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footygirl114 · 5 months

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Escolta (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

Surprise! I bring you the first part of a new series as a birthday present! So happy birthday, and I hope y'all enjoy! 🧡💜

The shrill ringing of your phone awoke you from the light sleep you were in, opening your eyes the bright sun on the beach in Bali you were currently laid out on almost blinded you. Reaching over to the table beside you, you snatched the ringing phone sparing it a quick glance as you answer the call with a “Hi boss.”

“Y/N! How’s the time off?” she asks down the phone.

You look around the secluded beach you have been relaxing on as you answer with “Peaceful.”

Michelle, your boss, chuckles down the line as she says “I didn’t know that you could relax Y/N.”

“I never said I was relaxed, but it is peaceful” You answer her back.

“Secluded?” she asks you.

You chuckle and tell her “I haven’t seen a soul since my grocery delivery 3 days ago.”

Michelle laughs down the line and says “Well I hate to burst your bubble but your vacation is over, I have a job for you.”

For the last 11 days you had been on a secluded beach in Bali, trying to relax but also just enjoying the peace and quiet. It had been a long month working security for a group of British Diplomats who were traveling around the middle east working on peace deals. The few days of peace were needed after being consistently working for a month.

“Where am I off to this time?” you asked Michelle, as you finally sat up on the lounger you had been laying in. Your mind immediately working overtime thinking about what you needed to do in order to get back to reality.

“Actually, it’s a different assignment than you are used to but you are the only one I can trust with this one.” Michelle starts and when you do not interrupt she continues “I need you in Barcelona.”

“Barcelona? for what?” you immediately ask, your mind buzzing wondering if you missed some major news story.

Michelle chuckles as she says “It’s still a protection detail, but a more sensitive and less invasive one.”

She has you confused and you stand and start to gather your bag to walk back to your cabin as you tell her “Michelle, just tell me, you know I hate it when you are evasive.”

Michelle lets out a laugh as she says “Alexia Putellas.”

“Who?” you ask, continuing the walk to your cabin to start packing.

“She’s the most recent Ballon D’Or winner, the best woman’s player in the world, and she’s been gaining popularity and there is a some concerns for her safety when she’s attending events.” Michelle explains.

“What do they need me for? I know they’d have security at these events?” you ask, finally reaching your cabin and immediately starting up your computer.

“There has been some weird comments online, some fan mail sent in, and they want to make sure there is extra security without all the fuss of a full team.” she tells you.

You groan as you realise you will basically be a baby sitter for this one “You need a babysitter.”

“Y/N, this could be massive for us, if we can do well here this can expand our clientele and we can finally start to get into the sports world. So yes, I need my best employee to provide the best low-key protection possible to the best football player in the world.” she says.

“Flattery will get you everywhere Michelle. Send me the details and I will handle it” You tell her with a chuckle.

“thank you” she chuckles and you finish off the conversation with pleasantries, as you turn on your computer to get your self back to reality.

A week later you are parking the rental car outside of a nice looking apartment building right on the water in Barcelona, ready to head in and meet your new client. You had spent the last week visiting your shoebox of an apartment in London, that was pretty much used to store your stuff and be a landing pad between jobs.

Having read up on the client and the job, you knew you would be staying in an apartment the client’s manager organised for you in the building. You also spent much longer than you cared to admit googling Alexia Putellas. Something about her captivated you and now that you are about to meet her you feel a bit creepy that you know so many things about her.

Deciding to leave your bags in the trunk you walk into the apartment lobby, you were told that you were meeting Jose, the players manager, and that there was a seperate elevator to the penthouse apartment which was owned by Alexia. You walked in and looked around and noticed there was no doorman or security in the lobby, mentally noting that in your head you walked to the reception desk.

“Hola, how can I help you?” the gentleman behind the desk asked you with a smile.

Smiling back you notice his name tag and respond “Hola Miguel, I am here to see Jose.”

Miguel nods and says “Perfect, it’s the elevator on the far right, I will swipe you up.”

You stare at him for a second and respond with a “Gracias” and move toward the elevator, you hear his steps follow you and you watch as he pulls a card from his pocket and swipes it above the call button.

When the elevator arrives, he allows you to board and leans in and swipes his card again on the inside as he presses the button for the penthouse. He smiles and steps back saying “It’ll go right to the penthouse, and I will let Jose know you are on the way up.”

The doors close before you can respond, you spend the ride up and thinking over that whole interaction and how this job is going to be a lot harder than you expected if this is your first interaction. When you get up to the top and the doors open, you almost expect to have no one there but you are pleasantly surprised when you are met at the top by Jose.

“Y/N? Nice to meet you I am Jose” he immediately starts with when the doors open and he holds out his hand to you.

Shaking his hand you reply “It’s nice to finally meet you too.”

Before you finish speaking he turns and starts walking and says “Come with me, I do not have much time before my next meeting but I will get you set up.”

You move to follow and look around as you walk and notice a very formal living room and dining room you pass by, and then you pass through a doorway into a large open concept kitchen and family room. On the far side there is a hallway and you assume that there is at least one bedroom down it.

When Jose moves to the kitchen island he grabs and turns to hand to you a set of keys and a key card like the one use to get into the elevator. “The keys are for your apartment, 2 floors down, and the card is for you to get into the elevator here and up to the penthouse, it's a private elevator directly to Alexia’s unit.”

You continue to watch as he hands you a packet and continues with “you will find passes to the field, it will get you everywhere but into the change room. You will also find the schedule for the next few weeks of games and events we have already to committed too. This will change and things will be added but thats a rough outline. When Alexia is in her apartment we won’t be needing you, but anytime she leaves we expect you to follow.”

At this point you have taken everything he has handed to you and you follow along looking at everything, when he stops talking you look up and see him looking at something over your shoulder. You turn sightly and lock eyes with Alexia Putellas, immediately the first thought in your head is holy shit the pictures do not do her justice.

“Jose, is this my new babysitter?” she asks with a chuckle as she walks closer to you, you also notice she came from down the hallway you think was bedrooms.

Chuckling Jose responds with “Y/N meet Alexia, Alexia met Y/N the new security agent I have hired for you.”

You reach out your hand to her and say “Nice to meet you ma’am”

She reaches out and grabs your hand with a smile and says “please do not call me ma’am. Alexia is fine.”

“Noted ma’am” when she gives you the eye you correct “I mean Miss. Putellas.”

Jose chuckles and interrupts the staring contest by saying “I need to run, but I think you should be good from here.”

“I’ll walk you out” Alexia chimes in and follows him to the front door.

You stand there watching wondering if you should be doing something, and you decide to look at the schedule you were given. A few moments later you know she has walked back in, you were a highly trained operative after all, but you refused to look up.

You listen as she walks over to the other side of the kitchen island you are standing at and she says “So I think we need to set some things straight.”

You look up giving her your full attention and ask “what do you mean?.” It was a mistake meeting her eyes cause now you are lost looking into them, and you have to dig your nails into your palm to keep your self focused. It was a trick you had learned in your many years in the military to keep your mind present and not wonder on patrols.

“I didn’t want you. I don’t need extra security. This was all Jose’s idea and I really don’t think I need someone following me around.” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest watching for your reaction.

What she says doesn’t take you by surprise, its not the first time a client has said this to you and you know it won’t be the last. “You may not think you need it, but I have seen the videos and clips, and seen the messages you have gotten. You may not think you need it right now, but the whole point of hiring me is that I am going to work my ass off to make sure nothing happens and you continue to remain safe.”

She stands there for a moment staring at you and you feel like your being judged hard. When she finally shrugs and says “Fine, but I do not like this, and I need to make sure you understand that football is my life and I will not let anything get in the way of it.”

You feel like she is talking about more than just a protection detail but you can’t even entertain that right now. “Listen Miss Putellas, I got in to your apartment no questions asked by saying I was here to see Jose. Anyone could have done that, and that is not okay when you have no warning of someone coming into your apartment.”

“What?” she asks and moves around the island to your side.

“No one even asked who I was or why I was here, they just scanned me into your elevator. People are crazy and anyone could have found out where you live and come into your apartment. I will not let that happen, and the first thing I am going to do is make sure you are safe and comfortable in your own apartment.” When you finish you realise you may have gone on a bit of rant and immediately feel the blush rush to your cheeks.

She moves closer to you and says “You really are here to just keep me safe?” you nod and she continues “and you won’t get in my way?” She asks looking right into your eyes.

Nodding you answer “I understand passion, and I know what it feels like to have the drive you do, I will not get in your way. If anything I want to take this off your plate and make you feel confident in anything you are doing.”

The ringing of her phone causes her to jump back, and you notice how close you were to closing the space between the two of you. While she distracts her self by the phone, you move to gather yourself and your paperwork and you move toward the door.

“You will need to go to the lobby and get on the other elevator, but your apartment is 1212. I won’t be going anywhere tonight but I leave at 8am to go to training.” She says as she covers the mouth piece on the phone.

“I will see you in the morning.” you tell her and keep your self from looking at her by pressing the button on the elevator. When it arrives you move to get on it and you can’t help your self but look up and meet her eyes. She smiles and winks at you just as the door closes and you know you need to keep this professional, but you are going to be in big trouble while you try.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #espwnt x reader #barca femeni

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mercurygguk · 8 months

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head over skates · jjk ; part iii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,255

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, a teeny tiny little tension but also, jk is being very sweet :(

a/n; part 3!!! i love doing this little series bc it's so easy to write when the chapters aren't so long <3 i hope all of you enjoy it too despite the fact that it's not a very long read! lmk what you think! ty for reading xx

You didn’t text Jungkook back.

No matter how tempted you were when he tried to bribe you with iced americano – your favorite (which he remembered).

Instead you took it upon yourself and started working on the project without him. Your gut is telling you that he won’t be adding much to the group work nor will he invest the time and energy in it. There’s no reason to wait around for him to actually care about the project when you know that ‘caring’ isn’t one of his primary traits. It used to be but not anymore – if he still cared, he wouldn’t have abandoned your friendship the way he did.

Besides, it’s not like you mind.

You’ll gladly put his name on the finished product if it means you’ll be rid of him and his flirty, cocky behavior. It’ll only make the process easier and you’ll be able to do it just the way you want. If anything, Jungkook should be grateful that you’re willing to do this on your own and just add his name. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this but you just can’t stand being stuck doing group work with him for three weeks.

Jihyo is right though – it is time to move past it but you can’t. Not yet.

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 5 years – that’s sixty months of spite and aggravation that has affected you way more than you would’ve liked. Like you said, you’re not one to hold grudges against people but this particular grudge has been sitting in the back of your mind for half a decade and while you’d love to be able to just let it go, you can’t.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when your phone buzzes due to an incoming text. You reach for it to take a look, your face instantly twisting in annoyance when you realize who’s texting you.

[11:07 AM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: whatcha doing? ;)

You swipe it, removing it from your lock screen before returning your focus to your laptop and the project at hand. You let out a soft sigh and rest your chin in your palm as you play around with the font of the text – Times New Roman suddenly has a whole other meaning after Jungkook’s name was written next to yours the other day.

"It’s good to know your phone works.”

“Oh my god!”

Startled by the low and deep voice right next to your ear, you jump in your seat and turn around with widened eyes. Dark brown eyes with a mischievous glint in them are staring back at you, an amused grin on pink lips as well. You take notice of the two iced americanos in his hand before you’re scowling at your former friend turned stranger.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to do the project,” Jungkook tells you and holds up the beverages. “I brought drinks.”

“How did you know I was here?” You can’t help but ask, wondering how he managed to locate you. The library isn’t exactly one of the places on campus Jeon Jungkook frequents the most. You’d know since you spent a lot of time here.

He shrugs, “I saw you when I walked by, went and got these,” he places the iced americanos onto the table, “and came back to join you.”

You gape at him for a moment as he pulls a chair out and takes a seat next to you, not a word of protest leaving you because you’re simply speechless once again. He actually got you iced americano and he genuinely wants to do the project.

Something doesn’t seem right.

Jungkook glances at you with a smirk when he’s met by silence, “what? Surprised that I actually do my school work?”

You shake yourself off your speechlessness and shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “something like that.”

“I see you took a head start,” he nods to your laptop with a chuckle as he pulls his own out of his backpack. That fucking chunky, black backpack he’s had since high school. Back then you wondered what he carried around in it and every time you asked him, he would only shrug and grin.

Teen boys and their mysterious behavior.

And just for a brief moment, you see your best friend from high school in front of you, sitting here next to you like back in the day – boyish grin and that same glint in his eye. He looks the same and it’s messing with your head because back then you were crushing hard on him. Jungkook has always dominated that casual, boyish charm and look and today is no different. He’s wearing an oversized white Nike t-shirt and black track pants from the same brand. There’s a yellow beanie on top of his head to tame his messy hair. For all you know, he could’ve gotten straight out of bed and gone to campus after throwing on the first outfit he could find – simple, casual, flattering.

The only difference is the two lip rings and the full sleeve of tattoos.

“Yeah, about that,” you start, shooting him a fake, over-friendly smile. “Don't worry about it – I’ll do the project and just add your name before handing it in.”

Jungkook blinks at you for a moment before recovering, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why? You're scared I’ll fuck it up or some shit?”

You shake your head, “no, I just prefer working alone.”

“You always do projects with Jihyo though,” he points out, squinting his eyes at you.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Or are you just saying that because I’m your partner?” He challenges.

How do you tell a guy who’s so used to getting his way and having people go out of their way to make sure he’s happy that you don’t want him as your project partner? That you’d rather do an important project that’s meant to be done in pairs by yourself and risk the possibility of getting stressed out just because you got paired up with him?

“If I’m being honest, yes,” you tell him, not taking a moment to rethink your choice to confront him but just blurting it out instead. “I would rather work myself into the ground than do group work with you. So if you don’t mind…”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow as you do a gesture with your hands as if to shoo him away. He looks rather unbothered though, not moving an inch either. He stares at you for a second and if you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume he’s silently challenging you to try again, to tell him off and ‘shoo’ him away like a fucking bird.

You don’t.

You stare back at him, your face not showing an ounce of anything as you patiently wait for him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

Instead the corners of his mouth curls into a faint smirk as he reaches for one of the iced americanos and slides it towards you. He then grabs the other one and turns to his laptop, silently sipping on his beverage while getting to work on the project.

You feel your blood starting to boil a little but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you pointedly snatch up the iced americano, once again turning your focus to the project at hand. You feel his eyes on you but you keep your eyes on your laptop screen, acting as if his presence isn’t affecting you or bothering you in any way.

You then give in and take a sip of the coffee.

Damn it…

It’s a really good iced americano.

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the-oblivious-writer · 11 months

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Pretty Girl |2|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!

Summary: Tara and you decide to do movie night at her place. Joking around with each other quickly turns into arguing

Warning(s): Mentions of drinking, Swearing, Clueless!R, Jealous!Tara

Notes: Part two of this. Actually thinking of turning this into either a series or mini series. I re-wrote this a couple times, hope you enjoy. Part three won't come as soon as this one but it will come at some point

Previous part|Next Part

A week has passed since you decided to be bold. Well..bold is a bit of a stretch. After you ran you stumbled a few times and almost tripped face first down the stairs. You’re fine.

You’re at a local pizza shop, waiting in line to order. You and Tara decided to do another movie night at her place this time. Sam’ll be at her therapy session so it’s the perfect time for you to come over and hang out. As far as you know it’s just going to be the two of you.

Like it’s always been..so why were you catching yourself focusing on that part?

BzzBzz

—-

You finished ordering the food when your phone buzzed. You take it out of your pocket to see messages from Tara.

Tara 💜

Hey, we’re still on for later right?

noooo need to worry about the

big and scary Sam Carpenter

Ha. Ha. you’re hilarious

yeah we’re still on

is it just gonna be us?

As far as I know

why? scared this is secretly just my

plan to seduce and kill you?

and who exactly revealed my diabolical

plan to you??

I'm just that good

but don’t say that

shit around Sam lmao

wouldn’t dream of it, darling

Food’s ready so imma get going

but I’ll see you in a bit

Looking forward to it<3

—

You smile and put your phone back in your pocket, after you grab the food you make your way to your car and wait a bit before leaving.

As you raise your fist up to the door to knock, it opens and you're met with Tara’s lit up face.

“Did you even check who it was, what if I was a deranged sociopath?” You jokingly ask, slightly raising your eyebrows.

“Don’t worry, I knew it was you” Tara replied, with a smirk. You tilted your head.

“Were you tracking me, Carpenter?” You chuckled a bit. She only smirked while she helped you bring in the food.

You shook your head at her and mumbled,“Of course..” Tara couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Since when is it a crime to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped or something on the way here?” She defends, walking to the kitchen to grab utensils and a couple of cups. You playfully rolled your eyes at her comment.

“Well, I’m not kidnapped. And I’m here. So movie night can commence. I was thinking we can start with Beetlejuice” You suggest as you start to lay out the food.

“Sounds like the perfect plan to me,” She says genuinely, coming back from the kitchen.

—

The credits roll, Tara and you both lay on the coach with her head on your chest and your arm slung over her. You both were comfortable, neither of you wanted to move. But the remote was on the other side of the coffee table. Damn it.

You shuffle over to it, causing Tara to whine a little. This causes you to smile a bit at her pouting. “Only a second, not even.” You state, getting up to reach for the remote. You eventually go back to the couch and she immediately curls up next to you again.

“You’re such a baby sometimes” You tease, putting your arm back around her. She sends you a glare but it doesn’t make you back down from your words.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am. not.”

“Are. Too.”

“You’re beyond annoying sometimes, Y/N Y/L/N” She huffed, crossing her arms but still curled up next to you.

“Aww, you’re just a bit drunk so I won’t take that to heart” You continued to tease. Tara rolled her eyes but tried to bite back a smile.

“You do know you’re a dork though, right?” Tara asks, smirking while looking up at you. She figured she’d cut in on the teasing.

“Wait- you think I’m a dork, Carpenter? I’m astonished” You say a bit dramatically but jokingly, raising your eyebrows slightly.

“A huge one to be honest with you” She responds as her grip on you tightens gently. You’re too clueless to notice how she snuggled up closer to you.

“Well it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?” Tara gently shoves your side as you only smile in response. “Not as big of one as you, that’s for sure.”

“But it’s safe to say you still like this dork, at least you like me enough to stalk me-”

“-Is this still about me tracking you? Should’ve known you were gonna have a field day with that. At least it wasn’t some random doing it like that chick who’s always staring at you in our film class” Tara remarked with a slight scowl.

“Who?"

"Think her name's Isabella or something" Tara answered, with disinterest.

"Oh, I helped her with an assignment once. What’s wrong with her though? She’s cute” You respond, unaware of why she brought her up.

“Y/N, she stares at you like all the time. It’s fucking weird” Tara held a bitterness in her tone that you caught.

“Is it? I don’t know, maybe I’d want to give her my number-” Did you actually? Not really. But you wanted to test the waters. See why Tara seemed so annoyed just because a girl was staring at you.

“-To some random girl you don’t even know? That’s what it sounds like. And it sounds fucking ridiculous” You were so unsure as to why she was being so bitter about this topic. Weren’t you two just joking a minute ago?

“Why are you being so defensive about this, Carpenter?” You ask, wanting an answer. But she doesn’t give you one.

“I’m not being defensive Y/N” Tara was now fully off of you and the volume of her voice rose. “You always go for the first person who gives you attention-”

“That’s not true” Your patience was starting to grow slim as you tried to keep calm.

“Yes it is! It’s like every week it’s a new person”

“Why the hell do you care so much about who I go out with?” You asked, wanting to know what her excuse was for lashing out so suddenly.

Tara sighed in frustration,“It’s just that-” before she could finish her sentence the door starts to unlock and Sam enters.

Sam looked and saw Y/N which caused her to go into “Scolding Mode” but she stopped herself before she said anything when she saw your annoyed faces. You both seemed annoyed- no, you’re pissed at each other.

“The hell happened with you two?” Sam asked, a bit softer than how her usual tone was around you.

The older Carpenter was only met with silence as you started gathering your things. “What do you think you’re doing?” Tara asked with sternness in her voice.

“Leaving. I need to cool down for the night but when you wanna talk like damn adults you know where to find me” You retorted before leaving, slamming the door shut.

Sam looked over to Tara, still confused about what had happened.

"Shit" was all Tara could say, she knew she messed up. But she refused to admit to herself the reason she lashed out.

Sam wasn't dumb, she knew her sister. You weren't the type of friends to be this pissed at each other over nonsense.

"You wanna talk about it?" Sam walked over to Tara and sat down beside her on the couch. The spot was still warm from when you were sitting there.

"Not in the slightest" was all Tara responded with before going to her room and shutting the door. She thought about the conversation over and over again. But not once did she consider being the first to contact you.

Tara was too stubborn for that, but so were you.

-----

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream

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la-petite-lapin · 5 months

Text

Double the Love | Part Three

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 1.8k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of poor mental health, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, Johnny is a big softie

The guys have a chill day

Ghost yells in his sleep.

I find that out on the second night. His screams wake me up, practically vibrating through the walls of the apartment. I lie awake in bed, not knowing what to do, listening to the faint sounds of Johnny's voice as he consoles him. After a while, a buzzing silence fills the room again.

It takes me a while longer to realise that I won't be able to fall asleep again. Instead, I creep out into the kitchen. It's just gone six a.m. so I just decide to start the day early.

I make myself a mug of hot chocolate - try not to think of those ungodly, heart-wrenching screams - and switch on the TV at a low volume to try and fill the silence. I scroll through my emails, double-checking that the small interior design company I joined last year is doing okay.

This is the first time I've taken any time off since I started. According to my wonderful manager, I deserve a break so they're making me use some of my annual holiday up - meaning I should have two perfect weeks of uninterrupted rest time. Originally, I intended to spend it alone, binging on TV shows and slouching around the apartment in my PJs. Now, it looks like I'll be spending it with two soldiers.

A message alert appears across the top of my screen, so I click on it while I wait for the milk to finish heating up.

JOHN PRICE: Hey Tali, how's it going over there? TALIA KELLER: So far so good. TALIA KELLER: Ghost has night terrors. Johnny seems like he knows what to do though. JOHN PRICE: Ah, yeah. JOHN PRICE: They're getting better. Slowly though.

Jesus. If that was "getting better", then I dread to think what bad looks like.

JOHN PRICE: You're okay with them though? TALIA KELLER: Yeah, it's fine :)

I finish making my hot chocolate then take a seat in my armchair, savouring the low hum of the TV with my eyes closed as I drink. When I'm done, with a belly full of hot chocolate, I start to fall asleep again. I'm almost gone when I hear the soft squeak of a door opening in the hallway.

"Tali? a Scottish-accented voice whispers in the darkness.

I turn around, glancing over the high back of my chair. A pair of blue eyes meet mine. Johnny stands in the hallway, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, his expression one of concern. He looks tired; his hair sticking up at odd angles. I can see the padding of the thick gauze bandage over one side of his ribs through his shirt.

"Hey," I say softly, not knowing what else to say.

Johnny bobs his head. After a moment of hesitation, he joins me in the living room, dropping down onto the sofa with a quiet oof. "We woke ye up, didn't we?"

I nod. "Don't worry about it. I'm a light sleeper anyway."

The answering frown that forms on his lips makes me wish I'd just lied. "'m sorry. He hasn't been that bad recently. I think it's being in a new place that's making it worse. He should settle down soon."

"Seriously, don't worry about it."

A beat of silence passes before I say, "So... tell me about you and Ghost."

And, just like that, the discomfort in Johnny's expression melts. His eyes glow with pure adoration, flickering behind me in the direction of their room.

I don't know how much he can tell me - their unit seems pretty secretive, and Ghost seems rather content on keeping me as far removed from their lives as humanly possible - but it's worth a shot. Johnny always seems happy and at ease wherever Ghost is concerned. It's not something that I personally can fathom; Ghost has never made me feel anything other than uneasy.

"We met in the 141. He's my L.T., so it's a bit frowned upon, but we keep ourselves to ourselves so it's never really a problem. On base, we aren't out." A flash of something passes across his face, disappearing almost as quickly at it came. Something akin to disappointment. "John and our mate Gaz are the only people who know 'bout us. Ghost 'as always been private. I did'nae expect anything else."

The corner of my mouth lifts in a half-smile. I pull my legs up to sit cross-legged in the armchair and tilt my head to one side. "I can't imagine him being particularly soft or cuddly."

Johnny barks out a loud laugh. "Nah, that's me. S- Ghost isn't very affectionate. Not physically, anyway. More like acts of service and words of affirmation. That kind of stuff."

"So, what brought you all back to London then?"

"I almost got gutted on our last mission. We're lucky tha's all that happened." He grimaces and lets out a deep sigh, lifting one massive hand to massage his temples. With one hand over his ribs, he settles back against the sofa cushions. "Everything went to shit. Ghost won't admit it, but he's aggravated some old injuries too. And we lost a pilot, and three allied soldiers..."

Alex's face flashes in my mind. His light brown hair mused and messy, his beard short and scruffy - just the way he liked it. The soft, twinkling glow of amusement dancing in his eyes...

"Does that happen often? Losses," I ask before I can think. I don't really want to know - don't want to upset Johnny or hear how common it was for good men to die. Like I don't already know.

Just like that, he's frowning again. "Don't worry 'bout it, lassie. Prolly shouldn't 've said anything. Ruined the moment."

I lift one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "It's fine."

We sit in silence after that, watching TV as we wait for Ghost to wake up.

By day four, I have a budding friendship with Johnny. We have inside jokes and a handshake. We've even started mirroring some of each other's mannerisms.

I also know that Ghost doesn't like it.

It's around lunchtime when John and another guy - someone else I don't recognise - show up at the apartment, laden with six packs of beer and bags of snack foods. I let them in with a bewildered laugh. The second John's through the door, he pulls me into his arms for one of his signature bear hugs.

"Oh Tali, how I've missed you." The words are mumbled into my hair as I let out a soft giggle, squealing as he lifts me off of my feet.

"I've missed you too. Now put me down before you break a hip, old man."

By the time he's set me back down, the boys are already making themselves at home in the open plan kitchen. Johnny moves around sorting various snack foods onto plates and into bowls, gliding with the confidence of someone who's lived here for years, not days. His other friend - a man with dark, curly hair tucked for the most part under a baseball cap, and dark, expressive eyes - stands back, leaning against the counter with an open can in one hand, taking sips of beer between speaking. Then there's Ghost, leaning against the opposite counter, eyes never straying far from Johnny.

"How have they been?" John asks, his voice low and quiet as he watches the boys interacting in the kitchen.

I offer him a reassuring smile. "They've been okay. Johnny has a brilliant sense of humour; I like him."

John smiles. "Thought you would."

"What are you two ladies gossiping about?" a voice calls from the kitchen, the words laced with an east London accent. I glance up to see the newcomer looking at me, eyes glittering with interest. He must be the local John was talking about when he first called me about the boys.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I say, wiggling my eyebrows.

Johnny's own eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, his mouth quivering before an extremely loud, abrupt laugh bursts out of it. "Well she got you there, Gaz."

Gaz. The last remaining member of Alex's unit that I had yet to meet.

"Where are my manners?" Gaz walks around from behind the kitchen counter, coming to stand in the living area with me and John. He extends a calloused hand for me to shake, offering me a boyishly charming smile as I do. "Name's Kyle Garrick, but everyone just calls me Gaz. Feel free to call me whatever; I'll probably answer to it. What's your name?"

"Tali."

His grin widens. "Nice to meet you, Tali."

I return his grin. "Likewise."

With that, moving with the same natural easiness as Johnny, Gaz walks back to his spot in the kitchen, picking up his beer and taking another sip. I meet Johnny's eyes, noting the reassuring smile and nod that he flashes in my direction. But that also means that I catch the scowl coming from Ghost.

The whole interaction makes me realise a couple of things.

One: Ghost does not particularly like me. Two: Ghost could give me his real name, he just chooses not to. It seems like he wants nothing more than to remain at this level of impersonal with me for the entire duration of his stay, unlike Johnny who seems dead-set on getting to know me. In the four days that they've been here, I still haven't gotten a clear look at Ghost's face. The whole time, he's been wearing a hood to cover up or - most days - a surgical mask to cover the lower half of his face. Anything to keep me at arm's length.

"Hey, pretty lass, do you want a beer?"

My eyes fall on Johnny and the two cans in his hands. There's a hopeful look on his face that makes me nod yes. With a smooth underarm throw, he tosses me a can and flashes me another broad grin.

"Do you mind if we hang out here for a bit?" John asks softly, just for me to hear. When I look up at him, his expression tells me that if I ask him to leave, they will. No questions asked. "There's a footie game on and Gaz wanted to watch it with the lads. It's a tradition we normally do on base, but I'm sure we could find a pub playing it or something."

"Watch it here." I genuinely want them to. I want to spend time with them; want to see how they all interact. And I've missed hanging out with John while he's been away. There's also a small, selfish part of me that wants to see how they all fit as a team. To see if I can spot the gap in the dynamic where Alex would have slotted in; to see what his life would have been like in those last few weeks. "Maybe I want to watch it too. If that's okay."

"Of course it's okay." John's arm wraps around my shoulders. "Which reminds me. Ghost and Soap might need somewhere to stay for the long haul. At least until Soap is fully healed, that is."

I nod slowly. "And you want them to stay here?"

"Would that be okay with you?"

I glance across to the kitchen, watching Johnny and Gaz playfight under Ghost's watchful eye. Even messing around, they're respectful; keeping a mindful distance from anything fragile or expensive. As much as I hate to say it, I'm growing used to Johnny's constant playful presence in the apartment. Even Ghost's brooding is starting to grow on me.

"I think I like having them here. As long as they're both happy, they can stay as long as they like. I can talk to Winnie about logistics if it comes to it."

John nods, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards. "They both seem happy here, Tali. Ghost seems relaxed; that hardly ever happens."

Really? If this is Ghost relaxed then I'd hate to see him stressed.

"Again, ladies?" Gaz heckles playfully. He folds his arms across his chest, clicking his tongue and shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

At that, John straightens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We might be off duty, but I'm still your captain, sergeant. Now - all of you get your arses in here."

The three of them head into the living room, filling the coffee table with cans and the various bowls that they've prepared. One by one, they choose their seats for the next couple of hours. As Gaz tries to drop down into my armchair, Ghost shoots him a pointed look, and he opts to sit on the floor instead, eyes twinkling once again.

Hm.

"Right, now everybody shut y'er mouths. I'm putting the game on."

And, with that, Johnny lines up the football on the sports channel and we all settle in.

a/n: happy new year guys! hope you all enjoy this chapter. I know that it's a bit shorter than the last one, but I'm currently battling with a mild case of writer's block this is also a repost as tumblr decided to not show this the first time around - hope to see you all again very soon, lapetitelapin :)

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x reader #female reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #angst #romance #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #double the love

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beardedjoel · 10 months

Text

closer | part seventeen

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: your new coworkers discover your relationship with joel, and a night out with them after work results in a distressing situation. afterwards, joel wants to help you make it all better. 9.2k words.

story warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel is so boyfriend this chapter

extra warning: PLEASE READ! this chapter contains a scene of attempted sexual assault, so i understand that’s very sensitive and a bit different than my typical chapter. it’s not an extremely graphic or long scene, but it is there and could be triggering! i’ve put a TW where the scene starts and END TW where the scene ends in case you want to read around it.

You hate the way the days seem to be flying by now - your restful, sexy summer came to an abrupt end when you opened an email from your work one morning, requesting that you start coming to the office as soon as you possibly could. Now, two weeks into it, you’re busier than you’ve been in a long time, trying to balance this new workload that had fallen into your lap. When you’d been working at home, gathering ideas, it was one thing, but now you’re surrounded by a team of people relying on you and your partner, Rayna, to get things up and running smoothly. You have to admit, you two are absolutely kicking ass, but it’s meant a lot of late nights at the office with her and some of your other team members.

Joel has been almost too supportive through all of this, and you know that he’s holding back his own feelings about seeing you less to encourage you to keep working so hard. You haven’t been seeing each other as often due to both of your work schedules, but you constantly let each other know how much you miss the other. The first few days of work, you were barely coherent, practically sleeping before your head hit the pillow each night, and you felt terrible for being such awful company for Joel when you’d manage to drag yourself over to his house. He reassured you multiple times but the guilt still gnawed at you for the entire week. Things have evened out somewhat, but you miss the carefree days you’d been able to focus only on Joel. You suppose it’s healthier this way, though, to have other focuses in life other than a man.

Just because you’d gotten busier, your appetite for Joel hadn’t dissipated in the least, leaving you an overworked, stressed, horny mess. You both did your best to get your fill of each other over the last two weeks, but it was never enough. It never has been with Joel, and you start to wonder if it ever will be every time you satisfy your craving for him and then feel it come right back again. The hunger you have for that man to drive himself into you at all hours of the day has only grown with your feelings for him, and you have to admit, it adds to your stress just how deeply you feel for him these days.

The fact that you haven’t found a good time to tell him you love him is just one more thing to gnaw at you in the back of your mind while you’re trying to get your life in order. You know it seems crazy, that after such a short time together you love the man, but every moment you’ve spent with him since the thought crossed your mind has only further proved it to you.

And you’re terrified of what might happen if you admit it to him.

You’re at work, finishing up a quick meeting with Rayna when your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you see a text from Joel come through.

Joel: Surprise lunch?

You: Maybe… what time?

Joel: … right now

You: What?!

Joel: I might be outside with food for you

You: 😂 okay, Mr. Romantic. Come inside to floor 3, I’ll just be a few minutes

The office space is a rather large, open concept, and you have a clear view of the front through the glass divider that separates your department. Several minutes later you see Joel hesitantly poke his head into the office, looking slightly clueless, and it’s adorable to you for some reason. Maybe it’s that he’s always so in charge of things and confident that whenever you get a chance to see him nervous it melts your heart a little bit.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out for lunch really quick, I’ll be back in a bit,” you tell Rayna, despite knowing you two have nothing scheduled for the next hour for that very reason.

She gives you a go ahead, so you start heading towards Joel and wave him down, and he flashes you your favorite lopsided smile. He looks like he came right from work, dressed in a paint splattered t-shirt and jeans, carrying a cooler full of food. It’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, you think to yourself, any time you see Joel fresh from work, always looking a little dirtier than usual. Between that and the insatiable need you’ve had for him lately it’s more than enough to make you want to climb him like a tree right here in front of everyone.

You notice several nearby, questioning eyes on you two as you loop your arm in his and head for the elevator.

“Nosy bastards,” Joel murmurs, and you stifle a laugh behind your hand, but nod in agreement.

“Very much so,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “There’s a cool cafeteria space in this building, we can eat there,” you add on while you wait for the elevator doors to open. As soon as you two are inside and the doors slide shut, you throw yourself at Joel, knowing you only have minutes, or even seconds, before the doors open back up. He quickly catches on, despite his surprise, and as your lips clash with his he reciprocates quickly, his free hand that isn’t carrying the cooler cupping your face and bringing you even closer. Your tongues beg for entry in each other’s mouths over and over, as much as time will allow you, but after several beeps of the elevator, you know your time is almost up, so you reluctantly pull away from Joel, keeping one arm snaked around him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours and looking deeply into your eyes with a lustful gaze. “I’d ask what’s gotten into you, but you’ve always been my insatiable girl, haven’t you?” Joel says, low and inviting. You simply smirk in response as the doors of the elevator open and you step out in front of him, leading him to the large cafeteria space. It’s on a high up floor, boasting a sweeping view of downtown outside of large, glass windows. There’s tables and chairs, refrigerators, and microwaves for any employee in this office building to use, and you’ve tried to eat up here as often as you can to clear your mind and separate yourself from work for at least a little bit of time during the day.

Joel’s eyes scan the room, taking in the views and modern decor, and shoots you an impressed look.

“Very fancy,” he teases as you sit down at a small, rounded two top table near the windows.

“Fancy girl job calls for a fancy cafeteria,” you reply with a little laugh.

“And look at ya, in your cute little business clothes,” Joel says, scrunching his face proudly as he squeezes your leg under the table. The company you work for is relatively casual with things like the dress code, but you still like to wear clothing that hopefully can help gain the respect of your team, so you’re wearing black slacks and a short sleeved blouse today.

“Does it look okay, really? I feel like a fraud sometimes in these clothes, like I shouldn’t be so in charge of people,” you ask him, tugging anxiously at the collar of your shirt as you look down to inspect your outfit.

“Nah, honey, you deserve it all. And you look great as always. Very professional,” Joel says, giving you a wink, indicating while you may look professional, your behavior moments ago was anything but. You bite your lip with warming cheeks at the recollection as Joel starts pulling out the lunch he made for you two to share - a salad, potato chips, and something wrapped in foil, which he shyly admits is a grilled cheese, something you’d told him once you love eating.

“How the hell did you even manage to make a grilled cheese and get all the way here by lunch time?” you ask incredulously.

“We got a toaster oven on site, so I whipped this up real quick before comin’ here. Hope it stayed warm ‘nuff for ya,” he tells you, and you shake your head, in complete disbelief that Joel is a real, living, breathing, walking thing that you have the pleasure of having in your life.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, unwrapping the grilled cheese sandwich and biting into it. While not hot, it’s managed to stay warm and you tell Joel as much, a bit of relief passing over his face at hearing it.

“You look stressed, darlin’,” Joel says, his brows pinching together in concern.

“I’m always stressed now,” you say, propping your head in your hand, letting a long sigh escape you.

“Anythin’ I can do to help?”

“This right here is amazing,” you say, gesturing to the lunch spread out on the table. “Just getting to see you. And…I guess there’s something else,” you trail off, biting your lip, flashing Joel your best version of bedroom eyes. Joel’s interest is clearly piqued as he leans forward, a cocky smile pulling at his lips.

“And… what else, darlin’?”

You lean forward, glancing into Joel’s eyes but lowering them at the last second out of embarrassment. “I…need you,” you say, knowing you’re being vague but also knowing that Joel will get the message.

Joel laughs heartily before taking one of your hands in his across the table. “We can arrange somethin’, I s’pose.” he says.

“Oh, you suppose?” you say with a dramatic scoff.

“Sweetheart, don’t act like I wouldn’t take you right now on this damn table in front of everyone,” Joel retorts quickly, a little bite to his voice that has you fighting the urge to squirm in your seat. He drops your hand and sits back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“J-joel,” you breathe, glancing around the room as your face heats up with the sudden rush you feel. The image he described flashes through your mind, sending a pang of desire straight down between your legs. You just might be desperate enough to not care if he really did end up doing that.

“What? You gonna start this, don’t be mad when I try ‘n finish it,” he says. “You know I don’t stand for any teasin’, darlin’. Walkin’ in dangerous territory now, ain’t ya.”

You meet Joel’s gaze, intensity flaring in his eyes, and make a decision that definitely goes against your morals, but desperate times, and all of that.

“I think I saw a supply closet on the way here…” you mumble, and the smirk Joel gives you is worth any guilt you might be feeling about your unethical desires right now.

“C’mon baby, probably all wet already for me, aren’t you?” he asks with his voice low, his eyes drifting over your body hungrily. He stands up, collecting everything from the table into his cooler bag and offering you his hand. He drags you along, seeming to already have spotted the closet for himself, and it almost makes you laugh that you both had the same idea on the way to the cafeteria. He ushers you inside of the closet, a small, cramped space with shelves lined with all kinds of cleaning supplies and back-ups of toiletries for the bathrooms.

“Gonna be quiet, or let everyone here know how good you take my cock, hm?” Joel says, cupping your face with his hand and leaning in, brushing his lips over your cheek. You melt instantly, breathing in the familiar, musky scent of him and already feel your knees wanting to buckle underneath you. It’s like coming home when he gets this close to you, and you could fall into its trap a million times and never tire of it.

“Whichever you want,” you breathe out, the picture of submission as you let him press you into the wall and kiss you.

“What I want… is a taste of that sweet little pussy of yours. Been missin’ it,” Joel grumbles into your lips, and you press your hips forward, begging him to do what he’s telling you. As his lips clash with yours again, he unbuttons your pants, sliding a hand down into them and past the fabric of your underwear. Joel lets out a low sound of approval at the slickness he gathers on his fingers, rubbing them through your slit and beginning tight circles on your clit. You’ve had so much pent up sexual frustration towards him the last few days that you nearly combust right then, a strangled cry flying out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“Christ, baby, so fuckin’ needy… gonna make me crazy,” Joel murmurs, “You miss me this much?” he asks, pulling his fingers up to inspect how they shine and glisten with your arousal. You nod furiously, back arching you into him, begging for anything from him now.

“I do…P-please, I’ll do anything, just touch me.”

Joel considers your words for a moment, his cock getting harder just from hearing the way you beg for him. It satisfies some little itch inside of him every time the words please pass your lips when it comes to his cock. He groans internally at the feeling of how hard he’s getting, how he’s straining against his jeans, knowing he doesn’t have all the time he truly desires to get you off right now.

He crouches in front of you, pulling your pants down and helping you step out of them, along with your underwear, revealing your already throbbing, glistening cunt to him, eliciting a hungry growl from Joel. He grips the back of one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder before he buries himself between your legs, his tongue not wasting any time lapping up all the desire you’re pouring out for him. Joel moans deeply into your cunt, and in that moment you know, despite his typically calm and cool facade, he’s been just as sexually frustrated as you. You’re relishing in the way his mouth feels right now, but you know that with the little time you have left on your lunch, you want nothing more than to bring him pleasure, too.

“J-joel,” you say quietly, tugging at his hair.

“Feels so good baby, don’t it?” he murmurs, his lips immediately going to suck on your clit. Your eyes roll back, and you try to get your bearings enough to tell him to stop that and fuck you, but it’s hard now that you feel so close to the edge, your core tightening and burning with a coming climax.

“N-no, Joel… stop. I want you… to…”

Joel hears the word ‘no’ and immediately pulls himself off of you, peering up at you with questioning eyes. When you see the sight of your slickness coating his beard, his flushed face and glistening eyes, you nearly tell him to stick his face right back where it was instead.

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” Joel asks, his hand gently gripping onto your leg in concern.

“N-no of course not,” you say, shaking your head and catching your breath a little. “I just… we don’t have a lot of time, I want you inside of me,” you say sheepishly.

Joel’s lips curl into a smirk before he stands up, towering over you once again. You hook your fingers into his belt loops and bring him closer, feeling his cock grind against you through his jeans.

“This what you want?” Joel grinds against you again, situating his pants to free his cock, and it springs free, hard and throbbing between you two. Your eyes practically glaze over at the sight of it, having thought about him inside of you endlessly for the last few days.

“So cock hungry, look at you… what a sight, angel,” Joel leans forward, nipping at your bottom lip and you whimper when his cock brushes your bare skin between your legs.

“N-need you to fuck me Joel, can’t stop thinking about it.” You roll your hips into him with carnal need, and Joel teases your slit, rubbing his cock through your slick folds. Your hips convulse forward slightly as he passes over your throbbing clit several times, moans already coming out of your mouth as he devastates you with the barest of touches.

“You been touchin’ yourself, sweetheart? Just tryna get rid of that ache for me?”

You shake your head, “N-no, not really. Just a little. Wanted to save it all for you.”

“Oh, baby, that’s why you’re about to come all over this cock before I barely do a damn thing, ain’t it?” You simply nod your answer, sweating and whimpering for him to do more, more, more. He obliges you, resting the head of his cock at your entrance. “Much as I like you to be all mine, you gotta promise me you’ll take care of yourself whenever you need. Call me if you gotta, m’kay?” He pinches the side of your face, planting several kisses on your lips before Joel once again lifts one of your legs up, curling his arm under it to hold you steady as he slides himself into you. Both of your groans of relief fill the otherwise soundless room, panting breaths added into the mix as he starts to move slowly inside of you.

“God, baby, I missed this perfect little pussy,” Joel purrs, his body pressed right into yours, the curves of your body fitting perfectly together. His head buries in your neck as he thrusts into you, and you let out a quiet whimper, relishing in the sensation of him stretching you. “Tell me it’s all mine.”

“Yours, Joel, I’m all yours,” you whisper right next to his ear, and he shudders, letting out a gratified growl while his hips start to move more urgently into you. He fucks you into the wall aggressively, thrusting to the hilt each time, too focused on how good it feels to say any of his usual, teasing phrases to you.

“F-fuck sweetheart, I’m already gonna come, you feel so fuckin’ good and tight around me,” Joel whimpers, and moments later, he’s bucking his hips into you hard, spilling himself deep into your cunt with a groan. He takes a few deep breaths, coming back to reality after his climax, and his eyes widen, looking down at you. “Shit, sorry,” he says, pulling out of you quickly and stepping back before tucking himself back into his jeans.

“Hey, it’s alright,” you say, trying to rub his shoulder reassuringly.

“Just… been needin’ you, I guess,” Joel smirks a little, but you can tell he’s feeling embarrassed about the fact that he came before you had a chance to get off.

“Been needing you,” you echo back, and Joel slides his body against yours again and dips his head to your neck, kissing you teasingly as you grind yourself against him shamelessly.

“Think I can help with that…” Joel says, resuming his spot on his knees in front of you with a leg over his shoulder. “Gorgeous, baby,” he coos as he sees your cunt up close, slick with your own desire and his leaking out of you.

His mouth is on you again in a heartbeat, shamelessly licking up everything with vigor and moaning into your pussy as it flutters around nothing, desperate for release. “Feel this little hole squeezin’ for me, baby, you want me in there?”

“Fuck,” you groan out at his enthusiasm, “Yes, yes p-please.”

Joel inserts two fingers up to the furthest knuckle and you cry out, thrusting yourself onto his fingers and into his mouth to urge him deeper than he can possibly go right now.

“Killin’ me baby,” Joel purrs into your skin, “Bet you’d take this whole fuckin’ hand if I wanted you to.”

“Anything,” you say, breathing out an affirmation and continuing your unapologetic bounces onto his hand and face as you chase your high, his tongue flicking your clit rapidly along the way. You moan out loudly, then slap a hand over your mouth, remembering your surroundings. Shit, you hope nobody heard that and comes investigating. What a sight they would see if they opened this door right now, you think to yourself.

When his fingers start to curl inside of you, Joel begins sucking on your clit, and you have to bite down hard, grinding your teeth together, to try to dampen some of the absolutely filthy, ungodly sounds coming out of you. He pumps his fingers against that perfect spot inside of you and you lose control completely, legs turning to jelly and wobbling underneath you.

“Ohhh my god,” you whimper into your fist, your entire body trembling as Joel continues the same pattern over and over, sensing how close you are to reaching the crest of your pleasure. You feel all your senses except for the feeling of Joel’s mouth and hand fade out, and you moan, throaty and low, into your clenched fist, biting down hard enough to draw blood as you shudder your hips downwards, pushing him into you as you ride out the waves of pleasure that are wracking your body now.

Your head thumps back against the wall as you come down, and Joel stands up to meet you, giving you a boastful smile. He blatantly wipes all evidence of your encounter off of his face and beard, looking at you with such adoration in his dark eyes that it makes your heart swell. Joel tucks a strand of hair behind your ears before kissing you on the forehead.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Best lunch ever.”

You see Rayna doing her best not to stare at you as you settle back in at your desk, praying that your face isn’t giving you away, that post-orgasm glow hopefully wiped clean off by now.

“Nice lunch?” she asks, chipper as always.

“Mhm,” you say, swinging your voice upwards on the last part, trying to echo her same positive demeanor. You immediately focus your attention down on your computer, trying to get back into the swing of your workday, tugging at the hem of your clothing, making sure everything is properly in place.

In your periphery you see Rayna clench and unclench her fists where they hover above her keyboard, and when you glance up to her eyes, they’re boring into you with an amused sparkle.

“Come on…” she says, eyebrows going up her forehead. “Who was that? Everyone is talking about it.”

“Everyone as in…everyone in the whole office, or everyone as in the usual suspects?” you quip back. The usual suspects being Rayna, obviously, Heather, Cade, and Alex from your department, and Leah and Vince from the financial department. You’d become the most tight knit with them of anyone here, working closely together on a lot of the projects you’d all been assigned to lately.

“The… usual suspects, of course,” Rayna admits, and as if on cue, Heather and Alex filter into the area, carrying mugs of tea from the kitchen.

“Okay, did you ask her yet?” Heather says to Rayna, and her eyes go wide in response.

“I’m trying to,” Rayna says through gritted teeth just as Leah and Vince slip into the room, shortly followed by Alex, all of them seeming to have a similar question. You watch on, amused at how much commotion you and Joel are causing.

“Guys, this is insane,” you chide them all as they gather around you.

“Is that your like… boyfriend or something?” Cade asks, and you avert your eyes, feeling your body heat rise several degrees at their questioning. You had never been trying to hide Joel, you just hadn’t quite gotten that personal with everyone yet. You didn’t know how they’d react to the age difference between you and Joel, so you’d wanted to get to know them a bit better before revealing anything about him. It was safe to say they’d all turned out to be open minded, kind, and never averse to sharing some of their own personal details, so you figured it was time to jump in.

“Y-yeah, I guess you could say that,” you admit shyly, and they all burst into quiet hysterics, murmurs of “told you so’s” and “oh my god’s” between all of them.

“Details!” Leah says demandingly, placing a hand on your desk and leaning forward. Everyone is pulling up chairs, and you start laughing loudly.

“Shouldn’t we be working?”

“Still got five minutes or so left on my lunch, so chop chop,” Cade replies, looking down at his watch impatiently. “He was so hot, and if I don’t get to hear any more about this in the next five minutes I’m going to be so mad at you.”

“Oh-kay. We’re seeing each other. His name is Joel,” you say, eliciting excited “ooh’s” from your little crowd. “That’s literally it! I don’t know what you want from me.” You throw your hands up in a feigned giving up gesture.

“Isn’t he like, old?” Vince says snidely, finally joining the conversation. You like Vince, and for that reason, you hadn’t told anybody about the way he’d pulled you aside for a private conversation and asked you out after about a week of working together. It felt awful to reject him, and at the time you were keeping things quiet about your personal life, so you hadn’t said you were seeing anyone. In hindsight it would have made more sense to just say you were, but you suppose at least he was able to understand a little bit better now about your rejection. It had made things slightly more awkward between you, but you’d been willing to move on if he was. For the most part, it seemed like he had been too, except for a few select moments like right now when you could see the frustration come out.

“I mean, kind of,” you say with a chuckle and a shrug. You decide to ignore his comment and vow to yourself to confront him if it continues.

“Okay, but how old?” Rayna asks, her eyes lighting up with intrigue.

“He’s forty-two,” you reply, and once again, the group is in hysterics over your answer.

“Well, he’s hot,” Leah concludes, and Cade, Rayna, Heather, and even Alex, agree. “Good job,” she adds, garnering more enthusiastic nods from the group.

“T-thank… you?” you say with a laugh.

“Can we all go out for drinks after work? I need to hear more, but my lunch is over,” Rayna says, frowning, and you consider it for a few moments, but realizing you don’t have anything on your agenda tonight, it might be fun to blow off some steam.

“Sure, if everyone else is in,” you reply, and each person, including Vince, who you’d doubted would want to hear more about Joel, agrees to the plan. Leah squeals excitedly and heads back to her desk, full of energy. The rest of the day flies by, all of you seeming to work faster with the promise of a fun evening ahead of you.

All of you funnel into a bar down the street from your office in great spirits, also having invited a few more coworkers to join you. You all order drinks at the bar and settle in, and Rayna instantly links her arm through yours.

“Alright, you know what we’re here for,” she says. The rest of the group who’d been interrogating you earlier quickly gathers around you at a high top table near the bar. The only person you don’t notice at first is Vince, who comes breezing in late, and stands nearby but not as involved in the conversation. You suppose you don’t blame him for not wanting every detail of your relationship with Joel.

“Don’t waste any time, do you guys?” you reply cheekily, and they all sip their drinks, clearly just waiting for you to go on. “What do you even want to know?” you ask, a playful irritation cropping up.

“Anything, like… what’s the deal with you two?

“He lives next to my parents, so that’s how we met. We just kind of clicked, I guess. Which was lucky for me because I was practically obsessed with him.”

“Is he like a sugar daddy or something?” Alex teases, and you laugh, pushing him hard on the arm.

“No, nothing like that. He’s a contractor, so he like, builds stuff.”

“Very sexy,” Cade chimes in, nodding his head in approval.

“It is,” you say with a sigh, picturing the way Joel had looked in his work clothes earlier.

“Well, lucky you. We had no idea you had a boyfriend,” Leah says, downing her mojito faster by the minute. She obviously needed a night out more than the rest of you.

“I didn’t know if I should say… it’s been a little unconventional, I guess. My parents only found out a few weeks ago, and that was weird, since they’re around his age.”

Leah chokes on her drink. “He’s your parents’ age?!”

“My parents are pretty young, yeah. I hadn’t really thought about it too hard when Joel and I first got together, but… uh, oops, I guess,” you reply.

“You dirty little dog,” Leah says, shaking her head and doubling over in laughter. “Well, we’re all really happy for you,” she concludes, smiling more sincerely now.

“Seriously. You caused the biggest stir the office has seen yet, sending a guy like that into our lobby,” Rayna says, fake fanning herself at the memory of Joel.

“He came to see you for lunch today, then? That’s so cute,” Leah says, ever the romantic, her eyes going starry and wide at Joel’s gesture.

“Mhm,” you say nervously, thinking about how you and Joel did much more than eat lunch today. You know they probably would love all the dirty details based on their reactions today, but you just can’t risk anything with how well this job is going so well.

“Well you tell Joel, he can do that any time he wants, but he has to come and say hello next time,” Rayna chirps, and you shake your head, throwing back some of your fruity cocktail.

“I’m sure he’d love to be interrogated by all of you,” you say, dripping in sarcasm.

You all crack jokes and gossip for a while, trying to avoid any work talk, before ordering another round and repeating more of the same. When you’re waiting at the bar for your next drink, Vince sidles up next to you, leaning onto the bar with his forearms.

“If you think people don’t realize what you did today, you’re kidding yourself,” Vince says without warning, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, trying not to panic and give anything away. While you have a sinking feeling you know exactly what he’s talking about, you don’t want to jump to any conclusions and ruin any secrecy you still have.

“Come on,” Vince replies, shaking his head. “Coming back from lunch, looking like that. Could practically see it all over your face.”

“I’m just… I was happy to see Joel, that’s all. I don’t know if you’re implying what I think you are, but you’d better be careful what you’re accusing me of.” The bartender slides your drink over, and you try to give them a smile and polite thank you before turning your attention back to the conversation.

“No, you’d better be careful,” Vince snaps. “So maybe I did follow you two up there, hoping to see if you’re as lovesick for the guy as I’d been afraid of. Thought I’d see if there was still a chance, it was stupid, I know,” he says a little more softly, before his brow furrows. “But imagine my surprise when I didn’t see you two anywhere, and I heard something from down the hall…” Vince trails off, leaving you to fill in the details.

You pale and freeze instantly, your hand gripping the glass of your cocktail firmly.

“Vince, I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a bite - one last, hopeful attempt to deflect his accusations.

His hand moves in a flash and grips your free wrist tightly. “If you’re going to be a whore, at least own up to it,” he says, and you blink hard, your mouth popping open but unable to make any noise for a few stunned moments.

“E-excuse me?”

He simply glances at you, holding a steady gaze. “Just saying,” he says, as if that’s any excuse for the vile words he just spit at you.

“Just saying what? That I’m a whore?” you say with a scornful laugh. It’s almost comical, whatever this side of him is that you’ve uncovered - the drunk, angry side that seems to be coming out of the woodwork this summer with these men. First Chris, now Vince, and you’re starting to wonder just what the hell is going on. Something about Joel seems to bring it out of them, and you’re tired of taking the brunt of it, quite frankly.

“That I could report you to someone. I mean, not the most ethical thing to fuck around with your boyfriend while you’re working.”

You sigh and press your lips tightly together, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

“Okay, so it wasn’t. But it’s not like it hurt anyone, so the fact that you’re sitting here threatening me over it feels a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Woah, threatening sounds like such a strong word.” Vince lets out a little laugh, and it really pisses you off that he’s getting any sort of entertainment out of your misfortune right now.

“Vince, you’re clearly drunk. You’ve been drinking way more than anyone here, and I get you might still be upset that I didn’t go out with you, but this seems way out of line.”

“Out of line to me would be getting off when you’re at work, but maybe that’s just me…” Vince muses with a head in his hand, still clearly very entertained by himself.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” you say, having decided it doesn’t seem worth the fight at this point. You drop some cash on the bar and pick up your bag, hustling your way out. You notice Leah giving you a concerned glance, but you simply wave at her, silently promising to text them as soon as you can to let them know why you left. You’d kept Vince’s secret before, but this time he’d gone too far, let some dark side of himself come out just to fuck with you, and you didn’t feel like playing nice anymore.

// TW //

The air outside hits you as you burst the door open, thick and warm as the dusk colored light surrounds you in the sky above. You walk with purpose, your feet moving you quickly back the few blocks towards the office where your car is parked - at the least you hope to blow off some steam on the way there. You’re only a few steps from the bar when a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back, stopping you in your tracks, and you audibly groan when you turn and see Vince looking at you, his blue eyes full of a pleading hope.

“Please, I’m sorry,” he whines, and you try to shake his wrist off. “Just come back inside.”

“Leave me alone, seriously.”

He pulls you close to him by the wrist and you wriggle your hand, trying to slide out of his grip, but it’s too tight. You realize you aren’t quite strong enough to pull him along, so you resort to placing your other hand over his and trying to pry his fingers off of you.

“Let me go,” you say sternly, but Vince doesn't seem to hear you. You feel a wave of nausea roll through you, your body naturally revolting against the situation for you.

“I just… I heard you today, and I knew it was you, I could tell those fucking noises had to be you, and it pissed me off. I was so jealous - I think you’re beautiful, and funny, and smart, and I wanted that to be me.”

You scoff, collecting your thoughts for a moment. “Well, it’s not, and I’m awfully sorry about that,” you say, dripping your voice in sarcasm. “Doesn’t mean you get to treat me like shit.”

He places his other hand over the one that’s actively trying to pry you off of him and wraps his fingers around it. “Should’ve been me,” he says before swinging you against the brick of the building, your back hitting it hard despite trying to stop the movement on your heels. The element of surprise had been on his side and you wince as your back throbs. “Wanted to hear those sounds for myself, because of me… just give me a chance.”

Vince crushes his lips into yours, his tongue sloppily begging for entry into your mouth, and you grunt loudly, jerking your head to the side so that his lips are off yours, but he continues kissing your face, trying to trail down to your neck.

“You’re fucking drunk, just let me leave.” You scowl hard but it turns to a panicked grimace as he crowds in even closer, the smell of alcohol on his breath overwhelming you as he continues trying to kiss you, grinding his body into you. When his fingers brush the hem of your shirt, you find your senses again, realizing it’s now or never. You shove him off of you as hard as you can, kicking a leg into his, and he stumbles back in his drunken stupor.

You slide out from the wall and start to dig in your purse as you quickly move away, looking for your phone. You knew you should have started carrying pepper spray again, you’d just not thought to replace the one you lost in your move to Austin yet, and a silent curse goes through you for that now. Your legs are shaking underneath you, not moving you as quickly as you want, and you feel tears pricking at your eyes as the adrenaline fades slightly.

// END TW //

“Hey, asshole!” you suddenly hear, and you glance over your shoulder to see Leah chasing Vince who is chasing you down. She grabs him by the shoulder and he whirls around on her, sending her stumbling back now, but you rush back to help before he can potentially hurt her. “What the fuck!” she yells as she pushes Vince off of her. He stops moving, breathing heavily with his hands on his knees.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, seeming to snap out of whatever insanity he’d entered moments ago. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“That was fucked up, you know. I felt like something was off, so I came out here to check on you, and I just saw everything,” Leah says angrily, taking a few steps back from Vince. You go to Leah, gripping her arm with your trembling hands and looking her over.

“You okay?” you ask her quietly, and she nods, not taking her eyes off of Vince.

“What the hell do we do about this?” she asks, gesturing to Vince, who now is whining loudly about how sorry he is.

“Fuck if I know,” you say, your mind still reeling from the hellish interaction with him.

“Vince, you should just go home. Cool off for a bit then call an Uber or something,” Leah suggests, a bit more even tempered this time.

He looks at you, making spotty eye contact before mouthing your name. “Sorry, really. I don’t - fuck. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

“Everything meaning what I thought was starting to be a nice friendship? Yes. Consider that over,” you tell him, feeling somewhat heartless for the comment, but needing him to fully understand there isn’t a chance you’d want to continue any kind of relationship with him.

He meanders over to and sits on a curb nearby. “I get it,” he says back at you two, and Leah puts an arm around you protectively.

“Vince, we’re leaving you, maybe you can sober up and talk some more about it, but for now… just… fucking leave it, okay?” Leah says, guiding you back inside the bar. You finally feel your heart rate slowing as she rubs your shoulder, checking in on you with a concerned look on her face.

“I’ll be alright,” you assure her with a weak smile. The amount of processing your mind is trying to get through right now has you nearly feeling dizzy.

“I’m going to talk to Rayna, we’ll take care of everything, make sure you don’t have to work with that asshole again.”

Your entire face softens at her proposition and the care behind it. You throw your arms around her, squeezing her tightly into a hug that she returns with equal enthusiasm. “Thank you,” you murmur into her shoulder.

“Who should we call? Joel?” she asks, pulling out of the hug, and your eyes go wide, realizing you’ll have to explain all of this to Joel. “I don’t want you to drive right now, but we’re all way too tipsy to drive you anywhere right now.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll call him,” you say, swallowing hard. Leah steps away to give you privacy and heads back to the table full of your coworkers, close enough to keep an eye on you. You can see the immediate reaction from all of them, leaning in close as she explains what’s going on. You take out your phone, pulling up Joel’s contact information.

“Hey, baby.” He picks up on the second ring, his voice smooth and relaxed as he greets you, the juxtaposition to your own mood making you clam up suddenly.

“Hey…” you say timidly. Use your words, you chant to yourself internally.

“What’s goin’ on? You off work?”

“Uh, yeah, I am. I just… can you come get me?”

“Of course,” he says without missing a beat, his tone sobering up to match yours a bit more. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“There was… something happened with a coworker, and I’m kind of tipsy, I just can’t drive right now.”

“Already on my way,” he says, and you hear his keys jingling in the background as he opens the door to his car and starts it. “What happened? Please, sweetheart, talk to me ‘fore I go crazy with wonderin’.”

“He… tried to come on to me. I-I don’t know what he was going to do to me…” you say, feeling robotic as the words come out of you.

“What. Happened.” Joel’s voice is at an angry staccato now, and you can picture his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he panics at your words.

“N-nothing did happen. Just a close call. Hurt my back a little bit, I think,” you tell him, feeling the ache in your back reminding you just how hard Vince had handled you at one point.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Joel says with a deep sigh. “I’m comin’ to you. Are you somewhere safe?”

You nod, your eyes feeling hazy and tired all of a sudden, then remember he can’t see you right now. “Yes, I’m safe. I’m inside with everyone else.”

“Good. Stay there ‘til I can get to you. Send me the address, baby, okay? I’m comin’,” Joel says.

“O-okay,” you say quietly, ending the call and texting Joel the name of the bar as quickly as you can.

Your coworkers comfort you in the meantime, seconding Leah’s promise that you won’t have to see Vince anymore. They’re all dumbstruck, not having seen it coming that he could act like that, but you just shrug, wondering if there were some red flags you’d missed trying to be a kind, welcoming person to him.

Joel pulls up in his truck in record time, tires screeching in front of the bar. He texts you that he’s arrived and you go out the door but freeze when you see Vince still sitting on the curb. Joel tries waving you over as he gets out of his truck, but he follows your eyeline to Vince and you sense his energy change immediately, even from afar. Vince scrambles up, clearly having sobered up in the last half hour or so as he sat here feeling sorry for himself. When he sees Joel, he fills in the blanks that you’ve told him what happened, and realizes just how intimidatingly big Joel is up close.

“Is this the one?” he asks, cocking his head and not taking his eyes off of Vince, who is now slowly backing away.

“Shit, I - I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I’m stupid and drunk, s-swear,” he sputters out before you can even answer. Joel doesn’t back down, reaching Vince more quickly than he’s expecting and grabbing him by the shirt collar.

“You see that fucking girl over there? Hm?” Joel says, using his other hand to grab Vince’s chin and point his head in your direction. You stand, teeth grinding together anxiously as you watch this unfold in front of you. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again, or even think ‘bout her, for that matter. You leave her the hell alone. You got it?” Joel forcefully turns Vince’s head back to look him in the eye.

Vince gulps visibly and closes his eyes as they meet Joel’s, nodding. “Jesus man, just let me go. All I did was try to talk to her.” Vince squeals as Joel’s grip tightens on him. You feel yourself tense with anger at his lie, knowing that things could have gotten much worse if you hadn’t landed that kick on him and gotten away when you did, or if Leah hadn’t shown up to check on you.

“We both know that ain’t true,” Joel tuts. “She owes you absolutely fuckin’ nothin’, don’t forget that. In case you get any ideas again,” Joel says, releasing both of his hands and letting Vince fall back.

“C’mon, darlin’. Let’s get out of here,” Joel says, his voice completely changed, soft and warm in your direction as he rushes over and takes you into his arms, guiding you to his car. You shoot a last, bitter glance at Vince, who is running his hand through his hair, turning to walk away. The frustration he has at himself is clearly visible in the way he’s carrying himself now. You almost want to feel sorry for him, knowing he made such a big mistake, and he does seem to regret it. But you can’t feel that sorry when you know he was stopped short, not knowing just how far he would’ve gone to get what he was searching for tonight. Maybe he was more sorry he got caught, you wonder. You sigh, shaking your head at the sight of him before climbing into Joel’s truck. Good fucking riddance.

Joel speeds off, hands gripping the wheel tightly as you cruise down the highway, back towards his house. You finally feel the pure disappointment of the situation sink in on you, heavy and burdensome on your soul.

“I said nothing happened… but that’s not true. He tried to kiss me,” you say. “Well, he did, I guess. He did kiss me. And tried…my shirt…” you trail off, feeling your eyes glaze over a little as you try to recount every detail of what went down, finding that it’s making you feel immediately sick.

Joel’s body tenses even further next to you, so tight that you worry he might snap at any moment. “S’okay, baby. It’s all over now,” he says, amazingly calm and controlled for the way his body language is screaming the very opposite. You resort to staring out the window for the duration of the drive back, watching the familiar sights as you enter into the suburbs, finding a small comfort in the routine of it all.

He brings you inside of your apartment instead of his house, immediately getting you settled on your bed. He starts to dig through your drawers, muttering to himself.

“Where is it…” he says quietly, before finally pulling out a white shirt, then grabbing a pair of pajama shorts.

“Alright, let’s put these on, okay?” Joel says, handing you the t-shirt of his he gave you weeks ago, the Texas Longhorns one you love so much. You grip it to your chest and feel the ghost of a smile on your lips for the first time in what feels like hours.

You change out of your work clothes and into the pajamas Joel had brought over to you, already feeling a sliver better just having some of your comfort clothing hugging your body now. The shirt had long since stopped smelling like Joel, but the presence of him emanating from it was more than enough. Joel sits down gingerly next to you, snuggling you into his chest.

“What do you need, baby? Anything at all,” he says quietly, the deep rumble of his chest near you another comforting balm to your weariness.

“Just… be here with me. That was so… fucking scary. I’m so angry, but I also… feel like I can’t even feel anything right now. Why did he…?” You exhale long and slow. “Did I miss some sign that this would happen? Was I too busy trying to be fucking nice to him? Trying to be agreeable with everyone at work when he’d make comments?”

“No, of course not, darlin’. You’re a sweet girl, you are. But that ain’t what brought this on. That’s all on him,” Joel assures you, shaking his head in frustration at the situation.

“He asked me out, Joel. Weeks ago. I said no, of course,” you start, shooting Joel an affirming glance. “He’s made some comments since then, nothing crazy. I thought he’d moved on from it, but sometimes he’d… take things too far. Comments about my looks, what I was wearing. I shouldn’t have ignored it.”

“It’s not on you to decide all of that. He was the one who did it, not you. Best not to analyze yourself to death, we’d be here all night pickin’ it all apart, wouldn’t we? Let’s just focus on movin’ on, gettin’ you feelin’ better for right now.” Joel holds you for a few moments before shifting where he sits.

“Want me to run you a bath? Get you somethin’ to eat? Watch shitty TV with you? Anything, please, baby, I’m at a loss here.” Joel holds you tightly, seemingly afraid to let go of his grip on you, worried if he does, the fragile thing he’s seeing you as right now will fall apart completely.

“It’s okay, Joel. You don’t always have to have all the answers,” you say, smiling a little at how hard he’s trying right now. “You already did so much - coming to get me, being there for me right now. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome darlin’,” Joel says. “Why don’t you shower, and I’ll get this bed all ready for us to watch some Lover’s Paradise, how’s that sound?”

You crack another much needed smile and tell him it sounds great, heading to the bathroom to take an overly hot shower, trying to scrub the frustration off of your body as you let the hot water pummel your skin. Joel was right, you do feel better after stepping out of the steamy bathroom all lotioned up in your favorite scent and back in his t-shirt, opting to go without the shorts this time. You’ve found that you feel sexiest in just his shirt like this, and you’re feeling the need for some of that confidence right now.

“Look at ya, all fresh and pretty,” Joel says with a playful wink, and you practically launch yourself at him where he lays propped up on your bed, latching yourself onto his body, wrapping your limbs around him as much as possible.

“I grabbed snacks, sorry for raidin’ your cabinets,” Joel says, showing you the things he’d pulled from your growing candy and sweets collection. You snatch the Twizzlers bag from his hand and pull one out, munching at it absentmindedly as Joel flicks the TV back to life, having already pulled up an episode of Lover’s Paradise for you two.

“This is all perfect Joel, thank you,” you say, looking up from where your head rests at the crook of his neck to find his eyes.

“You feelin’ any better?” he asks.

You nod with a small smile, finding that the sting from tonight has lessened a bit with all of his care. Joel lets you just be - eating candy and throwing comments at the screen while you two watch animatedly, laughing at all the romantic drama the contestants find themselves entangled in.

“Remember the first time we did this, first time I came over here?” Joel asks suddenly into your silence after you’ve finished two episodes.

“Mhm,” you mutter sleepily, nodding into his chest.

“Knew you’d ruin me for sure that night,” he says with a small chuckle. “When we said we’d stay on each other’s minds, promised to keep doin’ all this. I was done for.”

“I knew the minute I saw you mowing your stupid lawn,” you say with a laugh shared by Joel. “So fucking hot,” you murmur, shaking your head at the memory.

“You thought so? Maybe I was puttin’ on a little show for you,” Joel says cheekily.

“Knew it, nobody looks that good mowing their lawn unless it’s to impress somebody,” you reply, tracing a hand down Joel’s torso. You place a few kisses onto his chest with the fabric of his t-shirt in the way, and your hand snakes even lower to his belt line, fiddling with his waistband tantalizingly.

“Baby... Never wanna say no to ya, but I think you should just rest tonight. Look at you, barely keepin’ your eyes open right now.”

Joel’s right, you are half asleep, but right now you just want to feel good. You know he can give that to you in an instant, he can turn your world upside down with his fingers or tongue or cock, and you’ll forget all about the shit that went down tonight. He could give that to you, but you know that after it’s all said and done, you’ll still have to process all the emotions you’re feeling, so you opt to simply nod your head in agreement with Joel.

“Fine. First thing tomorrow, though. Want you to make me feel good,” you say quietly, your face smushed into his chest.

“Promise, baby, first thing this cock is all yours,” Joel replies with an amused chuckle. “Don’t think you know what you’re askin’ for,” he adds quickly with a lower, darker tone. You pause, realizing that Joel is asking for consent in his own way, making sure what he has in mind is alright so that he doesn’t cross any boundaries you aren’t willing to. You feel a swell of pride and respect that he wants to do that for you, especially after what happened tonight.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” you reply, and Joel’s lips curl up into a devious smile.

And so you begin counting the minutes until you can sleep, knowing what awaits you when you wake is going to be very worth the wait.

taglist: @paleidiot @mumma-moonchild @soph55 @chicville03 @joelsversion @feliciab1990 @fellinfromthetop @gossipgirl-03 @sarap-77 @blueseastorm

sorry some of the tags were being weird i tried my best i’m kinda new to tag lists! message to let me know if yours didn’t work i’m sorry!

#TY FOR YOUR PATIENCE LOVE U ALL #fic: closer #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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laurfilijames · 4 months

Text

All week I told myself that on Sunday, I was going to write all day.

I opened my laptop up for the first time in two weeks. I haven't written a word since I finished editing Expensive and tried for over an hour to work on my series Like My Dreams.

I thought about it all week and have been so eager to continue it, only the words won't come.

I know it's not for lack of passion or wanting to; I think about this story (and all the other ones) constantly.

I've been trying to deny some feelings for a while, or chalk it up to getting too much in my own head, but today it's come down heavier than ever and what is ultimately responsible for blocking my creativity and turning my love for my stories from thoughts into actual sentences.

I'm lonely.

I've never felt so alone.

The Charlie fandom seems to be relatively non existent, or just extremely quiet.

I have no space. No where I fit in.

I'm on the outskirts, trying to find a spot, constantly seeing if there is a way I can have a place for my ideas, stories, and even friendship, and have it hold some value to the others I'm around.

The more I post on here, the less I feel seen.

Engagement on this platform has reduced drastically across the board, and it's effecting so many artists.

It's not about numbers. I'm sure some of you are probably thinking "your last fic has over 100 notes". Yeah. It does. Almost all of those notes are likes, and more than half the reblogs are my own.

What I'm seeking is engagement. Conversation. A likeness and kinship started by a common interest that blooms into simple conversations and thoughts shared.

Comparison is a bitch. I see so many people living the Tumblr life I wish to have. Asks, comments, reblogs of teasers and moodboards for upcoming fics screaming of excitement and praise and how eager they are to read it. People dropping everything they're doing to read the latest chapter of their friend's new fic.

I realize the many reasons why I'm in a different position than they are, but lately it's been screaming at me louder than ever that I'm lacking something meaningful or whatever I'm doing on here isn't enough.

I've tried creating a buzz around my stories. I am aware that most of the time I write for unpopular characters with a smaller fan base, so I set the bar lower but am still left feeling inadequate even when I write for the popular ones. Whenever I've shared snippets of WIPs in hopes to gain some excitement from my readers, it falls short. Usually it'll inspire me to keep going, to write better than ever and make this next fic The Best One that makes me so happy and excited to get out. (For Charlie, I'll say, and write something I'm so unbelievably proud of) and then sometimes it makes me wonder if I should bother continuing at all.

I know I am not owed anything by anyone and no one is obligated to read or comment or anything of the sort, and I am beyond grateful for the comments and support I do receive, and the friendships I've made, old and new.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm getting at here, I just needed to write it down and "talk" it out.

I've been battling the decision to continue writing but not share it. I don't want that to happen, because as much as I write these stories for myself, a lot of the fun of it comes from being able to share it with all of you.

Nothing dramatic is happening. I'm not leaving, and I will be writing again because I'm not at all done with what I have to say about these characters, I just felt this needed to be said and already feel a little lighter by sharing it.

Write your stories, comment on your favourite fics, scream with your mutuals about a photo or gif that inspired something in you, tell your writer friends and writers you've never spoken to but love their stories just how much you do... I promise it makes more of an impact than you know. 💗

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idolatrybarbie · 8 months

Text

the world tipped on its side

chapter five - satellite

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 5.1k

rating & summary: explicit | you reflect on the concept of love.

warnings: smut, swallowing like a champ, references to past physical injury, reference to frigid parent dynamics, dead parents, reader has a disability, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, emotionssss, pathetic!frankie moments.

notes: @wannab-urs gin hurt my feelings so now everyone must suffer next chapter but enjoy this while we're here. i kind of think this is trash garbo but (at the time of queuing this) i'm in a weird headspace coming back home for the first time. also it's late and i've been traveling all day so i'm choosing to ignore myself. goodnight and enjoy.

Friendship. That’s what this is.

Friendship with a man who called you the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Said that you’re so beautiful it’s scary. Who you had just sex with.

You don’t see much of Frankie on set, except for the few chaste and directive conversations between you, himself, and Ashton. In those moments, the very last thought on your mind is whatever is going on with you and him. It’s work, that’s the priority. Not that you give a shit about the movie, but it’d be nice if everyone wrapped and returned home in one piece.

Every time you try and talk to him, someone else pulls you away. This goes on for the first two days of filming in the woods. You don’t know what this is—this pull that keeps you circling him, even if you never quite seem to gain on Frankie in the chase. The sun and moon, bouncing light between each other at all times. You’re trying to figure out which role you are playing.

You catch him in a personal moment on day four, just getting off the phone with someone behind a production trailer. He looks momentarily startled, but not deterred by your presence. A good sign.

“Hey,” Frankie says. He sounds exactly like he did over the phone.

“Hi,” you return. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Yeah. I figured,” he says. “I mean, me too. Just with the—” He’s motioning vaguely at the helicopter parked thirty feet from you.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I don’t want to do it here. Maybe you could come over, or…”

“I’ve got my daughter this week,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Oh, shit. Right. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be. Things are just really…tight right now. Time-wise.”

The pager at your hip buzzes. Ashton calling everyone back to set.

“I’ll call, okay? I promise,” Frankie says. The words make your chest cold and you hate it. This is selfish, surely. The man has a kid, for crying out loud. Who are you to deny or resent dad duty?

But you do. At this moment, you really do, wishing that the small being he has called his pride and joy would cease to exist for an evening. It’s horrible, so you nod and that's that. Back to work you go.

You wait until the end of the week. Frankie does not call. You hate, hate that you’ve been reduced to the girl in movies that would pine over the phone and wait for that special boy to call. Because really, are any of them all that special? Is Frankie?

Sure, he touched you and it felt like a match to your insides, but does that mean anything? You’re out of practice. He’s the first person to pay you any mind in that way since you became disabled. The more you think about it, really think about it, the more the argument for Frankie Morales falls apart.

Mia comes over on a night where missing Sam makes her heart ache a little too much to be alone, bringing with her a shitty bottle of rosé. You’re half a glass deep when she starts to ask that needling question, What’s wrong? And finishing the bottle by the time you sigh as an answer to her asking for the millionth time. You agreed to be open after the—spat? Blowup? Long overdue reuniting best friend fight?—but it still takes some time. She is prying open a mussel to find a very shitty prize.

“It’s stupid,” you say. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not, and it isn’t,” Mia says, a frown on her face. Your lips stay sealed in a pout and she turns on those evil, adorable eyes. “Tell me.”

You hold out for about five minutes, some action flick moving quietly across your flat screen before you finally give in.

“Jesus! Fine,” you relent. “It’s like being waterboarded.”

Mia grins with satisfaction before her face snaps back to sober (as much as one can be after a whole bottle of wine) seriousness. “Spill.”

“You’re going to say it’s dumb,” you say.

“You’re projecting.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I slept with Frankie.” A bomb explodes on screen, illustrating what is most certainly happening inside Mia’s skull at this very moment. “Yeah…”

“Was it good?”

“Mia!” you scold, swatting at her knee.

“Hey! You can’t blame me for asking. I love Sam but I have eyes,” she says. “He reminds me of all the guys we went to school with that have photos with fish on their Tinder profiles.”

“You’re terrible,” you sigh.

“You know it, baby,” she smiles. “So you slept together. What next?”

“We haven’t talked about it.”

Mia holds her tongue for a moment, trying to formulate this sentence in the least explosive way possible. “Do you want to?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say.

“I have to ask. You’re not exactly the talk it out type of person anymore,” Mia says.

Ignoring that, you say, “He’s busy. I’m busy. I hate it.”

“Call him,” Mia tries.

“Did that. Not really an over-the-phone kind of conversation,” you say.

Mia hums thoughtfully. “Okay, well. Try it out with me first.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re going to say to him, say it to me. I know exactly where your mind is going with this—oh no, he has no time for me. Is it even worth discussing this matter that is very important to me if I project unimportance from the other party onto my feelings?"

You don’t say anything, willing another bottle of wine to appear next to the empty one on the coffee table.

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong. It’s what you do,” Mia says, confidence in the way she straightens up against the couch. And she isn’t wrong, but maybe you aren’t either. Frankie isn’t her. Frankie isn’t your best friend. He’s friendly, and you fucked.

“Okay, fine,” you say. You focus in on Mia’s eyes, imagining a different pair of them staring back at you. “I just—I want to tell you that what happened…was a first. In a long while. And I don’t know how to say it like a normal goddamn person, but—”

You can’t focus, words flying out of your mouth too fast for your tipsy brain to keep up. Your feelings are a jumble in your head, a vintage game of Scrabble lost to time. Mia’s not Frankie either. You’d have to explain it and provide all this context that you can’t even put words to for her to understand. For this to feel any ounce of real. Frankie would simply get it. But he won’t, because at this rate you’ll never get to tell him.

“I don’t know,” you sigh.

“Well I can’t make you do anything. I know you, and you’ll do what you think is best. Even if you know the alternative might be better,” Mia says. You can’t help but laugh. “I kind of get it, how your dad felt? When we were at school.”

The mood turns. Not sour, not quite the same. Your living room has a palpable edge ebbing through it now, carried through the occasional waft of alcohol between you, Mia, and the open, empty bottle.

“Do you remember him when we were in college?” you ask, voice quiet.

“Your dad? Of course. He was so, I don’t know—hands-on? He was around way more than my parents were,” Mia says.

He showed up every third weekend of the month with a few containers of leftovers; macaroni pie, frozen meatloaf and mashed potatoes, fresh tomatoes from his garden.

A man who only softened when you elected to up and leave. A man you resented until the day he died. A man you still resent, deep down in your soul. Yet you miss him.

The first time your heart’s been activated in years to throw you off assured feet and your first instinct is to run home to Dad. He lingers in your car, in the way you hold the gravy boat at Mia’s Thanksgiving dinners; his gloves are what you wore in the months of a tiresome film shoot amid an unending New York blizzard.

You hate him. He loved you. For the sixth time this week, you ponder driving home to clean up his grave. You can’t right now, because of work. Maybe when the summer’s over. The leaves will have started to fall. The headstone could use a good power wash.

“Where’d you go?” Mia asks.

“Hm?”

“You disappeared on me for a second,” she says.

“Thinking,” you say.

“Mm, don’t do too much of that. You’ll break your brain.”

“Already broken.”

“That’s too bad,” Mia smiles. “Had some pretty great thoughts sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“All the time,” she corrects. Mia gets off the couch, taking a minute to steady herself. “I’m calling a ride.”

“Excellent idea,” you nod. “See? Look at you. Responsible, quick-witted. You can do the thinking for the both of us.”

“Slow your roll, Romeo,” Mia cautions, staring into her phone. She looks up at you. “The night is still young. I’m only going home because you’re dry.”

“There’s a reason you keep alcohol at your place and I don’t,” you say. There have been some days, far behind you now, where you might’ve just drank the pain away. Certainly not the way to go.

She leaves you with another laugh and a smile, promising to text you when she gets home. The apartment stills as soon as the door shuts. You almost open it again, reaching for the knob to lean out into the hall and call Mia back. You don’t, instead letting the quiet envelope you. This doesn’t feel the same as the loneliness that would lurk in the shadowy corners of the room. Your lamps finally feel tall enough to reach those spots, dawning light on them and banishing the feeling.

You let yourself sit with it. Not lonely but alone. This isn’t permanent and it’s not a death sentence, as uncomfortable as it feels right now. Mia is there, along with an assortment of friends whose names you’ll have to dust the cobwebs off of soon. Even if Frankie never calls, you’ll be okay. A bittersweet realization for this dull and itching moment.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you pass the bathroom, you pause. You watch yourself, not in judgment like the last time. Plain observation. You blink three times in one minute before moving on.

It’s odd, looking without really looking. You’ve oscillated between dissection and avoidance of yourself for the last handful of years. This is a new skill to build. Look, there she is. A blink in passing.

Wherever you go, there you are. Get used to it.

Back on the studio lot for the rest of the week, you don’t see Frankie. The occurrence becomes less and less significant as the days pass. You almost delete his number from your phone altogether. Almost.

At lunch, you go through your phone to his contact, finger hovering over the trash button. In the end, you decide against it. It’s a number you might need for work. It’d be a pain in the ass to have to go down to payroll for his contact information—like you don’t have the digits memorized. Mia joins you at some point, minutes blurring together as you eat in pleasant silence.

Shooting goes over almost two hours because of rain leaking through the roof onto a set piece. You get home close to midnight. The street lamps bathe everything in a warm glow. Puddles have collected in the divets of the road, water reflecting the artificial light alongside the cold moon.

The elevator ride up to your floor should be like any other. Your instincts know better. Watching the digital numbers change as the metal box ascends, your stomach flips in your gut. You’ve always been acutely aware of the environments you found yourself in, bullshit meter finely tuned to warn you when shit was about to hit the fan.

It’s an instinct your father grew and nurtured in childhood. Because of him, all hard edges and unreachable wells of emotion. He was iced over solid. You found yourself carefully skating over that surface, around and around again for years until you left.

When the elevator doors open, you half-expect to see him standing there. Risen from the grave like a corpse from your dreams. The wall of shiny metal parts into two, and you see someone. Not your father. The breath caught in your throat flashes from crisp to boiling, a tube of Icy Hot slathered across your lungs.

You’ve never told Frankie where you live. So what is he doing here?

Before you’ve even made it to your door, you ask him.

“Thought I’d missed you,” he supplies as an explanation. “Or that you were ignoring me from inside.”

“I can ignore you from outside, too,” you say, setting your bag down. Taking keys from your back pocket, you avert your eyes as you get a grasp on the one for your front door.

“Listen,” he begins, watching as you turn the lock. “I—”

“Look, Frankie. I don’t have time for this. Or you, or your games.” Turning the handle of the door and pushing it open, you grab your things and step inside your apartment. “You said you’d call. You didn’t. End of story.”

“The phone works both ways,” he says. You try not to be shocked at the audacity.

“Well this,” you say, pointing between the two of you, “doesn’t.”

You’re shutting the door when he gently rests a hand on the reinforced wood.

“Please just—let me explain?” Frankie asks. You don’t close the door but don’t open it any wider for him. At that, he says, “Thank you.”

Glancing behind you to find the living room clock, you say, “You’ve got two minutes.” Two minutes to midnight.

“I wanted to call, but I—” Frankie cuts himself off. “I was a coward and that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry. I don’t usually feel this way about people. Not in a long time.”

His words are scratching at your heart. You hold your steely gaze against him, ignoring your insides slowly melting behind the door.

“I really like you. More than I’ve liked anybody. More than I like myself most days. That night in Florida was confusing for me. You wanted me there, and I wanted you. And then you said it was scary and I realized just how terrifying it is. This is.” Frankie takes a breath. “I didn’t want this to be weird. Didn’t want to box you into a corner with all of this shit I’m feeling because that isn’t fair and—”

He’s been avoiding focusing on you, instead staring at the nice tile scuff between the doorway and his boot. Frankie looks up, words playing straight on his face. He looks like he’s seen a ghost when all he’s looking at is you.

“And now I’m some fucker on your doorstep begging you to listen to me tell my sob story.” From the sounds of it, that’s the last thing he wants.

“Sometimes things don’t work out. That’s life,” you say. You’re telling yourself that this is the smart decision. Ice him out and your heart stays safely in your chest. Close the door and he’ll forget all about you.

Frankie’s eyes are wide, expression raw. He isn’t observing or puzzling over you, he’s barely hiding anything on that face of his. Frankie is bleeding emotion all over your door. You want to take him in your hands and kiss it better. Lick the gore from his mouth, words crimson and dripping off his chin.

So you do.

Setting your bag down in the corner, you open the door wider to see all of him. He stands tall, all broad shoulders under his slubby blue button-down. You’re kissing Frankie before you can consider anything else. He takes ahold of the frilly sleeves of your blouse to pull you closer.

Licking at your teeth, Frankie walks you backward into the apartment. The door is still open. You maneuver around and press your back against it, closing with a thud. He breaks the kiss to murmur another apology against your cheek. You let him, pushing your tongue back into his mouth again.

Gripping the hair that sticks out at the nape of his neck, Frankie moans into the kiss.

“Are you—? Can we?” he asks, whisper-quiet. “Should we?”

No. Yes? You aren’t sure that it matters much anymore. “Do you want to?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

The kiss is gentler from there on, moving through the front hall and living room with Frankie attached to your face. He almost trips himself taking his boots off. You both make it to the bed, thighs catching at the edge of the mattress. Lying down, he joins you. This is immediately better than that shitty motel, and you haven’t done anything yet.

Frankie moves onto his side, distracted by your lips as he works at the front zipper of your pants. You move your hand to join his, pulling the silver tab down over metal teeth like you’ve done a couple hundred times by now. He huffs in a wordless thanks, pushing your pants down until they are bunched at your ankles. You toe them off along with your socks, leaving you in nothing but underwear from the waist down.

He’s looking at you like an eclipse, utterly fascinated. You begin to shrink in on yourself under his gaze, but he gently runs the pads of his fingers over your cheek. You lean into the warm touch, three matches dragging against your skin to set your face alight.

Frankie kisses down your body, undoing a few of the buttons that sit over your chest. He doesn’t take the shirt off of you, instead pushing it up as his lips kiss over your stomach. You jerk, the soft feeling sending a jolt through your body.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please touch me.” You hate that you’re begging, but love to hear yourself do it.

Frankie does too, moving his mouth over you as he keeps your underwear on. He licks at you over the lycra material, soaking the already damp fabric where your clit sits beneath it. Dipping his tongue low against the gusset, he slips two fingers under your waistband and tugs it away from your skin. The panties peel off of you.

Frankie bunches them in his hand, leaving them beside him on the bed. Without warning, he’s on you again—really this time. He licks at your cunt fervently, like this is the last chance he’ll get to give head. You close your eyes and pull his head closer to your body, small moans slipping past your lips.

This is still a bit of an apology. The thought comes to you amidst your fuzzy haze as you drip onto his tongue. Frankie groans below you, taking your right thigh in one hand and hoisting it onto his shoulder. He’s attached to you again, a different set of lips.

Most of his attention is focused on your clit, his tongue swirling at it between moments when he presses it flat against the whole of you.

“You’re always so sweet for me,” Frankie mumbles. “Wet and pretty. D’you like it when I fuck you with my mouth?”

“Yes, fuck—always,” you sigh.

Dragging him up by the hair, you kiss him again. You need to before you say something stupid. One hand is held softly at your jaw while Frankie’s other hand works you over, pressing hard against your clit.

“God.” Your heart is racing underneath your skin, beating too fast to be quite comfortable.

Frankie’s so close and everything smells like him. Frankie and sex; two things this room has never been exposed to in your tenure here. You should make a candle.

You scratch at his chest, half-hoping to draw a bit of blood as you whine his name.

“Yeah honey? That good? Nice and slow, or—?”

You nod and he slips a finger inside of you, pressing against the front wall of your pelvis. This returns you to begging for more, for anything. For him.

At the edge of an orgasm, Frankie’s fingers leave you in search of a condom. You reach out to the drawer of your bedside table, yanking it forward. Amongst a stash of pens, sticky notes, and batteries is a handful of them. Frankie takes one and opens it up, sliding the latex over his cock. One day, you’ll get your mouth on that thing. Right now you both have other plans.

He works his hand over himself a couple of times before sinking onto the mattress with you. His arms cage you in at either side as he slides in slowly. He’s only halfway inside you when you nod to yourself, a hum barely audible.

“What?” he asks.

“Noting that you’re a missionary type of guy,” you say.

That pulls a laugh from him, morphing into a squeezed moan as you hook one leg over Frankie’s hip. He’s pushed the rest of the way inside of you, breathing heavily at the surprise.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Would that be so bad this way?” you ask. It’s hard to keep up the sarcastic banter when you’re so full of him.

Frankie sighs. “No.” The word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips, the force moving you up the bed half an inch.

What you would give to have him fuck you into the headboard; pound you into the mattress. He can’t, shouldn’t, and seems to know it already. Frankie grants you your wish of laying on you though. Just lightly, a feather of a man on top.

Frankie’s cock kisses the end of your cunt before he pulls out again. You hold onto him, pressing him closer as you keep your face in the shadow of his neck. Picturing the scene, pants off and shirts on, almost makes you laugh. Another punch of his hips fucks the thought from your head as you sink your teeth into his skin. Frankie hisses, losing his rhythm with a slight stutter.

“Do that again,” he says, waiting. You do, kissing at the tender skin of his throat this time before you bite him. The flesh between your teeth is soft and elastic, pulling away from his body.

In Frankie’s absence, your appetite has grown. Maybe that’s what it is: starvation. Waiting for days to get your fill once again. You need him inside you—in your cunt, under your skin, between your teeth. You would devour him if he’d let you.

“You feel so fucking good.” His words come slow, contrasting the small gasps he pulls from you on every thrust, leaving you breathless. Frankie is holding you in almost a cradle now. Claustrophobia settles between your bodies deliciously, the world shrinking down to a pinhole as he fucks you.

It doesn’t quite feel like fucking, though. The way Frankie touches you is too soft in some places, and the way he’s looking at you is killer. His eyes flash with that unexplainable thing, stirring your stomach as you feel your peak again. This is a murder. He’s returning the favour.

The next kiss Frankie gives you is bruising. The heat of your skin against his boils over, the oxygen blur caused by your faulty lungs and the slap of his hips against yours doing you in. You come with a groan, panting into his mouth as he continues to thrust into you.

“So pretty when you come,” he says beside your ear. “So pretty always, sweet thing.”

He pulls out of you, jerking himself off through the condom over your body. You shake your head, removing the thin piece of rubber. You pick up where he left off, spitting on him and stroking Frankie’s cock with the tight circle of your hand.

“Fuck,” he moans, long and loud. “Honey, slow down. Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth.” Testing, you give him a kitten lick at the tip of his dick.

“Oh god.”

You shake your head. “Just me.”

He comes with a few more strokes, striping your tongue, your lips, your chin. You let him go to gather it from your skin onto your fingers. It’s only a little shiny here in the half-dark. You can feel Frankie watching when you press your index past your lips, tasting more of him.

He groans. Again, he says, “You’re gonna kill me.”

Frankie lays down on the empty side of the bed. You brace for his after-sex questionnaire, but the conversation never comes. He rolls onto his side to face you, slipping his arms around your torso as you face away from him.

Eventually he asks, “You still like me being here? Now that it’s here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Florida, it’s a vacation. This is a little more…” Permanent. Memorable.

Whenever you went home for the summer, your childhood bedroom plagued you with thoughts and memories long buried of your amateur firsts. Your brain still sort of worked like that—you’re sure that if you went back to your old unit in California, the handful of PAs and dolly grips you spent nights with would be one of the first things on your mind.

“Yeah,” you say, answering the question. “This is better.”

“Better?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you mumble into the pillow.

“Too late,” Frankie says.

You sigh. “How can you be the coolest guy ever and an absolute donut at the same time?”

“You think I’m cool?” he asks.

Unlike him, you’re honest. “Unfortunately.”

Frankie hums, the rumble of his chest sinking into the bones in your spine easily.

This is all easy. Listening to him breathe, letting him in your space, falling asleep against him. If you weren’t so thoroughly fucked and tired, the simplicity would freeze you, desperate to scramble away. All you can do is lay there, falling asleep in his arms.

When you wake up, Frankie’s gone. Again.

Something painful seizes your chest, an icy claw poking razor-sharp fingers through the slats in your ribs. The sheets on the empty side of the bed still have the faint glow of body heat. He must’ve left recently, or maybe he’s still up. You can catch him before he puts his boots on and walks out your front door—out of your apartment, out of your life.

Franke interrupts your thoughts when he returns to your room, a mug in his hand.

“Did I wake you?” he asks. His morning voice is low and gravelly. A feast for the ears.

“No,” you shake your head. “I thought you left.”

“Moved my boots. They were getting dirt on your nice carpet.” Right. You remember him leaving them somewhere in your apartment. “I made coffee.”

“I’m okay.” You let your breathing even out as he sits back down on the bed with you. “We should…talk.”

“That’s all we ever do,” Frankie says. “Well, that and…” The other thing you two are so proficient at these days.

“I mean really talk. About this,” you say.

“Right,” he nods. Frankie sets his mug down, steam rising from the top. “I guess I do owe you a secret.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees. “I want to tell you.”

When you told him about the accident, about everything that changed, you’d handed him this soft and precious thing of yours that no one else had ever seen. With the roles reversed, your palms itch. You can’t help but think that you’ll drop his.

“But you have to promise me something first,” Frankie says. “Don’t say anything until I’m done, okay? Please.”

“Okay.”

A long moment of silence draws on between the two of you as he stares at your bed sheets. Frankie’s mouth twitches, filtering through his vocabulary to find the right words. Then finally, he speaks.

He tells you about a region in South America called Tres Fronteras. About a phone call, a decision, a heist. The money, most of it lost to the unforgiving land and sea. Frankie lost a friend, a wife, and a life he was trying to carve out for himself. All for riches that were never going to be his.

“I killed people. I was good at it—that and flying planes. And then all of that ended with the service. For a while there I was…a bit of a trigger-happy coke head,” he says, almost rolling his eyes. Frankie can’t seem to look at you, the same way he couldn’t in the hall. “Took a long time to clean up my act.”

You understand what he meant on that beach, an apology waiting behind your teeth as you keep your eyes on him. You don’t verbalize it. Instead, you take his hand into yours. Gently, you squeeze.

“I guess you aren’t the only one squirrely about secrets,” Frankie whispers.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Frankie surrenders, face drawn when he meets your eyes.

“That’s not the person you’ve shown me. It’s not the guy that I see. We change. For worse or for better.”

You would be lying if you said that his admissions don’t unsettle you; that this is an easy pill to swallow. But you know him. You want him. He and you are cut from the same cloth in the end. This changes nothing.

“Which one do you think you are?” he asks.

“Worse.” But that can change. Is changing, even as you sit here.

“And me?”

At that, you smile. “Better.”

You want to tell him that the promise of seeing him had been one of the only things getting you through the slow, thick haze of summer. That the thought of him never calling was a little devastating, no matter how sad that sounds. You miss his touch and want his eyes on you always. You’ve never had such a quick turnaround in opinion about anything. It’s selfish, really.

“I’m kind of a bad person,” he says slowly. It’s half warning, half realization.

“Good and bad are concepts from make-believe. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So what do you worry about?” Frankie asks.

“Reality,” you say. “My whole life is centered around making other people believe in something fake. Concentrating on what’s real? That’s been keeping me sane lately.”

Mia’s words. Frankie’s attention. That tangible feeling of warmth, different but the same, when you are around both of them.

“And you’re real,” you say before he can ask. “A bit of a fuck up, but so am I.”

“That must be why we get along,” Frankie says.

“Must be.”

You want to add you’ll be okay to that list of real things. You need it. You’d kill for it. Silently, with your head against the pillow, you make a decision.

tags: @wannab-urs / @anoverwhelmingdin / @iamskyereads / @for-a-longlongtime

#pedrostories #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic: the world tipped on its side

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ladylooch · 1 year

Text

Loving & Leaving- Part 4

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Now, we are seeing a shift for our little “non- lovers”. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that 😘 Thank you so much for your love and support on this one. It’s been dreamy and exciting!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, lots of vomit talk, pregnancy, angst.

The month of December is hell on earth for event planners. Between your own personal celebrations leading up to the holidays and your client's, you never have a moment to yourself. I’ve seen the inside of my house for a maximum of two hours since I returned back from America. The other times I’ve been there its falling into a pile of exhaustion on my bed before my alarm goes off to do it all over again. My work weeks have transitioned into 70+ hours. At least I know there is light at the end of this tunnel when I return to New Jersey with my parents on Tuesday.

Then, I’ll be able to spend time with them and… hopefully Timo, depending on if I can slip away or not. Communication between the two of us has been limited the last two weeks. I’ve responded to his texts and we have shared a few brief phone calls. At least he’s understanding and supportive. It helps that his season is ramping up and requires a majority of his focus.

We send pictures and TikTok’s, but I haven’t responded to those in five days. I’ve missed every one of his FaceTime calls this week too. Despite my admitted history, I am honestly not avoiding him. The grind of the holiday season is simply catching up with me. I find myself falling asleep the moment I sit down on my couch with a glass of wine. When I’m awake, I feel so overwhelmed that even keeping up with my friends and family here is disappearing from my never ending list. I’m overwhelmed, nearing burn out and honestly, sick. So sick. The last three days, my body has seemingly rejecting all this stress with a nausea I can’t seem to shake.

Which brings me to where I am now, puking, knees quivering on the tiled bathroom floor of an event center for the third time in three days. It’s my last event before Christmas and I’ve spent more time in the bathroom tonight than anywhere else. This is a different kind of sick. It feels like my body is purging everything I put into it before I can get any sort of benefit from it. All I ate was a piece of bread, fast, while rushing back from a dessert emergency in the kitchen. I barely got the last bite down before I was sprinting back to the bathroom.

“What is wrong with me?” I moan, laying the side of my head against the stall. I move to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. I rest my forearm into my breast and groan at the tenderness. Awareness begins to seep into my thoughts. “No. This is not happening.” I whisper to the empty bathroom.

The door swings open and I grimace, not wanting to have any of the guests of my high-end client hear me. I thought I would have some time alone with the speaking part of the program under way.

“Em, are you okay?” Rhea, my assistant and long-time friend, asks.

“Um.” I pause, pressing the back of my hand furthering into my wet lips. My stomach lurches and I vomit again. I can hear Rhea sigh outside of the stall.

“This isn’t like you.” She says what we are both thinking. I’m rarely sick. This is new. “I’ll be back.” She calls before leaving the bathroom. I sit on my knees, eyes screwed shut, spitting into the toilet. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing Timo’s FaceTime call. I can’t answer that right now. Not when I think… I won’t let myself even finish the thought.

Rhea returns, kicking a pink, pregnancy test box under the stall. The woman on the front grins joyfully. I can’t say I feel the same. I consider denying that I need one of these, but Rhea and I spoke this morning about how weird my cycle has been. I had my period a few weeks ago, but it was almost non-existent. I chalked it up to stress, except… now I’m sick.

“How do you just have one of these?” I mumble, hating that we are both on the same page.

“At some point, these things are like strips of gum in your purse.”

We fall quiet.

“This is a low moment for me.” I mutter, ripping the box open. “Taking a… test at a client event is so embarrassing.” I work my way to sitting on the toilet.

“You need to be able to eliminate this.” She responds, leaning against the bathroom door. I scowl, hearing my phone vibrate against the toilet paper dispenser. I know that’s him again. So does Rhea. He has the same routine. Calls three times and leaves a message on the third. “Interesting timing. At least you'll know who’s baby it is.” I glare at the stall door as I snap the cap of the test back on.

“Can I have a minute here?” Guilt squeezes my throat at how unfriendly my tone sounds. My whole world seems up in the air right now and I just need her to stop talking.

But the absence of Rhea’s voice makes my phone vibrating louder until it feels like it’s rattling between my ears. A ping echos in the bathroom signaling a voicemail. I grab my phone, listening to his message.

“Hey Em… uh, it’s me again. Look, I know you’re busy but I’m going to be honest this feels like you’re kinda ignoring me. Did I do something? Or… *heavy sigh* I don’t know. Can you just call me? I miss you. We play tonight, but call me.. I’ll pick up. Just… I want to know you’re okay. Bye.”

My bottom lip trembles at the sound of his voice. No. I am not okay, sitting on the floor of this bathroom, trying not to puke again at the reality of the test in my hand. Worried tears build as I sense the two minutes pass. I know the test is ready, can feel it in my shaking hands and the passing of another song from the band beyond this room.

I move my fingers and die at the distinct plus sign that greets me.

“Fuck.” I cry, throwing the test down on the floor. It bounces underneath to the next stall. My abdomen shakes with sobs and terror as I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Fuck.” I say into my palm again, quieter, listening to the classical strings float into the bathroom from the event space. The soft music is an ironic soundtrack to my whole world crashing down on top of me. I look up at the ceiling, tears crawling from the corners of my eyes. They drip into my ears as I shake against the cold floor.

What am I going to do?

How am I going to tell Timo?

A few days later, after arriving in New Jersey for Christmas, I’ve come to the, admittedly, irrational decision that maybe I just won’t. It’s been an exhausting few days that’s accompanied more nausea and tons of smell aversions. One of them is eggs which Nico is innocently frying up for breakfast.

“You want some?” He asks me as he cracks three eggs for himself.

“No.” I can barely respond without gagging.

Our parents went off on their own for a walk around the city and to grab a cup of their favorite coffee. Usually, I would join them, but my stomach has been so touch and go this morning that I didn’t think I could. Nico continues to move the eggs around and they get more fragrant. I try to switch breathing through my mouth, but the smell seems to coat my tongue. My stomach squeezes and I rush from the kitchen with my hand clasped over my mouth. Nico watches my back with confusion. I return to the kitchen wordlessly when I am done, grabbing a glass of water. Nico stares, eyebrows cocked in question.

“Not sure that motion sickness lasts for days, Em. Maybe you need to see a doctor. I can ask one of the team doctors if they can come over?” I’ve already seen a doctor to confirm my pregnancy. And the thought of getting a team official involved has my throat tightening. I come back to the counter, slowly sitting down and rubbing at the tense muscles in my neck. My gaze drifts to the dining room table, grimacing at the reminder it’s one of the places we could have conceived this baby.

I was so stupid to start us down this road. Yes, I’m on the pill. Yes, I take it regularly. No, I have no idea how this happened. When I brought it up to my doctor, she shrugged, saying no birth control options are completely guaranteed. Then she handed me the sonogram I didn’t ask for, that’s now tucked in my suitcase, buried beneath all my clothes.

I watch Nico scrape his eggs onto a plate, then sprinkle more salt and pepper onto the fluffy peaks. He’s right here in front of me, but it feels like we are a thousands of miles apart. Loneliness grips my heart, making my eyes wet as Nico comes to sit by me. The heaviness of being the only person who knows weighs on me. But, here, in his kitchen, I can feel my little brother’s safety being stable enough to take some of that weight from me. I’m going to tell him, I decide as he shuffles his eggs around, spearing a few onto his fork.

“It’s not motion sickness. I’m pregnant.” I tell Nico, who pauses with his eggs at his open mouth. The egg flies off when he exhales sharply. I bite my tongue against the vomit pressing into my esophagus.

“What?”

“And it’s Timo’s.” I didn’t intend to tell him, but it flew out before I could stop it.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Surprise absorbs my face now. “I know you two fuck around.” He motions at me with his fork. “Have for years. You two are awful at hiding your obsession with each other.” My mouth is slightly slack as he stabs the egg back on his fork. He stuffs it into his mouth and continues while he chews. “Never understood why you wouldn’t go all in.”

“Because I have a life in Switzerland.”

“Yeah, that’s gone now.” He swipes the air in front of me with his fork again, gesturing to the pregnancy. I narrow my eyes at his bluntness and obvious lack of empathy. “What did Timo say when you told him?” I am silent. He brings his brown eyes back to mine, squinting. “You did tell him, right?” More silence “Emma.” He snaps.

“I just found out.” I defend myself. “Not that I really owe you an explanation.”

“Get dressed.” Nico says, pointing down the hall to my room. “You’re going to tell him now.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are. It should have been your first stop when you got here.”

“I can’t just show up at his-”

“Are you keeping his baby?” He cuts me off. A heavy inhale pulls my lips apart.

“Yes.” I say without question. It never crossed my mind to not go through with this.

“Then get downstairs.” His voice is final, like there is no reason to continue to argue further with him.

“When did you stop being my protector?” I grumble while rising to leave the counter.

“Who says I stopped?” His stare is pointed. “Go.” His tone has softened at the obvious tears in my eyes. “I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think it would be okay.”

I try to remember those words as I stare at Timo’s apartment door seven minutes later. I thought about texting him, but then there would be so much small talk and I can’t do that right now. I contemplate bailing, but my brother comes to mind, knowing he’s going to expect a report from the conversation when I return.

“Damn you, Nico.” I mutter as I raise my hand to knock.

I wait for a minute, maybe two, gripping the sleeves of my sweatshirt in my hands. No sound comes from the other side of the door. I think I might get off easy. I even turn to head back towards the elevator. Then the sound of the lock flipping halts me. My stomach drops out of my body, hitting the floor and flopping around in unease.

“Hey.” Timo is breathless as he opens the door. He is wearing a pair of jeans, waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear taut against his abdomen. He stands shirtless in the entry way, rubbing a towel over his hair. The brown strands flop against his forehead as he looks expectantly at me. He looks so sexy, warm and welcoming, with a gentle familiarity. “Didn’t realize you were in Jersey.” He becomes obviously tiffed, understandable since I dropped off the face of the planet… again.

“Yeah.” My voice is breaking, so I clear my throat. “I’ve been here for a couple of days.” I say, fingers twisting the cotton tighter in my palms.

“Ah.” His voice goes flat and he looks away in annoyance. “So we are back to you ignoring me?” I shake my head, dropping my eyes to the floor. I feel queasy and start shaking. I hope he can’t tell.

“Can I come in?” He pauses, dropping the towel down to his side, like he might not let me. But him and I both know that’s now how it goes with us. The smell of his cologne is strong with my heightened senses and I cough in discomfort as I walk past him.

“I’m going to get a shirt.” He disappears down the hall, coming back in a black t-shirt that hugs his body. He runs his fingers through his wet hair while looking at me. “I don’t have long. I’m… meeting a friend.” I stare at him, wondering if it’s a friend of the female variety. I really don’t have a right to ask, so I don’t. My gaze drops to the couch. “It’s just Kevin, Em. The Kings are playing the Islanders.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the island of his kitchen well across the room from me. His biceps bulge against the fabric as he studies me. “You don’t look like you came here for small talk. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” It’s abrupt. I know. Almost too fast for him to catch in real time, but I can’t hold it in anymore. The words are too full and tumble from my mouth in a rush. My heart shutters with each anxious beat. I bravely lift my eyes back to him.

Timo seemingly glitches. He is confused, not quite understanding, like he wants to ask me to repeat what I said. Then, I watch as the registration gradually fills his body. He begins to stand taller, eyebrows dashing up his forehead. When it clicks, his blue eyes widen in alarm.

“Mine?” He asks quietly. I try not to flinch at the question, realizing he will, logically, want a paternity test. He has assets and money and a career to protect. Funny, I thought being pregnant without a boyfriend was the most shameful thing I’ve done in my life. I think that experience is going to top it. Eventually, I nod in response as tears fill my eyes. He pushes out a loaded breath that fills my chest with discomfort. I look briefly back to his face, seeing a million emotions dash across his features, none of them actually registering.

I can’t watch him process anymore. I begin to soothe myself with internal thoughts. It doesn’t really matter what he wants from this. I’ve already made my decision. I’m only here because Nico forced me. I cross my arms over my tender chest, walking towards the windows to see the city skyline. Tears distort the buildings together. I’m collapsing under so many different emotions. It’s like I’m seeing that plus sign all over again.

A drop slides from my left eye, gradually dragging down my cheek. I reach my hand up, flicking it away. My teeth dig into my trembling lip as I sniffle. Timo’s hand comes along my upper back, wrapping around my neck and gliding me into his body. His other hand wraps around my waist as he buries his face into my cheek. I enclose my arms around him, shoving my face into his chest and releasing my suffocating sobs into his shirt.

“I’m freaking out.” I squeak.

“I know. It’s going to be okay.” Even as his voice shakes, he is so, so gentle with me. His hands press me into his body like he wants to absorb and shield me. “What do you want to do?” He whispers into my hair. “It’s your choice.”

“I’m gonna do this… I’m keeping the baby. ” I tell him. I can feel his body deflate beneath me. For a moment, I don’t know why, but then he presses his face deeper into my hair, kissing my scalp with feathery kisses meant to soothe.

“Okay. I’m happy to hear that.”

I nod, glad that he isn’t pressuring me any which way. I don’t think I could handle his anger with me for wanting to see this through.

“Em, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.” I begin to tremble in his arms. He’s not even questioning further about this being ours. “Does Nico know?”

“Yeah. About everything. He is why I am here.”

“You weren’t going to tell me?” He stiffens, pain deepens his voice which makes me feel like shit.

“I.. well yeah, but maybe when we ran into each other in July and I was 9 months pregnant.” I pull back, tilting my chin to see his face. It’s calm and measured, which helps soothe some of the turmoil in me. He reaches up for my cheeks, stroking his thumbs to collect my tears.

“July?”

“Yeah, I confirmed everything at the doctor on Monday. I’m due July 26th.”

“Off-season.” He murmurs with appreciation. “Most NHL couples plan for years to get a July birthday.” I look away with a scrunched nose at the word couple, causing a heavy sigh to drop his shoulders. “Can we agree right now that you’re going to stop fighting the way you feel about us? Please. For our kid?” He says it so casually, like he’s used to and accepted the idea of our kid. My heart grows in my chest for him.

“Becoming a mom isn’t the only thing I’m terrified of.” I confess.

“Baby, I’ve promised you since day one that I would take care of you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you, including me.” He is so sure as he speaks to me. I drop my forehead back to his chest.

“Do you really want this?” I whisper to him, even as he wraps me tighter into his arms, tears dashing down my cheeks again. “You don’t have to do this.” I pull back, reaching up to hold his face in my hands. My thumbs rippling his skin with their pressure.

“You’re all I’ve wanted for years.” He presses our lips together. I cry into his mouth, feeling overwhelmed with everything that has and will happen between us. I feel like I don’t deserve this. Not his sweetness or his understanding at our situation.

“I’m sorry.” I bubble out between sobs. He runs his hand up my back to my head, encouraging my forehead to rest against his shoulder as he rocks us gently. There’s a whole laundry list I could apologize for, but I start with the big one. “I shouldn’t have taken the condom away from you. This is all my fault.”

“Weird, I thought I was the one who came inside of you… three times.” He chuckles at the memory.

“I encouraged it.”

“We both did.” He takes his share of the blame easily from me.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I need him to know that.

“I know, Emma. You’ve been trying to get out of loving me for years. You would never do this on purpose.” I stare at him with blurred vision, blinking so the tears fall down my cheeks. Now I can see him clearly, looking at me like he might finally get the chance to love me for the rest of our lives. I swallow hard, then let myself surrender to him for good.

“I’ve loved you for a really long time, T.” I hum, eyes brightening in earnest with my confession.

He smiles because unlike me, he already knew that.

#TM: Loving & Leaving #Timo Meier #Timo Meier smut #Timo Meier series #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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creativepawsworld · 1 year

Text

Everything But You

Pairing = Cillian Murphy x OC

Summary = Brianna is a young 19 year old getting ready to start her first year at Cork University to study Law. On her night out to celebrate she meets a man who will change her life in the best possible way.

Warnings = Language, Grammar, Implied cheating - however no cheating.

Word Count = 2265

Note = This idea has been rattling in my brain for the past week and I have heard to get it out. This will be a mini series of 90s Cillian. So he is in his band and getting ready to attend College. There will be smutty smut further on, I don’t expect it to be any longer than ten parts. :)

Enjoy.

Today had been a bittersweet morning for me. On one side, the happy side, I was accepted to study law in the University of Cork. A dream of mine since I was a little girl. Becoming a lawyer and following in the footsteps of my father and his father before him, my grandfather. I was carrying on the tradition and was excited to do so.

The bad news was I was rejected again by Riverdance, there was still no open spots. Performing in Riverdance was another dream of mine, not a lifelong dream like becoming a lawyer. But god did I love to dance.

I had developed a love of it at such a young age thanks to my mother. She was an Irish dancer herself and she taught me everything I needed to know. She was my number one fan, always at the meets, the competitions, the practices. Always supporting me.

With her help I became World Irish Dancer Champion twice, Ireland’s Champion four times and European Champion six times and that was only my major accomplishments.

When I turned sixteen however, I lost her to cancer. She was only 46.

Putting the rejection out of my mind for now, I finished the last touches of my makeup. Pumping myself up for a night out with the girls to celebrate my acceptance into College.

I had invited my boyfriend of two years Andrew tonight but he hadn’t responded to my request, instead he just changed the subject if I brought it up. So I doubted very much that I would see him.

“Enjoy your night love” My father, Seamus smiled, shaking his wet hands into the sink in the kitchen.

“Thank you dad, don’t wait up” I kissed the side of his cheek before bounding out of the kitchen and out into the taxi where my best friend Aoife was waiting, our other friends already at the club.

Arriving at the Hawaiian club just before 8pm, the place was already picking up with partygoers, looking to drink and dance away their stresses from the week. Weaving our way through the crowd we found our friends at a table towards the back, right next to the toilets.

“There she is, Miss Law” Billy raised his rum and coke at us as soon as we arrived. Marion and Aoife letting out wild coyote screams in excitement for me.

“Thank you” I grinned accepting a one arms hug from Marion before sitting down while Aoife got the drinks in.

*****

Feeling the buzz of the alcohol, I was dancing in my seat, swaying my upper body side to side when I glanced towards the bathroom, just as a young man no older than myself emerged from behind the white door.

His hair was long, reaching just past his ears. He was wearing a black shirt with some dark jeans but what captured my attention the most was the majestic blue eyes that seemed to scan the room before resting on my own.

I felt my mouth drop and go dry as he passed a table, sending a wink in my direction. He was probably one of the most attractive men I had seen in my life, celebrities sex icons included.

“Ohfft he was fit.” Aoife barked in my ear noticing the mysterious blue eyed man as well. Turning to face her, she had a mischievous smirk on her face and was biting her bottom lip. “You should go talk to him.”

“No way” I blushed looking down at the drink my lap. Lifting it to my mouth I decided to chew on the plastic straw, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“I’m not like that Aoife” I shook my head, placing the tall glass on the table. My mind instantly went to Andrew. He was nice, our relationship was nice.

He just didn’t have time for me, not right now anyway. Medical school was becoming hectic, he had to study hard to earn his license. At least, this was what I would tell myself whenever I felt alone in the relationship.

“That boy is a waste of your time Brie.” Aoife spoke with a deep scowl on her face, she never liked Andrew. She claimed she could sense an aura around him. She couldn’t describe it but it wasn’t a good one.

Whereas our friend Marion believed he felt like he was better than everyone around him and it was only recently I had saw what she meant. Lately it had seemed like, I wasn’t worth his time nor effort.

“Like where is he? Where is he tonight? He is off, don’t try and tell me otherwise.” Aoife continued, pointing her finger in my direction for emphasis, little did she know her tone of voice was all she truly needed.

“How do you know he is off?” I asked, watching Marion return with a tray full of shots. My eyes going wide at the thought of having to take one, shots were never my thing.

“Remember Calvin, his hot ass friend from the other night.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me, accepting a shot glass from Marion and knocking it back in one.

“Aoife, they were for a toast. God sake, control yourself.” Marion scolded stomping her heeled foot in annoyance before giving her another, this time with a warning look to wait.

“Don’t be a downer…It’s a celebration Mar.” Aoife yelled, sticking her tongue out at the brunette who simply rolled her eyes. “I slept with him, have him in the palm of me hand. Got him to send me their work schedule.”

“Why?” I asked, taking the shot Marion was offering me, nodding my head in thanks.

“To prove to you he is a worthless piece of shit who can’t even make the effort to come see his girlfriend on the day she starts her dream.” Aoife voice was raised as she spoke, catching the attention of Billy and Marion.

“We talking about Andrew?” Marion commented with a raised eyebrow of her own. “You can do so much better girly, you need a man who actually wants to spend time with you and puts in the time.”

“I get it none of you like Andrew” I sighed, bringing the shot glass to my lips and taking the tiniest sip of the Lemon Drop shot.

“I don’t mind him, honey.” Billy raised his hand with the shot into the air. “He is nice to look at, but you can do so much better.” He pouted his lips before taking the shot.

“Why are you only telling me this now? I could have saved a whole year of my life not being with him if you think he treats me so badly.” I huffed, taking a large sip of the shot, grimacing at its taste.

“He was your first college boo we wanted you to see it through but you are heading to law school now girl. Raise your standards like they raise the bar…” Aoife cackled looking around the group with a wide smile. “Did you get my lawyer joke?”

“Hilarious” I glared with a cheeky smile. Looking down at my drink noticing I needed a refill. Asking the other’s for their drink requests I made my way to the bar and stood at the side waiting patiently to be served.

“I’m Cillian.” The handsome man from the bathroom appeared next to me. His hand outstretched ready for me to shake.

Up close he was incredibly handsome. Light brown freckles dusted across his face, he had the plumpest lips I had ever seen and those eyes, oh my god those eyes, up this close. I could feel myself getting lost.

“Brianna, my friends call me Brie though.” I smiled, taking his hand in mine.

I expected him to shake it but instead, he raised it to his lips placing a tender kiss along each of my knuckles. His eyes never leaving mine as he did, a blush slowly creeping it’s way onto my cheeks.

“Brianna, beautiful name.” He nodded taking my hand from his lips but not quite letting it go, instead opting to hold it close to his chest. “I don’t want to be friends with you but can I call you Brie?” He smirked, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“You may call me Brie but friends is all you are going to get. I’m seeing someone.”

“Ahh, no” He acted, throwing his free hand over his chest, face contorting into fake pain at my words. “I’m not surprised though, beautiful girl like you.” He returned, with a smile.

“You should be an actor, your skills are on point.” I laughed shaking my head, turning to see where the barman was but he had yet to make his way over to me, serving the other end of the bar first.

“You think?” He asked, taking a sip of his Guinness that I hadn’t noticed was sitting on the bar edge on till now. “I’ll just quit my band now and go into acting then because you said so.”

“Oh my god no, don’t take my word for it.” I blushed looking down at the grimy worktop. I heard Cillian chuckle next to me, his hand coming into my vision sliding along the countertop, fingers tapping against the sticky wood. “So your in a band?”

“Indeed you should come watch us play sometime.” He nodded, taking his eyes from me and looking down at the bar. “We are called The Sons of Mr. Green Genes.”

“Such a strange name.” I mused bringing his attention back towards mine, his blue eyes felt like they were staring through to my soul. For some reason, I felt naked under his gaze. “For a band I mean.”

“What? You don’t like it?” He asked feigning hurt again.

“I didn’t say that now did I?” I challenged back with an eyebrow of my own raised.

“Touché.” Cillian laughed, dropping his chin towards his chest before turning towards me, forearm resting on the edge of the worktop. “Where is this lucky man of yours then?”

“He… I honestly do not know.” I shake my head, something inside of me deciding not to defend Andrew. “Hi, can I get two rums and cokes, one pint of Harp and a vodka coke. Do you want anything?” I ordered turning to Cillian when the barman eventually made his way towards me.

“Um no I’m good thanks” Cillian shook his head. “I don’t know why I was expecting at least one of those drink orders to be a fruity cocktail, you surprised me.”

“How do you know one of those drinks are mine? I could just be waiting for you to leave before ordering the cocktail.”

“That is true.” Cillian nodded, leaning towards me that little bit closer so his forearm brushed up against my own. “Except there is only four of you at your table and you ordered four drinks. Simple maths.”

“Your rather observant.”

“It’s’ a skill I have obtained for the longest time. Helps keep me out of trouble.”

“Do you get in trouble a lot?”

“Ah, you’ll have to give me your number to find that out” He winked, a cocky grin returning to his face.

Drawing my bottom lip between my teeth, I watched his eyes drop down to my lips and back towards my eyes, his action deepening the blush in my cheeks. No man has ever made me blush or feel as giddy as this man right here in front of me.

“I told you…”

“You have a guy, I know. I wouldn’t put you in a uncomfortable position but I do like you. We can be friends. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” He asked, the cheeky glint never leaving his eyes.

“I thought you weren’t interested in becoming friends.”

“Arghh you remembered.” He exaggerated throwing his head back. I could help but laugh as I watched his soft, deep brown hair floating back. “Alright fine, no number. This time, but come to the Taphouse, Saturday night for 8pm. My band is playing, you’ll enjoy it.”

“How do you know what I enjoy Cillian?”

“It’s like a sixth sense” He mused with a squint in his eyes. Hands moving up to draw circles around his temples. “I’ll see you Saturday?” He questioned finishing his Guinness and slamming the now empty glass on the counter.

“See you Saturday Cillian.” I nodded, a huge grin making its way onto my face as he pumped his arms in the air before weaving his way through the crowd to head towards the exit.

A group of his friends stood waiting for him, some older, some younger but all smirking and nudging their friend with their arms as soon as he reached them. Before he left, Cillian took one last look in my direction, sending another wink my way. Then he was gone.

“Miss” A voice broke me from my trance like state, glancing over my shoulder I noticed the barman had placed all my drinks on a tray in front of me, his hands outstretched for a payment.

Handing over a £10 note, I grabbed the tray, ignoring my change as I made my way back to my table, my friends wondering what had taken so long but I just smiled, shaking my head at them as my mind wondered to Cillian.

How was it possible to feel so wanted after a ten minute conversation with a complete stranger when I had been with Andrew for two years and felt nothing as close as this.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian #cillianmurphy #cillian fluff #original character #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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mysticfantasies · 9 months

Text

The feeling of you.

pairing: finn balor x reader

warnings: not much, just some touch deprived fluff.

prompt: “how long has it been since someone hugged you?” from @scealaiscoite

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I kept rolling over on the bed, as if I was trying to find that sweet spot on the bed, that could send me to dreamland. I couldn’t help but curl up into a fetal position, before sighing and getting up. It was 10:13 AM, and I figured it’s better to get up then just try to fall asleep endlessly. I walked, knees wobbling as I looked in the mirror. It has been 3 weeks since Finn left for a series of weekly shows, house shows and paper views, in which he had no time to arrive home for. I sighed and headed to the restroom, to brush my teeth. I felt odd, zoned out constantly. Once I finished I put it away and headed downstairs, and sat on the couch.

I sat on the couch, scrolling social media on my phone. I tried my best to think about something else, but the only thing on my mind was Finn. I needed him in the moment. I feel tears form in my ocean blue eyes. That was until i felt my phone buzz under me.

From: Finn 💋🫶🏼

“How long has it been since someone hugged you, my love?”

I dont know how to respond. I get up and head to the bedroom, i’m freezing. I grab Finn’s hoodie. God, I miss him. I walk out of the bedroom. In the living room, a familiar figure is sitting in Finn’s spot.. I run down to investigate. I look closely, Finn? I run up to him and hug him, as he hugs me back, he whispers to me.

“Surprise.” Finn says. “You look adorable in my clothes,” he laughs out.

“I’ve missed you finn.” I put my hands around his neck as he holds my waist. It feels so good to be in his arms. I love my boy.

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(a/n: this fic gmfuuu! i love finn fluff, it’s so cute 🥹 very short but sososoo cute!)

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #x reader #wwe x reader #finn balor #finn bálor #wwe superstars #wwe raw #finn balór #touch deprived #chefs kiss #touch deprived fluff

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dre6ming · 2 years

Text

When you’re ready

“I stayed there” series ~ part IV

Masterlist

〘Part I〙〘Part II〙〘Part III〙〘Part V 〙

To be added to the tag list click here

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, crying, fluff, angst.

Plot: you just can’t seem to be able to catch a break from Austin and when he shows up at your door you have a lot of things to figure out.

Word count: 3300+

It's been a week since I've seen Austin last. I've been trying to go about my life normally, unpacking my apartment, cleaning, going out on walks, but nothing helps. That's why I find myself here, in the animal shelter, looking at cats. I've always begged for a pet, but my parents hate them and I've always been too busy. I don't expect to get less busy now with the residency, but it's time to start doing things for myself. I have to learn to enjoy life and care for my self. Passing kennel after kennel, not really being impressed with any of the cats, I finally stop in front of one. Inside curled in the corner I see a big chunk of black and white fur.

The big green eyes watch me carefully. I look at the tag on the kennel. "Boots" it's the name of the sweet little thing. A female cat estimated at around two years old. "Hey!" I draw the attention of one of the girls working here. "Can I have this one?" I ask pointing at Boots, the little kitty is now sniffing curious around the door of the kennel. "Sure, I'll go grab the papers, it'll be just a few minutes, I have to finish with this one client. Um, you can go shop at the pet store next door, so you don't have to wait." She rips the tag off of Boots's kennel and hands it to me. "She's yours, bring this to the front desk when you get back, to start the paperwork." I nod my head, give the cat one more glance and walk over to the pet store.

I pick up everything google says I might need as a first time cat mom. Litter box, toys, cat beds, a cat tree (how I'm gonna fit it all in my car? I don't know, but I'll cry over it, in a few minutes), cat food, treats, shampoo, claw clippers, brushes, supplements, food bowls, the whole deal. After 30 minutes in the store and minus 300$ in my bank account, I make my way to the front desk of the shelter, I hand the kennel I bought to one of the girls as the other helps me fill the forms. "You can change the name if you, want!" The girl says, but I shake my head, I like the name Boots, it's fit for her, as the pattern of he fur makes it look like she has actual black boots on. "Ok and sign here!" I do as instructed. "Perfect I'll make a copy you can take home, Ally bring Boots out to her new owner" the girl comes back and sets the kennel on the desk, I can see the kitten coiled into a tight ball, poor thing she must be scared.

After all the formalities are done, it's hits me like a brick wall that I now, have to figure a way to fit everything in my car. Struggling for a few minutes, I eventually manage to fit everything in place. I place the kennel on the back seat, buckle it in and get in the drivers seat. Getting home, I turn my apartment into a sanctuary for this cat, girly has the whole place dedicated to her and she been mine for less than an hour. At first Boots seems unsure of her surroundings, so it takes her a minute to warm up to the place. I put some food and water in her bowl. Unable to resist the delicious temptation, she goes to eat. I decide to leave her do some exploring on her own, as I sit on the couch turning the tv on. After a few hours of be binging half of the second season of "Only murders in the building" I get up to make some dinner. Boots is now sleeping on her cat tree, she looks to cute for me not to pull out my phone and take several pictures.

Doing a quick inventory of all that I have in my fridge the best option for dinner looks like an omelette. As I reach to get the eggs out, the buzzing of the doorbell makes me jump, dropping the entire carton of eggs on the ground. "I guess fuck dinner!" I say with a puff, going to answer the door. When the door swings open, I swear I must of died and woken up in hell. "What do you want?" He licks his lips nervously, lifting up my converse shoes, that look squeaky clean, they might as well be a new pair for all that I know. "Brought your shoes back.." I squint my eyes at him, I really can't catch a break with him, can I? "Ok." I sigh and reach out to grab the shoes but he pulls them back before I have a chance. "I give them to you, if you have dinner with me!" I widen my eyes , he can't be serious. That's when he lifts up the bag he's holding in his other hand. "Pasta from that one Italian place you love." The smell slowly reaches my nose and my stomach betrays me growling. He hears it of course, that fucking smirk of his spreading on his face. "No!" I close the door, fuck them shoes, I can buy another pair. Austin's foot stops the door. "Please, let's talk, I-"

"You what?" I'm really curious what more could he want from me, but not curious enough to let him in. "How did you even know where I live?" As the question leaves my lips, he blushes looking down, like a child being scolded for something they did. "Ana, she's still dating my friend, Aaron, so I asked her." I'm going to kill Ana. "She had no business doing that." He looks away, biting his lip. We stay like this, silent and then my stomach goes against me one more time. He smiles at me. "Someone's hungry, can I?" He motions towards the inside of my apartment. He's so casual and chill, while I have the fight of my life in my head as everything telling me to not let him in, loses to those small parts of me that want him here. I say nothing as I move to the side, closing my eyes while Austin makes his way inside.

He's looking around the place, I can't read his face, but if he dares to say something about my apartment, I might just stab him. Nowhere deadly of course, maybe in the left lower abdomen to avoid any major blood vessels or organs with vital importance. "It's nice!" He breaks me out of my planing to kill him, bastard. He takes off his shoes, going to the kitchen. I can't help the smile that creeps it's way on my face when he jumps back. "Ah what the- eggs?" Austin holds his left leg up in the air, showing me his egg soaked sock. I laugh at him and he can't seem to be able to resist joining in. "I was holding them when you rang the doorbell, got scared and dropped 'em" I shrug my shoulders, going to grab the mop from the closet in the hallway, I quickly grab a pair of socks from the load of laundry I've been too lazy to put back. "Here" I say as I smack the socks on his chest and begin cleaning.

"These won't fit me!" He complains, but I pay him no mind. "So you have a cat now? I know you've always wanted one." He changes his socks as he speaks to me, looking over at the cat bed, where Boots is sleeping peacefully. I put the mop away, grab plates and cutlery, then sit down at the small dining table. "I adopted her today." I keep my voice monotone and he seems to notice. Austin sits down and brushed a hand through his hair. "Oh, that's nice, she's cute, what's her name?" Why is he being so casual, what does he want from me? It can't be just the name of my fucking cat. "Boots" he laughs and looks at me waiting to tell him I'm joking. "Wait, you're serious? How- what happened to naming the cat after one of your favorite characters?" Un-fucking-believable.

"I did, named her, after William Turner's dad, Bootstrap Turner, you know I've always had a thing for Orlando Bloom." I tuck my hair behind my ears and watch his reaction, hoping he won't know I'm lying. "Right, of course!" Either he believed me or he just decides it's not worth to argue. "You have a dog!" I say as I start unpacking the food and putting it on the plates. "Yeah, Sheldon." I lift one brow at him, he teased me for my cats name and he names his dog after the kid from "The Big Bang theory". I start eating, but he doesn't, he just watches me. "Did you poison this before you came here, or-" Austin straighten his back as if I pulled him out of a trance. "No, god, no." He eats some of the food as well. It's pathetic, we make small talk? Like we weren't just on the beach a week ago, with me screaming at him. "Talk!" My voice is unfortunately a little louder than I want. He looks confused at me, it really baffles me how he can't understand he's not a happy sight for me. "Um, I wanted to say I'm sorry and before you say it, I mean it, I really do!" Tears gloss over my eyes and the lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow. "No you're not!" I whisper as I look away, fixing my eyes on the window. The sun is starting to set. I blink and feel the tear fall down, i quickly wipe it off, but he notices it anyway. "I really am!" I hear him sniff and I look at him. Austin looks like his holding back tears of his own, but this can't be right. Right?! "Why?" My voice breaks.

He takes a deep breath, bringing both hands to his hair, pulling it exasperated. "Because I fucked up, big time." Tears now fall on his cheek, you've seen him cry before, but it never broke your heart like it does now. "You were right, so right, I-" he pauses the breathe. "I was just to far up my ass to see it. It's thanks to you that I even got the part in the first place." Shock covers my face, how can I be the one to thank? I shake my head and get up from the table, I need water or air, or a slap across the face. "No, no!" I repeat over and over again as I pace the kitchen. He sits up too, but keeps his distance from me. "The night before I sent in my last audition tape, I had the worst nightmare ever and, and when I woke up I just sat down at the piano and sang 'unchained melody', the director loved it and I got the part." I'm now full on sobbing, I know how real his nightmares are. "After I found out the news I wanted to tell you, but I didn't have your number anymore, I was angry that day when we broke up, I deleted. I drove up to your house, but your mom said to leave you alone, so I did." I can't no, he needs to stop, he can't. I lean back on the wall and fall to the ground, hugging my legs.

Austin falls to his knees with a cry of despair and an exasperated look of pain on his face. "I- I tried, I looked for you in every girl. Fuck I kissed them and pretend they were you. Sometimes I would manage to trick myself, but then I'd open my eyes, and all I saw was not you." He dries some of his tears with his hands, shaking his head. "It wasn't worth it, it wasn't - I might win an Oscar or whatever, but nothing will ever bring me back." So it was his number after all, he just didn't have my number anymore. I sniff and try to calm down. I have to be honest, I expected anything, but this. "You still talk like him." I didn't plan to say that out loud, but I did nonetheless. Something breaks inside of him, I can see it. My skin tingles, so I hug my knees harder and I close my eyes tight. "I can't find myself anymore, I- I don't think there's even an Austin in he-" he doesn't finish speaking, as he breaks into a fit of violent sobbing. I can't fight it anymore and I crawl over to him. I position myself on his lap, my legs on either side of his hips. He looks up at me, eyes puffy and read.

I can't look him in the eyes so I hug him tightly. Austin's hands embrace me, while he's crying in my shoulder, his tears soaking through my shirt. I want to say this feels horrible, I want to scream at him, slap him, scratch his face, rip his hair out, but I can't. I can't because I haven't felt this relaxed, warm and at home in three years. I stroke his back up and down, holding him until his body doesn't shake and no more sobbing can be heard from either of us. "Help me fix this? Cause you're all I've ever wanted" I close my eyes and sigh. I want so badly to say yes, but I don't know what to do. His arms let go of me and he pulls back to look at my face, but I avoid his eyes.

"Don't hide your eyes from me, please!" He begs me, he's begging. My heart speeds up and when he grabs my face in his hands, it nearly runs out of my chest. I lick my lips, trying to steady my breathing. Austin closes his eyes when my warm breath fans over his wet face. "Please!" He says again, licking his lips. "Austin, I need time, you don't get it." I get up from his lap and go to sit in the couch, dinner long forgotten. Boots comes up to me and sits on my lap. I pet her and she starts purring.

"I'll give you anything, just- please try with me!" He's sitting in the armchair opposite from me, his eyes burn holes through me, begging for a 'yes'. I look down at my cat, she's so oblivious towards the fact that I'm having a stroke while deciding if I should take my ex back. "You did your talking, now I do mine, I'll be clear, because I don't always speak in half said sentences" he immediately catches on the bite I take at his insult form the other time. He's ready to say something but you shut him up. "You were my first and only boyfriend, it took me a long time to be comfortable to talking to you. I told you everything, I never lied to you, I always supported you, hell when I read the news I almost called you to congratulate you and I cried happy tears for you. I was concerned about you and it seems I was right to be. You took digs at me, where you knew it hurt most." He nods he head and waits to see if I have anything more to say, but when I don't speak, he closes his eyes. "I understand, you hate me." He starts to get up from the armchair, but before he's fully up I speak again. "I don't hate you, that was the only lie I've ever said to you, that's what the problem is."

Shocked he comes to sit next to me and the couch, eyes searching my face for the truth. A little smile shows on his face, when he confirms I was telling the truth. Austin's gaze goes to my lips, so I bite my bottom lips, nervous at his proximity. A strangled sigh leaves his lips. "I think I want to try and fix this, but not tonight." Hie features soften, somehow his calming down. "Sure, yeah, when you're ready." I look away.

"It'll take me time and you have a girl-" he interrupts me "I broke up with her, I didn't love her" I nod, he didn't love her, ok, but did he love me? He couldn't have, you don't break what you love. "I love you, I loved you then and I love you now, I always have" my eyes are so wide I think the might fall out of my sockets. "You don't have to say it back, (y/n)!" He quickly adds and I simply nod.

He’s lying, he has to be, no way he just said that. I loved him, back then, but now? I still feel something, it's clear, but, is it love? My thoughts are cut short by my growling stomach, stupid stomach. "You're hungry, come on!" He takes my hand and we sit back at the table. We proceed to eat in silence and when we're done, I wash the dishes and he dries them, it's all so domestic and simple. I have to pinch myself so I keep in mind where we are and what brought us here. "I should leave you to rest, thank you for talking." I put the plates in the cabinet and nod listening to him carefully. "You have my number, right?" He asks

"Yeah, I do." Austin bites his bottom lip and I'm unable to move my eyes, hope he doesn't catch on, or at least doesn't joke about it. "Ok, text me when you're ready, I'm gonna be in LA for 2 more months." As I listen to him talk I take note of something, of his voice, it's back, it's the voice of my Austin, my sweet Austin. I step forward and hug him tight. "I will, I promise!" I look up at him and before I can think about it his lips are in mine. We kiss for a short moment, a small sweet kiss, it's reserved, fearful, but healing. "I'll go now."

I watch as he goes to put his shoes on, I'm at a loss of words. He opens the door and I come next to him one more time. We kiss again, this time more passionate, he grabs my waist and I tangle my hands in his beautiful hair. When we break apart we breathe hard trying to recover from being without air for a while. Our foreheads are still touching so I can smell him, warm, musky with a little citrus, I recognize the smell to be the perfume I gave to him for his birthday all this time ago. He must of kept on buying it, otherwise there's no way he still has it, my heart fills with a new feeling, something I haven't felt in a long time, love. "Goodnight!" He kisses the top of my nose, let's go of me and leaves.

I close the door and go straight to my bed, I'm exhausted so I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I have a dreamless sleep, unusual for me, but welcomed as the next morning I wake up and for the first time in three years I don't feel empty or numb anymore. I feel hopeful, let's pray it doesn't come to bite me in the ass.

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davnittbraes · 2 years

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The First Step - Chapter Two

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (eventually)

Rating: Explicit (also eventually)

Word Count: 3100

Warnings etc: Reader insert, female reader, anxiety, stressful situations, sick Grogu needs a warning because it hurts my heart

Notes: I’m so excited to get this series edited that I finished TWO chapters tonight. Yay!

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

The muscles in your legs pull and stretch satisfyingly as you lean back in your chair, propping your feet up on the railing of the porch of your little cottage - a small, serviceable dwelling, identical to the dozens of others on the commune, provided as part of employment on the namana berry farm, along with basic necessities like furniture and cutlery. A comfortable little place you had almost thought of as home during the last three years.

Almost. But not quite.

Which was fine, because you didn’t have a home. Never had, never would.

You’d accepted that a long time ago.

Always moving, always changing, that’s been your existence. Now here you are, your last night of this life, handful of belongings packed in a bag and waiting by the front door.

The night is beautiful, air pleasantly cool, sweet with the scent of namana trees in the orchards just a dozen paces away from your cottage. Sounds of scrabbling claws in the branches reach your ears occasionally - the cratsch are especially playful tonight, the sun set about an hour ago but they’re still active, despite being daytime creatures.

Most people avoided the cratsch, put off by their territorial behaviour, and accepted them as just a natural pest control. But you quite liked them - they were intelligent, hunting the flocks of little birds that fed off the namana berries and fell into a stupor from the subsequent Namana Effect, a pleasant buzz that numbs pain receptors and lets the berry consumer feel only pleasure. But the cratsch were also fierce fighters, self-sustaining and independent. They had their place in the world, just like everything else.

Except you.

“Don’t get melodramatic on me now.” You murmur to yourself, huffing a sigh at your own meandering thoughts as you cross one leg over the other and settle in to watch the night, and contemplate the coming morning.

You don’t know where you’re going tomorrow. Which is fine, normally you just pack up and leave whenever you’re ready, hop on the next transport off-world, keep moving until you find some place interesting. But something is clouding your excitement to see where you end up next. A feeling that has already delayed your departure - it’s been almost eight weeks since your vacation, when the idea of moving on had first popped into your head.

It’s strange. Nothing is keeping you here. There’s no reason why you’re not already gone.

Except that something has been making you hesitate, making you stay. Making you wait.

A shift in the night sounds yanks you out of your thoughts. The cratsch are skittering through the branches, away from your cottage - no, away from something along the tree line.

You go still, listening closely.

There.

A soft crunch, barely distinguishable from the rustling of the leaves in the light breeze.

Someone is in the orchard. Right across from you.

None of your fellow employees would approach your house like this. Barely any of them would approach you at all, you’d done a good job at maintaining a professional distance.

So whoever is creeping around out there is probably not friendly.

It’s not unusual for overconfident thieves to try and sneak into the orchards, steal enough namana berries to make their own liquors and powders and other consumption aides. The Namana Effect is a popular high. But the orchards are strictly guarded by skilled patrols, thieves rarely get this far.

A shiver runs across your shoulders, down your back. Whoever it is, your instincts are telling you to get ready for a fight.

You lift your feet off the rail and slide to sit upright on the end of your chair, purposefully stretching your arms in front of you as if trying to relax muscles sore from working all day, while readying your legs to move quickly to cover.

The holster on your thigh shifts, noticeably light.

Kriff.

Your blaster is in the house, on the kitchen table.

You’ll have to move fast, run through the door, grab it off the table and -

A flash of silver in the moonlight, something moving out from the cover of the trees.

Him.

The armoured man from the mountain.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Get the blaster, now.

Then you catch sight of the little bundle cradled in his arms.

The little green kid is looking at you, big eyes half-closed, eyelids straining to stay open. A pained whine squeezes from his tiny body and shoots straight through your defenses.

He’s sick.

You’re moving before you realize what you’re doing, closing the space between you and reaching for the creature, pressing fingertips to his wrinkled forehead - stupid, you don’t even know what his normal body temperature feels like, why bother? But some instinct is scrambling for you to act, desperate to help, making it hard to think of what to do next.

The man speaks, a note of panic in his modulated voice. “Can you help him?”

“I-I don’t know. I’m not a healer, and I’ve never even seen someone like him.”

You chew your bottom lip, noting the clouded look in the kid’s eyes. Definitely an illness of some kind. “Let me go find someone who -”

“No. No one else.”

The harsh clip of the words makes you pause, looking up at the emotionless black visor. So much closer than you realized, all your focus previously on the kid. Pfassk, this man is big, not just in form but in presence. He practically looms over you, shadowed in the dark and moonlight.

And yet he holds this tiny creature so delicately, has risked danger to seek out the help of a stranger in a desperate need to care for the kid.

Your throat is dry, but you swallow back the strange mix of emotion that suddenly wells up. “Ok. I’ll do what I can. Bring him.”

He follows you into your cottage, bootsteps oddly soft on the wooden floors for someone so heavily armoured. It’s a single room house, currently illuminated by a small lamp beside the bed and the moonlight filtering in through the windows.

Gesturing toward the bed, you move to the bag of your belongings by the door. “Set him down there, I’ll see what I have for medicine. Not much, unfortunately, I haven’t stocked up in a while since I like to travel light.”

Rustling through your toiletries and folded spare clothes, you find a small pouch at the bottom and pull it out, poking through the contents. Packets of herbs for a tea that helps with general pain relief and upset stomach, a couple injections for bad infections. You weigh them thoughtfully in the palm of your hand.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see the tiny creature is nestled on your pillow, eyes closed and fingers twitching restlessly. His breathing is light, faster than you’ve seen it before.

The man stands over him, a harsh line of tension running through the armoured frame, so thick it might snap at any moment.

You stand slowly, letting that black visor’s gaze swivel to you before you move quickly to the bedside. “So what happened to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” You frown at the black visor before you can school your features.

The tension sharpens, his shoulders stiffening defensively. “He was sleeping. When he woke up, he was like this. No visible injuries.”

You pause, waiting for more explanation. The black visor just looks at you. Great, so helpful. The memory of the kid eating the beetle flashes across your mind. “Well, did he eat something he doesn’t usually eat?”

He hesitates. “I was gone all day. When I came back, he was sleeping.”

“You left him alone all day? Isn’t he just a kid?” Your eyebrows arch, voice rising a little more than what’s probably wise given who you’re talking to, and you move away, hoping to distract from your slip up. “Never mind. Ok, if he’s not injured it might be something he ate. I’ve got these herbs, they’re pretty innocuous, every species I know of can consume them safely. Let’s try a tea and see if that helps.”

You busy yourself in the small kitchen, filling a kettle with water and lighting the stove. A fragrant aroma fills the air as you rub the herbs between your palms and sprinkle them into the cup. The burner clicks while it heats up, sounding louder in your ears than it should.

The entire time the man is silent, standing by the bed, watching you.

That’s fine. Ok, sure, it’s a little intimidating, having this fierce-looking heavily armed - well, no sniper rifle this time, at least - obviously skilled fighter standing in your little house, taking up space in a way that makes him seem so much more and almost makes you feel that much less.

But this is your house. He came to you for help. And despite you knowing nothing about him, and the very high probability that he could kill you with his pinky finger, you will not be bowed.

Many others have tried. And failed. He’ll be no different.

“You seem to be comfortable with this type of situation.”

The modulated voice almost startles you, and you turn sharply to look at him. “What situation?”

“Having an armed stranger bring you a sick kid for medical attention.”

You lean back against the counter, considering your answer carefully. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The helmet tilts just a little, and you get the feeling that he’s considering your answer just as carefully as you did. “Clearly. I don’t know many farmers that carry blasters.”

Your gaze flicks to the table where your blaster still lies. He was circling for some truth, you had to deflect quickly. “You haven’t met many namana berry farmers then. These trees are worth ten times their weight in credits, and the patrols do their job effectively but you never know if someone will manage to slip past them and find you in the way of their payday.”

“And that’s what you are. A namana berry farmer.”

His tone clearly says he doesn’t believe that. The air begins to swirl with tension. Clearing your throat, you turn to the kettle, which has thankfully started to boil. Get the kid well again, and get them both out of here. “Yes. I am.”

A beat of silence. “But not for long.”

“What?” You blink at the kettle, confused.

“You’re leaving. You said you like to travel light, and your bag is packed.”

Kriff. You had said that, an offhand comment that many people wouldn’t have really noticed, caught up in the urgency of the situation. But this man is apparently more observant than most.

You don’t respond, pretending to be occupied with turning off the stove and filling the cup, gently swirling it with one hand to immerse the herbs. Give yourself time to think. Then you set the cup down and turn to face him once more. “Just need to let it steep for a minute. How is he doing?”

The helmet turns to look down at the kid, polished armour flashing in a beam of moonlight coming through your kitchen window. “Still the same.”

“Well, at least he’s not worse.”

The black visor faces you again, and there it is once more, the weight of that unseen gaze, travelling up and down your body, taking everything in, from your stance to your expression to your rate of breathing. Like he’s assessing you, filing and sorting his findings, learning you.

He sees you. Sees the carefully concealed tension in your limbs. Hears the unanswered question you tried to deflect.

It’s incredibly unsettling.

You need to be careful with him.

Planting your hands on the counter behind you and casually cocking a hip, you nod toward your bag. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. Heading off-world, not sure where yet, I usually just go in a direction until I find work. You still have that ship?”

There, turn it back on him, imply that you’re about to ask him for passage off Bakura. Set him on the defensive, but gently - not enough to raise his hackles, just enough to deter him.

The armoured shoulders shift slightly. “Yes. I have urgent business elsewhere, I need to head out as soon as the kid is well again.”

You smile, mouth a tight at the corners. Worked like a charm. “Then let’s get him better so you can be on your way.”

Picking up the cup of tea, you move to the bed and sit on the edge carefully, turning your attention to the little creature. Those big eyes flick open to look up at you, far too weary for someone so small, and your chest twinges with sympathy.

You drop your voice to a soft, low register. “Hey, kiddo. Can you drink this for me?”

The kid lifts his tiny head with effort, so you hold the cup for him, slipping one of your hands behind his back to help him sit up enough to drink. He slurps a few mouthfuls of the tea before his head falls back, a deep sigh wracking his body.

You hum sympathetically, lowering him back down and tucking the cowl neck of his robe under his chin so it doesn’t cover his mouth. “Let that settle, it shouldn’t take too long to work.”

The kid grumbles and brushes a clawed finger over the back of your hand, eyelids closing once more.

A smile curves your lips at the gesture. “He’s such a sweet kid. What’s his name?”

The man doesn’t respond, and you look up at him in question. He’s watching you - when is he not? - so he clearly heard you. So why -

“I don’t know.”

You frown. “You don’t know?”

The helmet tilts down, glancing at the kid. “I don’t speak his language.”

“So you’ve just been babbling at each other this entire time?” The words fly from your lips before you can stop them.

Those broad shoulders stiffen. “He babbles at me, yes.”

Biting back the delightfully amusing imagery of this hulking warrior trying to communicate with the tiny little creature, your thoughts search for a quick change of subject. “You can make yourself at home while we wait. Sit down, take your helmet off and such.”

“I’m fine.”

A cold tremor prickles over your skin at the harsh finality of those two words. Touchy subject, apparently. “Suit yourself.”

You move to the kitchen, tidying the kettle and herbs, placing everything back where it belongs. Ready for the next tenant.

Not exactly how I planned to spend my last night. Nursing a sick child while being watched like a womp rat being stalked by a loth cat, except the loth cat is a faceless, nameless… whatever he is.

Sure, your curiosity is piqued - who the crikking hells is this guy, with his spaceship and his gruff demeanour and his tangible aura of power? This man, who can move quietly despite carrying half his body weight in armour and weapons, who sees everything and hears what you don’t say, who was somehow able to find you in the middle of namana orchards on a planet full of them after only speaking with you for maybe two minutes on a mountainside weeks ago -

Dank farrik.

Your heartbeat leaps to your throat.

Fear chokes your lungs.

Bounty hunter.

He’s a bounty hunter.

And he’s standing right behind you.

Spinning around, you stare at him wildly, panic rising hot in your chest. He’s right there - how did he move so fast - and his hand is reaching out, curling around your shoulder, squeezing gently -

Wait what -

“Thank you.”

It takes a full three seconds for his words to sink through your frantic thoughts. His hand drops from your shoulder, skin burning under your shirt where he touched you. Your voice cracks when you finally speak. “F-for what?”

The helmet tilts toward the bed. “Helping us.”

Then he’s moving away, back to the bed, and you take a deep breath, yanking your thoughts back in line.

Bounty hunter he might be, but he’s clearly not here for you. He would have taken you already, if that were the case.

Unless he’s waiting for the kid to get better to take you.

No. If he was here for you, he would have forced you to help the kid instead of asking for it.

So he’s not here for you.

Maybe you’re safe.

Cool relief rushes through your limbs, but you quickly temper it with caution.

You don’t know what he’s here for. Just because he hasn’t taken you yet doesn’t mean he won’t if he finds out what you are.

The kid suddenly coughs loudly, the sound jarring in the thick silence of your house. Another loud cough, then a slew of vomit pours from his little mouth, running down the front of his robe.

You take a step toward him instinctively before stopping yourself just as the bounty hunter leans over to help the kid sit up, rubbing his back as the little guy coughs again.

The more distance between you and the bounty hunter, the better.

The kid gives a couple more little coughs then takes a deep breath and sighs, looking up at the bounty hunter. His mouth curls into a grin, tiny square teeth flashing, and giggles.

“I think it worked.” The bounty hunter’s voice is heavy with relief as he uses the corner of his cloak to wipe the kid’s face clean.

It’s entirely too sweet and domestic of a scene for how hard your heart is beating right now.

You’ve got to get them out of here, send them on their way, before the bounty hunter starts asking more questions about you.

But the moment draws out, you can’t help it - the way the hunter cradles the kid’s head so gently, the pure adoration in those big eyes as they look up at the black visor. It’s a fascinating contrast, seeing this intimidating man who hunts people for a living tending so carefully for such a tiny, helpless creature. The trust between them is palpable, their bond obviously deep.

For a brief moment, you want to know more about them. Who are they, this mismatched pair, how did they find each other? What is it about them that’s so… fascinating?

And why do you want to know the answers so badly?

Curiosity burns on the tip of your tongue. You almost open your mouth to ask, the need to know more pushing the words out -

Then the world explodes.

*****

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#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the world is light embodied

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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Bleeding Heart (Part 2)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: After you sacrificed yourself to save him, Rick hasn't been able to move on. But as his self-destructive behavior reaches an all-time high, a visit from the most unlikely of people may be able to set him straight.

Word Count: 2456

TW: Ghost Reader (?), Reader Death (again), Excessive Drinking, Depression

Part 1, Part 2

Series Masterlist

Rick stared up at the water-stained ceiling above his head. The cheap motel bed offered little more comfort than the floor, but he was too wasted to really notice. And another long drag from his nearly empty bottle didn’t help things. But he couldn’t care less. In the span of a few hours, he had lost everything. His job, his military career, his respect for the country he had sworn to protect, Ace…. A final chug finished the bottle.

Of course, it had now been over a week since all that occurred. Corto Maltese was little more than a memory at this point. And so was she. Rick ran his hand down his bare chest until his fingers found the puckered scar that lay just above his heart. The scar that you hadn’t been able to completely erase before your strength gave out. The only proof he still had that you were once real.

But as much as he loved to run his fingers over that evidence of your existence, he also hated it with every fiber of his being. It was a constant reminder of why you were gone. What had been sacrificed for him to still be here. How he had failed you. And he hadn’t even been able to properly avenge your death. Rick had been beyond furious to find out DuBois had already killed Peacemaker by the time he found them. He had wanted the joy of watching the life slip from his eyes just as he had been forced to watch it slip from yours. But that was just another thing that had been taken from him.

Rick’s phone buzzed on the table next to the bed, but he ignored it. It was either Harley or DuBois, and he didn’t want to talk to either of them. He knew they were worried about him, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t care about anything anymore. What was the point? He had lost everything, and he didn’t have the will to keep trying, to keep going. All he wanted now was another bottle.

“Hey, Rick.”

Slowly lifting his head, Rick’s eyes grew wide as he recognized the figure standing at the foot of the bed. He knew it was impossible, yet there you were. In the same dirt and blood splattered clothes you had been wearing the last time he saw you. Your skin was translucent, shimmering as you moved but he could see it was solid and had substance to it. And your face…. a sad smile across your lips, but your eyes shone with light and life. Ace? How?....Oh God, I should not have had that last bottle.

You chuckled softly, the sound catching Rick’s breath in his throat. “No, you shouldn’t have. But that’s not how I’m here.”

You can hear me? My thoughts? How…

“I don’t fully understand it either, but I think it has to do with the fact I gave all of me to save you. Some piece got stuck within you, I guess.”

But then why am I just seeing you now? Why didn’t you show up days ago?

“I was trying to spare you the pain of seeing me like this. Of seeing me at all. I thought it would be easier for you to move on without me hanging around.”

What changed?

“You did, Rick. Look at you! The last three nights you have ended up passed out drunk, alone, in this gross motel room. And if I hadn’t shown up now, you would have been reaching for another one of those bottles in a few minutes. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Baby….this isn’t you.”

Maybe it is now. I don’t know who I am anymore. I lost everything that day. I lost you…and I lost me. And this is the only way I can forget, even for just a little while.

“You don’t have to forget. Forgetting never fixed anything. You need to try to find a way to move on, start your new life, figure out who you want to be now. You are finally free to do whatever you want without Waller breathing down your neck.”

But what I want is you. You should have just let me die instead of you.

“And if I did, what would have happened to me? Even if Waller let me go with everyone else, someone would have taken her place. Found out what I could do and forced me to help them. I told you before, this was inevitable. Isn’t it better that I got to choose? That I got to give everything to save the man I love instead of a random stranger?”

No, not when it was me. Not when I’m the reason you’re gone. How do I live with that?

“How do you not? How do you keep laying here, killing yourself with alcohol night after night? How do you just keep throwing away the life I gave you? How do you keep wasting my sacrifice like this?”

Because…. there is no life worth livin’ without you in it.

“Bullshit! That’s just the whiskey and beers talking. Rick, I love you and I know you loved me, but come on! We only knew each other for a little more than a year. I am not worth throwing your life away for!”

But apparently, I was worth throwing yours away for.

“That’s not fair and you know it! I didn’t have a life to live, you do! Why can’t you just suck it up and live it!”

“Because I still feel you with me! Every day! Every moment! Every beat of this damn heart! How do I move on when every breath I take is just a reminder of you! Of what I took from you!” It was the first time that Rick had actually spoken out loud, his voice filling the small room. As the sound slowly faded, he hung his head in shame.

Slowly, you moved from the foot of the bed, stopping when you were standing just a few inches away from him. “Rick, you didn’t take anything from me. I gave it to you of my own free will. In fact, you tried to stop me. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

I promised you I would get you out, that I would keep you safe, that I would have your back.

“And I promised the same thing. One of us was going to eventually have to break that promise. We both knew, deep down, how this story was going to end.”

Fine, say that’s true. But if you want me to move on so badly, why are you showing up? Why didn’t you just leave me alone? Why don’t you just move on?

“I would if I could. I know what this is doing to you, and I’m so sorry. But I told you, my heart was always yours. I guess by giving you a part of my physical heart as well, a part of me still lives in you.”

But that’s not possible.

“Rick, the team just defeated a thousand-foot-tall pink-and-blue space starfish who asexually reproduced thousands of babies which then mind controlled their victims. Yet it’s crazy to think a small piece of my soul could have been transferred to you when I healed you?”

But what does that even mean? If you’re really still here, if a part of you is still alive…. Can I bring you back?

You shook your head sadly. “No, I don’t think so. And I’m afraid what it may do to you if we tried.”

So once again, you can sacrifice yourself for me but I’m not allowed to do the same for you.

“I know, my sweet boy, it doesn’t seem fair. But…”

But nothin’! I saved your body from the wreckage of the building and it’s still in the morgue. We can try something! Anything! I can’t let this be how things end. I need you, Ace. Please.

You whispered a single word. When he stared at you in confusion, you said, "It's my real name."

And at that moment, Rick knew. Up until then, he thought this might all just be a dream brought on by the grief, the alcohol, or some combination of the two. But, hearing your actual name, he knew. This was real. You truly were still with him. And some tiny rational part of his mind nagged at him that it might not be your real name. It might just be something his brain selected to fill in the blank. But deep down, he could feel it. Even as it passed like a whisper from his lips, he could feel it in his bones that it was true. That name was yours. Which meant this ghost, spirit, echo, memory, whatever you were, was also really you too.

He reached out a hand, hesitating just before it made contact, but then pressed it to your cheek. With a weighty sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. Your skin gave off only the slightest warmth and the consistency of your form felt more like touching a shadow than an actual person, but it was still you.

He pulled your face in, lips ready to crush against yours, but your hushed voice gave him pause. “Rick…. don’t. Don’t do this.”

He rested his forehead gently against yours, the sensation no more than a brush against his skin. “Why? You’re here. We can still be what we were. We can still be us.”

You licked your lips while you gazed longingly at his. “Because it’s not us. Because it’s not real. We can’t be what we were, and this will just make the heartbreak that much harder when the time comes. So, I’m asking you, please don’t do this.”

“Darlin’, I don’t care. The heartbreak is already bad enough, this can only make it better. I thought I had lost all of you. And if this…. remnant, this ghost of your soul is all I have left, I’ll take it. And if it’s gone tomorrow…I don’t want to have wasted the time we could have had together.” He could see you hesitating, defenses slowly breaking down. “At least give us the chance to say goodbye.”

You paused for just a second longer before smashing your lips into his, knocking Rick onto his back on the bed. Even with the force behind it, he only felt a slight weight wherever you made contact with him, but he didn’t care. It was more than he thought he would ever have again. He wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you tighter against his strong frame. He could feel a slight dampness on his cheeks as they brushed against your face, wiping away your tears. With your bodies pressed so closely together, he could feel each of your hearts beat in perfect synchronicity.

He rolled over, taking you with him so that you now lay beneath his massive form. Burying his face into your neck, he gently trailed kisses down your throat and across your collarbone. Your hand brushed across his chest, and you suddenly stiffened, inhaling sharply. “Oh!”

Rick pulled away to glance at your stunned face. “What? What is it?”

You blinked a few times before a small smile spread across your face. “I-I understand now. I know what I have to do. I know how to give us both the peace we need.”

“No, darlin’, no. Just don’t do it. Just stay here with me. We’ll find a way to make this work. Together.”

“Oh, Rick. We already got more time than we were supposed to. This moment was a gift, but it’s time to move on.” You took his face in your hands. “But you have to promise me something. Promise me you’ll live your life. That you won’t stay holed up in these sleezy motels, drowning yourself in liquor. Not over me. Please, baby.”

Rick squeezed his eyes together tightly, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. “I’ll try. I can’t guarantee the results, but I promise to try.”

You kissed his forehead. “That is all anyone can ask.” Pulling back, you placed one hand gently over his heart once again. “I love you. I will always love you. And even when I’m gone, know you still carry my love with you wherever you go.”

He felt the familiar pull across his chest as his remaining injuries began to stitch themselves together. His gaze never left your face as your eyes fluttered closed and the most peaceful smile Rick had ever seen bloomed across your lips. Then, in a brilliant flash of gold light, you were gone. Rick collapsed into the empty space below his body and let the tears he had been holding back flow into the sheets below.

The next morning, Rick woke with a groan, his hangover induced headache causing pain to surge through his body with every small movement. Finally gathering enough strength, he staggered out of bed. His dream from the night before kept running through his head. He swore he could still almost feel your lips on his, your breath across his cheek, your hands across his scar. He rubbed his chest at the memory, only to freeze the moment his hand touched smooth skin. Stumbling to the bathroom, he turned on the light as he looked in the mirror. The long, jagged scar that had marred the area above his heart the night before was gone. Instead, all he saw was the unblemished skin that now resided there. The only proof he had that last night had been real. That and….. your name.

He placed one hand over his heart. But whereas last night this action only brought him the cold stabbing pain of loss and regret, he now felt the warm soothing caress of love and devotion. He brought his other hand to rest over his heart as well and he was rewarded with a flash of your last smile. So beautiful and peaceful, nothing like your blank, dead eyed stare that had haunted him since Jötunheim.

Rick let out a small chuckle, glancing around the room. Everything looked exactly the same as it had the night before, but he could sense that something had shifted. He walked over and picked up the empty bottles that littered the floor. Once he had disposed of them, he pulled out the unopened bottles from inside the small refrigerator and tossed them out as well. Gathering the rest of his belongings, he headed to the door. With one final look around, he walked out into the daylight.

He might not know where he was heading or what he was going to do next, but for you, he was going to try.

#sfw repost #fic #bleeding heart #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #joel kinnaman #the suicide squad #suicide squad #dc #dc x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #drinking tw #depression tw #reader death tw

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roadtodeltarune · 4 months

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Earthbound Update 3

(PART 1)

I'm back! Some of you may have thought I abandoned this project, but you were wrong!

Where have I been? What have I been doing? Oh, I've been busy playing Earthbound! I knew I was close to the end, so I wanted to finish it before updating! I could have finished in a week, but I got distracted by other games and responsibilities. Now what exactly did I do in Earthbound?

Well last time, I cured Tenda Village's shyness. After making my last update, I tried their coffee and had another strange vision. But once my head cleared, I did some trading and then hopped into the cave.

As I figured, this was my next Sanctuary Location. The boss wasn't very tough; he was blasted to bits by a multi-bottle rocket and some good bashes. The hardest part was the maze of a cave!

We had a strange moment of Straw's(Ness) thoughts being beamed to a wall, then jumped down a hole into the Underworld.

This place is huge! And there are dinosaurs here! I wanted to avoid them since I felt strong enough already, but they were just too big, they kept blocking my path. It's actually so huge here that I had to look up a map. I also got lost in the first five minutes and was walking in circles, so a map helped a lot.

I feel like this should be a bigger moment, but didn't Buzz Buzz already say something about being in a prophecy? I guess it's good to remember the scale of our journey. Welp, time for the last Sanctuary Location!

Well, that was a fever dream...

The Fire Spring wasn't too hard to go through, the Psychic Psychos were more so just annoying. The final Sanctuary Boss felt like a good final boss, though, that fight was lots of fun.

As for all the melodies playing together, they sounded very pretty. I feel like they fit together better than Mother 1, but I hope there is, or will be, an orchestrated version like Mother 1 has.

The sequence afterward of Straw going through his home and seeing how much his parents loved him... Man, that hit me right in the feels. At the end of Mother 1, I came to the conclusion that this series is about love. Spoiler: I come to the same conclusion with Earthbound.

MAGICANT?! How is Magicant here! I thought it was Mary's dreamscape and it faded when she accepted death. Is... Is Mary still around? Is that why the melodies are back?

I think I like the aesthetic of this Magicant more. The old one was pretty, but this one feels more peaceful, and the color shifting adds to the magic/dream aspect.

Plus all the veggies remind me of my Mother 1 characters: Carrot, Onion, Potato, and Beet.

Is this true or is this what Straw thinks is happening with Pokey? Is he really, truly a bad guy?

Rest in peace, Buzz Buzz. We'll win this war for you.

The Flying Men! It's good to see them again! Oh no, wait, I don't want them to die

Interesting... My personal explanation for this is that the statue brought out the worst in people, so it uses the evil part of your brain; but I also think Straw just views it as the worst evil he's fought so far.

Hi, I'm back here. I died to the statue. This seemed impossible, just like Belch, so I looked up some tips and a map. I found that I just needed a bunch of Dragonite, so I got some from storage. I also got an extra Earth Pendant for Apple (Jeff)

Wow! Dragonite is strong! I got lucky though, he didn't heal in this second attempt. If he would have, I might have lost.

Like how Grape (Poo) had his training that, to me, like he was reaching his personal enlightenment, I feel the same for this moment. It feels like Straw is taking everything that's happened to him and learning a great lesson that's left up for interpretation, whether it's a lesson on Love, Determination, Destiny, overcoming Evil, or all of the above.

This also makes me think that Magicant is a by-product of the Melodies, meaning Mary must have been in Magicant for decades, waiting for Carrot(NinTen) to restore peace to her and help her move on.

#earthbound #mother #toby fox #undertale #deltarune #part 1

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bxsotted · 2 years

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Built for Sin - Chapter 1: Limbo | Patrick Melrose x F!Reader

pairing : Patrick Melrose x F!reader

synopsis : Reader tries to drown out the insecurities that come up in one of her ventures with Patrick.

words : 3.9k

themes : so apparently I lied LOL this one also has fluff but it also deals with a little of angst, mostly anxiety from part of the reader

warnings : mentions of and drug abuse, anxiety, overthinking, implied SA (towards reader)

~Main Masterlist˜

~Series Masterlist~

prev // next [coming soon]

💖 Reblogs and feedback to support my work 💖

A/N : I was having such a hard time finishing up the first chapter but it finally is here! I'm pretty happy with how it turned out - I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed working on it <33 will try to have the second chapter as soon as possible!

The sound of running water. Faint voices from the TV. A curtain of cigarette smoke. Untouched snow white lines across the table. Glass bottles scattered around the floor and the furniture strewn about in disarray.

A lighter, a spoon, a needle and a tourniquet.

It was bright, light covering every corner of the room. There was nowhere to hide, sins exposed in the chill air of the hotel room for all to see. It had been one of those nights. The type of night where an itch turned into a craving and a craving into a need. With no real sense of self restriction and a thirst for self indulgence Patrick let himself go, yet hung onto Y/N's hand during the whole night.

It had been a while since Patrick had gone unaccompanied in his wild ventures. Ever since he had met Y/N, it seemed inevitable for her to tag along whenever he felt the desire to lose his grip on reality.

At first, he thought it'd be suffocating. Surprisingly, it was quite the opposite; it was comforting. Despite the fact that she refused to use any hard drugs — for the exception of cocaine and ecstasy if she was ever in the mood — only really accompanying him in a buzzed or drunk state, it was still nice to have her present.

There was a certain warmth that enveloped him whenever he had her by his side, a kind of relief that not even heroin seemed to be able to provide.

And so here they were in the hotel room, together in their brief moment of madness.

Y/N glanced at the lines of cocaine neatly arranged on the top of the glass table. Patrick’s voice lost in the background as he rambled on, pacing around the room, recalling a therapy session he had in his youth, something about his father — the usual, really. It's not that she didn't care, it's just that at the moment her head was louder than the voice of her drugged up lover.

Her hand felt cold — lonely even. She curled her fingers into a fist, giving herself the false sensation of her beloved's skin against her own.

She bit her lip as she considered her options, getting lost in her own thoughts. She had a bit too much to drink, more than she had planned tonight and was beginning to feel irritated with the effects that the booze was having on her body.

She could just do a line, it'd be no big deal.

She really wanted to feel less drunk and coke always did the trick.

Was she really that desperate to stop the spinning of the room or was this the first few signs of her own dependency?

It had been an incredibly stressful week. Having to deal with her mother’s constant rambling about things she was not at fault for. She was tired of being her parents’ scapegoat, for that seemed to be the reason of her existence. Not to mention how that awful night still haunted her. It was vivid, carved into her mind. The memory of her mother’s lover stalking her like a prey. His depravity speaking through his eyes until he finally…

She let out a sigh as she swallowed dryly, closing her eyes and mentally swatting away the horrendous memory to avoid any of the heart wrenching feelings that were to accompany it.

'No.' She thought to herself. 'Not tonight.'

She had just tried to talk Patrick out of using some himself but to no avail. He had stated that he was in a dire need of something called a ‘speedball’. He had mentioned something about the high being more intense — or was it longer lasting?

She’d be lying if she said she remembered., his explanation falling onto, mostly, deaf ears as he laid their poison for the night on the table. She had already been too preoccupied with getting the liquor into her system — trying to repress the anxiety that would arise whenever Patrick went off about these things. She wanted to blur the reality of their situation, wanted to forget the night before it turned memorable and buried itself in her mind.

She’d faze in and out of his little speech, trying to avoid any sort of heartbreak that his words might summon. It was unintentional. Some might even say that it was inevitable.

Patrick had such a way with words, it was something that Y/N admired immensely. She was always astonished with the way that he articulated his thoughts and feelings of disdain with such ease.

Quite ironic since it was always a hassle to get Patrick to truly open up. But then again, it was Patrick. It was only expected for his existence to flourish from irony.

This was not, however, the reason for her heartache over his words. It was not the way that he spat words of contempt over his parents, nor the way he’d criticise half of their acquaintances or how he'd express his view of the world in such a pained poetic manner.

It was the way that he spoke about drugs.

Each word that fell from his lips seemed to be carefully thought of. Hand picked, cherished and savoured as they all rolled off his tongue.

Y/N wondered if he spoke of her in the same way.

Suddenly she became aware of how tight her throat had gotten, a lump forming in it. She brought the bottle that was on her free hand up to her lips, trying to swallow the sadness that had made itself present in her chest. The warmth of the liquor would certainly melt away the sorrow that threatened to plague her heart. She tilted her head back, expecting her drink to embrace her. It was only until the back of her head rested against the sofa’s cushion that she realised that it was empty.

"Bloody hell." she cursed under her breath, letting go of the bottle and letting it carelessly fall onto the floor with a muffled thud.

Suddenly, she heard Patrick’s breathy chuckle. She abruptly got pulled out of her own little world, realising that she hadn’t noticed when Patrick had sat down next to her or when he had taken her hand. He gave it a soft squeeze as if trying to remind her and himself that he was still in the room.

"What is the matter, Y/N?" Patrick's eyes examined her, a soft smirk forming on his lips as he took in every feature of his lover's face. Fucking hell, she was beautiful. "Ran out so soon?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Patrick.” She groaned, crinkling up her nose as she closed her eyes, her free hand making its way through her hair.

“Now, now. No need to be rude, temptress.”

Y/N opened her eyes softly at the pet name and turned her head towards him. She loved it when he called her that. It just screamed ‘him’. She would never get a ‘love’, ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear’ out of him if it wasn’t dripping with sarcasm. It was his own little way of mocking those who used such words. Wanting to emphasise how pumpous they sounded.

But it didn’t matter. That’s what Y/N had told herself, denying the fact that it hurt her more than she’d like to admit. He had found the perfect term of endearment for her and she loved how adoring and dangerous it sounded — a little reminder of how she was a sin he could not resist — according to him, at least.

“You know the alcohol is just one phone call away.” He reached out to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as his eyes wandered down to her lips. “Should I phone the lobby to bring more?”

“No, that’ll take too long. I need something now.” She whined, her eyebrows knitted in frustration as she let out a sigh. The sorrow that had been created by none other than her own thoughts was growing by the second and she was desperate to make it disappear.

Her eyes scanned the room, hopeful that somehow she’d find a bottle of booze, one that she had accidentally left unfinished. She avoided the obvious answer that was on the table in front of her. It was her turn to stand up and start pacing around the room, checking every empty bottle she’d come across.

‘I’m not doing a line. I’m not doing a line. I’m not doing a line. I’m not doing a line.’ What little sense of restraint made her repeat the phrase like a mantra inside her head. She had told herself that she wasn’t gonna do anything more than drink.

She had also promised herself that she wasn’t going to get absolutely pissed out of her mind but here she was.

She didn’t even like drinking that much. She hated the way it made her feel, hated the hangovers, the smell, and the way it made her mouth dry. How her lips would chap and how it made her head want to explode.

And don’t even get her started on cocaine. God, it always felt good for the first — what? — 30 minutes? The first hour maybe? It made her feel like she was on top of the world. Like she could conquer all, as if she could do everything and anything, while being everywhere and nowhere at the same time. But the crash; oh, the crash was always catastrophic.

It lasted for at least three days after she had put the white powder into her body and she’d have to fight the urge to do more just to try to feel like a normal person again.

But it was the only way she knew how to make the world around her less loud. How to make her emotions less loud.

So she always came back to it. She always went back for more.

“Y/N.” Patrick called out. “What are you doing? Come back to me.”

Y/N looked back at him, and it was as if the mere sight of him was enough to remind her why she was so desperate in the first place.

Patrick extended his hand towards her.

“Come here…”

His voice was soft, it carried an affection she was all too familiar with.

She began walking towards him.

“Are you in such need for a drink, Y/N?” He began, the smirk was back on his lips.

“You mustn’t worry, love.” he chuckled.

She cringed.

Must he really drown such an affectionate word with such a cynical sentiment?

“I’ll phone the lobby, make them bring you whatever you want.” His eyes were loving, but his smirk was wry.

She knew her perception was being clouded by her anxiety, but she couldn’t help the stinging in her eyes as she took Patrick’s hand. He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand — and as if to mock her — her mind made the one thought she had been trying to erase echo inside her head once more: ‘does he speak of me in the same way he speaks about drugs?’

“Fuck it.”

She kneeled down in front of the glass table and plugged one of her nostrils with her hand, her head diving in to snort up the white line. She wasn't about to spoil the night for Patrick, for herself. These little ventures were supposed to be their escape from the world, one far too cruel to remain lucid in. Y/N needed to get rid of her thoughts, and so, with no other option left, she turned to the quickest solution that she could find.

Patrick let out a small 'oh' to express his surprise. It wasn't the first time that he saw Y/N snort up a line, but it was something that he hadn't expected tonight. It made him weirdly happy to see her engaging in the same wickedness as him. It made him feel less alone.

“Now that’s more like it.” he said, more excited than he'd like to admit.

He looked her up and down as she made her way up from the table, eyes squeezed shut, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sniffled a couple of times. The corners of his mouth began to curl into a soft smirk as he pushed a couple of strands of hair away from her face. The urge to look into her eyes became almost unbearable. He loved to see how her pupils began to dilate — just another sign that she had decided to let go for the night and join him in his own little world of euphoria. He knew deep down inside that it wasn’t right, it wasn’t good nor healthy. But just like misery he loved her company.

He hummed with satisfaction at how the night had begun to turn and brushed his fingers against Y/N’s jaw. As soon as she turned to look at him, he smiled.

“I knew you would join me sooner or later tonight. Now we can start having some real fun.” Patrick cupped her face with both hands and stared into her eyes. Y/N rested her hands against his, a smile spreading across her lips.

“Patrick… What are you doing?” She asked between giggles, her gaze threatening to become shy and turn away.

“Shh, shhh, Y/N…” He said in a soft voice, making sure to keep her face in place. “Don’t talk just… Look at me, temptress. Just look into my eyes.”

Y/N looked up at him and just as he had been expecting, her pupils began to grow. Patrick was the type of person who would never really admit to his addictions up front, not easily, at least. But one of the only things that he’d unashamedly confess to was the way that he had become completely hooked on Y/N. She was so beautiful, no matter what she was doing. Whether she was laughing, crying, drinking, singing, or getting high off her mind — she seemed to be completely perfect. All the time.

So he had grown incredibly fond of gazing upon her, observing her every move. Drinking in her expressions and mannerisms, memorising her voice and the sound of her laugh. Burning into his mind the image of her indulging in the same kind of way that he would. Whoever said self destruction wasn’t beautiful had never seen Y/N with a colourful pill resting upon her pretty tongue.

Patrick let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding and caressed both Y/N’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Mmm, well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” He sighed, worship in every word he uttered.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She bit her lip as she chortled, letting the effects of the coke take over her. She shook her head lightly, giving Patrick’s hands a light squeeze as she began to feel the sudden burst of energy flow through her body.

The giddiness she had been trying to hold back suddenly let itself burst out of her lips in the form of a few giggles.

“Stop that.” she said, a new high pitch tone decorating her voice as she got up to her feet and began pacing around the room once again. Her hands were now resting against her cheeks, the tingle that Patrick’s touch left on her skin making her hum with glee.

Patrick observed her, a smile mimicking the one that his lover carried as she twirled around in front of the table. He couldn’t help but laugh softly at how quickly her demeanour had changed.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Much better but…” Y/N paused. That was her first mistake.

A part of her knew that if she stopped any of her movements her thoughts would take over her mind and make sure to bring her down along with the night. So when she took a moment to answer Patrick’s question — for some reason wanting to double check with herself if she was truly fine — her anxieties came flooding back to her.

‘Does he? Speak of me in the same way? Does he love me the same way he loves it?’

She couldn’t even think of the substance’s name, as if the mere mention of it — even if it was in her mind — would blow a hole through her chest.

“But?”

“Distract me.”

“What?”

“Distract me. Please.”

She made her way back to Patrick, getting down on her knees so that she could be at eye level with him. She grabbed his hands and intertwined her fingers with his.

“Make me forget. I want to forget my name, my body, my existence…” Her anguish was apparent in her eyes, though for some reason what Patrick saw was a fire of desire in them.

And maybe he was right. Maybe that’s what Y/N wanted.

To have her consciousness held down to the earth in the most primal way possible. To stop her silly insecurities from overtaking her mind and soul and instead replace them with the burning touch of Patrick’s hands and body.

“All I want in my mind is you. Patrick, make me forget. I want to forget. Please make me forget. Please.”

This was the only way.

Surely it was.

She was desperate to get rid of the delusions of her inadequacies, to shut down the little voice inside her head that dug around in her heart; cutting her open and forcing her to feel the violent sting of her jealousy.

“Patrick—” She began to whine, but before she could say anything else, he leaned in, crushing his lips against hers, giving her exactly what she was begging for.

Y/N’s arms immediately wrapped around Patrick’s shoulders, bringing him as close as she could, a soft moan escaping her lips as he slid his hands down her sides. Their mouths moved together in an erratic dance, as he pulled her up to his lap with his hands under her thighs. Her body responded naturally, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He smirked against her lips and chuckled breathlessly as she let herself be consumed by his scent.

He began to get up to his feet, carrying Y/N along as they shared open mouthed kisses, the sound of their hunger for each other filling up the room.

This is what she wanted. This is what she needed. Now nothing else mattered, nothing else existed, there was only one truth in that room and that was how much they yearned for each other. How both of their bodies felt hot, how intoxicating they were for each other.

Y/N’s back touched the bed and Patrick parted her legs with his knee as he settled himself on top of her. He pulled back from the heated kiss, leaving Y/N’s lips with a tingling sensation that would begin to spread all over her body. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his lips against her neck. He left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses, biting into her skin and sucking on it to draw one of the most delicious sounds that he had ever heard. Leaving little love bites on her, a visual proof of the devotion he had for her.

Y/N smiled. She sighed as she treasured the moment, trying to get herself lost in it. Trying to get herself lost in the way that Patrick began to undress her. How painfully addicting his touch was. All that she could think about was the shape of his lips, how skillful they seemed to be and how they knew just exactly how to make her want more. How Patrick would let little words of adoration escape him as he made his way down her body — like a prayer, declaring his full verenation to her. How his fingers began to press down onto her skin, making their way down her hi—

“What is it like?”

The words escaped her in one breath before she realised what she had just said. She furrowed her brows softly as she urged herself to not say anything more. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.

“Hmmm?”

“The high.”

“Of what?”

“Heroin.”

‘What the fuck.’ Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. The one thing she was trying to avoid getting into — the one thing she didn’t want to discuss and forget. And out of all the moments when she could’ve asked the question, she just had to do it when she was finally enjoying herself.

Patrick looked up at her, his movements pausing for a moment. He raised an eyebrow as curiosity began to paint his face.

“Why?” his hands gave her hips an unconscious squeeze, he left a soft kiss on her navel as he spoke up once again. “Are you thinking of trying some?”

“No.” Y/N bit her lip nervously. She didn’t want to continue the conversation, she didn’t want to ruin the night. But her mouth moved on its own, and she propped herself up on her elbows, wanting to look at Patrick as she decided to give into her wonder. “But… I’m curious. Whenever you’re high you have such an expression of… bliss. I have been wondering what that’s like.”

Patrick looked at Y/N in silence, looking for any kind of hint as to why she would decide to ask him this. Sure, Y/N always listened, but she never really asked. In fact, Patrick was pretty sure that at times, even if she let him ramble on about his vices, she would always be half listening to what he was saying. After all, not everyone saw the beauty he saw in ruin as he did.

Patrick rested his hands on her thighs as he sat up on his ankles. He pressed his lips together as he looked for the right words, the right way to vocalise how he felt whenever he took said drug. The right way to make Y/N understand why, no matter how hard he tried, he could never truly let go of it.

Y/N observed as Patrick thought in silence, and the anxiety began to eat at her heart once more. ‘There is it. Look at him. Taking his time to make sure every word that is about to come out of his mouth is perfect.’

Before her mind could continue her own private torture, Patrick interrupted her as he spoke up, looking into her eyes.

“At first it feels like… love. Like unconditional love. It feels like a warm embrace — a security that never in a hundred years I thought I’d ever have. It doesn’t ask for anything back, it simply gives. You never owe it anything and everytime it seems to welcome you in with open arms. There’s no hangover, no headache, no shitty feeling, just the afterglow of the peace that it wrapped you up in. You feel like you’re walking on air. You feel like the world is beautiful again. Life is worth living now and for once the constant dread that haunts you every day is gone. So, in a way, it’s like you. It feels just like you.”

Y/N parted her lips slightly as Patrick looked at her, his gaze unwavering. She didn’t know what to say. All this time she had thought that in Patrick’s eyes, she was worth less than the high that he would constantly chase.

In reality, she was just as valuable as his addiction.

Just as important, just as indispensable.

Without thinking, she pushed herself up off the bed, sliding her hands up Patrick’s chest and without a word kissed him passionately. She could see it now. There was nothing to worry about.

He didn’t love drugs more than he loved her.

He loved them both.

Equally.

But then again, how was that any better?

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