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stevieschrodinger · 1 month

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TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to part Two

Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.

There's a man in his office.

"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."

"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.

"And my nine thirty?"

"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."

"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."

"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.

"You're going to make me ask aren't you??

Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"

"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."

"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."

And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.

Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.

Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.

Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.

"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."

"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.

The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."

Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.

"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."

Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.

"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."

Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.

Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"

And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."

"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."

"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."

Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.

"That's all you need?"

Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."

It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.

"How do you know I'm not already involved?"

Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."

Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"

"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."

Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.

That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.

Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.

Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.

But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.

Because that's not creepy.

Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.

Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.

They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.

Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.

They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.

He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.

Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."

Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.

Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.

"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."

The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.

At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.

Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."

"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.

It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.

Nothing.

And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie's just blinking at him.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.

Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."

"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."

"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?"

Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.

At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ao3 writer #ficlet #ao3 author #pre getting together #pre steddie #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #omega eddie munson because he's so pretty #long suffering hopper #jim hopper #fbi agent jim hopper

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pwinkprincess · 2 months

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my doll, my princess ୨ৎ

megumi roughly fucking his princess :3 ୨ৎ

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ MY DOLL, MY PRINCESS ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ---> aged up (20+) characters, emo x bimbo, creampie, p in v, rough sex, praising, pet names (baby, princess), light begging, oral sex [m receiving], squirting, dom/sub undertones, breeding kink, possessiveness, talks of recording, black reader :3 but anyone can read

megumi can’t help it. the way your naturally full lips turn into a pout whenever he says something you don’t want to hear. the way your acrylic nails scratch over his arm (or sometimes his scalp whenever he’s feeling extra vulnerable). the way you’d say ‘gumi’ with a huff as you try to defend yourself from his teasing. you look so innocent but in reality you’re his slutty girl.

no one ever said being a sorcerer would be easy, hell, if anything he got told everyday that it’s hard. but as he aged and grew into an adult, he found balancing a normal life and being a sorcerer impossible. he would come home at inconsistent hours in the morning, just to go back to work a few hours later. it was genuinely becoming a job instead of a passion.

it felt like he was already tensed and pent up. he tried working out for extensive hours, didn’t work. he tried sparring with yuji, didn’t work. he even reluctantly went to get a massage with nabora, still didn’t work. he was beginning to accept that this was his life now. he now understood why nanami walked around with a permanent frown.

that was all until he discovered you. he had exited the local cafe after ordering himself a iced white mocha frappe. he had just got done with an intense session in the gym and felt like he earned himself a sweet treat. he was walking towards his car that was parked in the parking lot until he heard a feminine voice squeak out, ‘sir!’. he turned around and that’s when his eyes landed on a brown skinned woman. her entire outfit was decked out in pink, there were cute little bows in her hair, and her outfit was a mini skirt with a cropped shirt. she was absolutely adorable.

“yes?” megumi asks with a confused expression on his face.

her heel boots clacked against the concrete as she made her way towards him. megumi realized that she’s actually even more breathtaking up close. the way her head had to turn up to make eye contact with him made his dick stir with curiosity.

“uhm, so, i noticed you from where i sat in the cafe.. and i think you’re really handsome and i wanted to know if i could get your number.” megumi’s eyes shifted from confusion to shock, he had never been approached so boldly before. he found himself enjoying the boldness.

“i-i.. sure?” he responded. this was so abrupt that he didn’t have time to seem confident. suddenly, he remembered he’s all sweaty and possibly flushed still. he should’ve taken a shower at the gym instead of waiting to get home.

a smile adorned her pretty face. great, she’s even prettier when she smiles. megumi felt like he was going to faint.

“gumi, am i not making you feel good?” your voice knocks him out of his thoughts. his eyes glance down to where you are. you’re seated in between his legs with drool dripping down your face. you hold his dick in your hand casually as if it was a natural thing to do. there’s a pout on your face as you look up at him for reassurance.

“you are, baby. you’re making me feel so fucking good.” he leans up a little so that he could cradle your cheek with one hand, “i’m sorry, i just got lost in my thoughts for a second.” he coos as he replaces your hand on his dick with his own. he guides your head back onto it and like the good girl you are you open your mouth and welcome his dick back into your mouth.

he uses two hands to guide your head back and forth. the sound and feeling of you gagging as you try to deepthroat makes megumi’s eyes roll back. he uses your head as if it’s a fleshlight. his hips occasionally buck to meet your mouth, no matter how many times he tries to suppress doing so.

your hands rest on his thighs as you squeeze your eyes closed. stray tears escape from your eyes, no matter how many times you try to blink them back.

megumi still could not believe he has gotten his hands on something so delicate. that little innocent facade you like to put on towards strangers. megumi had fell for it until you practically begged him to let you ride his cock. he still remembers how tears and drool leaked out as you bounced your way into becoming dick dumb.

“my little cockslut.” he coos at you. when you moan out from his words, it sends a vibration up his cock causing his toes to curl. “fuck- i wanna cum inside your tight pussy, baby. c’mere.” he slowly removes his cock from your mouth, he bites down on his lip while he watches you smear your own drool and his precum on your gorgeous face. “my nasty girl.” he says as he pulls you up and onto his lap.

you let out a breathy gasp when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, it’s almost embarrassing how fast your hips begin to buck. megumi would usually tease your clit some more but he had already denied himself once when you were sucking his cock. he was feeling way too sensitive to tease you.

“gumiiiiii.” you whined as he slowly began entering you. your pussy immediately began clenching around his length as he made slow work of bottoming out inside of you. “haaaa! gumi your cock is so big!” you always knew how to stroke his ego.

“shh, princess. you’re gonna take my cock like you always do. be my good girl.” he says as he softly thrusts his hips up.

being the pillow princess you are, of course you’re gonna ride with your knees instead of planting your feet. you press your chest that was poorly covered with a size too small bikini top against his as you begin meeting his thrusts. he doesn’t waste any time getting rougher with you. his hands grab the fat of your ass cheeks as he plumpets into you.

“shit!” you gasp as your eyes roll back.

“watch your mouth.” he threatens.

you lower your head and begin placing sloppy kisses on his jaw as an apology. your acrylic nails press into his shoulder blades as you try to take everything he’s giving you without complaint. the sound of your wet pussy making noise every time he slams back into you is enduring.

“i should record you, let everyone see how my little innocent girl is actually a slut.” he pumps faster into you. you couldn’t keep up with his inhumane speed, you were practically forced to just stay there and take it. “wouldn’t do that though. you and this pussy belongs to me, no one deserves to see it.” he growls out. the feeling of his grasp tightening on your ass cheeks makes you groan.

“yes, gumi! i’m yours, only yours! no one else's!” you scream out once you feel your stomach flutter. megumi knowing you like the back of his hand, lets go of your ass cheek and instead starts rubbing at your clit.

“cum for me, baby.” he coaxes. he rubs with an almost painful speed. your breathing gets caught in your chest as you try to warn him that you’re coming. your poor pussy squirts around his cock. the fluid streaming out like a jet.

megumi moans shamelessly at the sight and feeling. his toes curl as he suddenly leans up and bites into your shoulder. his cock twitches as his sensitive tip begins spurting out his cum right into your pussy.

“gonna make you a fucking mother. have you so full and round with my seed.you want that? hm, baby? you wanna walk around with my claim on you?” he babbles drunkenly.

“yes, gumi! please make me a mother! please!” you agree in the heat of the moment. the two of you continue talking dumbly to each other until megumi finally stop orgasming. he pulls out and his cum immediately drips down onto his thigh.

“fuck, princess.” he mumbles before pulling you into a kiss. “what do you say for me cumming in you?” he asks once he pulls away.

“thank you, gumi.” you reply with a bright smile. fuck, you’re so pretty.

#pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა #₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ #gumi ᡣ𐭩 ୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶#jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა #˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #megumi x you #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #jjk x black y/n #jjk x black!fem reader

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jasmines-library · 1 month

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I know i’ve already sent in a lot of requests, i practically live in your inbox(not sorry), but i just wanted to know if you could whip up some really angsty stuff?

Maybe something with reader being on patrol and she just randomly passes out and just won’t wake up again?

idk, i’m just craving your content😞🙏

Veins

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Note: Anything for you my love. Dont feel bad for sending them in, i smile everytime your name is in my inbox. sorry for the wait. :))

Warnings: Poison/drugging, passing out, needles, ivs but non graphic

Word Count: 1.3k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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There it was again. That funny feeling. You couldn’t quite place it, but it tickled the back of your mind. Physically, you felt fine. There was just something off about the whole night. Tim was running alongside you, the soles of his boots making little to no noise as he weaved nimbly down the street. Dick was slightly ahead; you were watching his six.The three of you were currently pursuing Poison Ivy, who royally pissed off, was threatening to release a batch of poisons into the water supply; naturally, it was your job to try and stop her before she could actually get there. Batman was also in pursuit, but he was coming from the other side of the city which meant that the chances of you and your brothers stopping Ivy before she got there were pretty high.

You had almost caught up with Ivy when it happened. You could see her ahead, her torn clothes flapping against the winds that whipped between the skyscrapers and whistled down the alleyways. You pushed yourself to run faster, feeling the burn in your calves as you raced towards her auburn figure. You would have caught her if you didn’t catch a glimpse of one of her goons perched on a window ledge. It was dark, but you could practically see his crooked grin as he leered down at the three unsuspecting vigilantes. By the time you had realised what was actually happening, it was too late.

The needle dug deep into your neck, with such a blunt force that you would have yelped if you didn’t have the sense to plaster your hand over your lips. It stung and would most certainly leave a bruise later. But what worried you was not, the soon to be bruise, but the groggy sensation that began to settle over you.

Blindly reaching for the syringe, you pulled it from your neck with a grunt. It clattered to the floor. Everything seemed to swim before you in a mix of colours. It made you feel sick. And suddenly your body felt numb, stubborn limbs refusing to move how they normally would. You lurched forward stumbling and trying to grip onto the wall to keep yourself upright. It was hardly any use though; whatever they had stuck you with made it nearly impossible to tell which way was up as your world span. You had fallen behind, moving without a coherent thought as you tried to keep up with the speck that you thought was Tim. Everything was too loud, but you could make out no sounds, just a piercing ringing.

“R’vn…” Someone was talking to you. You weren’t even aware you had stopped and hands swam in front of your face. Touching. Someone was touching you; their hands were against your shoulders trying to keep you upright. But who…

There was no face in front of you. Only a mangled mess of colours and an echo of your code name frantically falling from their lips. They were trying to get you to respond, to say anything but your eyes and glassed over and your limbs had fallen limp in against the stone wall you had been stumbling against.

And then your body gave up completely.

Tim had to scramble to catch your body as you keeled over, ragdolling into his arms with limbs splayed out in each direction. He cursed, panicked and settled you down on the ground to stand over you. Wide eyed, he pressed the emergency signal on his coms, praying that Dick would get to you quickly and that Batman was close enough to catch Ivy.

He tried your name again, shaking you by the shoulders. There was no response; your head just lolled to the side. It was then that he realised your body was hot. Far too hot. He struggled to get off his glove before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You didn’t even stir.

“Son of a bitch.” Dick skidded to a stop beside his brother, palling at the sight of you on the ground. “What happened?”

“I-i don’t know. She was fine one minute and the next she practically collapsed against the wall-” Tim stuttered, unable to keep his composure. Usually, he was the one with the steady hand they could all rely on, but now he was completely short circuiting.

With a curt nod, Dick tried to shake you awake, calling your name.

“I tried that.” Tim stated.

Dick nearly snapped at his brother for making an irritating statement when he saw the lines spider-webbing up your neck. They were thin and black, spindling out like branches of a tree devoid of its leaves. Twisting your head gently to the side, Dick revealed it to Tim who swallowed thickly.

“Drugged?” He asked meekly.

Dick shook his head. “Poisoned.”

Tim shifted his vision anxiously between Dick and you. His head perked up when something clattered off to their right. Dick was up in an instant, standing over you with his escrima sticks flickering with their angry blue charge. Tim reddied his bo staff.

“Go find them.” Nightwing ordered, standing over you protectively. “I’ll watch her.”

Tim darted off for a moment as the older boy watched you with shifty eyes, hardly relaxing when he returned a few moments later. By that time you had begun sweating and your skin had grown clammy and gaunt .When he looked at him with optimistic eyes, the younger boy shook his head.

“Nothing. But I did find this.” He produced a small syringe filled with a dark green liquid. The one you had pulled frantically from your neck.

“Good! That's good.” Dick exclaimed, taking a shaky breath. “We need to get her back to the cave. Page Alfred. Get him to prepare the infirmary.”

“On it.”

Sliding his hands under your body, he scooped up your limbs with ease. “Hang in there, kiddo.”

“Get her on the bed, quick.”

Alfred was on the two boys as soon as he heard the cave entrance fling open. Dick was sling clinging to you as he bustled through the door, hot on Tim’s heels who forced everyone out of the way. They all watched you with worried creases etched onto their complexions.

Dick lay you down on the bed. As soon as he was out of the way Alfred was replacing the empty space beside you, inspecting the spread of the poison. It had now begun to crawl down your arms and up the side of your face. Your features seemed sunken and your heart rate was dangerously slow.

He reached for a needle of his own, sliding it into your skin before hooking you up to an IV.

“What’s that?” Tim asked. His voice wavered.

“Hopefully an antidote and some fluids to flush it out of her system. Babs managed to analyse the sample you sent over. The poison is lethal, but because she managed to pull it out before the whole thing entered her system, we think this should help.”

“And if it doesn't?” Jason’s voice asked from where he had been lingering in the doorway.

“Let's hope it does.”

It took much longer than they had hoped for you to wake up, but nevertheless you did. Slowly but surely you cracked open your eyes and blinked at them groggily. It seemed that Alfred and Babs had been spot on; the antidote worked, but it made everyone nervous to think that if you hadn’t pulled out the toxin when you had, the situation could have been very different. Damian cringed at the thought.

They had all been there when you woke up. They had been taking it in turns to watch you because they couldn;t bear the thought of you waking up alone, but when Jason called out that you were stirring they all rushed to your side to sit with you.

It was nice to wake up with the all beside you, despite the fact that you felt like death. Probably because you had been so close to it.

Ivy was arrested and sent to Arkham without much of a second thought.Batman had caught her before she managed to release the rest of her poisons. She had made an attempt on your life. It was safe to say that she deserved jail time for that, though there was no saying how long she was actually going to stay there for.

The air was much lighter in the manor now that you were awake. You were still on bed rest for a short while, much to your protests and grumbling. But, luckily for you you were surrounded by a whole handful of people that wanted to do things for you that you didn’t even need help with. Not that you minded too much… Either way, they were there for you completely throughout your recovery, glad that you were going to be just fine.

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@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff

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msbigredmachine · 24 days

Text

New To This - Chapter 1

Jaded by her fiancé’s disinterest in her ambitions to become a professional wrestler, Delilah Parrish’s life takes an interesting turn when one of WWE’s top names offers her the support she’s not getting at home.

Pairing: Jey Uso/OC

Warnings: As we go along...

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was initially a Roman fic but I realized I have too many upcoming stories featuring him, so I switched it up and passed it off to Jey. Hope you enjoy!

---------------

“Come on, Parrish, move your ass! Get on her!”

The damp, unruly strands of baby hair in Delilah Parrish’s eyes temporarily obscured her vision and made it difficult to take on her trainer’s instruction. Brushing them away impatiently, her mind flitted to the next line of offense, but her opponent had tackled her to the canvas before her thoughts could fully register. The hard surface made unfriendly contact with her body, but the rushing adrenaline helped fight off the pain, and she battled with her opponent trying to twist her body into a sleeper hold. Delilah tried to concentrate on countering the hold, but between the hundreds of thoughts scrambling around her head and the yelling coming from outside the regulation wrestling ring, it was a near impossible feat.

“For fuck’s sake, Parrish, what are you doin’?” Pounding his palm hard on the mat, her trainer, Makena 'Tank' Kalua, shouted again. “Quit pullin’ her arm like that! You’re gonna break it!”

The other woman, an older, more experienced student named Janie from England, easily slipped out of the armbar Delilah was attempting on her and sat up, seizing both of Delilah’s legs and twisting them in a figure-four leg lock. Usually it was Delilah’s job to sell this move, try to roll over to ease the pressure, or even grab the bottom rope for relief, just like she’d learned. Instead, she kicked her legs carelessly, grunting as she wildly fought out of the hold.

“What the fuck! Is that what I taught you?” Tank screamed again. Blowing the whistle around his neck, he reached under the bottom rope and grabbed Delilah by her leg, forcibly dragging her out of the ring and setting her on her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Huffing irritably, Delilah yanked her arm away from him and marched away to the other end of the warehouse, ignoring Janie and the other girls that glared wearily after her, wondering what Tank saw in her to begin with. Delilah wondered that herself sometimes.

Ever since she was a little girl growing up in the tiny town of Pensacola, Florida, she dreamed about being in the middle of the fabled squared circle, performing for sellout crowds all over the world, making a name for herself in the notoriously tough wrestling business. And now she was finally getting her chance. In two days’ time, she would be partaking in her very first singles match, lacing up the boots she had worked two extra shifts at the local gym to afford. At last, she was taking that small step towards her dream.

So why did she not feel ready? Why was she doubting herself at the last hour?

One word; Andre.

She was starting to lose count of how many fights they’d gotten into in the six months since she’d embarked on what her fiancé openly thought was her childish desire to become a professional wrestler. Once he realized that it wasn’t just some hobby she would lose interest in after a week, his support began to dwindle more and more as the months went on. There were heated arguments between them on a weekly basis it seemed, mostly on what her ambitions were costing the couple financially. After all, they still had a wedding to plan; their already tight budget was being nibbled at by her exorbitant wrestling class fees. There were bills to pay around the house; she’d already squandered a month’s salary to purchase her wrestling outfit and boots. Yesterday, Delilah had kept quiet, refused to argue, and let Andre vent all he wanted. But this morning, her nerves were starting to kick in over her upcoming match, and when Andre began another tirade as he headed out to work, she not-so-politely shut him down. Tempers were lost and words were exchanged, and both left the house angry. Delilah hadn’t heard from him all day. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t need his crap today.

Evidently, Tank didn’t need her crap either. The trainer usually gave her some leeway but today he wasn’t having it at all. “Hey, get your ass back here!” His deep, angry voice sounded behind her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Where ya goin’ huh? You wanna run home like a little girl?” he asked her. “Go ahead, go.”

“Just stop, alright?” Delilah snapped, her fists clenched involuntarily as she fought the urge to hit him right in his face. Unfortunately she didn’t stand a chance against him, not when he weighed over a hundred pounds more than she did and was an entire foot taller than her, and certainly not with his over two decades of wrestling experience in comparison to her puny half-year.

Moving closer to her, Tank placed a calloused hand on her shoulder. “What’s goin’ on Dee? You’ve been acting up today.”

Delilah knew she was among the very few trainees Tank afforded the luxury of his concern and sympathy. She liked to think it was because she was one of the teachable ones, easily picking up the wrestling moves like she’d been doing it for years. She was always one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave, helping set up the ring and take it down after classes. Her attitude was refreshing, and she eventually managed to become something resembling a friend to him.

But there was only so much friendship could do for her current situation. Running a hand through her hair, Delilah tried to figure out where to start answering his question. She was fuckin’ tired, for one. She was wrestling in front of an actual crowd in a mere forty-eight hours. Her fiancé was being an ass. Her pride however, wouldn’t let her say those things out loud. That he considered her to be a friend didn’t mean she had to go crying to him for every problem she had. “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she murmured, choosing to focus on the Polynesian tribal tattoo spread over his right arm.

Tank rolled his eyes with a huff. “We both know that’s bullshit, but if you say so.” Turning back for the ring, he sighed heavily. “You got sixty seconds to clear your head, then you get your ass back in that ring. We got shit to do so hurry up.” With that, he walked away.

She expected no other response. He never coddled her, not during working hours anyway. She didn’t want him to, either. The last thing she wanted to look was weak in front of fellow trainees; people, as Tank always reminded her, who wanted this career, who wanted this life, more than anything else in the world. And that brought her back to the same question she’d been asking herself for months.

How badly did she want it?

----------------

The next couple of hours seemed to go on forever. Tired, bruised and battered from a long day of training, Delilah hitched her bag over her shoulder and cast a glance at the round black clock on the wall as she walked towards the exit of the warehouse. Andre had sent a text message that filled her with hope of reconciliation after their heated morning. Maybe they could sit down and talk about what had happened, and hopefully work things out like they always did.

“Hey, Parrish, come here a sec,” Tank's voice sounded out of nowhere. “Got someone I want you to meet.”

Sighing heavily, Delilah turned her gaze towards the doorway of the small office where he stood. “Do I have to? I gotta meet up with Dre.”

“He’ll be there when you get home,” he dismissed her excuse. “Come say hi. You won’t regret it, come on.”

With a quiet groan, Delilah shuffled toward the office. “I hope not,” she mumbled, stopping short when her eyes fell upon the hulking, tattooed figure sitting on Tank's desk. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Oh shit!”

Tank's grin widened as he pushed her further into his office. “Told ya. Delilah, meet Jey Uso. Jey, this is one of my students, Delilah Parrish.”

Standing up from his place on the edge of his friend’s desk, Joshua Fatu extended a hand to the toned beauty standing in front of him. He smiled when she placed her hand in his, noticed how it trembled. “Sup, Delilah, nice to meet you,” he said.

Delilah tried to reply, but her mouth seemed to have forgotten its primary function. She could feel her face burning as she continued to hold his large hand, wanting to let go but somehow unable to. It wasn’t every day she shook hands, or was even within a mile radius of Main Event Jey Uso himself. She’d been a big fan of his ever since his debut with his brother, Jimmy. To see them evolve and grow from a tag team to singles stars was so rewarding. The Bloodline storyline was must-see TV for her, and she had found herself sympathizing with the Right Hand Man over the course of the storyline. She followed him on X and Instagram, and had a couple of his Yeet T-shirts. To be in the presence of a man whom she watched on TV every week, a guy she grew to idolize and respect so much, was beyond mind-blowing.

Before her silence could grow awkward, Delilah removed her hand from his grasp. She’d always hoped that the day she got to meet a WWE Superstar, she’d act much cooler and more composed and not like the average tongue-tied fan. She knew she just failed miserably.

Josh crossed his muscled arms over his chest, his gaze firmly on her face. “So Delilah, Tank tells me you gotta lot of potential, uce. Says you’re very talented,” he said, his deep, gruff voice tinged with curiosity.

“Well, all those bumps he’s taken over the years have finally damaged his brain cells,” she said sarcastically, smiling when she drew a laugh from both men, particularly Jey.

“Nah, I’ve known this fool for damn near twenty years now,” said Josh, jerking his thumb in Tank's direction, “If he say you got talent, then you got talent.” He sat back on the desk and let his eyes admire her, silently wondering just how smoking hot the body hidden underneath the baggy clothes was. “So how long you been training?” he inquired.

Delilah shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. “I started working out about nine months ago, tryna get in ring shape,” she answered. “But I’ve been training for about six.”

Josh nodded his head. “And your first show’s the day after tomorrow, right?” he queried, keeping his eyes on hers.

“My first match,” she corrected him. “I’ve been to a few shows, done some ring announcing, valeted a couple of times,” she added proudly, as though that would make her look more credible in her idol’s eyes. As she spoke, she stole the chance to look him over. Diamond Cuban links glittered around his neck and both his wrists and gave a shine to his fitted Nike sweatsuit that covered up the tattoos she knew decorated a good portion of his russet skin. He was taller than she expected, and just as ruggedly handsome. And those eyes…a hint of danger lurked behind the jovial, friendly facade, very much giving off bad boy vibes. Against her will, she was intrigued.

Ignoring the eye-fucking session going on in his office, Tank patted Josh’s shoulder. “A’ight y’all, time to get outta here.” He ushered the two of them out of his office and towards the exit of the gym.

“So…what brings you back to town, Jey?” she asked Josh as they walked side by side behind Tank.

The Samoan smiled at the young woman who hadn’t stopped blushing since they met. “Not much. Just hangin’ out with family and shit,” he replied. “Thought I’d come visit my mans over here, but now I hear there’s a show in town, I may just stick around a while longer.” He paused, noting the way her face paled a little. “You nervous?”

Delilah blew out a breath. “Honestly? I’m terrified.”

Josh shook his head. “Naw, don’t be. Focus on all the positives, how far you’ve come, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded and bit her lip. That was reassuring, just a little bit. “Thanks,” she said, noting that her trainer’s car was heading their way. Tank always dropped her off at home as he lived not too far off from hers. “Well, I better get going. It was so cool to meet you, Jey,” she added, thinking it better to wave this time rather than shake hands.

“Same here Delilah. And trust me when I say I’ll be seeing you more often in the future,” Josh replied.

For some reason, it sounded to Delilah like there were a handful of promises in those words, but she waved off the silly notion immediately and opted to leave before she made a fool of herself in front of the Jey Uso. It felt like she was walking on air as she approached Tank's car, still star-struck, still stunned by the last couple of minutes that had just happened.

But then, as she slammed the car door shut, she remembered what was waiting for her at home, and with a tired sigh, she was forced to push the moment away, forced to forget about the intense brown eyes that continued to stare after her even as the car drove away from the warehouse.

--------------------

Thoughts so far?

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

TAGGING: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc

#jey uso #jey uso fanfic #jey uso imagine #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso smut #main event jey uso #jey uso x black oc

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my--moon · 3 months

Note

hello!! i saw that your requests were open and I just love the way you write!! i was wondering if you’d be willing to do a Leo Valdez x fem!reader? just something like Piper was trying to play matchmaker between the two, but they’re already in a relationship and she just doesn’t know?? no pressure tho!! All my love to you, honey 😘😘😘

❝ Matchmaking! Whoops... ❞

Pairing; Leo Valdez X Fem!Reader (Child of Demeter) Warning; Curse words, mentions of sickles (the weapon) implied smut, make out, getting caught, I think that's it tbh. (N/N) = Nickname A/N; Aunty Juno has taken your order! One fanfic comin' right up, sweetie!

Total badass. Pretty hair. User of Demeter's sickles. Has literally cut the throat of a monster for laying a finger on her friends.

Ugh, what didn't (Y/N) have?

A boyfriend!

Actually, nobody knew about (Y/N)'s love life. So, Piper assumed that she was single. And no person that hot should be single. (Unless you're on the ace/aro spectrum, then be single and rich if you want, babes)

Piper Mclean set out on a mission to get (Y/N) with someone. And who better than that be but with Valdez?

You see, Leo was flirty. And (Y/N) didn't react to flirts or acts of seduction. Making her nearly impossible for Piper or any of her siblings to charm. But Leo, however, got her to giggle.

The short Latino got the badass child of the earth to giggle with a flirt. Oh. My. Gods.

When Piper saw this, her jaw dropped. She immediately made it her job to get those two together.

She explained the plan to Annabeth and Hazel, Annabeth agreed that they would be compatible. Hazel however was just snickering to herself the entire time. Like she knew something.

It was a foolproof plan! Make them get as close to each other as possible. And then make them talk. Piper was confident in her plan. So she put it too work.

She made the two pair up during any quests, made them sit by each other whenever she could. She also might've on purposely broke one of (Y/N)'s sickles to make her ask Leo for help.

Annabeth and Hazel whispered to each other: “Should we tell her..?”

“No, let her live in her delusions for a second before they tell her.” The Pluto daughter replied. The two girls nodded and watched carefully at the scene of Piper planning out how to get the two together.

“Where could they be?” Piper muttered to herself.

After a quest, (Y/N) and Leo and been missing for an hour or so. The pair had just... Disappeared.

The steps of Piper's boots echoed throughout the halls, an occasional noise from the outside world hummed through the cracks.

Then there was a small thump. Like a thump against a door. Like something accidentally bumped into it.

Piper perked up at the noise. “Hm?” She hummed inquisitively. She slowly walked up to the door, and reached for the handle.

Just before she grabbed the doorknob, she heard a whisper of 'shhh' and 'hold still'. What in Hades name?

The child of Aphrodite was curious no doubt. So she did what anyone would do!

The door flung wide open. Piper's jaw dropped.

The sight was of Leo and (Y/N). Leo's hand holding her thigh up with a strong grip, (Y/N)'s arms loosely wrapped around his neck. His top two buttons undone, and her high waisted jeans resting at her hips.

Leo's face was covered in glossy kiss marks and (Y/N)'s head was tilted back for her neck to be reached better. The two stared back at Piper with wide eyes.

“Hi.” (Y/N) broke the silence.

Piper didn't respond, just stared back at them with bulging eyes and a opened mouth. “...Hi..?”

Leo's expression was the same as (Y/N)'s. Deer caught in headlights eyes and mouth closed tight. He grabbed the doorknob from Piper and shut the door on Piper's face.

The door shut tight and the lock was heard clicking in place.

Piper was flabbergasted. She didn't process it all in the moment, so when she did—her ability to talk finally came back and she gasped.

“Wait, hold on! You've hooking up and none of you told me?!” She said, banging back on the door.

The couple in the closet said perfectly silent and perfectly still. Neither of them threatened to breathe.

Piper gave up trying to get them out of the locked closet and raced over to Annabeth's room.

Annabeth opened the door and Hazel was lying on her bed while Percy was sitting on a beanbag by her desk. “Hey, what's up?”

Piper walked in and closed the door behind her. “Okay, I usually don't gossip around people who aren't apart of the girls—”

Percy shrugged, before grabbing a jacket and placing it on his head. “Pretend I'm a girl.” He said, which made Hazel giggle and Annabeth roll her eyes.

Piper chuckled before speaking again. “Okay, you will NOT believe what I just saw.”

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misshoneyimhome · 4 months

Note

The new Willy oneshot was so good! Love how he treated her and took care of her. Love to see how he would try to see how many times he can make her cum during the Sweden trip since he likes spontaneous sex. Perhaps he enjoyed seeing her wearing his blue Sweden sweater and necklaces.

Thanks bb, I'm glad you liked it! 🤗

Your wish is my command! So, I took a bit of inspiration from a previous request - not sure if you're the same anon requester, but I hope I've fulfilled your curiosity 😉💦

Moreover, I don't believe our inexperienced!reader is quite so inexperienced anymore! 🙈

Warnings; 18+ smut; oral sex (f and m receiving); fingering; unprotected sex; mention of light anal play; beginning sex while reader is asleep (consensually of course); just overall a lot of sex;

Word count: 4.1K

[Inexperienced!reader x Willy]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt || I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️

"Please," William moaned, lounging on his bed while you were getting set for work.

"No, Willy, I can't..." you attempted to explain with a gentle smile, pulling your shirt over your head.

"Why not?" he persisted, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes, tucked under the covers with just his bare chest peeking out, fixated on you.

"Because I can't just suddenly take a week off from work to travel to Europe with you... it's not that simple," you reasoned with him, finding it a challenge, as his charm was making it increasingly tough to resist accompanying him to the NHL Global Series in his other home. However, you had to be responsible here.

"So, just pull a sickie... or quit," he half-joked, leaning closer as you sat on the bed's edge, slipping on your boots.

And you couldn't help but crack a little smile. Despite knowing it was impossible to drop everything and hop across the globe to join him for the international hockey games, a part of you desired nothing more. Joining the Toronto Maple Leafs on their tour seemed like a dream, but your life wasn't like his.

You were just an ordinary citizen fulfilling your responsibilities by going to work, paying taxes, and living a rather typical life. Well, as typical as your life could be since you’d started dating William Nylander - The Swedish hockey star in Toronto.

Initially, when you first began hanging out with the players' partners, it was all pretty relaxed. Balancing your regular work life with this newfound hockey interest and their unconventional social schedules was manageable. But when you started dating one of the players, everything changed completely.

William's timetable hardly matched yours, and planning became crucial. This was especially true because planning wasn't exactly a priority in William's book. He was more of a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, and consequently, you could only see him at odd times of the day, outside your work hours and social life of the hockey realm.

However, he was incredibly sweet about it all. He made sure to text and keep you updated whenever he wasn't around, and when you were together, he dedicated as much time as possible to you. He took the time to demonstrate how much he cared and wanted you to be a part of his hectic life.

And you wanted that too, more than anything. Well, perhaps not more than your job, which you had worked really hard for.

So, when he suddenly asked you to accompany him on this hockey trip to Sweden, you knew it wouldn't be easy for either of you.

"Babe," you murmured softly as William tenderly settled behind you, placing gentle kisses on your neck, fully aware of the effect it would have on you. "I can't just walk away from my job, you know how much I love it – plus, it's my first proper job since I graduated, and I need it... even though I really want to join you."

You turned to face him, and your eyes shared a tender moment as he let out a gentle sigh.

"I understand... it's just that I really wanted to show you Sweden..." he spoke almost hesitantly, resting his head against yours.

"We'll have plenty of time for that during the off-season," you tried to reassure him with a warm smile.

"Yeah, I suppose... I just got so excited about introducing you to my family," he then casually mentioned before getting up from the bed and heading to the kitchen.

"What?" you exclaimed, utterly baffled. And you could hear him chuckling as he left the room, prompting you to quickly stand and follow him. "What did you just say?"

William couldn't help but amuse himself, watching your reaction unfold just as he had hoped. "I just wanted to introduce you to my family, y/n/n. Why so surprised?"

This lad couldn't be more relaxed about something you were far from being calm and collected about. Introducing you to his family?

"Well, Willy, I didn't know that's what you had in mind?" You gave him a quizzical smile, leaning against the counter as you observed him rifling through his fridge, contemplating breakfast.

"Why wouldn't that be what I wanted? We're dating, aren't we? So, naturally, I want my family to meet you," his tone remained calm and reassuring as he grabbed a protein bar from the cupboard and turned to face you with a grin.

"I just didn't realise we were at the introducing-each-other-to-family stage..."

You tried to keep your composure in the situation, but confusion was overtaking you as you began to grasp the significance of what he was saying. Yet, all you received in response were soft chuckles and William's overly composed demeanour.

"Why not, babe?" He shrugged and took a gentle step closer putting his breakfast to side, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I mean, I like you and you like me, so why not introduce you to my family?"

"Well, I knew we were dating... I just wasn't sure how serious you were about it," you offered a soft smile, delicately wrapping your hands around his neck.

"Oh, I'm very serious about you..." William almost whispered as he leaned in, planting a tender kiss on your lips, gently caressing them before softly letting his tongue slip into your mouth.

And you couldn't resist succumbing to his enchanting touch, overwhelmed by the emotions stemming from William's heartfelt confession. However, you knew you had to snap back to reality. Pulling away gently, you gazed up at the man in front of you.

"Shit," you muttered. "Now, I guess I really have to go with you, don't I?" you joked lightly, earning a small chuckle from him.

"It's up to you, babe, but now you know what I hope for," he replied with a smug expression before sealing the moment with another deep kiss.

And before you could say "Surströmming," you found yourself on a plane headed to Sweden.

It hadn't exactly been easy to secure those days off from work, especially with such short notice. However, as you tried to explain the situation to your manager, perhaps emphasising a bit more on the 'NHL hockey player and their unpredictable schedule' part, he eventually relented. The agreement was only you'd work online while away.

And that was no issue at all. If spending a few hours working each day while William was occupied with his team or media commitments meant you could spend a week in Stockholm with your boyfriend, it was totally manageable.

But what really made your mind swirl with questions was how nonchalant William had been about the idea of you meeting his family. He acted as if it wasn't a big deal at all.

Yet, to you, it was definitely a big deal. In your opinion, meeting someone's family as an adult signified a serious step in a relationship, showing commitment. But in a way, you guessed it was just another aspect where William had more experience than you. You had only been with your high school boyfriend, who was quickly a part of your family when you lived at home. However, dating someone and then introducing them to your parents as an adult was new territory for you.

And here you were, on your way to a different country, to spend time with the hockey family and, at some point, meet William's real family.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sanna asked softly, noticing your distant expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you smiled, pulling yourself out of your daze, and she seemed to accept your response as she returned to her conversation with Amanda on the other side.

You were fortunate enough to join the team's significant others for the flight. Once they heard of your inclusion on the trip, they were incredibly helpful in booking tickets and getting you up to speed with the schedule.

And William, naturally, took care of all the expenses. Knowing you weren't exactly rolling in money, and he had plenty of it, he made sure that wasn't something for you to worry about. He was simply thrilled about you coming with him, watching him play in his hometown and meeting all the people who held a special place in his heart.

It just felt so right.

For months, he'd been drawn to you, developing a small crush as you spent more time together. And when he finally had the chance to date you, he knew he didn't want to ever let you go.

It was as if his heart had been handed over to you without any pain. Instead, there was a profound sense of joy in knowing that you would be around, sharing time with him, building on the connection that had formed. You shared your most intimate moments, and there was a deep love and affection between you.

It was all so strange to him. From the first time you were intimate, he felt something new and overwhelming. Something that made him realise you weren't just about good sex to him; you meant so much more.

And while the weeks that followed were brimming with plenty of sex, as you were keen on exploring new dimensions with him, they were also overflowing with love.

It was love that went beyond what one would experience in casual hook ups, regardless of how intense the sex and connection might be. With every passionate embrace, the sex transcended into fervent lovemaking. Each time he brought you to climax, whether through his skilled oral touch or deep within you, he felt emotions deeper than mere physical gratification.

Your moans were a symphony to his ears every time he thrust into you, losing yourselves in the moment, whether in the bedroom, on the kitchen counter, or in his car.

You were his to be with. And since he wasn’t the type to dwell on things for too long, he was never really in doubt.

So, as you arrived in Stockholm among the wives and girlfriends, a radiant smile on your face, you made your way to the hotel where you'd meet up with the players after adjusting to the different time zone.

While the boys had training and other commitments, the girls planned a day to explore the city, and it seemed like everyone was having a great time.

The only downside to it all was that you didn’t actually get much time with William. It wasn’t until the second evening that you had more than just fifteen minutes together, and he came to your hotel room, and soon after, both of you were naked and wrapped up in the bedsheets.

Moans were already filling the room as William eagerly undressed you and positioned you on top of him. He buried his face in your cunt as he guided you into a sixty-nine position, your thighs on either side of his head as you leaned forward and took his cock into your mouth.

Things got a bit messy as you tried to adjust to a new position William was introducing you to. And since you had only recently learned how to give fantastic blowjobs, this was a whole new level.

You found it hard to focus on what you were supposed to do to his thick member as he pleasured your core, licking your folds, sucking your clit, and teasing your entrance. He held a firm grip on your buttocks and hips while diving into your heat, occasionally nudging the sensitive skin between your vagina and anus with his nose, and gently teasing your other opening a few times with a finger.

It was all becoming a bit overwhelming for you to handle.

Moving your head up and down, coating his length with saliva and guiding it in and out of your mouth, you couldn’t help but release moans uncontrollably. Often, you had to pause to catch your breath and gain control, letting out deep sounds and soft cries.

“Willy, I can’t handle it,” you admitted in a whimper as his actions brought your orgasm closer, making your legs tremble. You knew you wouldn’t be able to continue pleasuring him or even keep yourself upright.

And it took only seconds before the rush completely consumed you, sending your mind into a state of ecstasy as William pushed you over the edge.

It almost felt embarrassing how you couldn’t maintain yourself, releasing his hard member in front of you, unable to focus on anything except your intense orgasm.

But it only brought William pleasure and satisfaction to witness what he had done to you, turning you into his delightful mess above him before releasing your dripping cunt.

“Okay, babe, move over,” he then softly spoke, prompting you to shift your shaking legs off him and lie on your back beside him.

And soon after, William thrust his cock deeply into you, moving into a missionary position where he could hold you close while thrusting forcefully and deeply. You pulled on his hair as his mouth nibbled and bit into the crook of your neck.

“Yes, Willy,” you moaned his name deeply as his length managed to stimulate your inner walls, bringing you close to another climax.

And as you used your core, tightening around his eager cock, William released a deep grunt and allowed himself to reach his own climax, spilling into your depths.

It had been a little messy and eager, but given William's limited time during this tour, he knew he had to make the most of every available moment.

Even in the early morning before he had to depart for the day’s training, he woke you up with his cock inside you. Finding you completely naked, lying on your side with your ass strutting as if craving attention, he couldn't resist and slowly eased his morning wood into your warmth.

Typically, William was nowhere near a morning person, usually needing a few hours to fully wake up. However, your naked body had aroused him, sparking his desire to begin his day by pleasuring you.

And initially, you squirmed a little in your sleep, but as he started to gently move his hips, you gradually awoke to the pleasure of William making love to you. His strong arms wrapped around you, his head buried in your hair, as he rhythmically moved his shaft in and out of you.

It took you by surprise at first, but soon soft moans escaped your lips as he felt so good inside you. His curved cock hitting your sensitive spot, slowly enveloping your mind in a hazy state as he brought you to orgasm.

Although not as intense as the many he’d done before, it was still an orgasm, nonetheless.

And shortly after, William allowed himself to ejaculate inside you, releasing a deep grunt as he, too, reached that wonderful peak.

Both of you exhaled softly as he remained still inside you for a moment, letting every drop of his cum linger within you before slowly withdrawing and pulling you close for a gentle cuddle.

"Well, good morning to you too, babe," you chuckled lightly, gazing up at your man with a satisfied smile.

"Good morning," he huskily replied, planting a soft kiss on your lips. His face radiated confidence and contentment before he knew he had to prepare for the day ahead.

And although he was aware it might make him slightly late for work, he just couldn’t resist. You were sharing this once-in-a-lifetime experience with him, offering unwavering support, which, in his world, signified dedication to the relationship. Which was something more significant to him than people often assumed.

In a way, he craved that reassurance that you wanted him as much as he wanted you because, with his somewhat hectic lifestyle, the women he'd dated hadn't stayed around for long.

It all felt incredibly heart-warming for him, and, truth be told, it turned him on like nothing else.

And as someone who enjoyed spontaneous sex, he grabbed every chance to pull you close, touch you whenever possible, and make you cum so frequently that counting became futile. It almost seemed like a personal mission for him, a challenge presented by the necessity to carve out mere minutes amid his packed schedule to spend with you.

So, finally returning from a day filled with signing sessions and interviews, disappointment washed over him as he entered the hotel room and found you engrossed in a team meeting at the desk.

You had promised your boss a few hours of work before you left, and considering William's packed days, it hadn’t been an issue thus far.

However, in that particular moment, as William laid eyes on you, clad in his blue sweater with nothing else covering your legs except your knickers, he felt a twinge of mockery. There you sat, fully engrossed in your work meeting, while he could only watch you from the bed, wearing his hoodie.

Yet, noticing that your webcam remained off during the meeting, he slowly approached you, greeting you with gentle, soft kisses on your neck.

"Hi there, babe," you spoke softly, although your microphone was muted.

And his lips continued to trail down your sensitive skin as he noticed what you’d chosen to wear around your neck: one of his chains.

"How can you do this to me?" he whispered seductively into your ear, and you knew precisely what he meant.

As far as you knew, William didn't just get turned on when you wore something of his - whether it was his shirts, hoodies, chains, or jerseys - it drove him wild.

And that morning, in his rush, he had forgotten his most cherished chain, and you had had the idea of wearing it yourself. And now, he had caught you.

"Willy, I'm in a meeting here," you tried your best to keep him at arm's length and stay focused. But William was not in the mood to wait for his turn, especially when you teased him like that, knowing he didn't have many hours before needing to rest for the game the following day.

So, instead, he slid his hand down between your legs, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your underwear, teasingly exploring your folds.

You had to exert considerable effort to stay focused, aware that you might need to respond to something at any moment. However, when William inserted his finger into your core, gently penetrating your entrance, you couldn't suppress a gasp.

The teasing became unbearable, overwhelming you, and as he slipped in another finger, moans involuntarily escaped your lips. And instinctively, you adjusted your position to grant him better access, while his mouth tenderly kissed the skin of your neck, and you tilted your head slightly to the side, closing your eyes as you relished his touch.

It wasn’t fair.

William was fully aware of the effect he had on you, and you were powerless to resist.

“Willy,” you panted softly, feeling him curl his fingers, hitting the spot that elicited those sweet, escalating moans.

“Yes, baby,” he whispered into your ear, gently biting your earlobe as he increased his pace.

The voices of your manager were long gone, fading into the background as you surrendered to William's touch. Sensing the familiar rise of pleasure, slowly building up, you knew you were reaching that point. But just as the peak approached, William denied you that pleasure, abruptly stopping his movements and withdrawing his fingers.

“Please, don’t stop,” you whispered, almost as a plea.

And your words acted as a spell on him. He swiftly removed your headphones, tossing them across the room, the sweeping your desk, causing your laptop to fall to the floor as he stood and lifted you onto the table.

"I'll buy you a new one," he said simply before pressing his lips onto yours. His hands found your waist, drawing you closer as he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them apart, as your hands instinctively tangled in the back of his head, fingers weaving through his hair.

Despite being preoccupied with work all day, the desire for your man burned within you. So, when his tongue sought entry, you willingly granted access.

Passion ignited as your mouths met, bodies pressed together, and William quickly discarded your underwear and lowered his sweats and boxers, freeing his member.

The teasing during your work had left him rock hard, and within moments, he eased into your warmth, massaging your inner walls with his slow, rhythmic thrusts.

It was a mix of slowness and passion combined with urgency and eagerness. The table betrayed your activities as it banged against the wall with each movement, harmonising with your audible moans, possibly echoing through the corridors.

But you didn't care.

William was making you feel incredibly good, just as he did every time he introduced you to new ways of experiencing highs - whether through a different position or in a new location. And he loved exploring these aspects with you, guiding you to reach new peaks of pleasure. It felt nothing short of a heavenly state of mind.

Both of you were unable to stifle your moans as his cock slid in and out of your warmth, coated with your essence and teasing your depths with each thrust.

Your eyes locked in a tender gaze, as you couldn't maintain the connection of your lips due to the overwhelming moans and heavy breaths. Despite this, it felt nothing short of romantic. His hand held your face gently, his forehead resting against yours as he kept one hand on your thigh to maintain position.

You had wrapped your legs around him to assist, tightening your thighs around his waist as he continued his rhythmic pounding. And sensing the imminent arrival of an orgasm, you knew the intensity was building.

“Yes, Willy,” you moaned softly, feeling the familiar pleasure about to reach, your mind clouding as his movements stimulated your inside.

And William, too, felt the urgency for release. Despite rather frequent sex lately, he knew he couldn’t hold out as long as he wished. With each thrust into your tight core, his body craved another climax.

“Baby, I’m about to come,” he warned with a rough, almost strained voice, his grip on your neck and thigh tightening as he attempted to restrain himself a little longer. As much as he valued your climax, he felt compelled to reach his first.

“Come for me, Willy,” you encouraged, desiring your release but also eager for him to experience the ecstasy he desperately sought at that moment.

But William had a few more second in him to last, so instead he quickly pulled out of your heat, pulled off the table and had to turn around stand in front of him, before he once again pounded a few times into you and then again pulled out only to jerk off, spraying he cum all over your ass.

It felt so dirty as he marked you as his, yet also so good in a different way.

“Fuck…” he groaned as he’d let out the last drops. “Shit baby, you didn’t even get to come,” he breathed out ah he leaned into your body, you trying your best to support you against the table as both of you were slowly coming back to reality.

And you couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s ok babe, I’m just glad you felt good,” you turned your head and met his glare with a smile.

But William wasn’t satisfied. This was all about bringing you both to pleasure and you were not one to be missing out.

"How about we hop in the shower, and I'll take good care of you there?" he suggested, planting a kiss on the back of your head as both of you caught your breath. And naturally, you couldn't refuse such an invitation.

As you slowly disentangled yourselves, William guided you to the bathroom, where he helped clean you up. Then, using his skilled mouth and fingers, he ensured that you, too, reached climax that night, and it didn't take long for you to reach that point, but what mattered was that he could mark it off.

The trip with William had been intense, with him seizing every opportunity for sex. Not that you complained, but it felt a bit relieving when it seemed to taper off as the games began and his extensive family joined. Especially since meeting them made you quite nervous, but fortunately, things went well. You felt a sense of joy when William introduced you as his girlfriend, displaying nothing but pride and happiness.

#18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

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heyhilana · 8 months

Text

Yoga (Agent Whiskey)

Summary: The day before your mission, you go to the workout room for a stretching session. But when Jack follows behind you, he alters those plans faster than you can wrap your head around.

A/N: Hi lovelies! Sorry for no stories in a while, but I had to unplug for a little bit and not think about writing so much since it was becoming a little stressful. I appreciate all the support you guys gave me while I took my time, and I hope to stay more consistent for the fall/winter season. <3 As always, I hope you enjoy and make sure to drink water! :)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x !f reader

Warnings: Squirting, p in v (unprotected, but hey, we don't encourage non-safe sex around here), mentions of titty fucking, mentions of male masturbation, blowjob, cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation (like...a lot, so sue me), use of the word daddy (look the man is fine it slips).

Word Count: 5.2k (I'm not gonna even explain myself this time)

1 day left.

It rang in your head constantly as you walked down the hallway with your yoga mat and bag, gearing up for another session to prepare for your mission. While most of it was routine, the part that required more expertise was flexibility in getting through all the lasered areas. That scared you more than anything, knowing that one trip on the laser would result in a lost limb and a botched mission.

You knew this as the political official was paranoid, to say the least, and made every room lined with lasers that were not able to be disabled unless the official’s phone was cloned and decrypted or you were able to get to the control panel to disable them all. Getting ahold of his phone would be impossible given it was his lifeline in his corrupt work, which left the route of accessing the control panel as you possessed more flexibility out of everybody in your division, making you perfect for the job.

So, while everyone in your field told you that you would be fine, it did nothing to calm your nerves and allow you a day of rest before the mission, leading you to make a right to the next hallway, the workout room straight ahead with enough space for you to practice your flexibility training. One of your colleagues, Nicari, came up behind you as she was headed in a similar direction.

“Going to do some yoga?” She asked, her eyes drifting down to what was in your hand.

“Yeah. I can’t go on this mission if I can’t work my way through the laser rooms. From what Ginger says, there’s at least five, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the control panel area had an extra set of lasers, too.” You answered.

“But you’ve been doing it for a month now. At this rate you’re going to be our contortionist around here.” She joked, hand running through her hair.

“Isn’t that the goal?” You half questioned and joked, with Nicari laughing in response. “But this is necessary for me to do. You know I like to be 1000% ready for anything that may be thrown my way.”

“That’s one of the traits I hope the newcomers have around here. But have a good session.” Nicari wished for you.

“Good luck with your training.” You wished her well as she walked past you, and you walked down the hall. You reached and opened the door, and you saw that it was completely empty, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you had at least an hour before the rush of agents would come in for their training. You laid your mat on the ground near the mirrored area of the room and placed your bag in the corner.

You did your quick stretches, rolling your neck and getting the blood flowing through your arms and legs before sitting on your mat to work more on your leg stretches. You moved your legs up, bringing them into a butterfly position to start off. You heard the door open, but your eyes were closed as you fluttered your legs.

“Hey. I have this room all to myself until 2.” You spoke, trying to determine who it was based on the boots creaking against the floor.

“Does that mean I can’t join you, sweetheart?” The honeyed voice that you loved echoed through the room.

You opened your eyes and saw Jack in a casual outfit, the grey sweatpants surprising you. Loose yet form-fitting enough to make your eyes wander more than you should’ve. Given how cold it was in the Statesman building, he also had a jacket on. Jack didn’t comment on your staring, but you knew he noticed it.

“You can join me. More than enough space in here,” You responded, albeit trying to keep your tone even.

“I won’t distract you.” Jack promised, but knowing how you were when you were around him, a distraction was inevitable.

Jack closed the door behind him, and you closed your eyes again, trying to center yourself while you felt goosebumps rise along your arms. You attempted to clear your mind, but it was to no avail, a sign that the rest of your session would be filled with an inability to focus on the tasks at hand. Before switching to a tabletop pose, you fluttered your legs to get the blood going. You were rounding and arching your back in fluid motion until you looked up and saw Jack taking off his jacket, revealing his white short-sleeve shirt that was form-fitting, tight around his biceps.

“How are you doing over there?” Jack asked, discarding his jacket near his bag and looking at you in a compromising position.

“I’m doing good. Just getting started.” You watched Jack start his dynamic stretches as you leaned back into a half split, feeling your hamstrings loosen up and the stretch burning. But the burn in your leg was nothing compared to the burn in your core as Jack’s shirt lifted up, a glimpse of what lay underneath it and a happy trail that quickly burned into your memory.

“If you need my help, just ask.” You could ask for his help in a few ways that would lead to your flexibility being used. But you pushed those thoughts into the back of your mind since it was not the time to let your fantasies run wild.

“I appreciate it, and the same goes for me.”

You switched legs and felt the burn intensify in your tighter leg, finding yourself stopping short in your extension as you could only go so far. But then the thought of Jack’s hands wrapped around your legs, helping you stretch but inching closer to your thigh, spreading you a bit, was etched into your mind. It would be instinctive to spread more for him, explore your canvas, and draw with his fingers on the areas he loved the most. His touch would be forever ingrained into your memory longer than you would admit. But it didn’t sound all that bad. In fact, the thought of his big hands splayed on your body, finding your pressure points to make you melt, eliciting short gasps. Wanton sounds from deep in your belly, and your desire growing deep in your core all sounded wonderful, even if it led down a road that would make you cut your yoga session short.

And while you were having a war with self-control, Jack was having the same battle, only he was losing more than you were. Oh, how he couldn’t take seeing your soft, supple body in such angles that he wished to put you in. When you laid down on your back, and Jack saw you spread your legs wide with your hands holding your feet to stretch further, it took everything in him to not walk over there and push your legs behind your head. Jack was well aware of your flexibility, which proved to further his imagination on the nights with a tight grip around his dick, jutting his hips up into his hand, perspiration glistening his skin, and the slip of your name escaping his lips with ease as he got closer with each stroke. Dreaming about you in every way, Jack was sure that if you heard one of his ideas, you would turn red in the face. But all Jack wanted to see was your flushed face underneath him, legs pinned on your sides, and him buried deep inside you, intertwining his fingers with yours as he praised you repeatedly for taking him so well. And while Jack was sure that he would be coming on too strong if he walked over to you now, you were convinced that if you heard that phrase from him, you would come undone in mere seconds following.

“Do you need some help?” Jack asked, seeing that you had now switched to downward dog and struggled to get a deeper stretch.

“Y-Yeah, I wouldn’t mind.” Your voice was strained as you tried moving your heels down to the ground but to no avail.

Jack walked over and was near your side, unsure where to go. “Do you want me to guide you down this way?”

“You can try, but if you need to be behind me, it's okay.” Jack hummed in response, placing his hands around your stomach.

He pulled you down slowly as your heart began to race, trying to ignore how it felt to have him touch your exposed skin. Your heels gently touched the ground, but you knew the pull from behind would be better.

“I think it would be better if you were behind me. I might be able to get my heels down to the ground that way.”

Your heels would be off the ground by now, Jack thought to himself. But he moved to the back, and his hands drifted down to your hips, pulling you in more. The pull made you gasp, and his grip felt like heaven. Still, you were determined to get out of this alive despite your decisions that brought you into this situation.

Jack pulled you towards him, ensuring he moved back so you would not feel his sweatpants. He looked away to try to save himself from looking at you from above, but the view in the mirror across the room proved to be better, making him want to pull you in more than he should.

Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this. But she’s so pretty like this. So pretty for me. Jack’s thoughts were making his self-control disappear by the minute. But he returned to reality when your ass brushed against his crotch.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” You didn’t realize how far you were moving until you felt him on you. And what pressed back onto you was unmistakable, making you want to do it repeatedly until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Y-You’re all good, sweetheart.” He cursed at himself for having a hard-on now, leading him to think about the best excuse and relieve himself in his office. But then he caught a glance of your core, the little wet patch giving him all the confirmation he needed.

He moved closer to you ever so slightly, bringing your hips back to where he could press up on you. You weren’t sure what Jack was doing, but when you felt him brush against you again, you bit your lip hard to avoid a small whimper from escaping you.

“Is this a good enough stretch, darlin’?” Jack asked, and you could hear his voice change from a lighter tone to velvet, becoming music to your ears.

“It is, Jack. It feels really good.” You answered, the slight quiver in your voice making Jack smirk.

“You look so pretty like this, doll.” Jack was bold, fully pressing his hard-on against your core, making you struggle.

“T-Thank you, Jack.” Speaking seemed to take all your effort, especially when you would be moaning his name instead.

“And I just realized something about you,” He trailed off as his hand trailed down to grab your ponytail and bring you up from your position. You gasped, seeing both of you in the mirror as he grinded against your ass.

“What is it?”

“That you want me just as much as I want you, and if I were to fuck you right here on this mat, you wouldn’t stop me.” Jack looked at you in the mirror, and you saw he looked different from when he first walked in. The controlled, confident aura he had spiraled into lust because Jack couldn’t wait any longer. He was leaving kisses down your jaw and neck that made the hairs on your neck stand up, and chills run down your spine.

“Jack,” You couldn’t get the words out, and the look he gave you in the mirror was knee-buckling. “I need you right now. Please.”

You were unraveling for him with your breathless words and how you rubbed up against him like you always wanted to. With each brush of his dick up against you, you were soaking through your underwear when you wished you would be soaking him from tip to base.

“And I’m sure I need you more.” He mumbled against your neck. Each kiss was electrifying, his soft lips against your skin proving to be better than the last. But you needed his lips on yours desperately.

“Baby, I need your lips on mine.”

You were going into a daze and were confident that you would let Jack kiss you all over for an eternity if possible. But Jack obliged, letting go of you for you to turn around and kiss him without a second to spare. Haste, desire, and need were entwined in the kiss, with your hands going up to his neck to play with the ends of his hair and going down to pull you flush. You nibbled on his lip, earning a playful groan from him.

“And here I thought you were innocent,” Jack mumbled against his lips.

You smiled into the kiss, but you gasped shortly after when he gripped your ass and smacked it. It felt good to have Jack on you like this, grasping, pulling, and touching you in obscene ways that made their way into your daydreams with each passing minute. All you needed was to feel his bare skin against yours, and it seemed that Jack had the same idea as he let go of you to pull off his shirt. You did the same, following with your sports bra. Jack kissed down your chest, finding his way to your nipples with ease. He enjoyed seeing how swollen they were already, and the minute he licked your left, you squeezed your thighs together. Jack flicked and darted, taking his time teasing you, which frustrated yet excited you simultaneously. But the more you whined in frustration, the more it turned him on, with his hard-on growing more than when he daydreamed about you.

“Jack, please don’t tease me.” You begged, your hands moving to his hair to tug, gripping his locks and pulling, which made Jack grunt. It was strange, as he preferred pulling hair rather than his hair being pulled. But it was hot, your usual calm demeanor around him winding down to a needy state. Jack needed this, pushing him to suck and twirl his tongue around your raised nipple to elicit a savory sound from your lips that would make him throb. But he couldn’t help himself when he looked you in the eye as he lightly nipped, the unexpected sensation causing you to drip. With how soft your breasts were to the touch and taste, the thought of titty fucking you burned into his imagination. Seeing his dick slide in between your breasts, softness enveloping him, and you sucking the tip with your soft lips looking up at him. Fuck, he thought. Don’t wanna cum before I can feel her.

“Daddy-“ You gasped yet covered your mouth in embarrassment.

It slipped.

It fucking slipped.

Jack stopped immediately, eyes darkening more than before. Did he hear you right? That name, pure sin, slipped before you could catch yourself, yet he wanted to listen to it again.

“Say it again.”

“Daddy,” You tugged on his hair, bringing him dangerously close to cumming.

“That’s my good girl.” Jack praised as he got on his knees, which was a sight for sore eyes for you, given that he looked perfect down there. His eyes were locked on you, making you shy as his stare was intimidating. But as he kissed your stomach, adoring every roll and stretch mark with kisses and tenderness, you began to relax. Nothing felt out of place, him roughly pulling down your bottoms along with your panties, kissing your hips, inching closer to your dripping pussy only to move away to kiss your thighs. It was perfect, and as you stepped out of your bottoms with Jack’s help, you knew it would get better from here.

Jack tapped your thighs for you to spread them, and with his head slotted right between them, he could finally see what he did to you. From there, you realized that his lips were not just good for kissing when he reached your slit and kissed your clit gently, with enough pressure to make you clench your thighs. Jack pried them open with his hands, ensuring he was perfectly between pillowy softness and wasting no time tasting you. It was as if he was hungry, trying to gather as much of your slick on his tongue since he couldn’t get enough of you. Jack was convinced your taste was intoxicating as he enjoyed your sweetness. It only pushed him to suck on your clit and have you gush on his face, the added pleasure weakening your knees.

Your thighs were pressed against his head, tugging on his hair harder than before, whimpering his name along with a string of other profanities you prayed could not be heard through the walls. But Jack pulled off you, sensing you were struggling to stay upright. He helped you down, your back on your mat and your legs spread wide for him.

“You’re so soft, sweetheart. I could spend all day touching you, spending more time between these pretty thighs.”

Jack positioned his left hand on your stomach and his right hand right at your dripping hole, pushing two fingers in as he went back to sucking on your clit. The new sensation made you curl your toes, moving your hand up to your breast to cup it, twirling the nipple he sucked on as your head tilted back. But Jack didn’t take his eyes off of you. No, he wouldn’t dare miss the sight of you in pure ecstasy, hearing you whimper as he began his come hither motion with his fingers or the way you bit your lip to suppress a loud sound when he desperately wanted to hear it in his bedroom. Seeing you get off was a new drug Jack couldn’t get enough of even if he tried.

But while you tried to wrap your head around how you were on your mat soaking Jack’s face and fingers, you felt a familiar build-up that made you see stars. Yet, it was stronger than before. The more Jack’s fingers rubbed up on your g-spot, the more you felt the urge to soak him.

Jack popped his head up from your thighs. “You a squirter, baby?”

“H-Haven’t tried yet.”

Your first time.

It rang in his ears as he picked up his pace, diving down again to suck on your clit. He wanted to give you every experience you never had, which would be the first of many. With the curl of his fingers one last time, you felt something gush out of you and land on his face and between your thighs. It was intense, making you feel lighter than air despite your labored breathing. Your thighs were firmly pressed against him, but it didn’t deter Jack from lapping up everything as much as possible, drowning himself in it because if that were a way to go, he would gladly take it.

Jack's tongue overstimulated you the more he was down there, whimpers free falling from your mouth and your legs shaking, but it was electrifying. He was undoubtedly skilled in this area, making you wonder how good it would feel to have him deep inside you. But once you started to move away, Jack finally came up for air, his face glistening in your elixir. He quickly pulled down his sweats and boxers, and when you saw what was poking you earlier, you had to take a breath. It was thick. His pink tip was throbbing uncontrollably with little pebbles of precum adoring it, a prominent vein running down the shaft, heavy balls that clearly needed to be drained, but most importantly, there was a curve to it. It was perfect, and despite your sensitivity down there, you needed to feel him.

“You like what you see?” He leaned down to where he was hovering over you by mere inches.

“I like it a lot, actually.”

Jack smiled at your honesty before kissing you, allowing you to glide your hands to his back. His hands trailed to your legs again, pushing them apart so he could slot himself between you. But you decided to surprise him with a special move you had been working on during your leisure. You pulled away from his intoxicating kiss to lift your legs up and behind your head. The move surprised yet excited Jack more than he could explain. He knew you were flexible but never dreamed you could do that.

“You’re just full of tricks, huh?” He asked, and you smiled innocently at him.

“Maybe, but you’re just gonna have to see what else I have in store.”

“I can’t fucking wait.” Jack rubbed the tip of his dick on your glistening pussy, precum mixing with your juices to gather enough for him to slide in easily. But each brush of the tip on your clit made you jump, given how sensitive you were. But it didn’t deter Jack, rather, it encouraged him to keep doing it, and when he started to slap the tip on your clit, you knew he was being a tease.

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take anymore teasing.” You begged.

“I’m gonna need you to ask correctly, darlin’.” Jack dragged the tip down to your hole but didn’t inch forward.

“Daddy, please fuck me.”

“That’s my good princess,” He mumbled before pushing in slowly. You gasped as he pushed the tip in, and with each inch that followed, you could feel the stretch intensify. It was a little too much, but Jack kissed your forehead to calm you down. “I promise to go slow, baby.”

“It’s okay.” You told him and tried to relax while he pushed in further. But for him, he was trying to not cum early based on how tight and wet you were. You were perfect in how you felt, and it took everything in him to not move in and out of you until you were ready. He kissed as a distraction, getting the last inch in to make you moan in his mouth. You felt impossibly full, the tip curved right against your spot, and your walls began to flutter around him. The discomfort subsided after a moment passed, with you getting lost in the kiss since if there was one thing you enjoyed from what you learned today, it was finally knowing that Jack lived up to his persona in every way imaginable.

You pulled away and brushed the hair out of his face. “You can move.”

He obliged, pulling out a little faster than how he pushed in and going back in, the stretch feeling better the second go around. But his strokes stayed intentionally slow yet deep, with Jack losing himself in how it felt to be inside you. Heaven would be one word to put it in his mind and coupled with the view he had of you, eyes looking up at him, your breasts bouncing, and a perfect view of how your pussy opened up for him, there wasn’t much else he could ask for.

“Baby, you’re taking me so well. Such a pretty girl for me.” Jack praised, and you loved every word that flew out of his mouth. It went straight to your head, and the fullness you felt in each stroke was stoking the fire that was building inside you the moment he touched you.

“That’s it, baby. Hold your legs up for me, just like that.” He leaned back up to get a better view, and a muttered curse followed as he almost came from that sight, making him thrust faster and tilt you up so he could see your spot perfectly. You enjoyed the new angle, feeling yourself pulse around him and slowly going over the edge with each deep stroke Jack gave you. It was riveting; your mind focused on nothing but this moment, and only were you brought back into reality when you felt the need to let go.

“You gonna squirt again on my dick, baby? Make another mess for me on the mat.” Jack cooed, and when he thrusted inside you again, you were in pure ecstasy. You couldn’t hold it, squirting again for him, which encouraged him to fuck you through it, making your eyes roll back as it felt like you were going forever.

“That’s it. Love it when you let go for me.” He lowered you back on the mat and moved his hand up to move the hair out of your forehead to kiss it. You came down, and you could look at him as he moved back up, and you couldn’t get enough of the sight. You loved how he looked at you, how turned on he was by you. It was even hotter to see how much he was enjoying you, his grunts and moans making you throb. But the moment you looked down and saw how he slid in and out of you, you fluttered around him more.

“You like watching me slide in and out of you?” He asked as he moved his hand to your clit, rubbing light circles. “Watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours makes you so wet that you can’t help yourself.”

“Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop,” He promised as he rubbed faster circles. “In fact, you can give me one more right? I know you can, princess. Just one more for me.”

You were overstimulated for sure, but there was something about the low tone in Jack’s voice, the pet name, or maybe a combination of today’s events that pushed you to keep going. It was a chant in your mind one more time. One more time of making a mess for him, one more time of finally getting what you wanted. That thought set you off, your legs shaking, so you had to move them from behind your head. It washed over you from head to toe, and your moans that brushed upon becoming screams would stay in Jack’s mind forever.

Jack was amazed by it all. To experience this with you and bring you to this point of ecstasy and overstimulation was a dream that he thought was too far-fetched until now. But seeing you like that only convinced him he had to do this again with you for as long as possible.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight.” He grunted as he thrusted into you sloppily, his orgasm nearing by the second.

“Please cum for me. Please, daddy.” You could feel he was holding on by a thread, and you wanted to set him off as he did for you.

“Baby, where can I cum?”

“You seem to like these a lot,” You grabbed your breasts to give him a show with a smirk on your face.

Jack didn’t think twice before pulling out and stroking himself right over your breasts. He came within a few strokes, and the thick ropes of cum that followed you wished were deep inside you to fill you up to the brim. It was a mess, and when you swiped some of his cum on your finger to taste it, you swore you saw another drop of cum drip from the tip as he was fixated on you tasting him. The taste was salty, as expected, but you wanted more.

You took another swipe on your chest, licking and sucking to torture him further until it was all up; all the while, Jack’s chest was heaving from cumming so hard. But what made him overstimulated was when you leaned up to kiss and then suck the tip. His hand moved to grab your hair, him biting his lip so hard he could draw blood. You weren’t sure how far you could take it before you needed to stop, but Jack didn’t seem to mind when you took more of him in your mouth, the stretching tugging at your lips, but you paid no mind.

“F-Fuck, baby. You feel incredible everywhere.” His tone wavered from confident and dominant to inching closer to whimpering, and you had him right where you wanted him. It pushed you to take more, testing your limits given his fortunate size. But when your hands reached his balls, playing with them as you deepthroated him, there was no going back. Jack’s grip on your hair tightened, and he thrusted into your mouth as he was sure you could take him.

“Such a pretty slut on your knees for me.” Jack looked down to see you, smiling at how pretty you looked. You knew he was close when he began to tense up, prompting you to suck faster and swirl your tongue when you could, humming and making him twitch in your mouth. Jack couldn’t take it anymore, spilling down your throat and holding you there to take it. More ropes of cum painted your throat, and when Jack finally let go of your head and pulled out of your mouth, you swallowed it while looking at him.

“You want to put me in an early grave I suppose?” He jokingly asked.

“Maybe. But I want to wait before I do that.” You answered as Jack got back on his feet. You tried to do the same, but you wobbled, earning a laugh from him.

“Seems like it’ll be a while before you can do that.” He teased as he put his hand out to help you up. You took it, and he guided you off the floor so you could get dressed.

“I think you need my towel considering what I did to your breasts.” Jack wiped you down gently to ensure you were clean, and when he saw a dribble on your bottom lip, he kissed it off you. You wanted more, but he pulled away, finding his clothes to put them back on.

“Well I didn’t get my routine in but I think you helped me for tomorrow.” You put on your clothes slowly, trying to keep your balance.

“I think this was better than any stretching routine you had in mind.”

“Yeah, but now my legs are jelly.” You told him as you struggled to get your pants on. Jack was halfway dressed when he helped you, getting you dressed in record time before you heard the knock on the door.

“It’s time already?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. I better get out of here before I hear Bourbon’s god awful playlist.”

“It’s not that bad.”

You shot a look at him. “It is definitely that bad. There’s a reason why they don’t allow him to play his music at the Christmas party.”

“Point taken.”

You both grabbed your things and walked out, but Jack grabbed your hand and didn’t look back at the men who were whistling. Ginger Ale was walking down the hall when she saw you both, and the smile on her face was indeed causing trouble.

“Done playing hard to get?” Ginger asked you.

“I was not.” You answered and acted as though you were offended.

“You were, but it’s okay.” Jack interjected.

You turned your head to look at him. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I got you and that’s all I wanted.”

#lanawrites #pedro pascal #pedropascal #lana things #pedro pascal fanfiction #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x reader #agentwhiskey #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels

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sillygayrants · 4 months

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Eddie came into family video everyday to talk to Robin. It was a regular occurrence. It started off every week or so, and then every couple of days, and now he was bringing her lunch. Every. Single. Day. Steve thought this was unacceptable.

Now he knew that Robin was his best friend, and she was allowed to like other people just fine, but there was something about Eddie that itched under his skin, like a bad rash he couldn’t get rid of, or a heat pooling at the pit of his stomach.

He would walk into the store everyday at 1:30 on the dot, not a minute earlier or later, with a brown bag that said “Robin, my love” or “my beautiful wife”, or something just as stupid, and he always passed it to Robin with a big, stupid, idiotic smile on his face and she would always give him a little peck on the check as a thank you.

He would lean over and rest his stupid forearms on the desktop, showing off his stupid tattoos and all his stupid rings and bracelets. The latter clanging around while he made extravagant movements to match extravagant stories.

Sometimes he would play with his hair, or twiddle with a necklace, or run his fingers up and down his forearm. Steve was starting to realise he paid a lot more attention to Eddie than to, well, anything else.

Everything had been normal, up until the day it was 1:39, and Eddie hadn’t shown up.

Steve wasn’t worried, he refused to be, he just sat there at the cash register and thought about whatever it is he usually thought about that didn’t include Eddie, which he found wasn’t a lot.

So of course, he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the sound of jangling bracelets and big platform boots came tumbling through the door.

Steve looked up, expecting the usual sight of big brown eyes staring towards Robin, waiting to tell her his most recent adventure, and instead found those eyes on a a beeline straight for him, and arms holding two large paper bags.

Eddie dumped one of the bags right on the counter in front of Steve, who strained his eyes to read the “stevie, baby” written on the side of the bag, with a little cartoon heart next to it.

“I never see you eat lunch.”

Steve realised he hadn’t said anything for at least 30 seconds before he head Eddie say that. He looked up at him. “What?”

“I’m in here everyday, at lunch time, and you never eat, just sit there. I’ve been coming here for 3 months for godsake, how have you not withered away, turned to stone and dust.” That last bit was accompanied by flailing arms.

Steve was in shock, his mouth felt too dry to speak and his belly was doing that stupid thing it did whenever Eddie showed up, but this time 10 times fast.

“Eddie,” he finally managed to get out, “my lunch break is at 12, I’ve, uh, already eaten.”

Big doe eyes widened impossibly further “oh.”

There was a weird silence, one that shouldn’t be weird. If it were any other one of his friends he would’ve laughed it off by now or simply just taken and eaten the food, but then again, none of his other friends were Eddie.

“I’ll just put it back in the fridge at home, it’ll be leftovers for me” Eddie said and hands reached out to pick the bag right back up before Steve’s hand was on his forarm, and he took the bag right back.

“Is that chicken? I can smell chicken.”

“Yeah it’s a chicken sandwich, I made it with mayo and there’s some salad on the side if you wanted it”

Steve stared up at Eddie again, who was now playing with his hair.

“You made it?” Steve’s mouth felt dry.

Eddie just nodded, and watched Steve reach into the bag and pull out the food, talking a bite out of the sandwich and humming approvingly.

“It’s really good, thanks man. You did a perfect job on the chicken to mayo ratio, like PERFECT”

Eddies cheeks dusted pink and he was now making little plaiting motions in his hair.

Steve wasn’t sure when the little thing his belly did when Eddie was around had become a comfortable warmth spread throughout his body, something almost easing, or soothing might be the word for it. Whatever it was, Steve liked it.

They just stared at eachother, an unspoken pact or, something, that this was nice, that they could get used to this.

Until there was a voice to the left of Steve speaking up, “I’d like my food now dickwad”

(P.s GUYS IM SORRY IF THE END IS RUSHED I LOWK DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT PLEASE TELL ME OR REPOST AND GIVE TIPS. Anyway this started off as a completely different plot line and I completely spiralled off so now I need to go write something about that 😖😖)

#eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie ficlet

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elsaellaelys · 8 months

Text

Bittersweet consequences

summary: JJ finds his girlfriend smoking his weed and having fun on her own, without him.

1.400 words

WARNINGS: 18+, smoking, weed.

a/n: God, is been so long since I posted! I'm sorry, I just couldn't write. But here is what I've been working on. Maybe I'll come back to detail it more.

And... Easter eggs for future fics. <3

--★--

Y/N just couldn't hold herself anymore, she was tightening her cunt around nothing for so many hours she was afraid of cumming right there with a single press in her clit. When anybody was looking she crossed her legs, clenched it together and it made she want to moan, but - God! - Mr. Heyward was right there, and JJ wouldn't take good her actions, but the thought only made her more horny and suddenly she was mad at him, for neglecting her during the whole day.

The dream she had with him didn't helped, actually it was when it started. In her dream JJ was taking her from behind, griping her neck as her back arched away from his chest, his other hand in her clit, pressing circles on it, making her toes curl; and he was moaning in her ear, just like he does when the pleasure is so good that his mind goes blank, totally inconsistent words and groans leaving his mouth. But she woke up with no orgasm, and no body beside her in the bed, JJ entered the room, only a towel in his hips, looking for clean clothes in the mess of his room, dropping the towel and getting dressed like always.

"JJ." she whispered, laying on her side, lingerie very visible, but he didn't seemed to see her how she wanted.

"Hey babe, had a good sleep?" he asked, kissing her lips so softly. "I'm going to meet Pope, I can drop you at your house in the way."

"But I want to stay with you on the bed." she pouted.

"Well, you can go with me, I can buy you a cupcake for breakfast, what'ya think?"

She agreed, thinking the - his - sweetness would help her calm her down. But it didn't. Only when he sitted on his bike she notice the tight shirt he was using - Oh my God, JJ, his bike, his cargo shorts, his boots and this goddamn t-shirt! -. Ignoring was completely impossible, Y/N got up from the little bench in front of the Heyward's Seafood, walking to where JJ and Pope were, leaning against a pillar, talking about surf - ridiculous, how could he think about surfing when she was all thoughts about him balls deep into her?! -.

"J, can you take me home?" she softly asked, tugging the hem of his shirt.

"I have to help Pope with some delivers, babe." He said, curling and putting her hair behind her ear. "But if you go, I can meet you there at five, what'ya think?"

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, clearly unhappy with the idea of spending more two hour without him, but it was his job gig, he needed the money, she wasn't going to be spoiled - even though he was the one who spoiled her - in front of Pope, and make JJ feel bad for being responsible, once in a lifetime. So she just nodded, kissed him on the cheek - cause if she kissed his lips she wouldn't be able to stop- and headed to home.

The sun and the heat wasn't helping, the wind was sliding through her flowing dress and she could feel it in the wet spot of her panties, suddenly she was thinking about skinny dipping with JJ, getting to feel his hard length under the water, getting him to touch her under water. Y/N arrived her house, finally, after a long and tortuous walk, she unlock the door, took off her shoes, changed into loose shirt and panties, it was in a middle of a water drink that she remembered the joint JJ forgot on top of her dresser. It was everything she needed, right? So she looked the front door and headed to her room, next thing, her clothes was far at her bed foot. She laid down, blunt between her fingers, between her lips, between her fingers and repeat. The weed was making her mind fuzzy, but it didn't got in the way between her fingers and clit, soon she was sweating in everywhere, slowly entering her pussy, curving her fingertips to reach her G-stop.

She was so worked up, toes curling, free hand gripping the mattress into her knuckles were white, she didn't realized the sound of JJ's bike in the front yard or his spare keys in the door, JJ heard the muffed moans coming from the bedroom, he knew them very well, how many times he saw she biting her lips to stop her pleasure cries. He approached the bedroom door, seeing his pretty girlfriend lying down, gripping hard the mattress, all spread open, fingers looking so deep lost inside her tight cunt. Her eyes were screwed shut, she only noticed his presence when he letted out a hard breath.

"Fuck. That's why you wanted to go home?" Because of the scare her fingers draw out so quickly it almost hurted, eyes wide with the frustration of getting caught in such a needy shameful position. "Do you me to leave?..." he asked, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

"No!"

JJ smirked, eyes traveling through her bare body, her tights squeezing together with the disappointment of the impended orgasm. Her boyfriend sitted in her bed beside her, hands running down and up her legs. "I'm such a bad boyfriend, uh baby?" he said, smiling when she pouted. "Let me make it up for you."

Leaning down to untie his shoes and comfortable his vision stop at the just-smoked blunt on the floor. He looked at her eyes, redish and dilated. "You're planing on making this a big fun, without me? Smoking MY weed and fucking yourself when you know that is my job."

"I'm sorry! You were neglecting me."

"Neglecting you? I was working." She bitted her bottom lip in a tin line, ashamed. "You're so spoiled." he said, wicked look in his eyes, Y/N rushed to stop him from going away, grabing his wrist, to needy to care about anything else.

"Please Jay." He was not actually mad, holding his smile, he nodded softly, she was sitting in her knees, hips smashed by her tights, boobs hanging freely and eyes so pleading, he couldn't say no, even if he wanted to, and he sure didn't.

"Okay." JJ agreed, taking his shoes off he stared at her. "What you're waiting for?"

She gladly accepted, taking his shirt off, kissing him while working on unbuttoning his shorts, she whimpered in the kiss, remembering how much she waited for that. Pushing him down on the mattress she climbed his hips, he held her above him taking his half hard cock off of his boxers slipping it through her folds, she moaned loudly, hands gripping the back of his neck, pushing him to her hanging boobs. JJ knew he'd slip easily inside her, but he wanted her to do it, since she was the one desperate - not really the only one by now - so he letted go of her, putting his arms behind his head.

"Do it. You're the cock whore, act like the one you are."

She whined and moaned at same time when his tip found her entrance, he bitted his lip with the feeling of her around him and she was mesmerized, the boy she is crazily in love with, the prettiest boyfriend she had been eyeing the whole day, right there, completely undressed, under her, inside her, wide blue eyes staring at her boobs boucing as her hips starting to go up and down on him, lazily since her mind was blank, his groint rubbing her clit provoking a pleasure almost unsupportable.

"Look at you, such a cock whore, princess. You wanted it, then work for it." JJ said, touching her only to pinch her nipples.

"Oh Jay!" Y/N sinked her nails in his shoulders, her cunt squeezing him tightly as she reached her high. His dirt, sweet, degrading talk sending her over the edge. She moved her hands to the mattress in each side of his head, slowly pushing herself off him.

"No, no, no, no, baby. You're gonna ride me until I cum, and when I do, you're gonna make yourself cum, so many times you'll forget your own name." He order, pushing his dick deep inside her.

Y/N opened her mouth in a silent moan, tears starting to sprout in her eyes, she swore she was feeling him in her guts. "Fuck." she whispered.

"Yeah, I know. Now go on."

#jj maybank #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x you

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delopsia · 9 months

Text

Two Little Rings | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 10,400 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader. Blood, bodily injury, scarring, food, Rhett gets hurt a lot, proposals, blow jobs, unprotected sex, Perry Abbott. Contains a special blink-and-you-miss-it introduction to a future reoccurring character, Archie ❤ Brief Summary: Bob keeps trying to ask you and Rhett to marry him, but he keeps picking the worst possible times to pop the question.

These rings might as well be boulders.

Heavy, weighing down his pocket with their big, "look at me!" attitudes and distinct, round shapes that Bob swears are leaving massive indents in his back pocket. Their unmistakable appearance begs someone, anyone, to look and realize what he's planning before he's even tried to pop the question.

Try being the keyword here.

They're too heavy to even sit in his palm. Wavering, about to drop them at any given moment. Sweat beading on his forehead. Heart hammering against his chest so hard he's surprised it hasn't broken out.

"Bobby!" Comes your voice from across this big, unfamiliar house, "Did you notice that there's a deck in the second bedroom?"

"No?" It's only one little word, and yet his lie feels as obvious as the sun in the sky. He'd noticed it when the realtor showed the blueprints, but he's not about to ruin your excitement.

Once again, he drops the little rings into his pocket, allowing them to resume taunting him with their barely there outlines. Walking to the bedroom should be easy, but these little hunks of metal are threatening to jump out and ask you and Rhett the question themselves. Even the sound of them would be unmistakable.

And the echo in this house is horrible.

Given it's entirely empty. Every house the three of you have toured so far has suffered with it. Every little sound jumps off the hardwood, ricochets off the too-white walls, and bounces down the hall. Even from here, he can hear the soft pitter-patter of your tennis shoes and the heavy clunk of Rhett's work boots.

And the clicks of the realtor's shiny black heels. Following loosely behind him. Grinning down at the phone in her hand because those damned rings have garnered her attention, and she can't miss the chance to catch a proposal on camera. What's worse, confronting her on it would ruin the whole damn surprise.

He wonders if his smile looks as forced as it feels.

She's got to put her phone away eventually...right?

"What did you find?" He's asking as he passes the threshold; doesn't know what to say, but it feels like something he should say.

Rhett jabs his index finger toward the open door on the other side of the room, "deck." That's all he says. Not another word needed. Those deep blue eyes glitter with what Bob can only place as hesitant excitement. This is the best house the three of you have viewed yet, but it's hard to get hopes up when the past house fell through.

And the house before that. And the house before that one. And the house before that house...

Heels click up behind him, overapplied, floral perfume meeting his nose. It's impossible to have a third eye on the back of his head, but he can feel the lens of the realtor's camera trained on his back. Burning a little hole through his t-shirt and into his skin.

"And you said how many offers were made on this house today?" Clearing his throat, Bob turns, and maybe, just maybe, she'll have to scamper back to the kitchen to review her notes before she can give him a clear answer.

"Four." Short. Sweet. Straight to the point. But at least now she's shyly pocketing her phone. Caught in the act and unsure of where to go from here. "The owners have until midnight to decide whether they'd like to accept or reject them."

Four?

Hell, maybe this isn't going to be your forever home, either.

In his peripheral, Bob can see you emerge from the deck, quietly shutting the door behind yourself. You've got that same starry look in your eyes that Rhett carries; this is it, this is the one.

But it seems four other parties have had the same thought. And Bob hasn't the slightest clue what their bid is or if the three of you are even capable of topping the offers.

"Can we have a moment to talk about the house by ourselves?" You ask, your shoulder brushing against Bob's as you come to stand next to him, intent on being close.

Mere moments ago, Bob was looking for a way to get her to leave, hoping to find a chance to pull those two little rings out of his pocket. But now, as he listens to her heels click down the hallway, he can't bring himself to reach for them. Four offers. There are four offers.

Maybe proposing here isn't such a good idea.

Knuckles gently knock against his forehead.

"Hello?" Rhett chirps, "Anyone home up there?"

Blinking, Bob picks his gaze up off the floor, can't quite recall when it dropped. "Huh?"

You and Rhett giggle, a soft noise that dances around Bob's ears in this gentle sort of fashion, probably the only reason he doesn't turn beet red on the spot.

"We asked about your opinions on the house," you repeat, the corners of your lips wavering, fighting off the laugh that's trying to bubble out of you. "Do you still want to make an offer on it?"

He's trying to think. The sunroom by the entryway is adorable, but the garage is a two-car rather than three. Oh, but then there's the loft outside of the upstairs master bedroom. The basement has carpet that needs to be pulled up, but there's an adorable little office down there...

"Yeah." It shoots out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Rhett's eyebrows raise. "Yeah?"

Why did he have to say that, of all things?

"Yeah," licking his lips as he fights for words, mouth dry as the damn Sahara, "I...I still like it."

He's just digging his own grave at this point.

Fortunately, discussing the house seems to be more important than mulling over his unusual choice of words. Favorite points and the things you'd want to change. Rhett's fine with the two-car garage because his work truck is too dirty to go in the garage, to begin with. But you aren't a fan of the countertops in the bathrooms, finding the material tacky, and Rhett isn't so sure about the carpet in the kitchen. The basement walls are painted moss green, a few doors need to be replaced, and there's a cracked window upstairs.

But it's still the best house you've viewed in weeks.

A deep part of Bob wishes that it was the opposite. That the house was horrible, the kind of thing that sends the three of you back home, ready to find the next one. At least the feeling of disappointment would be immediate, as compared to making an offer and thrusting yourselves into darkness, unknowing of whether disappointment or excitement awaits you in the future.

"We shoulda ate before we got here," Rhett mutters on the way back to the truck, unusually pale in the face, "'cause now 'm nervous."

Those rings couldn't be any heavier.

Proposal attempt number two doesn't come until Bob finds himself stumbling into Wabang, Wyoming. Fresh off a plane, resisting the urge to cover his ears as the announcer's voice booms through the speakers, rattling off words that he can't understand. It's a necessary evil, being in this very spot; right next to the bleachers exit, as close as you can get to where Rhett is stationed, near the chutes.

"Is it still loud?" You're half yelling as you tilt your head up to look at him.

And oh, he's so happy that he chose to sit in the row behind you because this is something else. Your eyes soft as you look at him from upside down, lips parted the slightest bit. All he can do is shake his head no. There's no way you'll hear him, not with his hands over your ears, reducing all of the noise to a dull mumble.

He's not going to be able to hear out of his right ear for the rest of the night, but it's worth it for this.

Little do you know that your future ring rests mere inches away from your head, tucked safely away in his pocket. Well, technically, it's tucked in a plastic bag inside of his pocket because it kept clanging around against Rhett's and almost got him caught. Who could have thought that rings would be so difficult to carry around?

And how the hell do some guys get away with carrying the whole damn box in their pocket? He can't even get away with hiding it in his jacket for the two hours it takes for the rodeo to end.

"Alright, Amelia County!" The announcer yells through the speakers, "Let's hear it for last year's rodeo champion, Rhett Abbott."

Even you can pick up on the familiar tune of your cowboy's name, head shaping back toward the chutes. If your ears weren't covered, Bob's sure they would be perked, tuned in to every little sound.

There he is. Hands braced on either side of the railing, carefully settling onto the back of a fifteen-hundred-pound animal bred for this very event. That stubborn cowboy hat sits proudly atop his head. No helmet. No mask. Just a soft felt hat.

One of these days, Bob's gonna get through that dumb, thick skull and convince Rhett that taking safety precautions doesn't take away your cool points. A funny-looking helmet is worth it if it protects you from a blow to the noggin.

Today is not that day.

Tomorrow probably isn't, either.

But the hat is the only way to see Rhett's sharp nod of his head. Ready to go.

Bob blinks, and then Rhett's bursting out of the chute. Right hand held high. Left clutching at the strap around the bull's chest. The animal spins to the right. Back legs still coming down as the front ones lift from the ground. Never on more than two hooves at once. Dirt kicking into the air. Sharply turns left. So abrupt that the bull himself stumbles.

The buzzer sounds.

Rhett comes loose.

Falling to the ground. His arms rising to protect his face. Boots scrambling for purchase on the soft arena soil. And then he's up. Stumbling backward. Away from the still bucking bull. Fighting to get the flank strap off. Twisting. Turning.

Its back right hoof connects with Rhett's knee.

No warning. No indication of danger. Not even a sound. And yet Bob swears he heard the snap of hoof hitting bone.

You're darting out from the bleachers in the blink of an eye. Blindly reaching behind yourself to grab ahold of Bob's wrist. Tugging him behind you with a surprising force. Shoes scuttling across the slippery stairs. Pushing through the crowd. Darting around anyone who gets in the way.

He doesn't need to ask where the two of you need to go. Injuries are common in this sport, and even more so for anyone with the name Rhett Abbott.

One would think that the frequency of Rhett's injuries would mean a stop to the sweat beading at anxious foreheads. No more frantic beatings of the heart and bated breath as you and Bob tumble around the corner in search of the singular ambulance stationed for the event. That clasped hands wouldn't tremble, and the silence would become bearable.

But it never gets easier.

Rhett's stumbling through the dirt, his arms slung around one of his buddies, helping him walk with just one foot. Spurs chiming with every step.

"Long time no see!" Archie—or at least who Bob thinks is Archie—yells as you and Bob make your way through the clearing, "c'n y'do me a favor 'n tell yer idiot he can't bloomin' walk?"

Yeah, that's Archie.

"'m fine," Rhett grits through his teeth, left foot scratching at the ground as he tries to put weight on it. Searching for purchase that Archie won't let him find. "Y'don't need to worry 'bout me."

"Too fuckin' late for that, pal," Archie's not a small man by any means, but even he's struggling to keep hold of Rhett as he squirms and tries to stand on his own two feet. Stubborn to the goddamn end.

There are so many words jammed in Bob's dry throat. Full sentences tangling and creating a knot that he can't swallow down. Silent as he darts forward and slips beneath Rhett's open, flailing arm.

"Bobby, I said I'm—"

"I don't care," Bob's words come out a little too sharp. Bursting past the dam.

"Just until the medic takes a look at it?" Your voice floats through the air with all the softness of a cloud, unsure and wavering. "Please?"

Stillness.

For a moment, Bob thinks Rhett is still going to put up a fight. But whatever fight was in him seems to have fizzled out because he gives up almost immediately. Head hanging low as he allows his weight to settle onto Bob and Archie's shoulders. Has the audacity to look like a kicked puppy, big blue eyes pleading for you to let him have his way.

But he can't hide the way that he minds his leg. Gingerly placing his weight onto it. Jaw tightening as a hot spark of pain sizzles up his nerves. But he doesn't make a damn sound. Too stubborn to voice his hurt.

"'ve got it from here," he grunts, mere yards away from the quietly parked team of medics, already waiting for him. Bob hates that he knows most of them by name. "I said—"

"Rhett," and maybe it's the wind that causes Bob's voice to break on the vowel. Too fragile for even the slightest breeze.

Again, Rhett's quiet. Doesn't say another word as he's brought to the bench next to the ambulance and helped to sit down. There's a tear in his jeans, exposing a glimpse of dark red flesh, already beginning to turn deep shades of blue and purple. Blood stains the side, cut but not horribly so.

Knuckles bump against Bob's shoulder. Tapping.

"Hey man," Archie's whispering, "C'n I talk t'ya for a sec?"

It's more of a command than a request because he's already beginning to tug Bob around the side of the ambulance. His right fist clenched tight around something, looking over his shoulder as if he's expecting someone to be watching.

"Did something—"

"Y'dropped a lil' somethin'," his hand opens. Reveals a tiny, crumbled plastic bag, something shiny tucked inside.

Your ring.

"Jesus," is the only thing he knows to say, plucking the tiny thing from Archie's palm. His other hand dives into his pocket. Breath caught in his throat until his fingertips brush against cool metal. "Thank you."

"If it helps ya," Archie's quiet as he leans closer to Bob's ear, "I used t' hide my wife's ring in my wallet."

And so maybe tonight isn't the night for proposals, either.

Neither is the next day. The medic says Rhett should be fine, but he's practically dragging that left foot as he tries to walk, and proposing is the last thing on Bobby's mind. Preoccupied with improved ice packs and carefully managed dosages of painkillers that never seem to even take the edge off.

"Why're you handin' me a bag of corn?" That sleepy voice grumbles, one eye open as he turns the bag back and forth in his hand.

"For your knee," and maybe Bob should have wrapped it in one of the hotel towels before he handed it off to Rhett. Can already hear him quietly muttering about how they're wasting perfectly good food. "It's...the coldest thing I could find."

Neither is the day after that because Rhett may be walking, but he's not looking any better at all. Mutters that he's fine as he toes out of his pajama pants, about to take on the momentous task of taking a shower. Didn't take one yesterday, and now he's in desperate need of one.

"Rhett..." you say, your voice still groggy with sleep, "I...something is very wrong here."

Rhett's head lifts, curls bouncing low on the nape of his sweaty neck. "What do you mean?"

Your face twists as you bend down to get a better look. Eyebrows furrowing at the very sight of that vicious mottling of black and blue. "Your knee is twice the size of the other one."

It'll take four hours to find out that his kneecap is fractured.

And it'll take eight long, long weeks of rest and therapy for it to heal. Easy for some. Horrible for a cowboy who doesn't know how to spend more than a weekend in the house, too used to working outside and having a laundry list of things to do. Even worse, when that cowboy can't stand using crutches because Royal's raised him to think that accepting help is a sign of weakness.

There's an afternoon when Bob stumbles into the hotel room, fresh off an afternoon jog, to find Rhett stuck on the floor. Fell while walking without his crutches and couldn't get himself back up.

"Why didn't you call me?" Bob finds himself blurting, doesn't remember what happened to the bags he was carrying. All he knows is he's rushing across thin, cheap carpet, fearing the worst.

Rhett's got his head leaned against the side of the chair, laid back like he's long since accepted his fate. How long has he been down here? "Wasn't that big a deal," those broad shoulders rise and fall. "It ain't like I fell down the stairs."

"And you're sure this has nothing to do with your whole 'cowboys don't need help' shtick?" Bobby would be lying if he said he wasn't contemplating making Rhett try to get up on his own just to prove a point. But he's already halfway under Rhett's arm, acting as a crutch, all but dragging him to his feet.

"Ahh, come on," there's that weak chuckle of his, the one that comes out when he knows he's fighting a losing battle, "I could've gotten up if I wanted to."

That does nothing to stop Bob from wondering about what kind of charges he would receive if he were to tap Royal with the bumper of his truck. Going at about fifty miles an hour, of course.

All the while, those little rings sit tucked into the corners of his wallet. Collecting dust in the back of his mind for weeks. He damn near forgets that they're in between his five and ten-dollar bills. Almost hands you his wallet one afternoon. Even accidentally pulls them out while he's fishing for some quarters to give Amy to use on the toy vending machine.

"Is that one for Uncle Rhett?" She chirps, voice sparkling with all the wonder in the world.

It's too late for him to hide it. She's already taking the quarters out of his palm, eyes big as saucers, unable to look away from the tiny, round piece of metal. "Would you believe me if I told you it isn't?"

Her gum snaps. "Nope."

Bob is the last person that Cecelia expected to teach Amy how to lie. Sworn to secrecy with an ice cream cone and a lava lamp.

He doesn't think about those rings for the next six months.

Between the chaos of getting moved into the new house and the sudden new adjustment of having you and Rhett living with him, it falls from his thoughts. Too busy driving to Wabang with a trailer to help Rhett bring his beloved horse with him. Spends a good week trying to help you overcome your sudden spike of homesickness.

And then there's the incident with the pipe bursting in the downstairs bathroom and a six-month deployment that couldn't come at a worse time. He stumbles in just in time for Thanksgiving, and it feels like he's still finishing his turkey dinner when Rhett starts meekly asking to buy a Christmas tree. Then comes the rush of gathering gifts and putting up decor, and in the blink of an eye, its New Year's, and now that decor needs to come back down. Then the vacation planning starts.

All of a sudden, it's been a year and a half, and he's in Wabang again. Sitting on the back porch, fresh out of a shower, every muscle in his body aching, overworked from unfamiliar work on an even more unfamiliar pasture. Two hundred pushups for Maverick was a piece of cake compared to this hell.

"You haven't asked yet," Amy's voice cuts through the nighttime air like a knife.

He jolts, head snapping to look over his shoulder. "I'm sorry?"

She's standing by the door, a little bit taller than he remembers. Is that a scowl he spies on her sunburnt face? "You never proposed."

"We've been busy—"

"You forgot." She deadpans, lips pressed into a tight line. That must run in the family because Bob's seen that exact expression in Rhett more times than he can count.

"I..." his eyelashes flutter, turning back to gaze off the porch into the empty darkness of Wyoming. "Something like that."

Her house shoes patter across the old wooden floor as she comes to stand next to him. For a moment, Bob's found himself wondering if she's still young enough to accept ice cream and a toy in exchange for her silence or if she's moved on to harder forms of bribery. "Are you still going to?"

"Whenever the time is right, I will," he hums. There's still a perfectly good vacation ahead of him, plenty of opportunity to find that picture-perfect moment to pop the question.

As quickly as she came, Amy's feet patter back toward the door. "Well, you'd better make it fast," the screen door squeals as she opens it, "Uncle Rhett was on his phone looking at rings during breakfast."

And then she's gone. Disappearing into the house once more. Leaving him to soak in his thoughts, staring up at the vast night sky. So big that it seems moments away from swallowing him and the house up into the void. Stars twinkling like a tube of glitter spilled onto a black velvet blanket. So spectacular that his phone camera can never do it justice.

The perfect kind of night. Even the ache in his neck cannot ruin such a thing.

His feet move on their own accord, carrying him into the house and up the stairs. Where did he leave his wallet last, anyway? He's pretty sure it was in the back pocket of his jeans yesterday, but he doesn't know if he remembered to take it back out or not.

The floor squeals beneath his bare feet as he saunters past the shower and into Rhett's old bedroom. With its old, cowboy-esque decor and a brand new queen-size bed that definitely wasn't there when he helped Rhett move out. With its too-new bed frame, the matte black metal not quite matching the old wood scattered throughout the rest of the room.

Oh. There you are.

Curled up on the bed, back to the door, your cell phone yet to turn off, recently used. But you don't lift your head to greet him like you typically do; if anything, you hardly seem to realize he's in the room.

What's wrong?

You don't react when he sits on the edge of the bed, eyes still closed. Completely and utterly still, even as he moves to lay behind you. His arms slipping around your waist, nose nuzzling into the back of your neck, unsure of if you're awake or blatantly ignoring him.

Your shoulders stiffen.

"'s just me, sweetie," Bob murmurs, pulling you closer to him until your back is flush with his chest. You're not pushing him away, so mayhaps it isn't him who's upset you. "Do you want to talk about it?"

And in the blink of an eye, those little rings are on the back burner because you're his priority, and proposals can wait for when you're feeling better. Weighing heavily in his pocket as he follows you and Rhett to Walmart in search of snacks and an air mattress that'll fit into the back of Rhett's old GMC. All to lay back and watch the stars.

Wabang is one of those lucky little towns with little to no light pollution, and it shows.

But he's already spent part of the night gazing up at those glittering, faraway balls of gas. As breathtaking as it all is, there's no better picture than what lies next to him. Rhett's long since fallen asleep, his head leaning against Bob's thigh, dark hair cast across his pretty face. And there you lay, curled into Rhett's side, eyelashes fluttering, mouth slack, completely and utterly relaxed. The prettiest tangle of sleepy limbs he's ever seen.

Bob's not sure he'll ever understand how he's got both of you in his life.

Slow as not to wake either of you, he reaches into his jean pocket, unintentionally bumping his knuckles into the side of Rhett's head in the process. The cowboy doesn't so much as stir. No surprise there.

Rhett could sleep through the end of the world.

There they are.

Two little rings tucked into the corners of his wallet. They've left dents in the bills stored there, and could probably use a good clean, considering how improperly he's stored them. Not necessarily forgotten, but a thought burning in the back of his head during his every waking hour.

He could ask right now. It's perfect out here.

But waking you is the last thing he wants to do, so, again, he tucks those rings into his wallet and lets them slip his mind once more.

The Grand Tetons are the next stop on your trip, or the Grand Talons, as Bob's been calling them. A simple pronunciation mistake that he'd made during the early stages of planning that has become something he intentionally plays upon. If only to see Rhett roll his eyes and to hear you giggle.

The cabin is smaller than it looked in the pictures, but the unusually wide bed makes up for all of that. Settled into the far corner of the forest, with a private porch and an up-close view of the Tetons.

In the back of Rhett's mind, he's found himself wondering about how he never considered the sheer size of these mountain ranges. They've been looming in the background for as far as he can remember, visible from miles and miles away. Witness to his every waking moment spent in Wabang.

They don't look so small when he's standing right in front of them.

"Hey cowboy," your voice rings across the trail, a little further down than he is, "you coming?"

"'m right behind ya," there's an ache in his left knee as he starts to move again, difficult to ignore as he takes step after agonizing step. Almost to the end of this trail. Almost there.

Just another fifteen minutes. He can do that.

His pocket buzzes. Phone alight with another text message from Perry.

U seriously cant spare a few fucking days 2 help us?

Texting one-handed has never been his forte. A barely there skill that's worsened by the stones that slip out from his unsure feet, treading over an unfamiliar, winding path. Fortunately, he's got a short response.

Nope.

Can't wait to hear the lecture from Ma whenever she calls next. It's hard telling exactly what she'll say, but he already knows that it will be something along the lines of, "But your brother has been through so much!"

Burning warmth blossoms in his knee, loose petals of stabbing pain drifting through his nerves.

"Shit," grinding to a halt. Pawing at the side of it. Too sensitive to squeeze but unsure of what else to do.

A big hand glides up his sweaty back, smoothing over his shoulders. "Is your knee buggin' you again?" Bobby asks, his voice quieter than the breeze that rustles through the trees.

The pain is only there for a moment. Fading away into a distant, nagging sensation of invisible pins and needles poking at his flesh. "Will you believe me if I say no?"

"No." Blunt. Straight to the point.

A 'maybe' would have been nice.

Your shoes appear in front of him, still remarkably clean compared to his. "Maybe we shouldn't take that hike tomorrow morning," your fingertips tickle as they reach to brush a strand of hair behind his ear.

"'m alright," his phone buzzes as he straights up, vibrating incessantly with a phone call that he doesn't plan to answer. Hesitant feet beginning to move once more. One. Two. Three baby steps. "Jus' a little slow, 's all."

The moment the call is sent to voicemail, his phone alights again. And again. And again. Stubbornly buzzing away in his pocket. Demanding to be heard. Call after call, continuing long after he's made it to the end of the trail.

"Is your phone going off?" You ask, looking over your shoulder.

"Spam call," and that's that on that.

But unlike his phone, his knee doesn't fall quiet within the hour. Nerves quietly screaming their grievances with every goddamn step. Bugging him all throughout his shower. Doesn't bother to stop stinging when he sits down and gets off of it.

He'd have a better experience walking barefoot over lava.

Fortunately, he's found himself a hell of a distraction. A half-naked Bobby wandering back and forth across the cabin bedroom. Fresh out of a shower, beads of water rolling across his pale, freckled back as he searches for a very specific blanket he bought the other day. Towel hanging low around his waist, loosening each time he bends down to root through his suitcase.

"We can hold off on the picnic if it's too much stress," you offer; your eyes may be closed, but it seems you can detect Bobby's every move. "It doesn't have to be tonight."

"No, no, no, I've got it," Bob blurts, squinting. So focused that he hasn't thought to put his glasses on. "I've been planning...tonight was supposed to be special..." Falling back into those old mutterings of his, scrambling to look beneath the bed for the umpteenth time.

Rhett's fighting the urge to reach over and yank that towel off.

All of a sudden, that wet mop of light brown hair pokes up from the edge of the bed. Blue eyes wide. "I may have left it in the truck."

Rhett's sitting up at that, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Already regretting his decision the moment he stands. "I'll go check." Purposefully leaving out the fact that he forgot to bring in the jars of homemade jam that you bought earlier.

Is jam hot car proof?

He's about to find out.

There's no point in tugging on his boots; tugging on his socks would take too damn long. Heading out onto the porch barefoot is the easiest option, calloused feet thumping heavily across the old wood, uncaring of where they land. So worn and used to going without shoes that even the gravel doesn't bug him. Those sharp edges of rock are nothing compared to the stabbing sensation in his knee.

In the corner of his eye, there's movement.

A familiar ranch truck speeding up the driveway. Tires kicking up dirt and rock in their wake.

"Shit." Pulling open the door to the backseat, he reaches in to grab the stray jars of jam perched on top of the picnic blanket Bob's been hunting for. Classic red and white plaid.

What in the world is this picnic so special for, anyway?

"Hey," of all the voices he could be hearing right now, why does it have to be Perry's? That truck door slams. Boots marching across the driveway. "Hey." A little louder now.

Ignore him, and he'll go away. Ignore him, and he'll go away. Ignore him, and he'll go away.

A heavy palm strikes the side of the truck. "Rhett."

"Are you—" tossing the glass jar back onto the seat, voice tight, "what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Perry's shoving him with both hands. Knocking him into the side of the open door. "You've been ignorin' me all fuckin' afternoon!"

Rhett can already feel the way his jaw clenches. Teeth grit together. "'m not givin' up my vacation t'help the fuckin' ranch, Perry."

"You can't sacrifice a little vacation?" And Rhett doesn't know how many times he's heard those exact words come out of Perry's mouth this week. Repeated over and over. Like he'll up and change his mind if he's badgered enough. "Come on, Rhett, we need help."

This is ridiculous.

"We already sacrificed a couple days," turning his attention back to the blanket. Tucking it beneath his arm. "Y'all had plenty of time t'get your shit in order."

"What's going on out here?" Bob's stumbled out onto the porch. Has had enough time to dress himself before coming out here. Even from several feet away, Rhett can see how his eyes widen. Lashes fluttering. "Perry?"

That should be the end of the argument.

But it's not.

It never is.

"Can't you see that I'm tryin' to have a fuckin' private conversation with my brother?" Perry's tone rises.

"Don't you start talkin' to him like that," words snapping off of Rhett's tongue. Knuckles white as he grasps this jar of jam a little too tightly.

Up go Perry's eyebrows. The whites of his eyes wide. Rhett can already see the metaphorical steam coming out of his ears. "I'll say whatever the hell I want, Rhett."

One of the jars slips from his grasp. Hits the gravel with an unceremonious clank. Shaking the raspberry-flavored contents, but the glass never breaks. Perry beats him to picking it up. Bending down and snatching it out of his grasp.

But he's not offering to hand it back.

Gravel shifts as Bob steps across it, soft blue eyes flickering between both Abbott brothers. Moving slowly. Like he's approaching two tigers. Poised and ready to strike.

"I don't...I don't mean for this to come off as rude," his empty palms rise, means no harm, "but maybe you should leave."

There Perry goes. Face turning crimson. Jaw clenched so tightly that it begins to shiver. "I sure hope you ain't tellin' me what to do, four eyes." And he's surging forward.

"Perry." Rhett's barking. Reaching out. Shoving him back by his shoulders. "Cut it—"

The world explodes with red.

Then black.

He's stumbling. A pressure screwing into the side of his head. Drilling straight into his skull. Somethings stinging at his eyes. Hot and thick. Coating his palms as he paws at his face. Can't see. Nothing but a wall of darkness that he can't claw past. His hands are fluttering. Scrambling to grab ahold of something. Anything.

Gravel sprays, audibly ricocheting off the side of the truck. Someone's swearing but he can't place the voice. Doesn't sound like Perry. But it doesn't sound like you either.

Something collides with his jaw.

Teeth crashing together. Metallic fluid filling his mouth. Thick. Warm. Ears ringing with the wail of a dull siren.

"Rhett!" That's not the same voice from before.

Hands appear on his face. Gripping his jaw. Forcing him still as something rough rubs against his eyes. Fuck, that stings. Tiny teeth bite into the left side of his head. Tearing at his skin. He's pulling back. Squirming away. But that hand on his jaw has an iron grip that he can't wriggle out of.

A car horn blares.

Light burns at his retinas as they burst open. Flickering weakly, unable to keep them open for longer than a second at a time. Opening and closing involuntarily. Red and wipe cloth dabs at his cheek. Soaking up a bright crimson liquid that he can't place.

"Rhett," you repeat, a little louder now. How long have you been in front of him? "Rhett!"

"What?" He'd say you're being too loud, but his own voice is too much for his ears to handle.

Behind your head, he thinks he can see Perry's truck disappearing down the driveway. Cascaded behind a plume of black smoke billowing out of the tailpipe. What's he in such a hurry for?

"What happened?" He breathes; Bob's several yards away, his gaze trained on those clouds of black. That same shade of red waterfalls from his pale, trembling arms. Dripping from his fingertips. Looks something like lightning flickering across the sky. "Why's he bleedin'?"

Your lips don't move. Not a word leaving your mouth.

"Bobby?" Raising his voice louder, pushing forward.

Your hands are on his shoulders, pushing back, saying something about needing to stay still, but he can't hear it. Doesn't recall falling, but he's crawling to his feet. Legs swaying. Red clouding his left eye. Stinging again. Won't go away, even as he tries to wipe it away. Pouring from a cut that he doesn't remember acquiring.

Bob twists, looking over his shoulder and—

"What happened?" Rhett tries again. Why's the right side of Bobby's jaw cut open? Where did that gash trailing down the side of his neck come from? But nobody's answering. You're silent. Bobby's not talking. Can't hear him. "What happened?" Saying it louder. Words shivering.

"Rhett," it's the only thing you can say. Why is that the only thing you can say?

"What?" Voice cracking. "Why won't—why won't y'say anythin'?"

Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Fighting for words. For an explanation of something that you don't truly know yourself. "I don't know."

Gravel crunches as Bob steps closer. Slow. Deliberate. Like he's walking across shards of glass that can cut through his boots at any time. His hands raise. Bloody palms curling around Rhett's equally bloody, sticky cheeks.

"Perry hit you in the head with the jar," he whispers after a moment. Because speaking too loud might break something.

But that doesn't follow. No. No, Rhett would remember if he was hit in the head with a jar. The jar wasn't even that big—

but his face is sticky.

"But...but..." There's a cloud that's settled in the forefront of his mind. Clogging up his thoughts. Separating words so far apart that he can't seem to string them into a sentence. "But...you?"

"I..." Bob's gaze falls off to the side. Fixating on something past Rhett's shoulder. "He got me with a shard of glass, is all."

But he's missing a triangular chunk of flesh along his jaw. Leading down through the gash in his neck, ending just above his collarbone. White shirt ripped and stained with red.

Can glass do that?

He can't seem to look away from it. Following even as you cart him and Bob off to the emergency room, won't take no for an answer.

"You both need stitches," you insist, Bob's truck keys jingling in your hand. Rhett's mouth opens. He knows how to give stitches. Has been doing them on himself for half his damn life. "And you're not giving homemade ones, cowboy."

He'd pout if his face didn't hurt so damn bad.

And so what if he does ultimately need a handful of stitches? Nurses fuss over him, dragging him into a separate room from Bobby because of some dumb protocol. Cleaning his face with a fluid that smells like cheap vodka and burns like a goddamn branding iron. He sits there for a damn century before they turn him loose.

By turning him loose, the nurse is only moving him to a different area, but he can hardly pay attention to her. Because Bobby is sitting in a lone chair, the side of his neck freshly closed up, looking down at something in his palm.

"Mr. Abbott," this poor nurse has been repeating herself for who knows how long, but this is the first time Rhett's heard her. "Please."

Bob's head snaps up, shoving something into his pocket. His lips curling at the sight of this half-stunned cowboy standing in the middle of the hallway like a fool. "Baby, please don't give her a hard time."

"But I—"

Soft hands are tugging on Rhett's bicep. Pulling him along. And he doesn't know where you came from, but you're here now. "Come on," your voice the lightest it's been all afternoon, "we'll come with you."

What was the shiny thing that Bobby was holding?

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Even if your every attempt is thwarted moment before you can put your plan into action.

Or...something like that.

The picnic blanket may be blood-stained, and the restaurant Bob was planning to order food from may be closed for the rest of the week, but that's okay. He's crafty. Plans are meant to be deviated from.

And so what if you're still in the shower, and Rhett's half asleep on the bed? Proposals don't take that long. Yeah. This'll work. If he can just find where he put his damn wallet...

"I want your dick in my mouth."

"I'm sorry?" Did he hear that right?

Rhett's eyes are still closed. Brown locks fanned out beneath his head, forming a loose halo. Face as peaceful as it has ever been, like he's perfectly asleep. "I said," those thin lips wrapping around his words, "I want your dick in my mouth."

And maybe Bob's not hearing things because Rhett's eyes flutter open, head tilting to look at him. Expectant. Looks something like a spoiled prince waiting to get what he wants.

"Funny." Shit, what was Bob looking for again? A towel? Socks? Yeah, where are his socks? They were just in his hand a minute ago. Where did he put—

they're on his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Rhett sitting up. Hair falling into his face, concealing the scattering of thin cuts that surround his left temple. From here, they almost look like his only injury.

It would be easier if Rhett threw a verbal fit. Whining and fussing until he gets what he wants. Because at least that would be easy to understand, not quite as heart-stopping as the sight of him silently standing, slowly treading across the floor. Have his shoulders always looked so broad? Biceps straining against the thin, tight confines of his t-shirt.

Bob's T-shirt. Actually. Some dark-gray, beat-up thing from his early days in the Navy.

Tips of noses bump into each other. So close that it's hard to see the chunk of flesh missing from the corner of Rhett's left eye. Wound still so new that it's hard to tell if it will scar or not.

Lips brush. Timidly pressing into a fleeting peck. Like too much contact will break this unspoken silence. Rhett's mouth is bitten and chapped, but it's so, so soft. Molding against Bobby's like silk.

Knees hit the floor. Deep thunk bouncing off the walls.

"Rhett..." Bob's uttering beneath his breath. Fuck, it's hard to think, with Rhett rubbing his cheek up against his thigh, ocean blue gaze peering up through thick lashes. Downright shameless in how his big, burning palm rises to rub at the growing tent in Bob's jeans. "Did you...did you get into somethin' again?"

Rhett looks pretty damn lucid. Thumbing open his button and pulling down the zipper, smiling to himself all the while. Downright pleased with himself.

Something thunks in the shower. Sounds like you've accidentally knocked over a bottle of body wash again. How long have you been in there, anyway?

Thick fingers twist through the front of his boxers, wrapping around his half-hard length without ceremony. Pulling him out into the cool cabin air, lightly thumbing at his tip. Dry. Never has been the type to drip all that much.

But that's alright because that short, pink tongue of Rhett's is poking out. Eager to let Bob's plush head rest against it like a damn welcome mat. Burning hot breath fanning out against him.

Rhett's hand loosely strokes him. Can't do much more without some form of lubricant. "You're still soft," he complains as if anyone can possibly go from soft to hard within the blink of a damn eye.

"'Cause you sprung on me in under a minute, sugar," Bob's fingers run through those dark strands, diligently avoiding the three-inch-long wound hidden beneath. "Gonna have to give me a minute."

It goes in one ear and out the other.

And it's hard to keep talking because Rhett's opening his mouth, wrapping those thin lips around his tip. So pleased with himself that he hums, the sound vibrating all the way up Bob's spine. It hasn't been more than two weeks since he last felt Rhett sink down his cock, taking him in bit by bit, but his thighs quiver like it's the first time all over again.

"Don't..." his chest is already heaving. Seeking a breath he can't find. "Don't push yourself."

That pretty little mouth smiles. Rhett's watery eyes closing as he finds his favorite rhythm. Tongue stroking the underside, cheeks hollowed. So delighted to have his way that he doesn't complain when Bob collects his hair into a loose ponytail, gripping it tight. But having his mouth busy doesn't mean that he's not done.

Hands wander. One loosely stroking the few inches he can't get to yet, the other falling between his own legs. Pressing the heel of his palm into his groin. Hips kicking up into his own touch.

Bob might faint.

Head seconds away from spinning off of his shoulders. Vision blurring, even with his glasses perched high on his nose. "Fuck, just like that."

That gets Rhett sinking a little deeper. Silky, hot throat rubbing against that sensitive tip, no longer needs to use his hand to stroke the little bit that he can't suck into his mouth. Instead reaching past layers of clothing to massage his balls. Knows just how to fucking do it. Touch firm but giving. Shit, shit, shit.

"'m gonna cum." Too quick. Too quick. Too quick. "Rhett. Rhett, wait—"

Hinges squeal. Bathroom door opening.

There you are. Stepping out in nothing but a towel, reaching for the neatly folded clothes that you forgot to bring in with you. Skin still damp, little beads of water rolling down your arms. It's dark, but the bobbing of Rhett's head grabs your attention, sleepy eyes darting.

You're lips break into a smile. "I leave you two for fifteen minutes, and this is what you get into."

Rhett sucks hard and pulls off with a loud, wet 'pop.' Spit-slicked lips shining in the poor lighting. Silent as he peers over his shoulder.

A part of you wishes that you'd stayed quiet and enjoyed the show because there's something about watching Bob's head roll back and forth against the wall that has a heat pooling between your legs. Heat that you're too tired to be tending to.

Rhett looks like he's about to eat you alive.

"Don't you look at me like that," your voice rising, "Rhett...!"

You must fall asleep standing up because the next time you open your eyes, you're across the room. Chest against the mattress, cheek resting against your lazily folded arms. Bob's shaky palms smooth down your shoulders, angrily flushed cock resting against his thigh. Too heavy to stand on its own.

The slick head of Rhett's cock slides between your thighs, dripping head nudging into your sensitive clit. Slow thrusts that push against your entrance before drifting past. Don't know where Rhett found the lube or where your towel went, but you can't bring yourself to voice any complaints. Tongue too tired to lift itself.

But your hips are squirming on their own accord. Pushing back against him with all the energy you have left.

"Didn't" your thoughts are spinning in a whirlpool, reaching up to rake your nails up Bob's meaty thigh, "didn't you have...something planned?"

His cock twitches before you can even get to it. "I did...at some point."

Rhett chuckles. The first noise you've heard him make. "Oops." Still so preoccupied with the way his cock slips between your folds, each stroke teasing the idea of pushing into you but never following through. Pressure blooming, only to fade away.

Until you push back against him. Blunt head slipping inside without warning.

A gasp pierces the air.

Did you make that noise? Did Rhett? Or was it Bob?

Calloused hands wrap around your hips, holding you still as he gingerly fucks into you. Just the tip. Lazy ins and outs that sink a little further in each time. Pushing air from your lungs on every push. Rubbing just shy of your g-spot, neglected and untouched. So unlike his usual routine that you don't know what's coming next. Your thighs tremble, feeling him push a little further, earnest now.

"Come on, darlin'," there's that deep drawl you've been missing, "give me your pussy."

Bob's palm slides down your back, smoothing down to your ass. Don't realize you've been clenching until your muscles are relaxing, letting Rhett properly push into you. Inch by slow, careful inch, splitting you open. Your lips part, openly panting into the bed sheets. It's been so long since you felt his hips come flush against yours, heavy balls resting against you. Stretching you so wide that your pussy aches.

"There y'go," Rhett's fingertips swirl against your shivering thighs, "so good for me."

Your hand rises, wrapping loosely around Bob's forgotten cock. He jolts.

"Careful, careful," he rushes, "sensitive."

Behind you, Rhett's not moving. Holding himself there, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. But God, you don't think you're ever gonna get used to this. Even if you do have the sweet sound of Bobby's labored breaths to distract you. Panting to the high heavens, all from the slow stroke of your fist along his length.

On their own, Rhett's hips writhe. Moving backward by an inch, pushing back in just as slowly. Once. Twice. Testing. "'s this okay?"

Your head nods. "Uhuh."

Hands tighten around your hips, holding you still as he draws out of you halfway. Doesn't let you squirm away when he abruptly pushes back in, balls smacking against your cunt. Dragging against the sensitive nerves along your walls, hitting them without effort. Bounces your hand around Bobby's dick.

"That's it," Rhett's grunting, repeating it. Doesn't let you meet him halfway. Forced to stay still and take what he has to give you. "Jerk 'em off while I ruin this pretty pussy of yours, baby."

You're trying to talk, babble whatever nonsense rests on your tongue, but you can't speak. Nothing but whimpers punched out of your throat, sounds dancing with the lewd wetness squelching between your thighs. Hand struggling to stroke Robby, grip fluttering, jerky. Too light to get him off, but it pulls a gasp out of him anyway.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, did Rhett just twitch in you?

Your cheek presses into the mattress, free hand clawing at the sheets. Rhett's finding his pace, bouncing you up against the bed with a heavy thrust that he puts his weight into. Dizzying sound of skin meeting skin, bouncing off the walls.

The hands on your hips are the only things keeping you standing, knees wobbly, knocking into each other. Rhett's fat cock head dragging against your walls. Right up against that little bundle of nerves, over and over and over. Gives you no chance to recover before he's massaging against it again.

"Jesus," Bobby's hand is swiping over your lips, wiping away a string of drool, "look at you."

Someone's doused you in gasoline and lit a match. Sweaty skin burning, back arching as you try to rise and meet each heavy thrust into your dripping pussy. Keening high in your throat, fluttering around Rhett's cock. Arm jerking without rhythm, stroking Bob as best as you can.

"Hold on, baby," His hand covers yours entirely, loosely guiding it up and down. Helping rather than batting you away completely. A shaky breath bursting past his lips.

Rhett's letting go of your hips, firm, sweaty chest settling against your back. Cheek resting against your shoulder as one of his palms brace his weight next to your head, thick bicep flexing.

Now you can hear him. Soft, pitchy noises falling out of his mouth, the sounds kissing your ears. Nowhere near as loud as the whine that soars out of Bobby's throat, his hips jerking up into your hand.

"No, no," Rhett coos into your ear, just loud enough for Bob to hear him. "Don't let him cum."

But he doesn't stop you. Instead reaching down between your legs, calloused fingertips pressing to your clit. Forgotten up until now. Throbbing, heat pooling as those fingers begin to swirl in tune with his thrusts.

Your hand falls off Bob's cock. Clutching at the sheets.

"Hang on, doll," Rhett gasps, like you have a choice in the matter.

Your legs spasming beneath you as he rams into that soft spot inside your pussy over and over and over. Rubbing over your clit. So much happening at once that you can't focus on a damn thing. Skin ablaze. Prickling. Embers of something more heating to life in your lower belly.

"'m gonna cum," he warns, "come on baby, come with me—fuck."

His hips stall. Slamming into yours. Cock twitching, heat filling you as his orgasm rolls through his sweaty body. Filling you up until you're certain that you can feel it beginning to leak out of you already. His fingers are still working your clit. Tremoring, feather-light one moment and pressing roughly the next. Spiraling and spiraling and spiraling.

"Sen—" he's whimpering into your ear, "sensitive."

Your eyes may be closed, but you can feel them go unfocused. Body going taut. Stone still as you clamp down around him, head spinning like a top. Muscles beginning to shiver. Babbling someone's name, but you don't know who's.

Just past your head, Rhett reaches over, wrapping his hand around Bob's flushed length. Stroking roughly like he's only got a few seconds to spare. Working up and down, a damn blur that your sleepy eyes can hardly keep up with.

All of a sudden, Bob's hips snap upward. Cumming with a silent cry. Ropes of white painting Rhett's slowing hand, some spiking up to hit Bob's own chest. Staining his t-shirt.

You think you might fall asleep right here and now.

"Christ," Bob shudders from head to toe, batting Rhett's teasing hand away from his spent length.

With nothing to occupy himself with, Rhett rests against your backside. Weight teetering against yours, threatening to send both of you crumbling to the floor at any moment. "'re we still..." his labored breath tickles your neck, "we still doin' somethin' t'night?"

And that is a resounding fucking, no.

You don't think you could move, even if you wanted to. Legs anchored to the ground by invisible weights, numb. Can hardly feel Rhett pulling his softening cock out of you, cum already beginning to run down the inside of your leg.

Gingerly, he guides you forward, urging you to settle up on the bed. Your back aching as you finally, finally change positions, head settling into Bob's warm, open lap. His jeans may be rough against your cheek, but his thigh is the perfect pillow.

"We need to clean up before we go gettin' comfortable," Bob says through a yawn, "and I need to find my wallet."

Rhett's clearly heard what Bob said, but he's curling up next you anyway. Sweaty forehead pressing against your shoulder. "You've been looking for your wallet a lot lately."

"Because my money is in it, dummy."

"Are you sure you don't want a blueberry jam biscuit?" You singsong, holding your half of the treat out for him to take.

"Absolutely fuckin' not." It looks good, but Rhett can smell the raspberry flavoring just by looking at it.

He's never going to fully scrub this damn scent out of his hair.

But Robert Floyd is a menace to society whose love for food cannot be deterred. Wiggling fingers reaching out. He doesn't speak, but you can hear his silent, "I'll eat it!" loud and clear.

Your arm strains as you reach to place the biscuit into Bob's eager palm. Crumbs falling onto the bed of the truck as he bites into it. So pleased that his eyes close.

"I don't care what you say," Bob's speaking with his mouthful; you haven't a doubt in your mind that he's doing his utmost best to drive your cowboy up the wall. "It still tastes as good as before."

"Try havin' it stuck in your hair," Rhett scowls. Dramatically tilting his hat to block Bobby out of his sight. Hiding away the mottling of thin pink scars that have begun to settle into his face. Some may fade with time, but you're not so sure about the chunk of flesh missing from the corner of his eye.

Your legs swing. Dangling off the edge of the truck bed, lifted even further by the trailer that Rhett's truck is parked on. Probably not the best place for a picnic. Certainly not what you had envisioned when Bob originally suggested it, but it works.

Rhett's hand darts out, stealing a singular strawberry from Bob's plate. "This place sure doesn't look the same when it's empty."

A part of you thinks to argue that the same can be said for any area, but you get what he means. The only time you've ever seen these festival grounds has been when they're packed with booths, tents, and people. Have been here so many times now, but even so, you don't think you can identify the spot where you met them. Where Rhett accidentally ran into you, and Bob hunted you down to return the wallet you'd lost.

"Maybe it'll look more familiar if we walk through it," you suggest, as if you're wearing the right shoes for such a thing. But they seem to think that's a great idea. Shoes hitting the ground without a word.

There's a soreness in your legs as you follow suit. Cramped from two days' worth of driving and being packed into Bob's truck. Even for a modern, comfortable vehicle, it's clearly not designed for trips longer than a few hours.

Next time, a rental car is being added to the trip budget.

Bob lags behind you all the way, his hands shoved into his pockets as he ambles along. Gazing off at the treeline, pale face glowing with the golden sunset. Up in his own head again, like he has been all afternoon. Exhausted from driving, you suppose.

There's a small paved area in the center of the field, and you don't recall exactly where, but you know that you sat down for a drink with Rhett around here. Left your wallet sitting on the bench, head filled with thoughts of a wild-eyed cowboy and nothing else.

"If I run into you again, will you get another drink with me?" Rhett chirps, bumping his shoulder against yours.

"Unfortunately, that was a one-time deal," the answer is yes, but you'd rather not be knocked over again. It's hard to forget the way your bones rattled when you hit the ground. Funny how that all worked out in the end.

Your memory of that day so vivid that you don't notice what Bob is doing. So distracted by recollections of Bob and Rhett laughing as they found their odd similarities that you don't see the way Robert Floyd is settling down onto one knee. Fishing through his pocket, producing two little rings. Glinting in the light, his hands shaking like leaves in the autumn breeze. His tongue heavy as he searches for the words he's been rehearsing for so, so long.

Like leaves, the rings fall.

Chiming as they bounce off the pavement, rolling away like it's what they've been waiting to do all of this time. One shoots off between Rhett's legs, bouncing off of his shoe. The other rolls even further, not stopping until gravity takes hold, falling onto its side.

You don't know what you're looking at.

Did a ring just roll up and set itself down in front of you?

Rhett bends down, picking up the ring resting between his feet. Rolls it between his fingers, shiny and new, looks the perfect size to fit around his finger. And as you reach to scoop up the one that's fallen before your feet, you catch glimpse of something.

Bob.

Down on one knee. Reddened face hidden behind one of his trembling hands, reluctantly looking back at the two of you. "I promise I...I had something I was gonna say first, but—but I uh..."

Next to you, Rhett sucks in a breath.

You can feel yourself doing much of the same. Twisting the little ring over your finger.

It fits like a glove.

"Will..." Bob's hand falls from his face, revealing an equally shivering jaw, "Will you marry me?"

Time just about stops. Breeze no longer rustling through the trees. Orange and red sun pausing, peeking over the horizon.

Is it you who utters a soft "yes," or is it a whispering of the wind?

But Rhett is silent, still rolling that ring between his thumb and forefinger. Doesn't react as Bob approaches, too fixated on what he holds, to look up and acknowledge what's going on around him. His eyes flicker up. Glittering gaze settling on you, then moving over to Bobby.

He smiles.

And that's enough.

"Yeah?" Bobby's laugh soars through the evening air, and the world begins to turn again. "You not gonna give me an answer, cowboy?"

Rhett can't speak. Struggling to get past a single syllable, as you reach out and nudge the ring down his finger. You've never seen him wear a ring before now. Yet, you can't remember what his hand looked like without one.

Foreheads knock together as Bob pulls you both in. Squeezing tight, uncaring of how awkwardly the three of you knock into one another. A pile of limbs and racing hearts that mesh together like puzzle pieces. A little tattered on the ends, some missing bigger pieces than others, but fitting together anyway.

Rhett's nudging his scarred cheek against yours, rubbing three days worth of unshaven scruff against your soft skin, "'s this why y'keep tryin' to take us on picnics?"

Bob groans. This loud, guttural noise that devolves into a breathless chuckle, "Oh, you have no idea."

#rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #rhett abbott x reader #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbot #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #rhett abbott x you #outer range #outer range fic #tw: perry abbott #oneshot #x reader #tw: food #tw: injury

175 notes · View notes

ilguna · 11 months

Text

☼ comfort (Katniss Everdeen) ☼

summary; when Greasy Sae's unable to take care of Katniss, you volunteer to step in for the day, expecting Katniss to ignore your presence.

warnings; swearing, death mention, murder mention, the usual.

wc; 3k

–

The moment you step foot into Victor’s Village, it feels like a wet blanket is thrown over your head. The weight of the air here is unbearable, and you stop walking a few steps in, trying to get used to the feeling before you even think about continuing any further.

You’re not entirely sure what you expected when you agreed to come here for Greasy Sae, but you weren’t expecting to see a barren neighborhood without a single trace of color. The grass is dead, it might as well be dirt. The concrete fountain is dry and cracked. And the houses are grey and black, if you didn’t know any better, you think you’d be walking into a funeral home.

All the times you were told about Victor’s Village, you couldn’t help but to picture a paradise, because that’s what they advertise it as. You win the Hunger Games, you get a nice neighborhood, with bright green grass and flowers lining the sidewalk in front of the houses. You’ve pictures white houses, or even the colorful ones that they show in the Capitol.

It should not look like this.

If any of the victors of Twelve are expected to make a speedy recovery, then that means they need to be in an environment that inspires that idea. A nice garden out front could act as an excuse to get out of the house, sit on the grass and read, have people over—anything.

You’re almost surprised that the volunteers that are rebuilding the district didn’t start here first, since it’s such a small project. It’d be so easy to spread seeds, plant flowers, and call someone to fix the fountain. You suppose that they’d rather focus on jobs, farms, and getting houses built and whatnot for families. If it were you that were in charge, you’d start with the reason why they’re able to work freely in the first place.

The truth is that none of you would be here if it weren’t for the sacrifices that Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch made.

You let out a breath, rolling your shoulders slightly, before continuing around the fountain, off to the right. Katniss’ house is the first one, perfectly preserved from the war.

You go up the few steps onto the porch, adjusting the handle of the basket in the elbow of your arm. You recite the vague instructions that Sae gave you before she had to leave. She told you to knock on the front door to alert Katniss that you’re coming in, but not to expect her to answer. The door should be unlocked.

You knock a few times, pausing briefly, and then reach for the handle to open the door.

Immediately, you’re hit with a smell.

You go back a step, turning your face to the open air behind you, trying to ease the pained look off of your face. It’s a mix of smells, the primary one being rotten food. You wonder if any of them bothered to help her clean what was left in here, or thought of doing it. Surely not Haymitch, because having his own struggles across the street. If Katniss has to be taken care of, then shouldn’t have either. The only person that would’ve been able to is Sae.

You shake your head, going inside of the house anyway, reminding yourself that you’ll get used to the smell as time goes on. You slip out of your boots to leave next to the door, watching as a few bits of snow fall off the bottom and land on the hardwood floor.

You shut the front door, cutting off the breeze from chilling you any further. You take your time navigating your way to the living room, passing by a staircase and a hallway with several rooms. You catch a glimpse of the fireplace first, and find that it is lit, but the flames aren’t very high.

Katniss has herself positioned so that the back of her chair is to the corner of the room, making it impossible for anyone to sneak up on her, giving her full visibility of the room and the only entrance and exit. The fireplace is to the right, which is why she’s turned in that direction, trying to suck up all the warmth that emits from it.

When Sae was talking to you, she told you that the fire is a pain in the ass to get started, but sometimes Katniss has enough energy to do it herself before she comes to cook breakfast.

Even though the entire house is dark, curtains pulled shut to hide the winter light, Katniss manages to sense your presence. Her eyes snap up from the floor, lifting her head. In the next second, she’s on her feet.

You stop moving, “Sae couldn’t make it today, she had to make plans last minute for her granddaughter. She asked me to come instead.”

She doesn’t move from where she’s standing for a minute, eyeing you up and down, deciding if your story is real. She must figure that it’s not worth the fight, because she slowly sits back down in her chair, but doesn’t return back to her relaxed state from before.

“I’m (Y/n).” You tell her.

You know who Katniss is, for obvious reasons, but also because you both frequented the Hob. While she went to sell what she caught, you wandered around as an extra help to the busier stalls, catching thieves and making little to nothing in payment. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than the alternative.

There’s also the fact that you went to the same school that she did, as well. The two of you weren’t in the same groups, of course. She either kept around Gale or to herself. You had your own friends, the few you could make.

Katniss doesn’t respond, Sae warned you about this, so you’re not all that concerned about it. You head into the kitchen, where the smell seems to worsen the further you go inside. There’s a part of you telling you to open the fridge, despite knowing full well that the smell is coming from there.

You set the basket onto the counter carefully, pulling the top cloth off, and folding it neatly. You then reach inside for the second cloth, thinner and smaller in size. It’s slightly damp from the steam coming off of the muffins, they weren’t able to cool properly before you left. It’s all you could do last minute after Sae told you that she liked baked goods. She was never specific about what type, though.

You could always cook her, that’s what Sae does. Only, this is the first time being inside of Katniss’ house, the first time that you’re officially meeting her, too. Sae tried to tell you to make yourself at home, but it feels impossible when you don’t know where to start.

It was better than showing up empty handed, because you came late.

There’s three types of muffins inside of the basket, two of each, because you couldn’t guess which one Katniss would like better. You pull one of each variety out—a chocolate chip, a blueberry, and a banana nut. You manage to go through three cabinets before you finally find where the plates are.

When you go back to the living room, Katniss seems to have managed to get some of the tension out of her body. You watch her eyebrows twitch together slightly. You can’t imagine she’s thrilled with you being here instead of Sae. Sae’s familiar, she traded with her in the Hob all the time, and she’s the one that’s been taking care of Katniss.

“I made muffins.” You tell her, as if it’s not obvious. You set the plate on the coffee table, and then take a seat across from her on the couch. The heat from the fire begins to eat away at the goosebumps on your arms. “There’s two of each, I’m not sure which you’d like more.”

She doesn’t move, you lean back against the cushions, looking around the room, finding a thick layer of dust at the corner table. You press your lips together, because it’s similar to the state outside. It’s cold and depressing in here. You can’t imagine there’s much healing going on.

Katniss reaches forward, taking the chocolate chip muffin. You make an effort to try not to watch her eat, because that has a tendency to put people off. You play with your fingers, wondering exactly how long it would take for you to clean this place from top to bottom, if it’d even make her feel better.

Of course, you’re not stupid enough to believe that it would magically clear her of all the feelings she has about her life. She’s been through a lot in the past three years, volunteering for the Hunger Games twice, killing people, losing Peeta, being the face of the rebellion, getting Peeta back, only to find out that he’s not really hers anymore. She lost several more of her friends, her sister, and her mom won’t come back here, either.

Sae tells you that Katniss hasn’t showered since she got here, that’s why she tries not to sit too close. There’s letters that you noticed, piled up on the dining room table. And Sae tells you that Katniss lets the Head Doctor call her the same time every week, trying to get a progress update on her, but she never answers the phone.

Cleaning her house wouldn’t fix any of her problems, or come close to doing it. You remember what it was like, though, being in that position. When you sat at home for two weeks, unable to pull yourself out of bed after your mom died, leaving you to take care of everything.

A small gesture can go a long way.

Katniss eats all three muffins, leaving the wrappers on the plate to make it easy to clean up.

“Are you still hungry?” You ask, watching her shake her head.

You take the plate, heading to the kitchen to throw the paper away. The sink is empty of dishes when you get to it. Sae told you everything should be caught up for the most part. All you’d have to do is come in and cook, and come back at dinner to do it all again.

After setting the plate into the sink, already deciding that you’ll do it later, with the rest of the dishes you’ll end up with, you head back to the basket. You drop the cover cloth back inside, spreading it over the tops of the muffins. You press your lips together, this is the part where you’re supposed to leave.

You have to try, at the very least. You head over to the living room, Katniss doesn’t look up from where she stares, hands in her lap.

“Katniss?” You call, her eyes flicker to you in the doorway. “I know Sae normally leaves, but I wouldn’t mind sticking around. We could go for a walk, draw a bath, bake?”

She stares at you wordlessly, shaking her head.

“A book, game, puzzle?”

There’s no answer, she turns her body away from you, ending the conversation with that one move. You watch her for a few seconds, not entirely surprised by her behavior. This is exactly what you were expecting to receive, anyway.

Unfortunately for her, you’ve still got more questions to ask.

“That’s fine. I do need to know what you’d like to have for dinner, though. I don’t want to cook you something that you don’t like.” You say, no response. “Anything you could possibly want, Katniss. From here, from the Capitol, maybe something from another district you tried on the tour?”

Silence.

You suck in a breath, thinking, “How about lamb stew?” You ask, gauging her reaction. It works, her eyes find your face again. “And I think I remember Haymitch mentioning cheese buns.”

Katniss narrows her eyes, face twisted. You can’t tell if this is a good expression or not. If she’s mad that you’ve somehow managed to figure out what her favorite meal is, or the fact that the cheese buns that you’re referring to are Peeta’s specialty.

“You can’t.” She finally says.

“Can’t what?” You challenge.

“Replicate either of those.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, “You’ve never been to the Capitol, and I doubt you’ve ever had the chance to buy one of Peeta’s cheese buns. It won’t turn out right. Why bother?”

You let out a laugh, “Is that right?”

She shrugs, “Am I wrong?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?” You ask.

—

Honestly, there was a second while you were in the middle of making the stew where you had yourself convinced that you weren’t going to make it. You have the handwritten recipe for it, with all the instructions on how to cook on the back, but the further you got, the more complicated it would get.

You knew that the Capitol was outrageous with their ingredients. You just weren’t expecting for them to throw a little bit of everything they could possibly think of into the recipe. They had to have done it to make sure that the taste would be impossible to bring back into the districts by the victors. It truly is an evil thing to do.

And you admire them for it.

It’s a good thing that you’ve never gotten a recipe wrong in your life, and now that the sanctions are gone between the districts and the Capitol, it means that all ingredients are fair game. It wasn’t easy by any means to track down the lamb and the specially dried plums, but you have your ways for a reason, and your own pantry full of brand new foods you’ve been dying to try.

You carefully ladle the stew into a bowl you brought from home. You think Ksatniss’ dishes are nice, they don’t have that same polished look. As for you, if there’s one habit that your parents successfully instilled on you, it’s a nice appearance for dinner, even if there’s nothing on the place.

You slide a spoon into the bowl, before grabbing the plate that has Peeta’s cheese bun on it. You’re going to admit it now, you think you would’ve done his recipe better if you had more practice. He’s been a baker his whole life, he’s got an advantage on you there.

“Okay, Katniss.” You say, coming out of the kitchen, carrying her portion of the food.

She seems more awake now than she did this morning, she’s been open to conversation, too. It’s something to report back to Sae, even if it’s not a lot.

“It smells good.” She murmurs, adjusting in her chair.

“Everything smells good when you’re hungry.” You set it down on the table. “You can’t say anything about the presentation, because I’ve never seen how they serve their stew.”

A smile hints at the corner of her lips, “Anything else?”

“You have to tell the truth.”

You go back into the kitchen, grabbing your bowl and plate, meeting her back in the living room. You find her picking apart the cheese bun first, placing a piece of it in her mouth.

“Sae tells me that she doesn’t cook you lunch, is that your preference, or is it because you wake up late?” You ask.

Katniss raises a shoulder before dropping it. “She doesn’t want to spend her entire day here, she’s got her granddaughter to watch.”

“That’s right.” You take a bite out of the cheese bun. You managed to get the softness of it down perfectly. Katniss wouldn’t tell you the other qualities of what Peeta’s is like, besides the look of it.

It may or may not have led to you cheating a little bit. You went and asked Haymitch what it’s like, but you might as well not have because he was drinking when you walked in the house. You thought Katniss’ house is bad—it’s a fucking nightmare in there. Your persistence won over, he told you that the cheese melts on top and it’s usually a little greasy.

“I didn’t see you in District Thirteen.” Katniss says, lifting the bowl to rest on her lap. “Were you with Greasy Sae in the kitchen?”

“Um, part of the time, yeah.” You move the hair out of your face. “They kept me in the hospital for a couple weeks because of the burns from the fire. When they finally cleared me, Sae vouched and they brought me to work with her.”

“Did you like it there?”

You let out a noise, “Did you? I mean, it was nice for a while, because of the meals and stuff, but not being able to go outside drove me up the wall. For a second, I thought we were going to be stuck down there forever.”

Katniss tilts her head, “That’s why I got out.”

She brings the spoon to her mouth, you watch as her face twists, and then she smiles. Her eyes meet yours, you know immediately that you’ve replicated the dish. That’s all you need to know.

“How do you do it?” She asks, taking another spoonful.

“I’m just that good.” You laugh, “And what about the cheese bun?”

She makes a face, “Close. It’s good, though.”

“I tried.” You pick off more bread, “Would you care if I came at lunch everyday to cook for you?”

She shakes her head, “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“I could probably think of a few things, but I would love to use you as a taster for the Capitol cookbook I got last month.” You sit back. “Only if you want me to, I don’t want to overstep.”

She smiles briefly, “I don’t mind, (Y/n).”

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squishycheekanon · 6 months

Text

SoftDark! Slasher!Techno

Prompt: You ask a stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend to get rid of your ex.

Warnings: violence, stalking, unhinged Techno, 6’6 Techno, blood, murder,

You hadn’t wanted to go out, that much was clear to your best friend, Mia, when she had pestered you non stop only to have you brush her off each time with a huff and a ‘no’. Though she was very persistant, it was Halloween, she had whined. This coming from the woman that went out every year for Halloween, you however didn’t, you’d been out a few times for it but the last few years it had just seemed so trivial.

“You know just because you keep nagging me about it doesn’t mean I’m gonna change my mind.” You groaned trying your hardest to keep your temper at neutral.

“Please! I promise I won’t ever ask you to go out with me again!” She pressed, eyes wide with hope, it made you deflate a little. You knew you were giving in.

A pregnant pause sounded throughout the room before you conceded, “fine.” She squealed loudly and began bouncing around the room going on about what costumes to wear, it made you laugh.

About an hour later when she’d finally finished and calmed down you’d pushed her out your cabin, she stood her ground only leaving when you promised to meet her for hot cocoa the next day to discuss costumes and makeup. Only when you agreed did she leave letting you breath a sigh of relief as you watched her walk down the footpath leading into the woods that surrounded your quaint little home.

Living far away from society wasn’t exactly your choice to begin with, and even with many many protests from Mia, the place had begun to grow on you. As did the routine, getting up early, chopping up firewood as best you could, foraging and exploring the woods around your home so much so you had mapped them out.

You were confident you knew these woods better than anyone else.

After Mia had disappeared from your sight you’d closed your door and locked it. A main lock, and several little ones as well as a big wooden plank that slotted on two hooks. Impossible for anyone to break in. You repeated the actions with the backdoor and the windows, only feeling at ease when all of the entrances were locked up tight.

You’d been in this self assigned isolation for so long this was normal now, the feelings of anxiety and fear only leaving when everything was secure. No one would be getting in, especially not your ex. The man you were hiding from. The reason for your isolation. A disgusting being.

He’d put you through so much and when you’d finally escaped he came after you again, never wanting to let you go. He’d marked you in his eyes and he wasn’t going to let what he thought was his just leave. So here you were four years later hiding.

Mia had assured you that the police were doing everything in their power to find him and that it was safe to return to society but you knew better. He was smart, they’d never catch him. You’d live like this for the rest of your life, alone.

It wasn’t all bad, you were able to do pretty much whatever you wanted. With the big inheritance that your now gone family had left you, you had no need for a job. Money wasn’t a worry for you which was good.

You were able to buy food, and enough things to furnish your house in exactly the way you had wanted. You had enough clothes, even though there weren’t a lot of them, you still had everything you needed.

Most days you read or baked just like today, to keep your mind off the darkening sky you focused on your cookies and cakes that were baking away nicely while you stirred the home made jam.

You mind was numb as you watched an old movie on the IPad Mia had gotten you a couple Christmas’s ago. Crawling into bed with the lamp still on, you fell asleep with somewhat ease of knowing your hand was wrapped around the handle of your gun under your pillow. Just in case.

“Oh Nachzehrer where are you?” He hummed with a sing-song tone, thick boots and heavy footsteps pounded on the floor with each step. All he heard was a snort in reply, one that made the corners of his lips twitch with a smile under his mask.

“Shut up!” He spat when the man he carried groaned, “You were so loud and now you insist on making more noise? How selfish can you be?!” He snarled before dropping the man on the floor grimacing as the poor guy let out a scream.

“Nachzehrer! Dinner.”

You’d wrapped up warm today and good thing too as the cold air blew into your face making you snuggle into your red scarf. Looking both ways you crossed the street from the edge of the woods to the start of town, Bludhaven.

Sighing as you wandered through the street passing all the shops, only stopping when you reached The Bludhaven Grill. Stepping inside you scanned the room until your eyes landed on Mia, her bright green eyes flitting over the menu. Her dark purple hair pulled up into a messy bun, she always died her hair for Halloween.

The thought made you remember all the different colours she died her hair, every colour from the rainbow and more. A crazy hair colour for October and then November first she’s back to brown hair like it never happened.

“Hey!” You jumped slightly when Mia shouted your way, you shrunk away from the attention of the other people in the restaurant and made your way over. A quick hug later and you were pulling off your black coat and scarf, hanging them on the back of your seat before pulling off your black leather gloves too.

“I already ordered the coco,” Mia smiled brightly, “want any food?” She asked looking over the menu again.

“No thanks i ate a little while ago.” You replied starting to feel a little jittery, the way you always felt when you left the safety of your home. She nodded and continued to read through the food options.

“Oh how’s your sister by the way? I keep forgetting to ask, any news from her?” Mia asks not looking away from the menu.

“I don’t know actually I haven’t heard from her in a while but I guess you don’t have a lot of time to write when you’re in the military.” You answered, you missed your sister dearly.

“Where was she stationed again?” Mia asked this time her eyes meeting yours.

“France? Or Germany…. You know I’m not too sure actually.“ Mia just nodded deciding to drop it seeing how you began to look sad talking about it.

You shook your head to get rid of the current thoughts, glancing around the restaurant for anything out of the ordinary but you couldn’t see anything and you tried to repeat that over and over again in your head to make you relax. Obviously it didn’t work, you practically jumped out of your skin when the waiter placed your steaming hot coco in front of you.

The man looked at you weird before walking away, “Are you okay?” Mia asked concern lacing her voice, the emotion present on her face too.

“Yeah,” you said almost trying to convince yourself more than her, “yeah I’m a….I’m fine.” She looked unconvinced and made that very apparent by how her face contorted as if to say ‘seriously?’. You were quick to try and change the subject, “What costume did you decide on?”

Thankfully the question was enough to get her off your back, “oh! I decided on slutty witch.” She giggled.

“How original.” You scoffed with a playfulness to it.

“And what are you gonna wear huh?” She crossed her arms in fake annoyance.

“I haven’t particularly thought about it, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been out.” The two of you continued your chit chat and playful banter, concluding that Mia would pick your outfit and you’d just have to wear it. Definitely risky considering Mia’s style was very different than yours but you couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to say no.

Your coco finished, keeping you warm and starting to make you sleepy Mia offered to drive you home to which you accepted. She quickly ran to the bathroom leaving you to sit and think. That was bad, you took deep calming breathes to settle your anxiety. It just got worse, you picked up your coat pulling it on as well as your scarf all in a hurry to make it outside for some fresh air you crashed into someone.

Someone. A wall. A freakin mountain.

You fought every nerve in your body not to gape at the man standing in front of you. His size was astonishing, must be at least 6’6 in height. At least. His face was stoic, never changing even as his eyes darted around your face with pure curiosity. His facial expression never changed.

His hair was longish, coming to a stop at his sharp jawline. His face looked at little rough, but it matched the rest of him. His huge muscles melded with the black t-shirt he wore, you could see how thick his legs were almost begging to burst out of the dark blue jeans he was wearing.

“Sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologised, trying your hardest not to stutter under his piercing gaze. All he did was nod, hands moving so they were sat in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Let’s go man.” Another guy who look so similar to him but his hair was longer and tied back in a low bun. He was a little bit taller, but wasn’t as muscular and big. He had a bit of pudge on him as well. Though if you didn’t know any better you’d call them, not twins, but definitely brothers. The man’s accent seemed foreign, French maybe?

Once again the giant nodded following his friend out of the grill, his eyes only leaving your figure when he had to walk out the door. You were frozen in place staring at where he last was.

“Who was that?” You almost screamed at the sound of her voice.

“Jeez Mia!” Placing your hand over your heart in fright, “we need to get you a bell.” You breathed listening to her laugh. Her question forgotten about, though as you walked out of the grill together and made it to her car you did wonder, who was that?

“So where are we going? To a bar? A party? Trick or treating?” You ask as Mia adds the last bit of mascara onto your eyelashes before pulling back admiring her work with a happy nod.

“We’re going to a festival in town. It’s only small but I’m pretty sure the whole town will be there.” She answers but notices the panic that covers your face, “hey, hey it’s okay. Relax. There’s music, a bar, there’s even a fair with apple bobbing and a ring toss. It’ll be fun.” She smiles softly her green eyes sparkling with care.

“That’s not like you. Usually you go to parties.” You said watching in the mirror as she shrugs then goes to tighten your extremely dark green corset, it was almost black. Delicate flower patters in a slightly lighter green graced the corset that sat snug over your creamed coloured blouse. The red skirt you had on reached the floor, covering your black tights and brown laced up riding boots. Little red riding hood, and not the slutty version. You were very pleased with Mia’s choice.

“I didn’t want your first time out in years to be some shitty party. We’ll actually have fun at this. Plus you can leave whenever you want, I’ll even come with you.” You quickly pull Mia into a tight hug one she accepts just a swiftly.

“Thank you.” You mutter so grateful to have Mia in your life. She squeezes you a little tighter, you stay like this for a while until you decide to stop being sappy and go have some fun for the first time in so long.

Mia drove the two of you into town and by the looks of the streets, the festival is already in full swing. The streetlights shining down on all the people dancing and smiling, everyone seemed to be having fun. Mia parked and the two of you made your way through the crowd of scary and slutty, even some funny costumes until you found yourself standing outside some barn.

It had been fully decked out in Halloween decorations and pretty lights. Surrounding the barn was the fair, to the left was a stage, some band rocking out on it with loads of people surrounding it singing along to some song you didn’t know. A slight breeze makes shiver, you pull the red velvet cloak tighter around you for warmth.

“Hey I’m gonna grab us some drinks.” Mia purrs staring the hot bartender down, it makes you laugh as you push her towards the bar inside the barn. There’s so many people inside and out you loose her in the sea of people but for once you don’t freak out. You just admire your surroundings, happy to be out of your cabin, it felt nice.

But all good things come to an end.

“Long time no see sweetie.” David grinned viciously leaving a sickening feeling to swirl around you. “Boy have I been waiting for this moment.” He reaches out for you and you fall back into the crowed to get away from him. Your feet move before your brain can register and you’re so glad as you begin running and screaming.

“Please help!” You screeched as loudly as you could trying to get people to hear you over the booming music. No one did, until you crashed into someone. Again. His face was covered by a mask of some kind, it looked like the skull of a pig, the tusks still intact. Soulless dark eyes glared at you through the eyes holes, but you recognised the giant. You’d never seen anyone as big as him before, there’s no way you’d forget him.

“You.” Your voice held uncertainty and surprise but Techno focused on the fear evident in your eyes, screaming at him. He recognised it so easily. Pulling off his mask to get a better look, although the fear you displayed didn’t bring him the dopamine rush as it usually did.

“Please!” You grab onto his boiler suit outfit so tight and with such desperation that the voices in his head go quiet. “Help me! Please!” You plead eyes burning with the threat of tears, but he nods and instantly you breath a sigh of relief, “my ex is here, he is dangerous and looking for me. Please, I…I,” you scrambled for way he could help, when the idea popped into your head, “pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Techno tilts his head slightly, face unchanged from the first time you’d met, from when you’d just bumped into him. With an uncertainty in his movements he hooks an arm around your waist pulling your body against his hulking form. The air twitches with power, that’s what you felt in the force he tugged you forward. Unbridled power just emanating from him. You felt so tiny staring up at him towering over you, eyes staring into your soul yet face still stoic.

“What the fuck!” The yell is one your familiar with in the worst ways, it makes your body tremble, makes you grip onto Techno’s Michael Myers costume tighter. Techno notices and find himself frowning, finds himself not liking it one. God. Damn. Bit.

The voices in his head begin ranting and raving the second he takes his eyes off you and they land on what he could only describe as a pathetic excuse for a man. But that way you shake against him, he could see how such a man could make a little thing like you cower in fear.

“Get off her!” Your ex, David, growled his shoulders squared ready for a fight even as he glared up at the absolute beast of a man that currently held you in his arms.

“Okay.” Techno agreed. You panicked, your heartbeat rising, breathing picking up. That’s what you get for asking a stranger for help. A panic attack back on the rise you released your grip on Techno’s outfit and began to back away from him. He watched you still a frown on his face, the first bit of emotion you’d seen him display.

That was until he turned to his left, facing your ex who had his eyes on you with a hunger that made you stomach churn in disgust. Techno’s eyes light up as he rolled his shoulders, his arm moving back before he swung it and punched your ex right in the face.

He fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Techno glanced at you, his rubies looking you up and down with a flicker of concern? Maybe? Before he leaned down grabbing David’s wrist and dragged him away.

You stood there dumbfounded, what had just happened? And where was he taking him? You didn’t understand, but you were going to. Searching the room you spotted Mia seeing her making out with the hot bartender. She was okay, that gave you the green light to rush out of the barn. The whole world felt like it was swirling and spinning as you looked for a giant dragging a man with him.

There! Your eyes widened as you watched him disappear into the woods, and then the stupid kicked in and you sprinted after them. The further you got into the woods the quicker you started to realise just how idiotic this really was.

You didn’t know this man, he was a stranger and yes he may have saved you but right now he was dragging your ex along the dirt floor like he was nothing. You didn’t like where this was going and you sure as hell didn’t want to see how it ended. Turning around you realised that you were in the middle of nowhere, no festival in sight.

“Shit.” You cursed under your breath turning back to see that the giant and your ex had disappeared too. Now you were alone, lost in the middle of the woods.

“Okay okay you can do this, you know the woods it’s just darker.” You coaxed yourself, you needed to stay calm and collected. Easy right?

“Help!” Wrong. The ear shattering scream of what you thought was your ex sprouted a new level of fear inside of you.

You followed the desperate cries until you saw something out of a horror movie the absolute beast of a man was holding your ex down while he cut him open. It reminded you of when you had to dissect a frog in science, the very same technique.

Your ex cried and screamed for him to stop only for Techno to tut and reply with shut up. The scene before you had your stomach churning, you felt absolutely sickened to your core. Watching the man who had brought you so much pain writhe on the dirty ground, it wasn’t what you thought you’d feel.

Maybe you’d feel justice? Happy? Relieved? No, you felt sick as your eyes followed the way his guts spewed out from his stomach. Holding your hand over your mouth as to not make a sound, you sought strength from the tree a little ahead of you. Stepping forward, all you wanted was to grip onto the tree, all you wanted was some support, instead, a snapping noise emanated around you.

You’d stepped on a twig. You knew it and looking up into the dark dangerous eyes of the giant, he knew it too.

You wondered in that moment where the gentle giant who was kind enough to protect you had disappeared to. He looked hungry and murderous, like killing once had ignited the fire in him. “Run kleines Lamm, this lions hungry.”

“Shit!” You screeched as he advanced towards you, you ran as fast as you could. You left your brain behind and ran, no thoughts entered your head. All you knew was that you had to keep running and ignore the thundering footsteps behind you, it felt like they were shaking the whole forest.

You looked back for a split second and saw him slowing down, it pushed you to move faster knowing the advantage this gave you. You made your body go and when you thought you couldn’t move anymore you kept going. This was quite literally life or death and despite the fact that you were sure you’d be the first to die in any horror movie, you were not dying today.

Glancing back once more was a mistake given that you tripped and landed on your ankle funny, a cut on your knee and both of your hands were grazed. Hearing him closing in on you, you manage to pull yourself behind a tree. The massive trunk kept you out of site while you looked over your leg with a small hiss escaping your mouth.

You quickly covered your mouth with both hands, trying to ignore the blood that was dripping from the cut in your knee, you peeked out from behind the tree to see him stood quite far away, his eyes searching the forest through that pig skull mask of his.

You were, officially, screwed.

“You shouldn’t have followed me kleines Lamm. I don’t want to hurt you.” The words felt fuzzy and wrong coming out of his mouth, “You really should have stayed at the festival.” Shivers racked through your body at his words and the murderous tone he was so desperately trying to soften.

“Oh Nachzehrer where are you?” Techno hummed with a sing-song tone. You heard a snort in reply, and if you thought that the giant’s footsteps were loud, these were booming. Peeking back out you spotted what looked to be a massive warthog, his body three times the size of a regular one. He was vicious, with blood all round his mouth and tusks.

You were so entranced with the warthog, so terrified by its presence that you missed it. You should of been smarter, you should of fought harder. But in the end the bad guy always wins.

“Hello kleines Lamm.” Was the last thing you heard before it all went black.

Your head was pounding, it felt like your brain was trying to claw its was out of your skull. With blurry vision you looked at your surroundings, instantly noticing the gigantic warthog laid in the corner of the room chewing on a bone. You couldn’t react, you were absolutely gone…

Delta India delta, Yankee Oscar uniform, golf echo tango, tango hotel echo, hotel Oscar November echo Yankee Charlie Oscar Mike echo, Romeo echo Charlie India papa echo?

You were so drowsy, so out of it, so delirious it the words you thought you heard made no sense…

“India, hotel alpha victor echo, hotel echo Romeo”

#slasher!techno #squishy’shalloweenparty #squishycheekanon #squishycheekanonanswer #asks are appreciated #beefy!techno #squishtalks

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dreamilycleardonut-blog · 6 months

Text

Look change

This time you had surprised Mike.

It was normal for you to have changes in your look, a new haircut, new clothes or even different ways of doing your makeup. Mike loved every one of those little existential crises you had at least once a year. Abby adored your slightly long hair, she liked to style it or simply admired it for how cute it looked; Your hair was naturally dark brown, it almost looked black.

Mike loved your hair much more, the softness it had and even though sometimes it was uncontrollable thanks to the frizz he still told you how beautiful you looked. It had been 2 years since the last time you had a haircut, Christmas time was approaching and it was thanks to Abby that you had the idea of a change, again.

That happened one day when you took an old box that held all your memories to the Schmidt house. Both Mike and Abby were excited to see what you were like in the 90s and great was their surprise when they saw that you were not what they thought. they imagined.

"You were a rockstar!" Abby exclaimed, taking photos of the box. "I was goth, Abby," you responded with a tender smile as you also looked at the photos. "What a beautiful time."

Mike looked surprised at the photos of his girlfriend. Even though in the images he did not use his characteristic hairstyles that corresponded to that style, he did use makeup and boy did he like it because in all of them he had it along with his black boots.

"It's not so difficult now to imagine you like that," Mike said, looking at you and then smiling, "it's just that, right now everything makes more sense." And it was true, even though now you no longer wear clothes as flashy as the dresses and big, heavy black boots were, you still dressed in black things and there were times when you wore makeup but nothing out of the ordinary.

You liked it that way, it made you feel comfortable in your daily life to carry out your obligations such as keeping your job and sometimes taking care of Abby. Only when you could, of course, that was Mike's excuse for you to stay the night.

"You had green hair! Impossible!" Abby shouted with notable surprise with the photo in her hand, Mike quickly took it from her to look at his girlfriend with light green hair and black tips, she was wearing a long black dress. and she was sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree while laughing with her friends.

Now in the present you were nervous, since that day you felt like changing your hair color but to something that your teenage self could do without a problem even though you weren't old enough for it to look strange but you did feel out of place. Any inappropriate comment could easily hurt you at this time.

Mike on the other hand had picked up Abby from school, today he had the day off so he could calmly be with his favorite girls at home. She got out of her car, noticing that you had already arrived thanks to the white car that was in the garage. Abby was the first to enter the house while her brother yelled at her not to run or she could fall and hurt herself.

The girl started looking for you all over the house while Mike headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"Abby" you said leaving the bathroom in silence, the girl turned around to go hug you as usual but she was surprised to see you and just yelled "what happened to you?!" That caught Mike's attention, it alarmed him a little and that caused him to practically run towards where you were but he stopped immediately when he noticed your new appearance; You had blue hair and you had cut it to your shoulders.

You were crouched down so Abby could get a better look at your hair and start slowly running her fingers through your hair and she had an expression of love at how cute she looked. "Can I paint it too?" I ask, looking at her brother with a smile. "When you grow up and you pay for it," he responded sarcastically, making the girl look bad for his response. "I can buy you a wig" you commented as you stood up straight so that Mike could see you better.

Literally in the boy's mind Schmidt made a circuit when he saw you better, you were fucking beautiful. Apart from your new hair, you had on a black outfit that made your figure stand out; You were wearing pants that were somewhat tight around the hips and thighs but ended in a bell while the shirt was long-sleeved mesh that left your shoulders visible and finally you had a corcet that covered your breasts giving a heart shape and to finish you were wearing boots that made you look 6 centimeters taller than your boyfriend.

Mike was delirious right now and his shocked expression wouldn't go away. You thought that maybe you looked out of place because of your age or the Gothic style was simply not to his taste.

"How do I look?" You asked nervously, you wanted to appear calm but his silence scared you. The boy blinked several times to collect his thoughts and not have a verbal vomit but he only said "I don't know what to say" he confessed "you look...so fucking good, god, I thought he changed it would be a haircut but this surpassed my expectations." .

You laughed at his words, maybe they weren't as sweet as you expected but they were enough to brighten up that moment of your day because at night when Abby is fast asleep in her room, Mike won't hesitate to demonstrate how your new style works. It can get hot in two seconds.

_______________

sorry for the spelling errors 🍒💓

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #five nights at freddy's oneshot #abby schmidt #josh hutcherson

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doetic · 1 year

Text

Baby, it's cold outside - Ex Bf!Jschlatt x F!Reader

1/3 -> next part (coming soon)

Plot: Y/n had only planned to quickly grab the things she left at her newly-ex-boyfriend's house and leave, but an unforeseen snowstorm leaves her with no choice but to wait it out indoors with a very persistent Schlatt who's determined to piece back together their relationship. Warnings: Prior breakup, heated argument with yelling, characters are trapped inside during a dangerous snowstorm (but are safe), mention of possible death, quite a bit of swearing. Allusions to Schlatt being a functional alcoholic. Word Count: 4137

A/N: Finally it's done! This was so fun to write! Thank you for the positive response on the teaser, I appreciate it a lot! I really feel as if I could have added more but it was getting long and I was in a hell of writing an additional scene then deleting it and rewriting it, it was an endless cycle and I would have been working on this forever. I also am rusty when it comes to writing and keep changing tenses, sorry if there's anything I missed in editing. Changed Schlatt from Jason to Jacob mid fic so if he's referred to as Jason, you didn't see that. Requests are open btw!!

The house, although obviously lacking any ability to have emotions of its own, felt strangely sorrowful as Y/n gingerly stepped inside, stomping the snow off her boots and onto the mat. Rationally she knew it was likely her own shoved down emotions being projected onto the relatively blank canvas, although she wouldn't willingly delve too far into that concept. She desperately wanted to believe she was completely over her now ex-boyfriend Jacob Schlatt, especially as she was the one who had initiated and insisted on breaking up. Unfortunately, Y/n was smart enough to know that no matter how much she insisted to herself that she no longer needed or wanted her former boyfriend of five years, the truth of the matter would still continue to nag at her whenever she thought of him. It was better to avoid both Schlatt and any related introspection altogether, an impossible task when she stood inside their once shared house to collect her things.

The soft mrow of Jambo's call sounded through the entryway, the little orange cat quickly padding over to Y/n and rubbing himself against her feet as she removed her boots and other winter gear. She bent down to pet the small creature on his head, the softness of his fur against her hand was a calming sensation that brought a bit of ease to her sorrowful feelings. Y/n had missed the little guy deeply, but with Schlatt’s exorbitant income as a popular youtuber/streamer/businessman she knew Jambo would have a better life staying with Schlatt, as painful as it was to part ways. The orange tabby, who was now licking her index finger, had felt like her only companion at times while Schlatt was consistently busy with streaming, editing, or managing the businesses he helped run.

As if her thoughts had been a siren's song to lure him close, heavy, hesitant footsteps approached the entryway after a few purr-filled minutes passed by. Y/n tried to act calm and collected for her own dignity, not moving from her crouched position besides tilting her head up to meet the pained red eyes of her former lover.

Schlatt looked dishevelled. His hair was a mess and the headband that usually sat atop his head to keep the wild brown locks from falling into his face was shockingly missing. From the looks of his hair, and his mutton chops too, he was neglecting a much needed small trim. Usually it was her designated job to do so, solely because she insisted on it as sweet bonding time, something their relationship began to lack greatly as the years went on. He wore his green Polizei sweatshirt, the one Y/n had praised as her favourite many times for the way it made him look irresistibly amazing to cuddle with. Uncharacteristically, the sweater looked like it hadn’t left his body in a while, an odd thing for the usually clean and organised man.

Most people would delight in seeing their ex-partner in such a state without them, and although Y/n couldn’t lie and say Schlatt’s miserable appearance didn’t give her a miniscule bit of satisfaction. Clearly he was now realising how important she was to his life after he had made less and less time for her in the end years of her relationship, the feelings of pity and remorse that washed over her as the nearly empty bottle of Jack held in his hand, and the smell of alcohol that wafted off of him became more glaringly obvious and concerning the more she inspected him.

"I thought you were coming tomorrow," He stated simply, his voice carrying a bit of strain within.

"I texted you that I would be coming on the 25th, that's today. But if there's an issue I can come back another time," Y/n replied, the house’s entryway where they stood feeling suffocatingly uncomfortable as a result of their former relationship. It had felt like months since the last time they saw each other, the night Y/n stormed out for good, but in reality it was at most two weeks.

"No!" Schlatt's voice was filled with desperation, his eyes began to water as a sudden panicked shout escaped him at the mention of Y/n leaving "...No. It's fine. Today is fine." He cleared his throat and recollected himself to the best of his ability. "I'm sure you remember where everything is. There's boxes for you in the kitchen, I'll be editing in the bedroom."

As always, Y/n wanted to bitterly add. Instead she bit her tongue, wanting to keep the peace so she could be in and out quickly.

"Thank you, Jacob," Y/n replied quietly, lacking the confidence to say the name much louder. She had never called him Jacob. Sure it was his first name, but it was something everyone else called him, never ever her. Up until this point she had only ever called him Jay. She had to fight back the urge to correct herself, wanting to set boundaries to create space and ensure she wouldn’t run back to him.

Schlatt picked up on this, his breathing picking up slightly in alarm, a stifled whimper just barely escaping from his throat.

"Y-yeah," His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Well, you're welcome," His sadness turned to anger, as did most of his emotions when they became too much for him to handle. He spat the words out like they were venom before turning around and lurking back to the–

No.

His bedroom.

Y/n let out a shaky breath she hadn't noticed she was holding, giving a weak smile to Jambo. “Men. Am I right, bud?” She tried to make light of the situation with her comment, giving the cat a scritch behind the ears before getting up and heading to grab the boxes, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The kitchen had been taken over by ghosts.

“Jayyyy! Stop it!” Y/n giggled, putting her arms up to defend herself from the second handful of soap bubbles Schlatt scooped up from the sink and prepared to blow into her face.

She should have known better than to accept his help with the dishes. Although he certainly had, and often exercised, the capability to be calm and introspective, once something got him going he became a major troublemaker. All in good fun, of course. Y/n didn’t mind it all too much though. Sure, he was a menace, but he was her menace.

Besides, the dishes could wait. Moments where Schlatt was both sober and free of any work related obligations were increasingly few and far between these days. Y/n always tried to be understanding and supportive, but she couldn’t help but feel rejected, especially when his work related obligations often involved wildly charismatic female friends of his who could easily pass for models.

Y/n knew jealousy wasn’t a good look, but it was hard not to feel such a way when she had to sit on the sidelines as a secret only Schlatt and his closest friends knew of, and watch helplessly as people online fawned over him or shipped him with women she felt like she could never possibly compare to. Y/n knew that talking to Schlatt about her concerns before they grew into a deep resentment was the right thing to do, but each time she tried to get him alone to discuss it she was brushed off. Then, on the rare occasion he was alone, sober, and not preoccupied, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to ruin the only time she had to truly feel like a couple again.

Sure, she was living in her own personal hell, but at least she had these moments of domestic bliss. For now, they were enough.

“Come on babe, I’m not gonna blow it at you!” Schlatt promised, moving the handful of soap away from his mouth. “Don’t you trust your boyfriend?” He couldn’t fully hide the catlike grin that pulled at his lips, a smile Y/n had learned to never trust.

“No! You’re despicable!” Y/n dipped her hand into the warm, soapy water and flicked it at him. “Begone foul demon!”

“Demon?” Schlatt tsk’d at her, taking a step closer and looking down at her mischievously. “You’ve got it all wrong, toots. I’m a man of the lord. You’re the demonic one here with how tempting you are. My very own succubus…” His words flowed from his mouth like honey, the husky tone along with his hand tucking a stray clump of hair behind her ear making Y/n blush.

“Tempting? Well, why don’t you show me exactly what I tempt you to do?” Y/n breathed the words out, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Gladly.”

Y/n closed her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her, his arm wrapping around her waist and holding her firmly against his body. Just when she felt his warm breath tickle her face, the anticipation for the kiss beginning to gnaw hungrily at her, a soft pressure hit her head and was quickly followed by a small trickle of water and bubbles beginning at her scalp and running down the bridge of her nose.

“You asshole!” She playfully hit his chest, unable to contain her grin as he continued to hold her tight against his body with his superior strength.

Schlatt chuckled, kissing the top of her head despite the bubbles that remained there.

“You know you love me.”

Y/n roughly wiped her teary eyes against the back of her sleeve. Quickly, she grabbed the four boxes that sat on the island and rushed out of the room to gather her stuff, but not before sending a pained glare to the kitchen sink.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was an irrefutable fact in Y/n’s mind that in recent years her luck had been waning. But, when the lightbulbs began flicker and promptly lose all power along with the rest of the house as soon as she placed down her last box, Y/n was happy at least the god of timing was smiling down upon her, even if Lady Luck wasn’t.

Y/n glanced out the window, seeing nothing but a sea of white. The already thick flurries from earlier had grown into a full-on blizzard in the hour she was collecting her things. Luckily the bits of light that managed to make it through the heavy snow and flow through the large front window illuminated the entryway in lieu of the now non-functional lights, allowing Y/n to see what she was doing as she gathered one of the boxes into her arms for her first trip to her car. With the storm getting so bad that the power went out, Y/n knew her window of opportunity to leave was rapidly fading away. Waiting it out with Schlatt was not an option. it would be too painful, a harsh reminder of what they once had. Shifting the box's weight to one arm, Y/n used her other one to open the front door.

"Are you insane?" Schlatt shouted from the doorway into his office. He quickly rushed over, his hand darting out to quickly shut the front door before Y/n could exit through it and head into the thick, opaque wall of white that laid outside. "It's snowing so hard you wouldn't be able to see your hand in front of your face! You'd get killed trying to drive out there!" Despite his angry demeanor, Y/n knew Schlatt well enough to see through it as a cover up for his concern.

She couldn't help but scoff in response to his worry, even though she knew he was right about the danger. Reluctantly relenting, Y/n placed her things down. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't drive." She glanced out of the house's front window. "But don't you dare act like you'd care if I got hurt."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Schlatt's hand darted out to grab Y/n's arm and turn her to face him, the softness of his grip a stark contrast to the harsh desperation of his movements. "I'm not the bad guy here. I'm not the one who ended things, I'm the one who's fighting for us!"

"Yeah, I know. You won't stop blowing up my phone and acting like you're such a fucking martyr for it." Y/n pulled her arm out from his grasp, glaring up at the larger man. "Don't act like you're some innocent, blameless party who I oh so greatly wronged. Neither of us were perfect in our relationship, neither of us could give the other what they needed."

Schlatt looked appalled at her statement. "Don't speak for me! You gave me everything I needed, everything I could have possibly wanted!"

"Don't delude yourself, Jacob, I could never be good enough for you. I could never be good enough for your life." Y/n's eyes were full of resentment. "But even if so, what did I get in return? A boyfriend who's always too busy to spend time with me, and when he does find time, he's drunk? A partner I can't even talk about to anyone? A five-fucking-year relationship with a man who refuses to pop the question while he builds his brand by flirting with other people to an audience of millions?" Y/n's face contorted in sorrow as she desperately held back her tears.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Why did you let this grow worse until you broke?"

"When could I have sat you down to tell you? You hardly even had time in your schedule to eat the meals I made." Y/n snapped. Schlatt stayed silent, unable to refute. She sighed. "Face it, Jacob. You can't love me in the way I need you to without giving up everything you've built."

Tension thickened the air into cement as the two stared silently at each other, daring the other to say something first. Hesitantly, Schlatt opened his mouth to speak. "I would have given it all up for you in an instant." His voice was gentle and meek.

Y/n turned away from him to hide the tears that finally overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. Oh how her heart soared at those words, but Y/n knew taking up his offer would mean cruelly ripping his passion and a lifetime of hard work away from him. Y/n couldn't possibly entertain the idea of doing that to someone she loved.

"I'm going to check on Jambo. Just let me go."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hours later the light faded from the outside, the room only illuminated with the many candles Y/n had lit. Y/n shivered with slightly chattering teeth as she sat on top of Schlatt’s bed, a throw blanket pulled tightly around her body by her hands that were beginning to bear blue-tinted fingernails. She was alone in the room with her stubborn pride, Jambo abandoning her minutes ago.

It would be so incredibly easy for her to crawl under the covers, to be embraced by the warm, plush duvet she had insisted Schlatt purchase as a housewarming gift for themselves after they were wishing they had one during the last snowstorm they endured. Part of Y/n longed to just say fuck it to everything and crawl under, but a louder part of herself insisted it would be giving in. To what? She wasn’t sure. However, her resolve was quickly fading as her body grew more cold.

The bedroom door creaked open and the light of a flashlight lit up the room.. Y/n looked up from the bed, her eyes meeting Schlatt’s.

“It’s freezing.”

With Y/n shivering so much she didn’t have the energy for negativity, nor the energy to respond at all, instead she pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

Schlatt sighed, crossing the room and coming to a seat beside her. He placed the flashlight on the end table, keeping it on for more lighting. In his hands he held a different bottle of Jack than the one from earlier, this one appearing freshly opened, save for a few missing swigs.

“Apparently drinking will warm you up. I don’t think it actually does to be honest, but surely waiting out a snowstorm with some alcohol in your system is better than waiting it out completely sober,” He explained, gingerly holding the bottle out to Y/n.

After a few seconds of debating, Y/n reached out and accepted his offer, wincing as her nearly numb hands came in contact with the ice cold glass. Quickly she took a large gulp before handing the bottle back to Schlatt.

“It doesn’t work,” Y/n confirmed quietly.

Schlatt exhaled a small chuckle. “Thank you for peer reviewing my theory.” He examined the bottle in his hands before taking a sip of his own. “It’s always impressed me how you could drink liquor so easily from the first time you tried it.” He offered the bottle to her once again.

Y/n accepted the bottle and stared down the neck of it for a few moments in embarrassment. “It wasn’t actually easy until recently, I just didn’t want to be the girl in that Carrie Underwood song.” This time she took a smaller sip before handing it back.

The hint of a grin tugged at Schlatt’s lips. “That checks out…”

He brought the bottle to his lips but paused before he drank any, seemingly lost in thought. He screwed on the cap and placed the bottle on the end table. Y/n couldn't stop the small, proud smile that forced itself onto her face, an action that hurt with the stiff coldness of her cheeks. Despite the happiness that seeing Schlatt stop himself from drinking had brought her, the action showing he truly listened to her words from earlier, Y/n didn't draw attention to it to avoid any possible embarrassment on his behalf.

Y/n looked away quickly when Schlatt turned his head to glance at her, jumping when the back of his hand made gentle contact with her cheek.

“God, you don’t just look like you’re freezing. You feel it too,” He muttered.

Y/n moved her head away from his delightfully warm touch. “It’s fine.”

With a sigh, Schlatt stood up from his seated position on the bed, pulling out a corner of the blanket and gesturing for her to get in. “You’re going to get sick.”

“No, Jacob, It’s fine,” She insisted, although the prospect was growing more tempting by the second.

“I don’t know why you need to make this so difficult, Y/n. It’s cold, you’re cold, just get in the damn warm bed. You don’t need to be so prideful!”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she mumbled, trying to seem angry as she quickly scrambled under the covers, hoping he didn’t notice how she melted into the mattress contentedly.

Schlatt followed her in.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” She protested, shocked.

“It’s cold as fuck, are you really going to make me freeze just because we broke up?” Schlatt asked. “Besides, I’m not going to try anything. I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re a schlentleman, there’s a difference,” She huffed and looked away from him, instead she chose to gaze up at the white popcorn ceiling.

“And what’s the difference? It just sounds funnier?”

“No, the difference is that you’re Jacob Schlatt. You’re always up to something. Usually it’s funny, but I’m not in the mood right now. I just want to go home.”

Schlatt was silent for a few moments, but didn’t move. Y/n could feel his warm leg ever so slightly touching hers, a small connection that seemed to warm her body in more ways than just temperature.

“How’s your new place treating you?” He asked.

“Good…” She thought about it for a few moments. “Good. It’s just a studio apartment. Huge windows.”

“You’ve always loved those,” Y/n swore that she could hear a bittersweet smile in his voice. “You got that window seat you’ve always wanted?”

“No, not yet. Maybe one day,” She sighed hopefully, the picture of reading or doing her work while seated on one dancing into her mind. “Any issues with the house?”

“No, shockingly,” He laughed. “It’s a relief after all the housing issues we’ve been through.”

“Yeah…” Y/n agreed, reminiscing on all the problems they’d been through together. They were the only stable thing in each other's lives in a time of seemingly impossible to get through instability, and now that was over. Her chest tightened. “I’m glad things are going good for you, Jacob.” She turned her head to look at him, a small smile on her lips.

His brown eyes met her own, staring into her. “You and I both know that things are not going good.”

She gulped, looking back up at the ceiling, unable to handle the intensity of his stare and words.

“Things just wouldn’t work out between us,” Y/n tried to explain.

“Why? Why not?” Schlatt begged, making her face him again. “I told you, I’d give up my career for you!”

“I don’t want you to! You’ve spent so long on it, it makes you so happy. And…” She swallowed, trying to keep the words from coming out. “I’m not special or important enough for that.”

Schlatt’s eyes widened. “Where’d you get that idea? Y/n, I was with you for five years, you’re the most amazing person I know!” His hands cupped her cheeks and Y/n had to stop herself from dissolving into his comforting, warm touch.

“You never showed it! You were always busy, I always had to hide our relationship. I’ve just always felt unwanted…” Her vision grew blurry with the forming of tears. “It’s no matter now, it’s over.”

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Schlatt looking guiltily into Y/n’s eyes as he tenderly held her face. Realistically it was only a few minutes until the larger man hesitantly moved closer to Y/n, his slightly chapped lips pressing against hers. Y/n’s brain screamed at her, not for her sinking into the action and accepting it, but for pushing him away in the first place. She had been fighting with her true feelings for too long, and now she didn’t have the strength to continue.

“Tell me, tell me if you don’t want this and I’ll stop for good. I’m not going to force you to love me if you don’t want to.” His face was nervous and hopeful as he pulled away. “But if you have any doubts about that at all, I’ll keep fighting for you. For us. I’ll do whatever I can to make things right.”

Y/n opened and closed her mouth slightly a few times, she found herself unable and unwilling to form a protest. She wanted this, she wanted him. She didn’t want to keep running. With his touch, everything suddenly felt fixable. No longer did everything seem like a large, unclimbable mountain. All their problems sunk into the shape of hills.

“Please, do that again.” She whispered.

Schlatt grinned.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sunlight flowed through the window, illuminating Schlatt in its rays of gold. Y/n pulled herself into a sitting position and watched him for a few moments before she slowly crawled over him in an attempt to get out of the bed without waking him. Still dressed in the clothes she had arrived in, Y/n quietly moved to the door on the tips of her toes.

“Y/n?” Schlatt’s tired and anxious voice sounded from the bed.

“Go back to sleep,” She urged.

“Are you leaving?”

“I can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Please, don’t go,” He begged, sitting up.

“Get back in bed, go back to sleep,” She rushed over, gently placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the mattress.

His hand grabbed her wrist, keeping her from leaving. “I thought we worked this out last night, we promised to communicate. Y/n, talk to me. What’s going on?” His brow furrowed.

She huffed. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed, but I wasn’t sneaky enough.”

Schlatt’s face softened as he pulled her onto his body, hugging her close. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“I’m sorry, please let me up. Even if it’s no longer a surprise I need to make breakfast” Y/n tried to get away but his strong arms kept her still.

“Baby, it’s cold outside. Come lay with me where it’s warm. Just for a few minutes?” He pleaded.

She relented, his begging making her body warm with the feeling of being loved. “Of course Jay, just for a few minutes.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

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