“I won’t stay away long.” Frankie confirms.
“Take as much time as you need. Your family will want to spend time with you.”
“It’s gonna be weird not waking up with you in my arms.” Frankie admits after a while of lying there with her and feeling her warm body against his. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.
“I know. We’ve not spent a day apart for over a whole year.”
He nods against her head, his chin butting it slightly. “Mm,” he agrees.
“Will you call me when you land?”
“Of course. I’ll call you every day, at least five hundred times.” He smirks into her hair.
“Maybe not five hundred… four hundred and ninety-nine will do just fine.” Jude giggles.
They both laugh and he pulls her closer, breathing out through a stretch and a yawn.
“Are you sleepy?” She asks him.
“A little.” He replies through a small sigh. “Been a long day.”
She kisses his forehead delicately, resting against his head as he shuts his eyes.
Frankie opens them momentarily and strokes her face. “Do you have bad dreams?”
“About the island?” Jude asks him.
“Yeah.” He admits timidly.
She nods. “I used to have this nightmare while we were there, that a helicopter came and rescued you, but it left me behind. I could see you flying off in the distance and waving at me. I was running so fast but then you disappeared.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Frankie reaffirms to her.
“I know. It was just a bad dream, right?”
“Right.” He says. His breath smells sweet in her face, scented from the mint of his toothpaste. “I’m coming right back to you, okay?” He promises.
“I know.” Jude says. “Get some sleep, you’ve got another flight again tomorrow.”
He kisses her gently. “Duerme bien, sin pesadillas, hermosa.” (Sleep well, no nightmares, beautiful)
His fingers dance upon her bare skin in the early morning fuzz of the light, and every single touch, even the lightest of touches, makes Jude’s body convulse and react in a way that she never thought possible.
Her body is communicating with him, becoming fluent in his language whilst receiving every part of Frankie that he offers so freely.
His big hands engulf her body, sweeping across the surface of her warm skin and soothing her. Frankie kisses her lips and down her chin, sucking on it before he sweeps under her jaw towards her collarbone.
Licking her nipple and awakening it from a swollen, puffy areola in the warmth of a new day being born across the Big Apple, that flows in from the open window, she hums out deliciously as she stretches around him. He pulls it further into his mouth as her back arches, enjoying the feel of his wet tongue running over it and leaving cool, wet tracks.
“Mmm...” She whines softly into the air with her eyes closed.
Frankie nips it gently making her squeal. He smiles around the hardening bud as he smooches on it gently, carrying on his journey down her body.
His unruly curls tickle against her skin, long and feeling coarse and wiry from being dried out by saltwater and constant sun exposure. Jude runs her hand through it, sweeping it out of the way so she can see those lips and the disruption they cause.
He kisses down her stomach, hooking his fingers into the elastic of her panties and pulls them down over her hips. Frankie has her spread with his whopping hands separating her thighs and pushing them up as makes out with her pussy. Kissing and dipping his adept tongue into her wet folds to taste her as he goes. The clicks of his kisses sounding out are all around her as the flicks and darts of his tongue delve deeper each time he licks her out.
Jude reaches down, raking her fingers through his locks as he looks up at her - those piercing, dark eyes swirling with infecting poison; his lips mashing against her cunt and his tongue flicking over her clit as he sucks around it.
His fingers massage the inner meat of her thighs, gripping and rubbing as he feasts on her, making her body squirm as the tingly pressure on her clit mounts.
“Frankie...” She gasps out as his delicious gnawing begins to intensify and make her toes curl.
She scratches harder at the back of his skull, him grunting into her at the feel of it - those fingers twisting around his hair and tugging as they become knotted in his scalp, sending prickles flooding down his back.
His cock is rock hard, being crushed between his body and the mattress as Jude writhes against his face. He sucks her fleshy lips, popping and squelching out of his greedy mouth before he’ll lick them up again and suckle some more, unable to get enough of her.
“Oh fuck!” She sighs out, her eyes closed and tumbling.
She gyrates her hips around, rocking against his tongue to get the best of him, feeling that pulsing and glitter begin to blind her vision.
“Mmm, don’t stop.” She writhes more intensely now, hearing his gasps around her folds as her legs twitch and her thighs shake uncontrollably. Tasting those wet, fleshy ribbons as he licks up and down, up and down on a repeating cycle that makes her soar.
Her gasps are getting louder, her back arching higher in a dangerous contorted curve as she pants and groans, fisting inside of his hair ferociously that she could almost tear it out.
Her body shakes, rippling as she cries out, reaching down with scrambled, frantic hands and gripping onto his arms as the veins in her neck strain, her eyes roll into the back of her head and her pussy contracts and explodes all over his mouth.
“FRANKIE!”
Frankie sucks harder on her clit, pinching it between his teeth deliberately as she bucks and pulses; her head thrown back into the pillows, the room feeling like it’s spinning faster around her.
She’s out of breath as he licks up and down, planting kisses and his lips knock against her clit, buzzing and making her thighs jolt from the shock of the sensitivity that now crowns it.
He smooches against it delicately, looking up at her and holding her eyes. He kisses the inside of her thigh, nuzzling into it.
Jude beckons him to her and like a slave to his heart and cock alike, he willingly follows. He slowly begins to crawl up her body towards her face. His cock sweeps against the inside of her apex and he’s solid and heavy against it. Precum smears across her skin and feels cooling in the morning breeze.
He leans over her on his arms as he pushes his hips into hers, slipping comfortably inside of her wet, slick hole again as she gasps out for him, her head lifting off the pillow to meet his plush inviting lips.
The island has stripped everything superficial, leaving only raw unfiltered connection, this bond that can’t be broken. Every glance, every touch speaks volumes of shared pain, survival and resilience. It isn't just about love, it's about understanding. They had seen each other at their lowest, held each other through heart-wrenching despair and found strength in their unity.
Words are often unnecessary now; a simple look can convey the deepest of emotions. Her hand slips into his, fingers interlacing with a familiarity that feels ancient, as if they've known each other for lifetimes.
His hand swoops around the back of her head and holds her, keeping her close to him as Frankie slides in and out of her, working up a tantalising rhythm that makes his lips part, his breath coating her face. Deep, indomitable strokes make Jude feel every inch of him - make her remember him.
Frankie curls his fingers around her throat gently, stroking the skin there with his thumb and feeling her groans vibrate against his palm as he kisses down the side of her face, a slew of kisses planted under her jawline.
He flashes back to the countless nights when the fear and hope had danced on the edge of their consciousness, where dreams of rescue seemed distant and elusive. It was during those moments their connection had solidified, becoming an unbreakable anchor in a sea of uncertainty. She was always there, holding him up; her eyes reflecting the hues of the setting sun and sparkling off the ocean waves at him.
He feels it, feels the emotion surge over him and he buries his face into her neck, squeezing away the tears as he scrunches his eyes shut. Frankie can feel her legs tightening around his waist, hanging onto him and taking him so deep into her.
“We made it, I love you. We made it… I love you.” She chants through her gasps and cries.
His head lolls a little, like he can’t handle it any more. His body feeling weak and out of breath and losing his stamina fast. Gasping so hard his throat runs dry and no noise will flow out of it anymore; just those inhaled croaked whispers of oxygen steaming past his teeth.
Jude whimpers as he presses his forehead against hers, his hips still bucking into her deeply; the slick feel of his cock sliding in and out of her with ease, her walls contracting and tightening around him. Gasping out loudly in unified melodies as they swallow each kiss, panting as their bodies slide across one another’s.
“Come for me,” she hears him grunt through his gasps as the slapping of his cock inside her soaked pussy relentlessly hammers.
Squeezing into his skin with her fingers as her body trembles and shakes, she releases, feeling wondrously dizzy.
Frankie slows, winding his hips into her so she can feel him deeply. They stare into one another’s eyes, holding that gaze as they pant and soar together. He cradles her closer to him as he kisses her, feeling how good she feels around him. She squeezes and her body aches, aches for him to never stop.
Her hands are in his hair again, scratching around his scalp and making his head tingle and pulse.
“I love you,” Jude whispers to him and he groans out in response, his body starts to fly.
“I love you, hermosa,” Frankie replies as he mashes his lips to hers and grunts out in a deep, husked whine as he comes deeply inside her, his cock twitching and seeing stars behind his eyelids as she cradles him in her arms.
“We made it.” He pants.
“We made it.” She sighs.
As soon as she knocks on the door, Jude’s engulfed by her parents who won’t let her go out of their strangling grip.
Her mother clutches hold of her as if she might disappear again and her father’s tears betray his own usually composed exterior. The three of them cry all over each other, for what seems like hours on the porch, as Frankie hovers awkwardly until he’s dragged into the throes of it.
He’s plied with copious amounts of coffee, feeling sick to his stomach, whilst they listen horrified and aghast at their tales of sheer grit on the island.
They don’t divulge too much, but it’s enough to render her mother to tears again and her father to shake Frankie’s hand for saving his daughter.
“Actually, she saved me. She’s got bigger balls than I do.” Frankie chuckles, and her father pats him on the back approvingly.
“I like him,” her father says to Jude approvingly.
But hovering over the reunion is the agonising moment when Frankie and Jude will have to part and it's in the looks they give one another as her parents talk and engage with them. It’s in the sinking feeling in Frankie’s gut and the acrid taste at the back of Jude’s throat.
Watching him pull away in the car, waving to her through the window with that giant palm, is like her heart has been ripped out of her chest.
His departure, even if only temporary, leaves a hollow ache. An unsettling thought creeping in about how she can navigate being here without him. She knows she can't.
They had been inseparable for so long, facing every challenge together and now they had to do this one alone. She tries to offer him a smile with her wave, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and she can barely hold on. She wraps her arms around herself trying to stave off the chill despite it being a warm day. Without him, the world is bleak and cold and scary.
Her mother comforts her as best as she can when Jude bursts into tears as the car disappears around the bend in the road at the bottom of the street, but all she does is retreat to her old room that has been left untouched and climbs into bed, crying until she falls into a stunted sleep.
The thought of him being mere inches away from her, let alone nearly a seventeen hour drive away in Florida, is shattering. The absence of Frankie is already felt the moment he’d let go of her hand and she would have given anything at that point to be back with him and in his arms.
Frankie’s flight back to Florida was delayed by a few hours, in a typical prolonged agony. You’d think as the writer of this tale I’d give the poor guy a break, right?
When it touches down eventually at Pensacola International Airport, there is no wild fracas to greet him like at JFK. It’s hauntingly quiet, no journalists, and leaves Frankie on edge a little as he stalks through arrivals on alert. Benny meets him in the terminal.
The sight of his old friend and comrade brings a flood of emotions. Benny’s face breaks into a wide, stupid grin, his arms opening out.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe it, you son of a bitch!” Benny hollers, his voice choked with happiness and relief, as he hugs the fuck out of Frankie, and for a while doesn’t let go.
Frankie smiles ghostly back at him with pink, chapped lips and tired, droopy eyes.
“C’mon, let’s get you home, Fish.”
On the ride back to Benny's place, Frankie’s quiet, contemplative and staring out the window at the familiar surroundings of Pensacola. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the city, highlighting the palms swaying gently in the breeze.
They pass by the old coffee shop where he and Eddie used to go after the NA meetings and talk about his feelings and cravings. It still has the same faded awning and the neon “open” sign flickering in the window. Frankie can almost taste the bitter, cheap coffee and hear Eddie’s encouraging words again, but the memories feel like they belong to someone else.
“You okay, man?” Benny asks him as he winds his hand round the steering wheel, eyeing Frankie carefully. The car turns into a familiar residential street and he realises Benny still has the same apartment.
“Just weird, you know?” Frankie says, squinting in the sunlight through the window.
“Yeah. You came back from the fuckin’ dead. If that isn’t weird I don’t know what the fuck is, right?” Benny says with a smile draped in disbelief.
In some ways it’s like he had died on that island. Frankie knows a piece of him is still there, still trapped and unable to escape; his feet lodged in the sand that refuses to let go, and without Jude here beside him, he’s daunted at the prospect of truly living again.
A weird feeling considering, before the island, he'd felt dead in some ways too.
Benny explained that he had immediately called all Frankie’s family to inform them all that Frankie was very much alive and well, and was coming home. They had all cried, celebrated and struggled to wrap their heads around it of course, with so many unanswered questions at how he managed to defy all the odds.
“What happened to my apartment in the end?” Frankie queries.
They pull up at a stoplight, and Frankie’s gaze settles on a group of teenagers hanging out in front of the convenience store. They look so young and full of life and potential, even if they aren’t doing anything with it. He remembers being that age, full of dreams and plans to join the military and make something of himself. Now, after everything, those dreams feel so naive and distant.
Benny scratches over his head. “It was sold. We thought you... Well, you know.”
Frankie nods and bites down on his lip.
“You can stay here with me until you find somewhere else. I got you a pull out cot.”
“What about my stuff?”
“Maybe your parents kept some of it, I dunno. The rest is gone, man. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Frankie replies. “It makes sense.”
“You thought about what you’ll need to do, call the bank, shit like that?” Benny asks him. They drive down a quieter neighbourhood, the sidewalk packed full of parked cars.
“Yeah. I’ll do it this week, maybe tomorrow.” Frankie shrugs.
Benny nods, turning the car onto the driveway and he kills the engine. “I got you, Fish. Anything you need.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Frankie smiles.
As Benny leads Frankie up to the door, he feels a weariness settle over him. All he wants to do is find a quiet corner and sleep, to escape the overwhelming swirl of emotions and noise. The journey home, the media attention, the fact that he's left Jude in New York without him, is all too much.
But as they step inside, all those thoughts of sleep are immediately squashed as a cacophony of voices yell out in surprise and greet him.
Faces from his family and friends all blur as they mingle and crowd him, the sound echoing off the walls of sobs and sighs of relief. Pats on the back, hugs into full bosoms. Benny looks a little sheepishly at Frankie and shrugs.
“They all wanted to be here,” he simply says, and Frankie can’t summon the strength to be mad at him for it, he’s just too exhausted.
So he allows himself to be passed around, gripping everyone tight in his arms. Banners and balloons are floating around and the apartment, cramped and small as it is, is filled to the brim with cheers, laughter and the smell of freshly baked food.
He spots Will and freezes. The two men stand facing one another for a moment, the weight of everything they’ve been through during the worst of Frankie’s addiction hanging between them. Then Will steps forward, pulling Frankie into a tight hug and he sags against his friend.
“It’s good to see you, Fish.” Will says into his shoulder. “You look like shit, but it’s damn good to see you.”
He stands there stunned. Frankie hadn’t expected this and although he’s pleased and relieved to see everyone too, he’s not sure if he can handle it all right now.
He looks around the room and at what feels like millions of pairs of enquiring eyes swarming him, lips moving with questions that are repeated and he doesn't hear them all, not fully. It goes on like this for what feels like hours; a tidal wave of gushed hugs, strong drinks being passed around the room in celebration of Frankie’s arrival home and tears from almost everyone.
Phones are ringing off the hook with relatives, friends and well-wishers all keen to speak to him that can't be there, and pass on their love and support. Being pulled this way and that into their arms and shoulders.
He feels like a bumper car, wandering aimlessly around the apartment, bashing into everyone who he comes across, and being pulled into conversations that are on a continual loop about how he managed to survive on the island and come home to them all.
The repetitiveness is exhausting him and overwhelming him in equal measure; it’s akin to being thrust into a plethora of screams and screeches, a black hole of braying deafening pitches, each desperate to reach out and touch him. To tug him here, there and everywhere and to get a piece of him, no matter how small or miniscule.
Around nine PM, Benny clocks the anxious look blooming on Frankie’s face crammed into the furthest end of the couch and seeming incredibly small inside it.
“You alright?” Benny asks him as he spots Frankie leaning on the sink in the kitchen with his eyes closed a few minutes later.
“Just tired,” Frankie replies. "It's a lot."
“Yeah. I get it. Everyone’s amped. Maybe it was a bit much having everyone here at once.” He admits.
“No, it’s cool. I wanted to see ’em. I’ve fuckin’ missed ‘em all.” Although it may have been better in small, contained doses - his head is hammering. “Thanks, man.” Frankie replies, stifling a yawn from escaping with the back of his hand.
“You going to call her?” Benny asks, as he notices Frankie checking his phone again.
Frankie nods and clears his throat, blushing.
“What’s she like?” Benny asks.
“Fuckin’ amazing,” Frankie replies looking at him with sincere, watery eyes. “If she hadn't been there, I’d be dead for real.”
“What are you fuckin’ talking to me for then, call her.” Benny says and claps Frankie so hard on the back it winds him a little with the force. “I’ll get everyone going. You look like you might crash.”
He smiles as Benny heads off into the lounge and Frankie lets himself out of the back door into the small, overgrown garden. He dials Jude’s number and it rings a few times before she answers.
“Hey you,” comes her voice down the phone. It sounds relieved and he feels like he finally breathes for the first time since he left her.
“Hi, how are you?” Frankie asks, smiling as he speaks. “I’m sorry. I’m not interrupting you, am I?”
“Don’t ever say sorry for calling me,” Jude says, and he can hear her smiling. “You okay, you sound tired?”
“Yeah, I arrived to a surprise party. Wasn't expecting that. Everyone’s here.”
“I bet that’s nice.”
“Yeah… yeah.” He scratches at the back of his head.
“Or not?” Jude queries and he smiles at how well she can read him, even without seeing him.
“Just a bit much to take in. Tiring, but great.” He says.
They’re quiet on the phone and both laugh at the same time.
“I fuckin’ miss you,” Frankie says to her, the ache in his voice palpable.
“I wish you were here right now, I can’t sleep without you.”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna sleep much either.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” She enquires.
“I gotta go see my lawyer, talk to the bank, convince them I’m not dead so they give me my money back,” he chuckles.
“Yeah, me too. Fucking sucks dying, right?”
“I need a haircut.” Frankie chirps, running his hand through his long tresses that are down to his shoulders.
“Oh, me too. But, I’m going to miss your mop head.” She muses.
“I’m going to miss braiding your hair.”
“I won’t get it cut too short then.”
“Good,” he replies smiling as he wanders around the garden. He slings his free hand into his pocket.
There’s another silence between them.
“I want you here with me,” Frankie admits to her.
“I wish I was so badly right now.”
“I’m tempted to fly back to you.” Frankie admits, already trying to work it out in his head.
“I know, but your family needs you. And so does mine for a little bit.” She explains. “My mom is a mess.”
“Yeah,” Frankie replies, his back sagging a little.
“Have you watched the news yet?”
“No.”
“We’re on it. They got us at the airport.” Jude explains. “The news just keeps showing it over and over… feels really surreal.”
“Figures. They’ll wanna talk to us at some point.” Frankie explains, sniffing in deep.
“I know.” The tone in her voice is flat.
“We can wait, okay? Do it when we’re ready.”
“I just wanna kiss you right now.” Jude whines.
“Fuck, Jude. Stop it, or I will get on that fuckin’ plane.” Frankie warns, feeling the ache inside his gut and loins alike.
“I need you, Frankie. I’ll always need you. You know that right?”
Frankie smiles as he stops walking around the garden. “I love you,” he says to her down the phone.
“I love you, more.” She says to him and he chuckles.
“Don’t fight me on this.” He smirks.
His name is called from somewhere in the house.
“I gotta go.”
“Go back to your family.”
“Call you tomorrow?”
“Can’t wait.” Jude smiles down the phone.
“Fish!” his voice is called again, and after hanging up and taking a calming deep breath, Frankie wanders back inside. He searches for the voice calling him and is met with a concerned look on Benny’s face.
“I didn’t know she was coming, man.”
Frankie spots Will, nursing a beer and laughing at something a woman who stands beside him says. She drops her wrist from his shoulder and the whole room goes silent except for the familiar tinny jangle of bracelets that have always adorned her wrist.
He watches in slow motion as Carla’s eyes land on him, widening a little and a small smile turns her lips upwards at him. A wave of her palm and then she’s walking over to him, and Frankie’s rooted to the spot. Unable to move or hear anything except the clattering beats of his blood pulsing in his ears.
“Frankie,” she murmurs softly.
He simply nods at her and tries to force a smile he knows he should give her. There was a time he smiled for her a lot. He remembers the early days, the memories stuffing themselves in between his ears, even if he doesn't want them to right now. The laughter they shared, the plans they made. They had fallen in love so quickly, so frivolously.
There were memories of lazy Sunday mornings in bed, spontaneous road trips and the way she used to look at him like he was her whole world. But then there were lies, secrets and shame. Frankie tries to forget them and bury them deep because that was a different Frankie, it had to be.
He remembers the lies he told her about his addiction, the late nights when he promised he was working, but was actually out scoring coke. He remembers her worried eyes, her pleas for him to get help, her face coming into a fuzzy view at the hospital when he woke up after the overdose.
He remembers his stubborn denial and digging his heels in. The fights, the arguments and the day he finally caved and told her he was done. And then he’d gotten on that damned plane. Leaving her and their history and pain behind and thrown up in the air, and it’s all here now, confronting him like a tidal wave, and he’s drowning right in front of her.
“When I heard the news, I-” She trails off unsure of what to say, and again, he just simply nods. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks, it's uh… it's good to see you.” Frankie says.
And it is, in some bittersweet way; she looks good, healthy. A sheen in her eyes and a tan on her skin. They stand there for a moment, the silence stretching out between them.
“Listen, I… it’s not the right time, but we need to talk.” Carla says, offering a weak smile to him.
“Talk about what?” Frankie asks.
He feels the weight of their shared past hanging around them, thick in the cool conditioned air in Benny’s apartment. She looks at him, a mixture of sadness and relief in her eyes. And something else he can’t quite put his finger on, guilt perhaps?
“I’m sorry,” Frankie says, his own guilt pressing hard on the back of his tongue.
She baulks clearly not expecting it.
“For everything… For lying to you. For hurting you.” He says. And he is, part of him will always be sorry for it.
She reaches out, touching his arm gently, and he flinches.
“I know, Frankie. I just… I wish things had been different.”
His legs feel weak as he stands there before her, offering her an apology that’s long overdue, and yet hearing the words flow out of his mouth doesn't do it justice somehow.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Carla says, her voice trembling. “After we broke up… I didn't know how to tell you, and then you were gone, and it got so messy and I didn’t know what to do-”
“Carla-”
She takes a deep breath, meeting his concerned gaze. “Frankie, you’re…”
“What? What is it?” His mind races with a thousand thoughts and scenarios, but the one he doesn’t expect is the one she ultimately breaks him with.
She speaks again, the wobble in her voice sounding the words out clear and unmistakeable. “Frankie, you’re a father.”
To be continued...
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Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader
Part Four
Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.
Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
"They don't believe me." Your words shatter his heart completely.
"Don't worry about them. You're all that matters right now."
For hours, you've sat in the same spot at the dining room table, watching Spencer work with a tenacity you have never seen before. His eyebrows are drawn tightly together, his tongue darts out between his lips as he concentrates. Every so often he runs a hand through his hair and sighs.
You feel like you should be helping him, but you find yourself all too distracted by the simple fact that your stalker knows where you live. Who knows how long he's known, and what else he's done that you're not even aware of. The thought of a stranger walking around in your apartment makes you sick to your stomach.
But what really sends you over the edge is the fact that your stalker took an item of your clothing and then returned that same night to deliver the folder. He was right outside of your door while you sat petrified in your bedroom and he now possesses a part of you, no matter how small that part is.
The thought of what he's using your sweater for sends a chill down your spine and you shudder. Your sudden movement must have snapped Spencer out of his trance and he sets down the picture he was analyzing. You see the sleep-deprived bags under his eyes and know you likely don't look any better. His eyes soften as he looks you over.
"You should get some rest, you've been at this for hours." Your voice is scratchy from not speaking. Spencer is quick to shake his head.
"I'm fine, you should go lay down though, I know you didn't sleep all night." Though his guess is accurate, you won't admit it.
Before you answer, you take a second to let your eyes focus on his hand resting on the table. Under different circumstances you may even say the veins in his hand were oddly attractive, but you refuse to let that thought run wild and instead focus back on the matter at hand.
"No, really I'm fine." You fight the urge to yawn and you know you don't have him fooled in the slightest.
He stands straighter and crosses his arms across his chest. Like you're a child being reprimanded, he gives you a stern look, one that lets you know exactly what he's thinking. A silent exchange occurs only through the look in each other's eyes. His are golden-brown, like fresh honey, and they transport you to a time when things were simpler.
For a moment you're taken back to your first day at the BAU. You were fresh out of the academy, recommended to the team by your trainer. The nerves had your stomach twisted and upset, and you vividly recall walking through those glass doors for the first time; your heartbeat pounded in your ears with each step. Everyone had been welcoming, warm, and kind. And you very distinctly remember seeing the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. His hair was long, maybe just a touch messy, but it was the kind and reassuring smile he offered that let you know you had made the right decision to join.
And now, sitting only a few feet away from him, you can't help but to feel reminiscent. Your relationship with Spencer had grown far deeper than with anyone else on the team. You had been there when he was wrongfully imprisoned and now he's here when you're being stalked. The two of you celebrated the arrest of each unsub together and worked wonderfully as a team, playing to each other's strengths.
A feeling within your chest flutters, one that you've been trying long and hard to suppress. And it had worked for a long time, that is until very recently.
"I know you're not fine. Please, just come on." His voice is soft and he offers his hand out to you. Not thinking twice, you take his hand in yours and let him lead you to the sofa.
Without you even having to ask, he makes sure that the curtains are closed and you watch as he scans the street for anyone who looks out of place before he sits next to you. He's warm and inviting, and if given the opportunity you know you could fall asleep in his arms.
You lean your head on his shoulder instead, and he wraps his arm around you, hugging you closer to his side. His hand rubs up and down your arm, comforting you as you allow your eyes to flutter shut.
Not another word is shared as you feel yourself being lulled to sleep by Spencer's presence. Just having him near is enough to make you feel safe and secure. You vaguely feel him lay you down on the couch, and you feel a pressure to the top of your head. And you're not sure if you're hallucinating or half-dreaming, but you swear you could hear him whisper to you,
"I promise that I will find who is doing this to you."
-----
Hotch arrives at the office early in the morning before anyone else. His signature scowl is plastered on his face and he's deep in thought about what Derek presented to him yesterday. While the system clearly shows that you were the one who made all of the alterations to the case reports, something deep within Hotch tells him that you're innocent.
There's just no way you would go to these great lengths for simple recognition. But it seems the others on the team are convinced you're behind all of this. Their insistence is the only thing giving him pause. He makes a mental note to follow up with them again sometime today, perhaps there's more that wasn't initially disclosed. There's just no way they've all been swayed by simple electronic records, ones they know are hackable.
Hotch sits at his desk and looks over the reports again and again, hoping that the answer jumps out at him. And it's on the fifth re-read that he notices something. It's a very small detail, but he thinks it could be an important one. He grabs a highlighter and begins marking up the reports.
After a few hours, Hotch walks down to Penelope's office. When she opens the door she's surprised to see Hotch on the other side, but she knows that whatever he's here for is something serious; Hotch doesn't make these visits often.
"Can you show me the video footage on the night that the document changes were made?" He asks, nodding to Penelope's plethora of monitors.
"Certainly sir." She says and sits down, pulling up the footage. She's watched it a hundred times, she knows this video like the back of her hand.
Hotch sits next to her and she plays the video. Just as she watched with you, and the others, the video has been tampered with. The shadows on the ground make that obvious.
"So someone got into the computer system and altered the footage." Hotch states the obvious.
"It appears so, yes." Penelope says, nervous about where this conversation is headed.
In the past day Penelope has had the same conversation with just about every other member of the BAU. Each of them didn't want to believe you had orchestrated this elaborate scheme, but they couldn't ignore the evidence.
Everyone was reluctant to admit that they believed you were responsible; Spencer was the only one to flat out deny your involvement. He was adamant about it, and his passion caused Penelope to second guess the others.
Of course she would never say that out loud, but it caused her to do some digging. She remembered how upset you were about the flowers, and she wasn't sold on the narrative that you had planned this for recognition and praise.
"Is it possible for you to-"
"Already ahead of you sir. I got into the system and looked for interferences. And it shows that she was the one who got into the camera systems as well, only a few minutes after the documents had all been changed. And it was her badge that scanned into the office." Penelope cuts Hotch off, eager to share what she learned from her sleuthing.
Hotch nods his head shortly and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. There are only a few people in this building with the kind of expertise to be able to pull something like this off. But he is apprehensive to accuse anyone of anything without further, concrete proof.
"Can you send this to me, along with the edit history?" Hotch stands from the seat and goes to leave Penelope's office, who sends him the video right away.
Being no stranger to situations like these, Hotch knows he has to keep this investigation under wraps. Especially if the team has seemingly turned their back on you. The BAU has had their fair share of rough moments, and during those moments the team always stuck together. But for some reason, this caused everyone to doubt you. It just isn't adding up to Hotch.
He returns to his office and looks out into the bullpen. Everyone is working diligently and he plans on how to handle this. While he forms a plan, he picks up his phone and makes an important call.
-----
"What do you mean I can't go in?" You ask Spencer, who just got off the phone with Hotch. Spencer sighs and sets his phone down on the coffee table. Running a hand through his hair he answers,
"Hotch said it's best if you stay out of the office while he figures out what's going on. He didn't say much about specifics, just that it would be best if you didn't come in." The words feel like a hot knife being pushed through your heart. Does this mean you're under investigation? Will you be suspended from the bureau?
You sit down on the couch, shocked about what's happening. As if being stalked wasn't bad enough, it might actually cost you your job? Not only your job, but some of the closest friends you've ever had?
Rubbing your eyes, you try to make sense of it all, but you just can't. There has to be something you're missing. There's a missing piece of the puzzle, that one piece would complete the picture. But now, it's just fragmented and incoherent.
"What am I missing? There were the flowers, the document changes, the re-tagged evidence, the tampered video, and now the folder." You speak, mostly to yourself but you know Spencer is listening as well.
You rub your temples as you try to connect the dots. Obviously it tells you that there's a stalker, and the evidence points in the direction of that stalker working for the bureau but you cannot figure out why the stalker would take those specific actions.
"Whatever it is, we will find it and we will find who is doing this." Spencer's voice is low and even, the determination is obvious. He moves to sit next to you, his leg only a few inches from yours.
You turn your head and look at him. His hair is disheveled from the amount of times he's run a hand through it in frustration, but it's charming.
"And what if we don't? Spencer you know how these things end." You simply state. As you say the words you realize you're not speaking as a profiler, but rather like a victim. And you're not sure how that makes you feel.
Spencer places his hand on top of your thigh and gives a reassuring squeeze; your heart races with the contact and you try to hide the feeling so that he can't perceive it on your face. The way his eyes dart down to your cheeks and lips make you think you didn't do a great job of hiding it. His tongue wets his lips and he goes to move a piece of your hair behind your ear.
"I don't care how many times I have to repeat myself. But I promise you that I will not rest until we find who is doing this to you. I will hunt down the man who is making your life miserable, and I will make him pay for what he's done." His words are laced with malice and venom. You nod your head and swallow, unable to think of anything coherent to say.
After a few moments, Spencer squeezes your thigh again before he gets back up to analyze the folder for the thousandth time. As he walks away, your heart swells with gratitude, and your skin buzzes where his hand was.
-----
Spencer walks into work with a feeling he can't quite place residing in his chest. It's something raw, and intense. His focus feels like it's been dialed to 100.
While he felt bad for leaving you at home alone, he knew that he would be able to do his best work here, without distractions. He had dedicated every piece of evidence to memory and was sure he would see the full picture soon.
But until then, he's got a job to do. And that job is to track down whoever is making your life a living nightmare. Spencer is unable to find the words to describe how upset he is every time he sees you looking over your shoulder in fear, or fending off sleep because of anxiety.
He hadn't felt a rage like this in a long time.
Spencer drops his bag on his desk and walks to Hotch's office. During the call Hotch made to tell you to stay home, he had also told Spencer that they needed to talk as soon as he got in. He isn't sure whether or not it's in your defense, but he knows it has to deal with your situation.
Hotch's back is turned when Spencer enters and as he turns around Spencer sees the file in hand and the scowl on Hotch's face.
"Please, sit." Hotch takes a seat and motions for Spencer to take the one across from the desk. Spencer tries to get a glimpse of the file Hotch has, but he's unsuccessful.
"We have some things to discuss." Hotch speaks again with a sigh. Spencer nods, agreeing. He only hopes Hotch believes you're innocent as well, or else he fears this discussion might become heated.
"You've probably already seen the electronic records with her credentials and the tampered video, I assume?" Hotch questions.
"Yes, I've seen them." Spencer doesn't give more information than necessary, not until he knows which side Hotch is on.
"Give me your unbiased professional opinion." Hotch leans forward on his desk, fingers interlaced and elbows resting on the wood. Spencer blinks a few times, trying to formulate an opinion void of personal feelings.
What he realizes is that he's been handling this entire case almost entirely with his personal feelings. But he recovers quickly and soon finds the words he's looking for.
"I think that she is being stalked by someone who works here. But not a regular agent, I believe it's someone pretty high up." Spencer says. Hotch nods, stoic expression not revealing anything.
"And why do you believe that?" He tilts his head just slightly to the right, something that tells Spencer that Hotch is genuinely interested in what he has to say. It's one of his small giveaways.
"Well, there are only a few people here that would have the expertise and ability to access and change credential logs like that, and to be able to get into the system and change the video. It would also take someone within the bureau to know where she's located at within the building, to send the flowers to. And whoever it is would have enough working knowledge to know how to retag evidence properly." Spencer rattles off, becoming more and more confident with his theory as he speaks. It's like saying this all out loud is helping him connect the dots.
Hotch takes a moment and nods while he studies Spencer's face and body language. It's usual profiler behavior and Spencer has seen him do this hundreds of times before with other people.
"But what else?" Hotch eventually asks. Spencer's shoulders tense up and his eyebrows scrunch together.
"What do you mean?" Spencer questions, recounting the evidence and what he explained. What more could there possibly be to say?
"You raised you hand like you had something else to add onto your explanation, but then you said nothing. What else were you going to say?" Spencer curses Hotch for being so observant just this once. With a sigh, Spencer decides it's easier to just lay everything out as plainly as possible.
"I know she didn't do it because I was with her the nights before everything happened, for the most part." Spencer doesn't elaborate any further, wanting to keep your relationship with him as much to himself as possible. Hotch's eyebrows raise in surprise, but he recovers quickly.
"I see. You'll be glad to hear I don't think she did any of this either. But what we think and what we can prove are two different things here." Spencer is all too familiar with this premise.
In fact, the similarities between this and his wrongful imprisonment are beginning to share too many things in common. You're being framed just as he was, evidence was planted and tampered with, and you're scared out of your mind because you don't know how this is going to end.
But not only that, he remembers in vivid detail how you helped him find sobriety after Tobias Hankel, how you stayed by his side through the entire journey when he was terrified. And he remembers how supportive you were when Maeve died right in front of him. You had shown him love and compassion when he thought neither of those things existed. It was you who stuck beside him through it all.
Spencer remembers the fear of being framed and the anxieties that accompanies the unknown. He hates that you're experiencing this, and he so badly wants to take it all away. And he knows the only way he can do that is to catch whoever is doing this. Now it's his turn to return the favor, to stick with you until the end. With strong resolve, he leans forward in his seat.
"So what's our next move?" Spencer asks Hotch, ready to put in as much work is needed.
Hotch nods his head and explains to Spencer his plan. It's simple, but should be effective.
-----
Hours later, Spencer sits at his desk, trying to look like he's busy. All he can think about is how you're doing back home, he worries that you're scared and wants nothing more than to run back to you; to keep you safe and away from the man wreaking havoc.
His daydreams are cut short as the agent from the IT department walks through the doors. The agent walks into Hotch's office where Hotch asks him to see if he can find any evidence of credential fraud.
The agent sits down at your desk and Spencer can't help but notice how nervous he looks. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are darting every which way as he acquaints himself with your space. Spencer's eyes narrow in suspicion and decides to keep a close eye on the man.
Spencer finds an old report and acts busy, when in reality he's watching the man's every move with careful and clinical eyes. He notices how the agent's eyes linger on the flowers sitting on your desk, and how he keeps momentarily looking at your photos.
Alarm bells are sounding off in Spencer's mind and he has to remind himself to keep calm. He reminds himself of what's at stake and forces a nonchalant demeanor. His knuckles turn white with how tightly he's gripping the paper in his hands and he's thankful the agent isn't a profiler, otherwise it would be a dead giveaway about just how angry Spencer is.
The agent works diligently, and then Spencer sees it. The man's shoulders go rigid, he holds a breath, and his eyes grow ever so slightly larger. He swallows and looks around the office before returning his focus on the screen in front of him. Spencer pretends not to notice.
While the agent is obviously dealing with some sort of turmoil, Spencer is envisioning lunging across the table at him and demanding answers. When he realizes his train of thought, Spencer knows he hasn't had these kinds of violent thoughts since he spent time in prison.
And somehow, he's okay with it. He knows that if it led to finding answers that he would be okay doing whatever it takes. He's also quick to understand the lengths he's willing to go for you and the risks he's fully prepared to take.
Abruptly and without a word, the agent returns to Hotch's office, just out of earshot from Spencer. And within minutes the agent is hightailing it out of the office, not even sparing a passing glance.
Curiosity gets the better of him and Spencer goes to speak with Hotch almost immediately. Sitting behind his desk with a troubled look on his face, Hotch's eyes flick to Spencer as he enters the room.
"Please, close the door and have a seat. We have some things to discuss. There's been a slight change in plans." Spencer closes the door quickly before taking a seat in front of Hotch's desk.
Spencer's heart beats heavily in his chest and it's like he can feel the blood pumping through his veins. Before Hotch says a word, Spencer knows that whatever he is about to say is nothing good.
"What happened?" Spencer barely recognizes the serious tone of his voice. Hotch sighs,
"The agent told me he found evidence of AES 128 bit encryption." Hotch says and Spencer's heart sinks.
"Rijndael Algorithm. It's never been cracked before." Spencer says, his heart rate increasing as his mind processes what this means for the case.
"I'm going to put Garcia up to the challenge. But I believe you're right, whoever is doing this is very intelligent and has a lot of access to our systems. With that said, I'm going to have her placed under twenty-four hour surveillance." Hotch says matter of factly. Spencer shakes his head,
"I'll be there at night, she wouldn't want to be constantly watched like that." He tries to advocate for the least invasive surveillance possible. Deep down he knows that the twenty-four hour monitoring is safest, he also knows you're likely to protest about it.
"I believe in your abilities to keep her safe. I'll put in for twelve hour surveillance, with additional overtime as needed." Hotch nods his head and Spencer thanks him.
The only thing on his mind now is getting back to you as quickly as he possibly can.
-----
You jump as loud knocks on the front door echo through your apartment. Normally you would go and answer it without a second thought, but you catch yourself worrying about who is on the other side.
Three more knocks sound off and you approach the door cautiously.
"Hey it's just me." Spencer's voice can be heard through the door and you release the breath you had been holding.
You answer the door for him and he wastes no time coming in. He turns and locks the door as soon as he's inside and he doesn't bother taking his shoes off before he's buzzing around. He's closing the curtains and pulling the couch away from the window like a mad man with thirty seconds to complete the mission.
"Spencer what's going on?" You feel a new wave of anxiety bubble up within you. You've never seen him act like this before.
Spencer stops moving around and you see him take a deep breath. He rubs his eye with the palm of his hand, and your eyes grow wide. You've seen that mannerism before, but you haven't seen it in so long. Something bad happened while he was at work today. Something very bad.
When he opens his eyes he walks up to you, leaving only a few inches between the two of you. He places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.
You see a tenderness in them, but you also notice almost a crazed intensity, like his mind is working a hundred miles a second and he's having trouble keeping up with himself.
"I will explain everything shortly. But please let me do this first." You nod wordlessly and watch as he walks back into the living space. He tosses blankets over the curtain rods to make sure nobody can see through the windows.
He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and moves the couch even farther away from the window. And just for a split second your fear is forgotten as you admire the way his biceps flex under the material of his shirt.
There's something about his behavior that seems different, and you can't help but be attracted to it. Like a moth to a flame or a bee to clovers, your eye is drawn to every move, every flex of a muscle.
After he's satisfied with the changes, he walks over to the dining table and opens the folder. You had put away all of the photographs earlier, you couldn't stand the feeling of having them out in the open, it was like they were taunting you.
Spencer spreads the materials back out across the table and leans forward. You see his eyes dart over all of the pictures and the notes before he stands back to his full height and tugs at his tie, loosening it from his neck.
Your eyes stay glued to him as you step forward. His eyes glance from the photos to you and you can see how his face instantly softens.
"Will you tell me what happened now?" You ask and he nods, gesturing for you to join him on the couch.
You listen intently as he explains that Hotch believes you're innocent and that he had called in one of the IT workers. And a fresh wave of nausea came over you as he explained the encryption that was found. This most definitely is not just some guy, no, this is the work of someone sophisticated and organized.
"But, listen to me, I will not rest until we find him. Believe me, there is no obstacle too challenging. I promise you that I will not stop until you're safe again." Spencer says following a few moments of tense silence.
You've done so well to hold your emotions together, well, the best you could anyways. Up until this point it was only fear that you felt, but that fear has morphed into several other things much more terrifying than simple fear. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and blink rapidly to keep from crying.
Your breaths are shaky and you look down at your lap. This is no longer just affecting you, but the whole team as well. Spencer and Hotch are willing to go out on a limb to prove your innocence while the others are convinced of your guilt. You feel guilty about the anger you harbor for your teammates who don't believe you. And truthfully, you don't know how you will be able to move forward after this.
This stalker has already taken from you something near and dear to your heart; they've taken your team.
It's then, when you accept the reality of what is, that you let the first tear fall. It's full of anger and sadness and remorse, and just a little bit of love.
Spencer envelopes you in his arms and the dam breaks. He holds you close to his chest, your tears staining his shirt. But he doesn't seem to mind. No, instead he hugs you tightly and presses the most delicate of kisses to the top of your head. You grab onto the front of his shirt and let the emotions finally break free.
-----
Spencer cradles you in his arms and as you cry it breaks his heart just a little more with each sob. He hates seeing you in such distress. Once you finally calm down a little, you sniffle and look up at him with wide, watery eyes.
"They don't believe me." Your words shatter his heart completely.
"Don't worry about them. You're all that matters right now." He says, running a hand up and down your back to try and soothe you.
But your words remind him that he needs to speak with the team about this situation. Even he can't believe they've apparently turned against you so easily. It makes his blood boil; the team is supposed to stick with each other, not work against one another. He does his best to suppress his own anger towards them, knowing that if he expresses his distress that it will likely only make you more upset.
Instead, he focuses on nothing except you in his arms, and his anger dissipates almost immediately. He doesn't think he'll ever admit it out loud, but he secretly loves the way you cling to him. He loves how you trust him, how you confide in him, how you've taken care of him and stuck beside him through thick and thin. He loves the way your smile brightens his day, and how even the smallest glance sends butterflies soaring through him.
He presses another kiss to the top of your head as he realizes and admits to himself for the first time that he's in love with you.
He is absolutely and undeniably in love with you. And God help whoever threatens his love.
---------------------------------------------
taglist: @yondiii @juhdoche @themarauderseraslut @shardsofmarxx @mel-vaz @bippityboppityboob1tch @babyspiderling @honestlyloving @emisback @thatredlipped-classic @desperately-seeking-serotonin @threespacemonkeys @small-and-violent @ropickle @honestlybabymiracle @hiireadstuff @suckstobrlaurie
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#mgg#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#penelope garcia#Spotify
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Art request huh ? *sees whump art request* Oh~ I see *Laughs like a disney villain*
Oh Hylia- I see things-
So- First idea was : Wind and or Wild and or Sky falling down a cliff because their gliding gear tore up or smt and the others are like : Oh no !
Second Idea is Wild having a memory overlap and he struggle to recognize those around him or confuses them with people he saw in the memory and since we love yo see those blorbos suffer let it be a bad memory ans him wanting to run away or smt
Third I imagined the Chain going to Outset only to realize that Wind whole existence has been forgoten even my his sister and grandma (but it's just a dream because as much as I love angst my lil heart can take so much)
Then I had Warriors having an argument with Time but ending up calling him Mask and "reminding him" of everything he had done in the war (or smt like that I don't rly have an idea about how the fight is ending)
Maybe Four but one of the colour is dead/disappeared and the others colors are really but REALLY affected and the Chain doesn't know what to do
And I might have more idea but I need to rush to the bus stop bye ! Have a great day !
heyyyy Anon! this is super late but I went with your first idea hehe. I love all the other ideas sm! might come back to one of them later :3 Thank you for the request Anon💙
Wild took a nasty tumble after his paraglider got shredded by a rogue arrow
CW! blood, head injury
I tried to do a perspective drawing with foreshortening but I don't think it worked XD Foreshortening is freaking hard
#lu#linked universe#linkeduniverse#my art#whump art#lu whump#cw head injury#concussion#cw whump#whump#lu wild#hero of the wild#cw blood#lu fanart#messy sketch#thank you anon!#i suck ass at drawing backgrounds too lol#but i tried
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Stranded on a desert island
@wolfstarmicrofic | Word Count: 517
"If you were stranded on a desert island with one person, anyone in the world, alive or dead, who would you choose to be with?"
They were both smoking in a hidden corner of the castle. It was three in the morning, maybe four; Remus had already lost track of time, as he always did when he was with Sirius. Their elusive escapes at midnight were almost always filled with comfortable silence and just the company of each other. Both of them usually had something on their minds that didn't let them sleep, and they never pressured each other to talk about it. But their company was enough; feeling Sirius's body so close to his always felt like enough.
But sometimes, apparently, silence wasn't enough for Sirius, and at this hour, his mind would come up with the weirdest questions.
"Why would I be stranded on a desert island?" Sirius rolled his eyes at him from his lap, where he was comfortably lying down.
"It's just a rhetorical question, Moony. It's supposed to be fun."
"I—" Remus thought about it, but the only answer that came to his mind was right there, resting on his lap with adorable red cheeks and tired eyes from staying awake all night. "Why don't you tell me who you would choose?"
"Me?" A small smile played on Sirius's lips. "I'd want to be with someone who makes every moment an adventure."
"Never choose me, then," Remus snorted, looking at Sirius. "I would be so terrified I would lose my critical thinking."
"You losing your mind would be such an adventure." Remus could feel Sirius's body shake with laughter against him. He couldn't help but smile tenderly. "You're always so composed."
"Would you really bring me?" Remus asked, knowing that he was giving too much weight to a question he had said seconds ago was weird.
"Of course," Sirius said sincerely, meeting Remus's gaze from below. "It wouldn't be an adventure without you."
"You could have anyone you wanted. Damn, you could even bring bloody Bowie if you chose to. But you would bring... me?"
"I think I would always choose you." His voice was quiet yet firm, and something in Remus's stomach twisted after hearing those words. Because he would, too. He would always choose Sirius in a world full of infinite options.
Remus sighed softly, his fingers trailing through Sirius's hair. "You always know the right thing to say."
Sirius grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "It's part of my charm."
They stayed silent for a moment, the air between them filled with smoke and unspoken emotions. When it seemed that Sirius was about to fall asleep from the caresses to his hair, Remus spoke again.
"You know, if I were stranded on a desert island, the only thing I'd need is you."
"Good," Sirius whispered, a soft smile on his lips. "Because that's all I need too."
They stayed like that until it was time for their first class. Sirius had fallen asleep on his lap, and when he woke up with red eyes and a mark from Remus's trousers on his face, he couldn't help but think that as long as they had each other, they would never be truly stranded.
#wolfstar#wolfstar microfic#sirius black#remus lupin#wolfstar fic#wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar fluff#sirius x lupin#remus loves sirius#sirius and remus#remus x sirius#sirius being sirius#remus john lupin#sirius orion black#remus j lupin#sirius o black#moony#padfoot#moony x padfoot#moony and padfoot#marauders microfic#marauders#the marauders#marauders fandom#marauders era#the marauders era#dead gay wizards#dead gay wizards from the 70s
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[ DRABBLE + SMAU ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( seventh installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .
୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven.
୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro
୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , masturbation , angst , profanity , descriptions of violence , toji being a pathetic little sicko :D
୨୧˚ an; sorry this part is on the shorter side😅😅 it’s more of a filler chapter but i still like it!
It’s well past midnight when Toji slips his way back into his motel room. It’s dingy and drab, the once-white walls twinged a sickly yellowish tint from chain smoking guests. Ugly bedspread details different flowers that Toji couldn’t name, the same aged pattern clinging to the drapes that were pulled shut over the front window, never to be opened. It smells of heady sweat and open wounds, though maybe that’s just him. No, it definitely is him. He’s hyper aware of the grimy layer of filth that acts as a second layer of skin. It’s gritty and uncomfortable.
The bathroom cubicle is claustrophobic; if Toji were to stand in the center of the room, he could easily touch all four walls that boxed him in. He sits on the closed toilet seat lid, staring at his hands. They’re huge, intimidating. Trembling, spattered in blood that’s long since crusted into a dark concretion, cracking at the hinges of his fingers. His hands that took the lives of two innocent men just hours prior. Toji didn’t want to kill them, but they wouldn’t cooperate. Oh, how they shrieked and hollered for their lives as he dragged them into that alley. They just kept fucking screaming.
“Fuck…” The man sighs grimly, letting his head dip forward to rest in the cups of his filthy palms. His bangs feel matted and crunchy with remnants of sweat. Disgusting self-pity blooms at the base of his hollow chest, and suddenly Toji has the urge to ram his skull into the drywall. Or dislocate his finger. Or do anything to punish himself for that feeling of defeatism. The nerve to possess such a shameful victim mentality, as if he deserved sympathy. He’s a killer; the best he deserves is a fucking electric chair.
Toji showers. A long, scalding shower that singes him to the bone. Water stained red cascades down the rippling wall of muscles that was his body and swirls down the rusty drain. These post-slaughter showers used to be blank canvases of his life. Ones where Toji’s brain would shut off and try to forget the atrocities committed by his hand. He would scrub his flesh raw, scrub scrub scrub mindlessly until he ached all over. But now, he only thinks of one thing.
You.
Maybe it’s some sick coping mechanism, turning to thoughts of you in times like these. In a pathetic form of self comfort, he reminisces. Your hands holding his face, your know-it-all smile, your way with words. God, your fucking way with words.
“My sweet boy,” Toji whispers under his breath, touching himself. As if he could replicate the delicate way in which you spoke to him. His eyes shut, desperately clinging onto the mental image of you beneath him in his bed. Your arms outstretched, reaching for him like you want him. Like you love him. “My sweet…” Toji tries to fade into the warmth of the spray, imagining it to be your body heat encapsulating him instead. But the water is far too hot, it hurts; you wouldn’t hurt him like this. He tries so damn hard to disassociate into the pleasure, as if his hand would magically dissolve into yours. Yeah, right. His hand is too big to ever compete with yours. Too fucking rough and gritty and mean.
The flat of his palm finds the greasy tiles of the shower wall. Toji fucks himself with all the roughness he deserves, lower lip staked between two rows of teeth to cease its quivering. He’s going to cum. Your face appears in his psyche once more, but this time, it’s from the first time you visited him in the hospital all those months ago. He can see the picture so vividly, it scares him: you seated at his bedside, poking and prodding over his obliques, muttering a stream of concerned questions. But you were never upset or angry. No, despite the worries, you were still smiling. At him.
Fuck, he’s really going to cum.
Toji grits his teeth, climaxing with a harsh shudder and a broken gasp of your name on his lips. Small jolts force him into a twitchy state, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against the tiles beside his hand. Semen paints the wall below, too far to the left for the shower spray to rinse it off. He doesn’t bother to clean it off. He’s too repulsed by himself to do much of anything.
The plasticky sheets stick to his skin. Sleeping in just a pair of boxers was probably a stupid idea, bed mites were a real cause for concern, or so Shiu had told him. But it’s hot. He’s hot. And restless. And uncomfortable. He always had trouble falling asleep in foreign beds. Lidded eyes peek over to the alarm clock perched on the side table, its cherry digits splaying 2:47am. You were asleep.
He reaches for his phone anyway, wracked with guilt all the while. The tension in his thighs still persisted, still succumbed to the aftershocks of his orgasm he fucked himself to with your face in his mind. He’s fucking gross. This is gross.
She’s sleeping, jackass. Don’t wake her up because you’re lonely.
Be a fucking man and lick your own wounds. That’s what his father would say.
He texts you anyway.
He presses the call button. It only gets through half a ring before the line cuts on and he hears a groggy “hey” filter through the receiver. How long has it been since he’s heard your voice? Not that long, only three days and yet it feels like it's been three lifetimes. And that’s truly the moment when Toji knows you’ve fucked him for life, because when did he start thinking such sappy shit like that?
“Hi,” he answers, melting back into the stiff mattress. His gaze wanders along the waterlogged ceiling, tracing the abstract damp stains that have settled in its popcorn surface. He thinks offhandedly that one of them vaguely resembles a rabbit. “Sorry for waking you.”
“You already apologized, silly. I told you it’s okay.” There’s a pause. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”
It’s nice to hear yours, too. “Go to sleep.”
“Yeah, okay.” The sound of sheets stirring crackles, Toji assumes you’re tossing in bed. “You’re sleeping now, too, right?”
He paws at his stomach, the pads of his rough fingertips tracing the gutters of his abdominal plates before he sinks his blunt nails into his own flesh. “In a bit.”
“Soon. It’s late, Toji.” You order him to bed like a mother would her child.
He nods as if you could see the gesture. “Soon, then.”
You bid him a good night, turning once more into bed before settling back into the depths of the slumber Toji had interrupted. He clasps his cell between his ear and shoulder, basking in your gentle breaths. It’s the same sounds you made the night you fucked him. He slept upon your chest, head over your heart, listening to its beats. You drooled on his pillow, he gave a quiet scoff at the memory. Are you drooling now?
Toji never sleeps.
likes and reblogs are appreciated !
tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0semultiverse @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni @taelattecookie @purple-obsidian @hqtoge @khaothick @saintkaylaa @ya9amicide @crayzyaarna @saiki-enthusiast @haesify @nyamocka @sixxze @lifesucksweswallow @darkstarlight82 @megumisdivinedogs @celestialol @yunho-leeknow @ghostfacefricker6969 @aizawa19 @lupicalbestwolf @nymphsdomain @makuzume
#❝ 𝐑𝐀𝐄’𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ❞#jjk smau#jjk texts#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#toji smut#toji smau#toji drabbles#toji angst#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk smut#jjk drabbles#geto smut#nanami smut#choso smut#gojo smut#social media au
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I Know Now
Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Request: No
Warnings: Angst, Light Fluff
Word Count: 1,032
Main Masterlist: Here
Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here
Part One: Did You Know?// Part Three: Somebody Knows// Part Four: What We Know
Summary: When it comes time for Reid to come home, everyone is happy. Everyone except the one person he wants to see more than anyone else.
“Cherish every moment with those you love, because tomorrow is never promised.” - Unknown
Spencer had no idea what was going on as he was brought into the visitors room. He was not sure what was going on, but within a few minutes, he got his answer. Jennifer walked into the room with a teary smile on her face as she looked at her best friend.
“We’re taking you home.” For the first time in three months, Spencer voluntarily touched another human being. Weight was taken off of him as he hugged her close, but he was waiting to see one specific person.
Checking out of the prison felt amazing. He was never going to go back to those walls again if he could help it. Reid dressed in the suit he wore in again, and waited for the gate to be opened. On the other side, he was delighted to see his friends and coworkers. Garcia came up and wrapped him up tightly, to which he smiled at, but as he looked around, he could not help but be disappointed. His wife was nowhere to be seen. Pulling away, Spencer realized that he must have had a confused look on his face because Penelope spoke up.
“We tried to get into contact with her, but she wasn’t answering her phone.” She whispered, ushering the man into the SUV that was awaiting them. With everything happening with his mom, Lindsey, Scratch; the one thing he needed was her to keep him sane.
Penelope gave him a portable battery charger for the drive, because after three months, his phone was definitely not charged enough for a call. Spencer sat impatiently as he waited for the phone to power up. They turned the corner to go into headquarters and he felt relief at seeing the beautiful building again. He thought he would never see it again. Once his phone was online, he immediately began to try and call his wife, only to be met with her voicemail every time.
Jennifer offered to take Spencer by their apartment to check, as Cassie’s phone was also going to voicemail. It was starting to become weird for the team as they tried to piece together the pieces of this puzzle. Spencer stepped inside of his apartment and immediately spotted the scrapbook that was left out in the open. Two pieces from the book were not where they were supposed to be. A picture that he had made of himself and a tightrope walker, and a picture from the very first time that his mom had met his future wife. Spencer remembered that day so clearly after all these years.
“Mom, hey. How are you feeling today?” Spencer spoke softly through the room as he walked inside. Sitting in a chair, facing the window, was his mother. She turned her head at the sound of his voice and was shocked to see her son, and someone behind him.
“Spencer, what a pleasant surprise. I’m feeling okay today. They had pancakes for breakfast so it was a good start. Who’s this?” Diana jumped straight to the point. Stepping to the side, Spencer presented the young lady that was behind him. She gave her full name as she made her way to the elder Reid.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Reid. Spencer couldn’t stop talking about you the entire time here.” She held out her hand, and waited, but the older woman only looked at it. Sensing the awkward tension beginning to arise, the younger woman held out the present in her hands towards her boyfriend’s mother.
“Spence told me you weren’t a fan of flowers, or chocolates, or anything of the sort so I thought this would be a good thing to bring.” Diana took the object, and look down inquisitively. In her hands, rested a book. Not just any book, no; this was a gorgeous ornate version of Parliament of Fowls. The same stories she used to read to Spencer as a young boy. Trailing her hands over the cover, she felt the embossing and looked up at the stranger with her son.
“Are you two going to stand forever, or come sit down and join me?” Turning to her boyfriend, she smiled as he walked her over to where two chairs sat side by side.
“Spence, are you okay?” JJ asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. He jolted out of his seat at the touch, causing the woman to step back with her hands up in defense.
“Sorry, sorry,” came his panted breaths, “just realized that these two pictures aren’t where they’re suppose to be.”
“Is there anything significant about them?” She inquired, looking over his shoulder.
The one of him as a child looked unmarked, but turning it around showed him the note in lipstick. XX-XY. However, the other picture was very clearly marked. The same red lipstick was scribbled over his wife’s face and stomach. He knew what the first clue meant, but what on earth did this mean? Spencer stood up abruptly, and went to look around his apartment. There was no sign of his mother or wife all through the humble abode, sending him further and further to the edge. Cassie was not there either, which added another layer to his frayed state already.
It should have been more of a shock to find Cassie dead, and Lindsey on the run, but it was not. At least not to Spencer. This was the natural escalation of things, he supposed. He felt relief when he heard that the victim at the gas station was male; his mother and wife were still alive. But as he sat in the BAU again, trying to crack this case, he kept getting tunnel vision. What was he not seeing? What was alluding him?
When they finally got a break in the case, he was not sure whether or not he was thankful. Because the second that face popped up on the big screen, he felt like he could break it. The screen and the person on it.
“It’s me.”
George Eliot wrote, “Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.”
Tag:
@bringitonhomejohnb
#rebelliousstories#writing#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#jennifer jareau#penelope garcia#diana reid
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GIRLFRIEND PRIVILEGE
Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader
Genre: Fluff, established relationship
Being Taehyun's girlfriend comes with privilege. I just know it.
To love and to be loved by Kang Taehyun seemed liked privilege. Felt like a privilege and it was a privilege. There were so many subtle things that you thought were mundane but it turns out that it was something special. Taehyun wasn't exactly an affectionate guy. He didn't give affection and he didn't like receiving one either. His love language fall on the other side of the category like acts of service and quieter and more subtle actions rather than giving a big hug to show his love. At least, that's what his members thought.
It turns out, Taehyun tolerated enjoyed affection when it was coming from you. They first noticed it when they were back from tour. After not meeting for four months, your boyfriend was finally back in town.
They didn't know what they expected. But, a full on bear hug with your legs around his waist, arms around his neck and him practically lifting you off the ground and spinning around was definitely not expected. But, the bright smile on Taehyun's face confirmed he really liked it. And how happy he was to see you.
Soobin wasn't too happy hearing about this. Neither was Yeonjun. Taehyun had been avoiding all their 'love' all these years, claiming he don't like being 'touched' but after the stunt with you, they were convinced he was lying.
You know, those times on the dorm when Soobin tries to sit besdie him but Taehyun always end up walking away, finding another seat saying he can't stand Soobin's body heat or some shit. Then you come around, sitting so close you were almost sitting on his lap and guess what? Taehyun didn't move a muscle to run away from your body heat or something, pulling you closer as both of you watched cats videos on his phone.
Maybe you didn't have body heat.
But as you dated longer, the more they realized you had this thing called, 'Taehyun's girlfriend privilege' where you get to do the things no one else can do to Taehyun. Like calling him an idiot, dumbass, shorty and get to live another day. Especially after calling him the last one. Or getting to ruffle his hair and make it identical to a bird's nest without getting your arm twisted.
Taehyun was someone with boundaries. Reserved and kept to himself most of the time. He was also the most caring and attentive guy as the boys would say but he was never the guy he is now before he met you. How you went past all his boundaries and managed to make him smile at his worst days was something they really wanted to know. But, Taehyun was still hesitant about it. Shaking them iff whenever they asked him about it. But no one could miss the tiny smile etched on his face whenever someone mentioned your name.
You didn't know it yet but being Taehyun's girlfriend had a lot of privilege.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But, it's different with (y/n)," Taehyun yelled, running way to avoid the hugs being forced onto him," she's my girlfriend. You guys are..... grown up?"
Yeonjun scoffed ,"What the hell does that mean? We give better hugs, anyway."
"Yeah. You were all giggly and happy when (y/n) gives you a hug. Why you making a face now?" Soobin interfered.
"Because I only like it when (y/n) gives me physical affection!"
"There. He said it." Beomgyu smirked, hiding his camera.
#txt#txt fluff#taehyun#taehyun x reader#kang taehyun x reader#taehyun fluff#idol x reader#fluff#kpop#fanfiction#tae x reader#terry x raeder#x reader#Kang taehyun#i love him#idk what else to tag
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Lovely To Be Rained On With You
Summary: 3K. Reader and Joel rush to find shelter from the storm
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, post-outbreak, oral f!receiving, unprotected PIV, creampie
A/N: okay I have spent so much time on here reading other Joel fics and enjoying myself so I kinda wanted to give back. but first of all I need to get three things off my chest. one, it's been a long time since I've written anything. two, this is my first writing The Last of Us. three, and probably most important as I beg for kindness, it's my first time writing smut. this has been sitting in my docs for too long so Imma just press post and walk away. enjoy! AO3
The weather was changing rapidly. Not long ago it had only been partly cloudy, but now, for as far as the eye could see, the sky was one massive, threatening cloud. The leaves danced on their branches as the gusting wind flowed through them; their rustling a constant melody accompanied by the quickening beat of two pairs of boots.
Tightening the grip on your rifle, you look up at the darkening sky. The weapon could protect you from a lot, but not from this. It had been four days since you left camp and it was still another day’s walk until you returned.
There was no outrunning this storm.
A few feet ahead of you Joel Miller marches onward, his broad frame and long legs setting a rapid pace you struggle to keep up with. The pack on your back is overfilled and heavy with recently looted goods. It causes your steps to be slow, more cautious and measured.
You take a deep breath, “Joel…?” you begin. You’re both thinking it. Someone has to say it out loud. “It’s gonna pour in any minute.”
His graying curls dance along with the leaves in the wind. He steps over a fallen tree then turns and offers his hand to help you over. You graciously accept it, sliding your fingers over his calloused hand. The weight of the bag digs into your shoulders as you step over. Had it not been for the heavy sack you would have been closer to camp by now, but those supplies are the sole reason the two of you journeyed so far away.
“I know,” he says as you join him on the other side of the log.
“We’re too far from camp—”
“I know,” he repeats, his brows furrowing. He scouts the distance, bright eyes scanning left and right, through the trees and beyond. A bead of sweat slowly falls down his face, the unseasonable hot May weather demanding to be acknowledged.
“There was a cabin…” he trails off, lost in thought. You look ahead, only seeing trees. “D’you remember? Was it before or after all those alliums we saw?”
You think back and try to remember this area from a few days ago but a lot had happened since: Joel injured his shoulder wrestling with a jammed door; you found and promptly devoured a can of ravioli; there were two separate attacks with solitary infected; finding the motherlode of supplies in what looked like a doomsday prepper’s basement; oh, and then there was last night.
Still riding the high of finding all those medical supplies and ammunition (and a bottle of bourbon), the two of you spent last evening in high spirits. You shared stories and laughed and drank. Joel hummed a tune that had you swaying your hips and smiling towards the obsidian sky. For a moment things felt so easy and normal.
At some point that night, with only a sliver of the moon in the sky, you stumbled in the darkness and fell into Joel’s arms. You had looked up at him, your hand rested on his strong chest as you breathed in the scent of him. Your body tingled where his hands pressed into your waist. The stars twinkled above him as he smiled crookedly and whispered, “y’okay, sweetheart?” and you nearly confessed. Nearly told him how you truly felt about him. Nearly revealed you knew he watched you when he thought you couldn’t see.
Nearly kissed his gorgeous face.
But then he dropped his hands, the magic of the moment gone, and you swallowed your feelings. You fell asleep last night wishing things were different. Wishing Joel was yours.
A single raindrop plopping on your forehead brings you back to the present. “We saw the cabin first,” you recall. “And then the flowers.”
Joel nods, walking forward even faster than he had before. He too must have felt a raindrop.
The two of you continue onwards, the sky teasing you with singular drops of rain as you migrant the woodsy terrain. It doesn’t take long until you see them in the distance.
Alliums. The purple flowers, towering high on skinny stalks, sway in the wind. The bulbous plant, petals like bursting fireworks, are scattered across the field. The sight of them brings you relief. It shouldn’t be much longer until you find the cabin.
Just as you walk past the last bunch of flowers the sky begins to open up. The rain comes softly at first. Small drops that slide off your skin and moisten your clothing. Foolishly, you believe if it continues like this you’ll be fine. But as lightning shoots across the sky and thunder shakes your body, the drops grow heavier, their frequency increasing.
The rain continues to fall harder as you trek on. The sound of water blanketing the land drowns out everything else. Joel turns and looks behind at you, his normally bouncy hair weighted down and plastered to his face. Another clap of thunder rings as the rain soaks through you. It seeps all the layers of your clothing, through your jeans, through your socks, pooling in your boots.
Walking is becoming more difficult as your boots sink into the mud, your clothes are soaked through and heavy and your cumbersome backpack doesn’t help. You’re about to yell ahead, tell Joel it doesn’t even matter anymore, that you’re too tired, but then you see the cabin.
It’s a tiny little thing. The sheltered patio leads into one cozy room. To your right is a kitchenette, directly in front of you is a small living space, and further back, against the wall rests a bed. There’s a closed off area there as well, presumably a bathroom.
Joel crosses the cabin, his hand resting on the pistol holstered to his hip, and peers into the smaller room. His posture relaxes and he gives a quick nod. The cabin is safe.
You rest your rifle against the wall by the door and unceremoniously drop your bag. Relief spreads through your bones. You arch your back and stretch your arms upwards, pulling the muscles along your spine. You glance across the room and there it is again—Joel is watching you. His eyes travel your body and linger where your soaked top clings to your chest.
He’s lost in the sight of you. You raise your arms higher, his gaze warming your cheeks and your core, and you push your chest further out to taunt him. The wet fabric is unforgiving and you're sure he can see your hardened nipples even from across the room.
You decide to break the silence. “You think it will last long?”
Joel snaps to attention, his eyes finding yours as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Huh? What was that?”
“The storm,” you pause to lick your lips. “Do you think it’ll last long?”
Joel sets his backpack down at the head of the bed. “Not too sure,” he looks past you out the window at the turbulent weather, “regardless, we should stay here for the night.” He opens his bag and begins to rummage through it.
You nod as you walk over to the foot of bed. With your back facing him you sit on the edge. “In that case I’m gonna get out of these clothes.”
You wrap your fingers under the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. You toss the clothing and it lands with a loud slap on the wooden floor. After kicking off your boots and socks you lift your hips off the bed enough to push your jeans to your thighs. You struggle to get the tight and stiff wet denim off your legs.
You lean back on your forearms and look behind at Joel. He’s suddenly very interested in his bag. You watch as he digs around, the muscles in his arms pressing against his tee. His face is glistening wet and it highlights the slope of his nose and the curve of his jaw. He’s just as handsome as always.
“Hey, Joel?” You bite your lip and wait for his attention.
His hands still as he looks down at you. “Yes, sweetheart?”
The endearment makes your heart swell. You swing your dangling legs. “Can you help me out of these? They’re giving me trouble.”
He looks at the jeans halfway down your thighs. You’ve changed in front of Joel before but after last night, after spending so much time alone with him, things have gotten intimate. You feel exposed half undressed in your mismatched undergarments, but it’s also exciting and your breath quickens under Joel’s glare.
“Yeah, I can help,” he nearly whispers. He drops his bag on the floor, the stuff within no longer important, and rounds the bed. You lift your legs when he gets close and await his touch.
He holds your ankles first. Gathering the material there, he attempts to pull, but the jeans barely move. So his hands climb up, over your calves, then behind your knees, and when they reach your thighs he pauses. He hooks onto the edge of the material, his thick fingers touching your bare skin, and pulls.
The jeans start to give way. As he tugs your body jostles, your breasts bouncing lightly in your worn bra, each jerk becoming more arousing. Once he’s peeled your pants off he discards them onto the floor along with your shirt.
“There ya go,” he says as he comes between your legs and leans in. “Will you be needin’ anything else?”
He looks at you, his eyes intense and questioning. He’s so close you can feel his body heat, even with his cool wet shirt brushing against your bare torso. A flash of lightning briefly brightens the room. You swallow hard and wait for the resounding thunder. You won’t repeat last night. You won’t let this moment pass.
“Kiss me,” you whisper.
And suddenly Joel’s lips are pressed against yours. He kisses you hungrily, mashing himself against you, finally feeding the longing you’ve both felt for some time. You part your mouth and allow his tongue entry as you melt into him. You explore each other, your hands running along his chest as you’re rendered breathless under his kissing. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You pull at the fabric wanting to feel his skin against yours.
Joel breaks from the heated kiss and straightens his body. His eyes are dark and filled with lust as he yanks his shirt off. You watch him as you scoot back on the bed and fully lay down. He kicks off his boots and undoes his belt and jeans. His body is strong from years of manual labor. There’s a line of hair on his soft belly that trails under his boxers.
“What else do you need, sweetheart?”
You can’t tell if the roaring in your ears is the sound of the rain or of your quickly beating heart. Joel waits for your answer as he unclips the gun holster from his belt and rests it on the floor. His hardening cock springs free when he drops his pants and boxers.
He strokes himself slowly and you watch as his cock gets harder in his grasp. You rub your thighs together, desperately seeking relief for the growing ache between your legs. You unclasp your bra and cup your breasts. Joel softly grunts when you pinch your nipples between your fingers.
The sight of him bare and beautiful leaves you breathless. He looks so handsome with his hair slicked back and glossy from the rain. The sight of his cock, hard and ready for you, sets you on fire. He licks his lips and all you can think about is those lips on you. On your mouth, on your tits, on your cunt. You have never wanted someone so badly.
“You, Joel,” you finally say. “I need you.”
He smiles at your answer and makes his way onto the bed. He takes his time crawling up to you, planting kisses along the way. He pauses when he meets the apex of your legs.
His fingers curl around the band of your panties and he pulls them down and off. You open your legs, inviting him in, so desperate for his touch.
He looks up with hungry eyes. “I want to taste you,” he says as his fingers part your pussy lips, opening you even further for him.
Joel opens his mouth and presses his tongue against your cunt. He licks up, takes his time savoring you until he passes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation has you moaning and lifting your hips to meet his mouth.
“Oh, Joel,” you whine as he continues sucking and licking you, alternating between the flat of his tongue and the point of his tip. One of his large fingers finds the entrance to your hole and pushes inside.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me already,” he mumbles into your folds. “One of my fingers isn’t enough, is it?”
Your hands run through his hair as he inserts another finger inside you, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them into the spot within you that has you moaning his name.
Your pleasure grows as Joel finds his rhythm, his mouth and hand working together to bring you closer and closer to orgasm.
“Please, Joel,” you’re begging, pleading with him. “Don’t stop! I’m so close, please don’t stop!”
So he doesn’t. His moans join your screams of pleasure until the pressure in your core finally snaps. Your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm rips through you. Joel’s fingers continue to work through your high, prolonging your pleasure until your legs relax and your grip loosens from his hair.
“Fuck,” you exhale as Joel crawls up, his strong body caging around you. He leans into you, the touch of his skin on yours and the weight of him soothing your body. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck as one of his hands squeezes your breast, his fingers playfully twisting your nipple.
He’s planting kisses on you again, on your neck, along your jaw, then on your lips. You moan when you taste your own release on his tongue as he slips it between your lips. You spread your legs further underneath him, a fire burning in your core that only he can put out. His cock rests thick and hard between you.
“I still need you,” you whisper, lifting your hips to grind yourself against the length of him. You need all of him, every pound and every inch. You need his touch, his lips, his moans. You need him around you. You need him in you.
He grunts as you rub against him, your wet hole eager to be filled.
“I need you too,” he whispers back as he reaches in between your bodies. He grabs himself and aligns the thick head of his cock at your entrance.
You whimper as he slowly pushes himself inside you. Inch by inch your walls stretch to accommodate his shaft. Seeds of pleasure start to grow when he’s fully inserted into you.
Joel stills inside you and looks into your eyes. His face is twisted in bliss. “Goddamn, your pussy is squeezing me so tight,” he rasps. He sharply exhales when you flex your cunt around him.
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He begins to pump his hips then, making soft shallow thrusts until he’s gotten used to the feeling of you. He moans into your mouth as he picks up the pace, nearly pulling himself out of you entirely before plummeting back into your depths.
His dick is intoxicating. Waves of pleasure wash over you each time he rams himself deep in you. He fills you completely, your wet hole stretching around the length of him.
Joel begins stroking faster, his hips snapping into you at a blinding pace. Your fingers dig into his back when he rocks into the spot that makes you arch your back and moan his name.
He smiles, satisfied with the pleasure his cock gives you. “Right there?” He asks as he continues to mercilessly drill into you, pounding your sweet spot over and over again.
“Yea—oh my god, Joel—yes!”
He’s already pushing you towards your next orgasm and he can sense it. He repositions your bodies, folding you nearly in half as he brings your knees up.
You scream out as the altered position lets him stroke deeper inside you. His cock hits your cervix, pain and pleasure meshing together, forcing you closer to the edge.
“You like that, sweetheart?” Joel asks as your moans increase in volume. “Look at your pretty pussy juices making a mess… so fucking wet.”
You look down where the two of you are connected. You watch as he disappears inside you and then reappears again, shiny with your slick. The image makes your head spin.
“I… oh fuck! I’m gonna… I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna cum on my cock for me? Huh?” His strokes are becoming more erratic, his own orgasm approaching. “Gonna let me feel that pussy grip my dick while you cum?”
Joel’s filthy words combined with his dick destroying your cunt sends you over. You yell out as your orgasm knocks over you. Your pussy pulsates around Joel, pushing him over the edge. You milk his cock as he cums, his dick twitching inside you as his warm seed fills your hole.
The two of you lay there a while, Joel softening inside you as his body envelopes yours. When your body has relaxed and your breathing has slowed Joel softly presses his lips to yours. He rises and slowly pulls out. You feel your combined arousal spill out of you once he’s completely out of the warmth of your cunt. You immediately miss the fullness he gave you when he rolls over to lay beside you.
The storm continues on outside. Fat raindrops pellet the cabin and the wind rattles the windows. Staying in was a good call, the sky was already darkening with the approaching night.
You look over to Joel. His eyes are closed, his face is soft and relaxed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so calm before.
“Y’okay, sweetheart,” you ask, mirroring Joel’s words from last night.
Joel chuckles as he intertwines his fingers in yours. “Yeah. I am now.”
#Joel Miller#Joel Miller x Reader#Joel Miller x You#The Last of Us#Joel Miller smut#joel miller fanfiction
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ㅤ𔓕ㅤㅤꪆৎㅤ𓈒ㅤ THREE'S A CROWD ＼ ㅤ♰ ㅤ⊹ㅤ ︵
Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x f!reader x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales
summary: your dad befriended some nice customers from his bar. fast-forward a year, they're all you can think about.
tags: pwp honestly, threesome mfm (YEEPPEEE) dbf! Santiago & Frankie, afab!reader w she/her pronouns, age gap, pet names (lots!!), Santiago has a thing with you being 'pure', virginity loss, reader is literally horny 24/7, doms! santi and frankie, sub! reader, rougher santi and softer frankie ig, dirty talk, slapping, hair pulling, spit (for like a sentence), choking, hair pulling, double penetration (in the same hole), head m receiving, voyeurism, unprotected p in v (wrap your dingaling!!), masturbating in the mirror for like a bit, lmk if i missed anything!!
ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ ive been on an oscar isaac rush for the past few weeks, and i had to. first time writing ab a threesome...sooo. im trying to write in different ways, so if it all seems jittery, apologies!!! this has like 3.6k words. its not proofread!! I TRIED MY BEST :( enjoy !!
'i need it.' was becoming like a mantra for you now, every day, needy for touches and attention, those dirty reflections that never left your mind.
of course, you've done things with boys. well, one boy, your boyfriend, and those things being your average makeout sessions and hand jobs, nothing more. you knew what sex was, of course, but the urge to experience the rougher side of it was overflowing by the day. and you know these wishes started appearing and consuming as soon as your dad befriended two customers from the bar you help him run, Santiago and Frankie. One year ago, you saw them only three times, maybe four in the span of 3 months, but their visits were more and more frequent and well, that's how their friendship started.
At first you were skeptical, unsure of their means, but you missed seeing your dad so happy and when you got to know them you realized they were good. What mattered was your dad being less lonely.
So yeah, you were happy for your dad, but hated that you had to see them almost everyday and in turn sit hours on end with soaked panties on and, like a broken record, playing fantasies in your mind of these older men doing as they please with you. and you don't know why these thoughts plagued your mind just now, at the age of 21, but it was getting in the way of every aspect of your life, these wild things making you want to live inside your fantasy world and never wake up.
all though, that kind of changed eight months ago when, in the dead of july, you witnessed them helping your dad building a small summerhouse in your backyard. There's nothing wrong with that. Just seeing them both sweaty, with muscles bulging and hands dirty, woke something inside of you. and the fact that you broke up with your first boyfriend ever, that you were together with since 17, didn’t quite help.
Today was no different: another late night at the bar. your dad went home early to catch some sleep since tomorrow he'll have to leave for three days to help his brother, your uncle, move into his new home. That's fine. What's getting you is him assigning his friends to 'keep an eye on you' like you're some sort of child. but, somehow, you can get over that. What you can't get over is how are you going to survive three whole days being just in their presence? when your dad's here, it's different. You don't need to spend that much time in their proximity, but this? you'll have to lock yourself in your room to keep those thoughts at bay.
you we're getting lost within your mind again.
what if you were to tell them about these thoughts? not that they're about them, just... you know, boy advice?
that's insane. and stupid.
would they accept should you propose you three entangled in some...activities? they'd for sure disagree- you were their friend's daughter, and whilst they didn't know you for that long it for sure didn't sound right.
what if they agree, though? one night. one night for all of your dreams to become reality..but you couldn't live after that knowing what you'd be missing forever. they'd leave after. what if you'd beg for them to stay, to have them do things even more carnal to you? if you begged maybe and gave your freedom to them.
These kinds of thoughts cloud your mind every day, and now, they are making you forget about the real world, where you were supposed to serve Santiago a glass of whiskey. as the sound of a low chuckle pulls you out of your trance, you feel liquid pooling around your palm that was settled on the bar. and when it finally awakes you, your eyes meet him again. your heart jolts, and it gets you lightheaded again.
"Oh, I'm- god, I'm so sorry Mr.Garcia...I don't know what happenedㅡ" You panic, wiping hurriedly the bar, prompting yet another laugh from the man. " 's fine, doll, don't worry. all though... your dad might turn into the reincarnation of Lucifer if he sees how much whiskey you wasted." he leans over for some tissues, wanting to help you.
"No, it's fine, I'll do it-" you smile shyly, placing your hand on top of his to stop him from moving, this in turn made him tilt his head up only a little, which awarded him with a quick glance at your barely exposed cleavage.
"I won't say anything if you don't." your ears pick up his voice, and for a moment, you forgot about what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, I'm not gonna...say anything." Your lips curl into a shy smile. " Hurry and clean this up. I'm gonna take you home since you gotta close anyway."
'untouched.' he thought to himself.
oh, lord.
"no, that's fine. I can walk-"
"See, I know you have manners ‘cause your dad taught you to listen to your elders, seems I just gotta get a little stern with you, huh?" you shake your head, not sure what to make of what he just said, but you finish up cleaning as the door opens to reveal Frankie. "why're you still here, man?" he inquired as he took off his baseball cap to arrange his perfectly curly hair better.
"said I'll take you home." you breathe out a quiet 'oh, my god' because you're sure you've just had an orgasm from his voice only.
you can't possibly be serious.
"on duty." he laughs and points towards you. "Ah."
"You know... my dad hasn't left yet, so you're not 'on duty' as far as I know. Also, he said to keep an eye on me. Not be my bodyguards!" You try to scold them in a way. At the end of the day, you are an adult, right? "Easy miss." Frankie puts his hands up."I just arrived.”
you hate how much you like them. and how much you want them to ravage you. if possible, you'd let them both take you right there on the bar counter, whilst potential passers-by saw you get fucked into oblivion.
"Yeah, well I am leaving. Alone! So please-" you move your hands as a signal for them to leave. "Excuse us for ever bothering you, miss. May we at least stay here until you close?” Santiago sarcastically banters. "I guess.." You shrug, finishing washing your hands and putting the glasses away.
9AM, your dad left, and you can't seem to fall back asleep. the bar will be closed for these these days, so you have nothing to do except steep into your own boredom. You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee and grab a book from the shelf. With your coffee in hand, you head out to the backyard, where you settle into a comfortable chair. As you sip your coffee and immerse yourself in the pages of the book, you find solace in the gentle breeze and the sounds of nature around you, embracing the quiet moments of the morning.
as you stare a bit more into the mirror, your hands make their way up your torso and to your breasts, nipping at your lower lip as you can't seem to ignore the warmth from between your thighs. you start imagining both of them having their way with you, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror as they pumped your holes full of their come. touching yourself more, light fingers make their way under the shorts you were wearing, finally catching a feel of how wet you are. you moan, knees buckling as you picture both men marking you as theirs in all ways. "p-please.. Santi, Frankieㅡ"
this works for a while, but there's an inexplicable itch you want to scratch. with a loud whine that scares some little birds away, you head back inside to find other things to do. "Please, i can't keep on thinking about them. What is wrong with me?" You scream whisper at yourself whilst looking in the mirror places in your hallway, "like..genuinely!"
"my, what do we have here, huh?" your eyes open wide, and still in your pants and palm still over your sensitive nipple, as another reflection in the mirror stares back at you. "Mr.Garcia, Mr.Moralesㅡ"
"Cut the shit, doll. I think we're way past that." he motions loosely towards the indecent position you were in. "You're lucky it was us and not your dad. '' Frankie states. "I'm so sorry, I don't even..I can'tㅡ" you stutter and turn around slowly to face them, arms now falling to your sides.
"You want us?" Frankie asks you in the most serious tone you've heard him. "I- what? Huh?" you're left speechless by this sudden interrogation.
"Do you want us to fuck you, doll?" Santiago reiterated. But you stayed quiet, head low, too embarrassed to admit your true intentions. was it wrong? certainly. but was it the only thing you've dreamed about since you first saw them? Of course.
"Why don't you answer? You act like a little slut and yetㅡ" He steps closer and Frankie soon follows. "You're too shy all of a sudden? We were the ones who walked in on you, you know? touching yourself in front of the mirror like a dirty whore, huh? what would your dad say, baby?" he taunts you whilst Frankie reaches his strong grip and tilts your head up to look them in the eyes. "You didn't answer the question, sweet girl."
it takes a few seconds, but you muster up a hushed 'yes', causing them to smirk. "Show us, baby. C'mon, tell us how bad you want it." Dizzy and drunk on arousal, you succumbed to their touch, kneeling at their feet and looking up, pleading with tearful eyes in a silent entreaty to do as they please with you. but they don't budge. They wait patiently for you to show them how desperate you can get. it all overflows you, the cold floor in contact with your knees, their scent, your rugged breaths. "Please, I want- need it. I need you...so bad. need you toㅡ use me" you rub your thighs together. "Please..?"
"for how long, baby, hm? since we first met? 'cause i know I've wanted to bend you over from the first moment I laid my eyes on the pretty thing you are." Frankie admits. " knew you had nothing else in this pretty head of yours, sweetheart. " Santiago laughs as he shoves your head lightly with his finger, causing you to whimper. "just wanna be fucked stupid, right? be our stupid, little fuck doll? that what you want?" and you nod in response, it takes you all of your power to not cry from how bad you want to feel them right now. "Ever done something like this?" and you shake your head no. "Shit. You poor little thing." he was right about you. He can feel his dick twitching at the thought of having you all splayed out, so innocent and untouched.
"We'll take care of you. But we can't promise to be too gentle. All though I don't think “gentle” is what you want." Your eyes glimmer, and your head spins. Did you hear them right? Is this really happening, or are you having the most beautiful dream, and when you wake up, you'll be sorrowful for days?
They instruct you to get undressed, clothes falling to the floor as they force you to crawl onto the couch all whilst they watch, fully clothed. getting closer to you, their calloused hands explore each part of your warm body as trails of kisses leave you hanging onto them. "gonna ruin you, baby, you know that, yeah?" of course you know. you've been yearning for this moment for almost a year.
"You look like a dumb puppy staring like that." Frankie snorts. "Haven't seen a cock before?" he's getting cockier with his remarks, as he urges you to respond. "Yes, but.. n-ot soㅡ big.." your cheeks grow red as you see Santiago's dick jump from your words. "Stroking my ego like that baby... how 'bout you stroke my cock, hm? can you do that for me?" anything. you were willing to do it all for them, make them so proud, they'd never want to leave.
they proceed to get naked, Santiago positioning himself in front of you and Frankie a little to your side. You couldn't believe it. This was so much more than you imagined; they were both long and girthy, with Frankie being a little more veiny than Santiagoㅡ a sight that made you drool. this will forever be imprinted into your brain.
your shaky hands wrap, barely, around both their lengths, as you stare up at them whilst standing straight so your boobs are on full display for them to eat up with their hungry eyes. you do it slow, unsure if you're doing it good, licking some of the precum from their slits from time to time, swirling your tongue around eachㅡ putting on a show. "You've done your homework, huh? Do it a little too well for a virgin."
"c'mon, hands and knees, I wanna fuck this pretty mouth of yours." Santiago pushes you back as Frankie strokes himself. "Pretty thing" he says as two digits trail down your back and help you position yourself better onto the couch. Frankie finally places himself behind you, teasingly playing with your folds, letting out a soft 'fuck' whilst feeling how wet you were. "Stretched yourself out for use before we came, right, sweet girl? You want me to help you out a little moreㅡ?"
"Noㅡ! Please.." you eagerly interrupt. "You cockslut. Haven't had an eager little thing like you since I was in college." He laughs as he positions his length in line with your hot entrance, leaving kisses down your back he slips inside slowly, and you choke out a cry, eyes brimming with tears. "sh, sh..I know, baby. I know." whispering gently, Santiago leans down and cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. As your lips finally met, time stood still, the world faded away, and all that remained was the electrifying sensation of something within you igniting. It was a moment painted with the hues of passion and longing, a symphony of emotions echoing through your soul.
shuddering in anticipation, you part your lips further, allowing him to push deeper inside. you were already a mess- drool dripping down your chin as he fucked your mouth like there was no tomorrow, tears that stained your cheeks as he pushed your head lower; muffled moans, how you were gagging around his length, pure music for both of them to listen to.
He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you as the pain slowly fades away and is replaced by pure pleasure. pulling away he levels himself and taps on your chin for you to open your mouth. Santiago hisses, tugging harder at your hair as a response to your warm tongue enveloping the tip of his dick. "shit, baby, open up for meㅡ thaat's it. good girl."
"look so pretty, baby, mouth stuffed with cock.."
At your other end, Frankie was cautiously moving back and forth, not wanting to succumb to the tightness of your wet cunt that almost sent him over the edge just as he put the tip in. "so fuckin' tight, baby. fuuck-" he groans delivering a few hard strokes, your back arching against him and fingers digging into Santiago's hips. "you hear that?" Frankie asks, moving himself deep into your hot core, letting you catch the lewd and wet noises your cunt made wrapped around him. "she's so wet for us, isn't she? poor pussy.." you pathetically whine, as Santiago pulls your head back by your hair, making you stare straight into his darkened eyes. "don't go shy on us now, doll." he laughs, delivering a sharp slap to your already heated cheek. "you wanted to be a little slut and we're gonna treat you like one, soㅡ" he tuts, thrusting into your throat before he continues, "so, really, you should thank us." Santiago pulls away, leaving your needy mouth wide open asking for his shaft in a silent plea. Frankie firmly places his rough palms onto your ass before taking his length out and you cry at the sudden lack of them inside of you. "Go ahead," he adds. "Thank us, baby, c'mon."
you lick your lips, feeling yourself dripping down onto the mattress under you, too cock drunk and embarrassed to say anything. Santiago sighs, giving your cheek a few light slaps as his other palm slides down to wrap around your throat. you gasp, the feeling so new yet it felt like something you'd been missing for so long. "i didn't take you as the ungrateful type, little angel." he coos, as Frankie reaches under to cup your breasts into his hands. "are you an ungrateful little whore?" taunting you. " 'm n-ot.." you gasp, the lack of blood flow to your brain keeping you on the edge. "you're sure acting like one." the one at the forefront proceeds, running the tip of his leaking length along your puffy lips. "and here we were..-" he stops to slap it onto your left cheek "ready to reward you, hm?" they look at each other and chuckle, as if they weren't mocking you and the pitiful mess you were. "please, I'm-" you swallow. "I'm sorry, please. Thank you so muchㅡ ! just- please, please..."
"you sweet thing." Santiago intoned "sweet filthy thing."
"I say we fuck her like she wants us to." Frankie hums from behind you, his cock rubbing against your leaking entrance. "that's what you want, right baby? want us both inside your little pussy. stretch her out and ruin you for others.." and you whimper as your cunt pulses around nothing. "Yeah, she likes that. dirty fucking girl." It was raw and intense— how their command over you ignited an unyielding desire to please them, to make them proud.
they both pull away, and in no time, your body is squished between theirs, strong arms holding you down as if you're to run away. Santiago harshly cups your face, forcing your mouth open; He gathers some spit into his mouth, for him to promptly spit it down onto your tongue. He watches proudly as you swallow it all, his thumb running across your bottom lip. Frankie was biting your shoulder, sucking at your sensitive skin as he held you by your throat in a way that's sure to leave marks.
"lift your hips for us." Santiago commands, and you do as you're told. He tangles his hand around in your hair as his other one reaches down to his cock, aligning it with your entrance. He eases in, making you throw your head back onto Frankie, his fingers now massaging your sensitive clit. "Fuckingㅡ look at her, swallowing me in one go. pretty girl.." he coos, pulling your head back by the hair to face him. From behind you, Frankie slowly lifts you up with his knees and slips inside of you, both men moaning into your ears. Tears slip past your eyes again and you cry from the pain and pleasure as your mouth falls open, unsure if you're still conscious or not. "feels good, baby? us splitting you open right here where anyone from the street can see... you like that?" Frankie was right, all it took was for a taller person to stare a bit over the fence and they'd have front row seats at this show.
" 'course she does. little whores like her get off to that. bet she'd let us fuck her in front of her dad. let him see the slut his daughter actually is." With that, Santiago finally starts to move, his eyes rolling back as Frankie pushes down onto your lower belly, as he moves his hips. "So fucking deep, shitㅡ feel that?" he laughs "want us to come this deep, huh? have you all filled up till you can't hold anything inside of you.."
"p-pleaseㅡ"
"i could fuck this tight cunt forever, god." the other in front of you grunts, the hand from your hair now focused on your nipples and one placed firmly onto your hips. Frankie had one hand on your stomach and one onto your face, two of his fingers stretching your mouth open. You let yourself be taken over by them. it felt like you were flying so high and intoxicated by them, you weren't sure how you'd recover.
"thank you, thank youㅡ" you babble incoherently.
Santiago quickened his pace, causing Frankie to do the same, and with a few more strokes, they both bury themselves deep inside your core, white warm ropes painting your velvety walls. The sudden warmth and full feeling sends you completely over the edge, having you shake and pulse around them as you reach your orgasm.
you all sit there, them deep inside of you, you between them, breathing heavily as they planted kisses upon your skin. After you came down, you realized what happened, and worse, that it was over, a thought which made you let out a pathetic sob and clench around them out of desperation. "easy girl, we still have two days left." Frankie breaks the silence. "It was you who said you wanted us to use you, no? you who wanted be our cum doll forever.." Santiago follows.
You're right where you want to be.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#oscar isaac smut#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac#oscar isaac x you#santiago pope garcia#santiago pope garcia x reader#triple frontier#triple frontier fanfiction
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