#like the rest of the cast have such lovely names too n i remember when i was younger searching all the meanings n all hehe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-simple-gaywitch · 9 months

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Heart Full of You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Spencer goes to pick Henry up from school for JJ, he doesn't expect to fall head-over-heels for his teacher

Warnings: Mentions of guns, I think that's it?

Word Count: 4541

Author's Note: I don't really like the ending I have here, but I'd LOVE to continue writing this universe, I have so many ideas!

“Fate shuffles the cards and we play.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer

Spencer walked through the doors of Henry and Jack’s school and headed toward the theater. JJ and Hotch had signed the boys up for the school district’s musical and had asked Spencer to pick them up. JJ and Will had their Thursday date night, and Hotch was stuck in the office. Spencer was more than happy to agree. He slipped into the auditorium and took a seat at the back, since he was still pretty early.

He saw a younger woman, probably in her early 20s, at the front of the auditorium with a clipboard and tape measure. She was presumably taking the students’ measurements for costumes while the instructor up on the stage led the children through the dance steps. The man he knew to be one of the high school teachers sat in the middle of the front row, making notes in a book.

The dance instructor clapped as the song ended. “Okay, everyone, that’s the choreo for the day. I’ll turn you over to Mr. Meadows.” She nodded to the teacher in the front row.

“Thank you Miss (Y/N). Take a water break, everyone, we’re back in five.”

A small chorus of “thank you five” was heard from the older students as the kids dispersed off the stage. The woman, Miss (Y/N) as Mr. Meadows had called her, hopped off the stage with ease and joined the younger woman who was taking a high schooler’s measurements.

“Okay, folks, let’s bring it back!” Mr. Meadows called. “Take your seats, please. I won’t keep you too much longer, I just want to go over today’s notes.” Spencer noticed the monotonous tone of his voice and the elementary schoolers’ attentions already fading. “First, I need my principles, minus Jack and Red, right at 3 tomorrow. Do not be late. Evan, that means you. We have vocal work to do with Ms. (Y/N) and I do not want to waste her time. The rest of my high school cast, 3:30. Next, principles, do your linework. The sooner you start, the easier things will be later. Finally, my junior cast, don’t forget to see Ms. (Y/N) and Ms. Addi with your grown-up before you leave. And with that, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Henry ran over to Spencer, his overly large backpack thumping against his back. Jack walked behind him, dragging his bag behind him.

“Uncle Spencer!”

“Hey, kiddos!” Spencer said, kneeling down to catch the incoming Henry in a hug. Before he knew what was happening, Henry was dragging him towards the two women at the front of the auditorium.

“Miss (Y/N)!”

“Hey, Henry! Hi, Jack! You boys find your grownups?” the dance instructor asked him. Her clothes reminded Spencer of the teacher on that Magic School Bus show Henry liked. Her pants were covered in music notes and she wore large, dangle feather earrings.

Henry nodded. “Uh-huh! This is my Uncle Spencer!”

You looked at Spencer and smiled. “Well, while I talk to your uncle, why don’t you go let Miss Addi take your measurements for your costume?”

Once Henry bounded over to the young woman with a clipboard, Jack following close behind, Spencer said, “Uh, my name’s Spencer Reid. I’m an authorized pick-up for both Henry Lamontagne and Jack Hotchner. I’ll be bringing him home today, too.”

“Uh, Hotchner, Hotchner,” you muttered under your breath, flipping through the clipboard in your hands. “Ah, here he is. I just need your signature next to both children’s names, Mr. Reid.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He took the clipboard and pen from you. “So, are you new to the district? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”

“Oh, no,” you said with a laugh. “No, I’m here on a volunteer basis, technically. Been working with the theater department for six years, but I’m not on their payroll. I actually work-”

“Can we go get pizza now?” Henry asked Spencer, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Ooh, a pizza party? You must be the fun uncle,” you said.

Spencer’s face flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, s-sure, Henry. We’ll get it on the way home.”

“Bye, Miss (Y/N)!” Henry said, wildly waving his arm.

“Bye, Henry, bye Jack. I’ll see you boys on Monday.”

Spencer watched you for just a moment longer as another child and her guardian approached you.

The team was reviewing a local case. 3 women were killed, all dressed in period clothing.

“You think he’s making them look like Jack the Ripper’s victims? I mean, their throats are slashed and they’re dressed in Victorian clothing.” Morgan suggested. “And we know the victims are low-risk, victims of opportunity.”

“I don’t know,” Reid muttered, scrutinizing the crime scene photos. “Something about the clothes feels off.”

“The clothes are the key. Something about them will lead us to him,” Rossi said.

“Reid, you and Callahan look into the clothing more. Dave, you and Morgan go to the latest crime scene. JJ, you’re with me. We need to build a geological profile.” After Hotch gave the assignments, the team dispersed. Spencer and Kate Callahan stayed in the briefing room, looking over the photos.

“What if we have an expert look at the clothes?” Kate suggested. “See if anything sticks out to them? There’s a professor at the university that’s known for her dissertation on historical clothing.”

“Now, if you look at contemporary theater, you’ll notice huge differences in how typical gender roles are portrayed. Unlike the standard Golden Age piece, women are given more agency and more purpose in the story besides furthering the objective of the man. For example, West Side Story versus Hairspray. Even though both shows center on a woman, it’s Tracy’s will that drives the plot of Hairspray whereas Maria’s will does not drive West Side Story. This goes back to our discussion earlier in the semester regarding protagonists. However, we do see a shift during the Golden Age, in that women are beginning to be fleshed out as characters. Compare the women in Allegro to the women in Gypsy. As we progress through to the contemporary age, we begin to see more female-led shows take stage.” You glanced at your watch and sighed. “And that is where we will pick up next class. Please remember to read chapters 13 and 14 in your text. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

Your class gathered their belongings and slowly made their way out of the room. You were tucking your own belongings into your bag when you felt someone approach the desk.

“Office hours are at- Oh, hello.” When you looked up, a woman was standing in front of you, presenting an FBI badge.

“Dr. (L/N), my name is SSA Kate Callahan, and this is my partner Dr. Spencer Reid.” Standing behind her was a man you recognized from the school. He was the uncle Henry Lamontagne talked about all the time. “We were hoping you’d be willing to give us your professional opinion on some clothing pieces.”

“Oh, well, uh, sure. Let me just email my next class and let them know it’s canceled.”

As you pulled your laptop out from your bag, Agent Callahan asked, “Don’t you have a TA that could take over?”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m a professor in the theatre department. I’m lucky I have my own workshop and somewhat of a budget during show season.” You typed up a quick email to your next class and sent it. “I usually work in my shop instead of my office, but-”

“Wherever is most comfortable for you,” Agent Callahan said. “We have some pictures that are… well, gruesome.”

You nodded. “Well, then, to the dungeons it is.” At the concerned look the agents gave each other, you said, “My workshop is in the basement. My students affectionately christened it the dungeons a few years ago. I hope you don’t mind a few sets of stairs.”

“Lead the way,” Dr. Reid said.

Getting down to the costume shop was like a quest on its own. Not only did you have to trudge down several staircases from the classroom floors, but then you had to use your ID to take the elevator the rest of the way down. When you finally reached the basement, you dug your key hoop out of your bag and flicked through it. The key to the main portion of your shop was attached to a Phantom of the Opera keychain.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Welcome to my shop. Feel free to sit wherever you can. If there’s stuff on a chair, just set it on a workbench.” As you set your bag down at the desk in the corner, Spencer looked around the room. It could be accurately described as organized chaos. While the work benches were covered in fabrics, thread, and many other things Spencer didn’t know the names of, everywhere else was meticulously organized. Bins and drawers were labeled, and not a thing seemed out of place. Spencer looked at the dress hanging on a mannequin and couldn't think of it as anything other than a work of art. There was elaborate beading on the bodice and embroidery on the skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” you asked as Kate and Spencer got settled.

“We were hoping you could tell us about the outfits in these pictures,” Spencer said, pulling a file out from his satchel. “Fair warning, it’s not pleasant.”

You shrugged. “I grew up with a mom obsessed with crime shows and police procedurals. Pictures won’t bother me.”

Spencer handed you the file folder. “We think he’s dressing them up like Jack the Ripper’s victims.”

You hummed as you looked through the pictures. “Any idea what kind of fabric was used?”

“Why does that matter?” Kate asked.

“Well, cotton was a luxury in Victorian London,” you explained. “Most common folk wore linen or wool, because it was what they could afford. It was also common to patch up clothing with fabric found around the house rather than replace a shirt or a pair of trousers.” You grabbed a magnifier from your desk and looked closer at one of the photos.

“Do you see something?” Spencer asked as you moved to another picture.

“I’m not sure,” you said.

“Well, what is your gut telling you?” Callahan asked.

You pointed toward a small section of embroidery through the magnifier. “This stitching along the underside of the skirt. It’s on all of them.”

Kate’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a signature. Us designers like to add some sort of signature or tell into all our pieces. A secret way of letting the world know the piece is ours.” You reached across the desk and grabbed a piece of fabric. When you unfolded it, they saw it was a shirt. You held the edge of the sleeve out for the agents to see. “For example, I use a treble clef as mine. My mentor would include Mickey Mouse heads because she was a huge Disney fan. Other people just find creative ways to embroider their initials onto it in a way that just looks like an artistic choice.”

“So, if we can find out whose signature it is, it can lead us to the origin of the outfits,” Spencer said.

“I’ll call Garcia, see what she can find.” Callahan said.

“Oh, we don’t get cell service down here, you might need to go back upstairs,” you told her. She nodded and stepped out of the workshop. You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid.”

“You, too,” Spencer said with a small smile. “So, this is where you actually work, huh?”

You gave a small laugh. “Yep. Start of this semester was 7 years.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks. So-”

“Reid. Hotch wants us back. Rossi and Morgan might have something. Thank you for your help, Dr. (L/N).”

“Of course. Happy to help.”

After Callahan and Reid left the costume shop, Kate said, “Okay, spill. The energy in there was really weird. Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, I didn’t know I knew her.” At Kate's questioning look, he explained, “I met her through my godson. She volunteers at his school and goes by her first name there.”

“Uh-huh. And the awkwardness?”

“When have you known me to not be awkward, Callahan?”

Kate hummed, but dropped it.

You were humming along to the soundtrack you had playing, measuring a drape of fabric on your dress form, pins sticking out from your mouth. You glanced from your notebook with your measurements and pattern sketch to the fabric. You pinned a piece of the cloth up when you heard a knock at the door to your shop.

“Come in,” you said, your voice muffled from the pins. You stuck them back in the pin cushion on your wrist before standing up and dusting off your pants. “Oh, Dr. Reid! How can I help you?”

“You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he said. “I uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you we caught the guy,” Spencer said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “We-we couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure you would have figured it out anyway. The BAU seems to be good at that kind of thing.”

Spencer gave a small laugh. “Yes, but your help enabled us to track him down without any more lives lost.” So, what are you working on?”

“Oh, I’m making one of Eponine’s dresses. We’re doing Les Mis this semester. I have Cosette’s dress on Cordelia over there.”

“Who?”

“Oh, sorry. The dress form. We named them after Shakespearian women. It’s just a fun little thing we do here. That’s Cordelia, this one by me is Rosalind.”

Spencer smiled. You know, maybe you could tell me more about what exactly your job is at dinner?” Before you could answer, Spencer said, “Obviously, you don’t have to, I’m not trying to force you into anything, I-”

“Spencer,” you said, holding your hand up to calm him. “I’d love to go out with you. Here-” You walked over to your desk and shuffled papers around. “Aha!” You grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “My personal number. That way we can, you know, figure out something that works with both our schedules. I’m sure yours is even crazier and more unpredictable than mine.”

The smile you gave Spencer lit a warmth in his chest that he didn’t think he would ever get tired of.

“Pretty Boy! Tonight, drinks on me.”

“Oh, uh, no thanks, Morgan.”

“No, no, no, you can’t just stay in when we finally have a Friday night off. You’re coming.”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean, I don’t, but it’s not just that. I, um, I already have plans.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” He grabbed his satchel and rushed out of the BAU office.

Morgan’s brow furrowed as he watched Spencer’s retreating form.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.

“Remember the last time Reid was this jittery and secretive?”

She sighed. “You know I do.”

“What happened last time?” Kate asked.

“Maeve,” Garcia answered, her voice just above a whisper.

“We have to find out what’s going on with him,” Derek decided.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Let’s follow him,” Garcia cut Kate off. “See where he’s going, what he’s up to.”

“That can’t be true!” Spencer laughed. “There’s no way!”

You were laughing too. “I’m serious! I stapled the sleeve of my sweater to the set piece we were building and I didn’t notice until we were ready to lift it into place! They wouldn’t let me in the wood shop after that.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. You were funny, smart, and everything he could hope for.

“So, how did you end up working with the school district?”

“My niece,” you explained. “Her senior year, their regular choreographer went on maternity leave. The district said if they couldn’t find someone to fill the role, they would cut the play. Julia called me melting down over it, begging me to volunteer. And, you know, I’ve never been able to say no to my nieces and nephews. After that production, we found out that the choreographer was quitting to be a stay-at-home mom, so I agreed to be the regular choreographer on a volunteer basis. Then the next year, their costume connections fell through. I worked through the university to provide costumes, which is how the internship program started. This year, I’m just filling in on vocal directing while the choir director is out on medical leave. And Into the Woods is one of my favorites to sing anyway. So, what about you? How’d you end up working for the FBI?”

While Spencer told you about going to college at 12 and meeting Gideon, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were sitting at a nearby table, hiding behind menus.

“Who is she?” Garcia asked, trying to get a better look at you. Your back was to their table.

“I don’t know. Never seen her before.”

JJ squinted. “Something about her seems familiar.”

Before they could do more digging, a waiter came over to take their orders. When the waiter left, Spencer’s table was empty.

“Where did they-”

Spencer walked up to their table, arms crossed against his chest. “Really, guys? Did you think you were being discreet?”

“Kid, look-”

“You were being all secretive, we were worried about you!” Garcia cut in.

Spencer sighed and dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I just- We’re all so in each other’s business, and this is so new I-”

“You wanted to keep it to yourself,” JJ said. “We get it. Looks like she’s coming back from the bathroom. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“But-”

“Come on, Pen. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it on Monday. Right, Spence?”

Spencer smiled. “Sure, Jayje.”

Phone calls with your family always stressed you out. It wasn’t that you had issues with your family, it was just that they always seemed to be up in your business. And that held true for your monthly family dinner.

“(Y/N/N), I’m telling you, you’d get along great with this guy,” your older sister, Maria, said. You were over at her house for dinner, your parents and other two siblings video-calling from their respective locations. “I know you feel like ‘the universe and fate will align’ and introduce you to your soulmate or some shit, but that’s not really how the world works.”

You sighed. “Maria-”

“Come on, you haven’t dated anyone since college!”

“Because I haven’t had any interest. Liz, back me up here,” you said to your younger sister, who was feeding her twin toddlers.

“What?”

You shook your head. “Never mind. Can we just change the subject, please? Tommy, how’s school going?” you asked your younger brother, the youngest in the family. You could tell he was only half paying attention from his dorm room. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

“Maria’s right, sweetheart,” your mother said. “How will you ever meet someone without putting yourself out there?”

“Ma-”

“I mean, you’re not getting any younger-”

“I have a boyfriend, okay, Ma? I don’t need your help!”

Your family fell silent.

“You have a boyfriend?” Liz was the first to speak. “What’s his name? Where did you meet? How long have you been together? How-”

“Elizabeth, let her breathe!” your father said with a laugh. “We’re happy for you, pumpkin. Tell us about him. At your pace, of course.”

You smiled and told them about Spencer. Only after promising to bring him to the next real family dinner did they relent and change the subject, pestering your little brother about his college classes.

You and Spencer were a damn near perfect match. After that first date, the two of you barely went a day without calling or texting each other. When he was in town and not across the country on a case, he would bring you lunch. You’d frequently stay over at each others’ apartments. Months into your relationship, you knew each other better than yourselves.

Which is why, when you didn’t answer your phone on a Saturday afternoon when the team got back from a case, Spencer was concerned. He made his way to your apartment and fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket. He pushed your door open.

“(Y/N)? Love?” He walked into your apartment, which was unusually messy. Scraps of fabric were littered around the room, and music was blasting from your home office. “(Y/N)?”

You came rushing out of your kitchen, your hair a wild mess and your oversized pajama top drooping from your shoulder. You skidded to a halt.

“Spencer! What are you doing here?”

“We just got in from the case. I tried calling-”

“You did?”

“-to see if you wanted to grab dinner.” You pulled your phone from your sweatpants pocket and saw the 3 missed calls from Spencer. “Are you okay? What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You sighed. “I haven’t. I’ve been working nonstop. I need to make the mask for the Wolf, the Witch's coat, and Enjolras and the other revolutionary’s waistcoats, and my sister asked me to make a dress for her coworker’s daughter’s quinceanera and-”

“Whoa, whoa, hey. Breathe.” He cupped your face in his hands. “You need to stop working yourself so hard,” he said, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Says the man who overworked himself so much he developed chronic migraines.” At his raised eyebrow, you said, “Sorry.”

He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t you let me help you out a bit? Give me instructions, I’m a quick learner.”

You reached up and pulled his hands from your face. “Spencer. As much as I absolutely treasure and adore you, the thought of you seeing the absolute disaster that is my home workshop right now is literally the most terrifying thing I can imagine. More terrifying than you meeting my family. Which, by the way, my mom is insistent that you come to Thanksgiving this year.” You yawned and leaned your head against his chest.

“We can talk about that later.” He kissed the top of your head. “How about now, into bed? You’re dead on your feet, love.” When you only nodded, Spencer led you to your bedroom.

After getting you settled in your bed, Spencer went to stand up. You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stay,” you mumbled, tugging him towards your bed.

The next morning, Spencer walked into the round-table room late.

“Well, look who’s wearing the same clothes,” Derek said. “Fun night?”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Hotch looked over Reid before saying, “As I was saying, Indianapolis needs us to write up a consult. Garcia is passing around the case file.”

Spencer was filling out paperwork at his desk when his phone started ringing. “Dr. Spencer Reid.” He froze as he heard the person on the other end of the line. “Oh- oh my god. Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll be right there. Uh, thank you.” He slammed the phone down and started gathering his belongings.

“What’s wrong, Reid?” JJ asked, watching Spencer cram a folder into his satchel.

“(Y/N)’s at the police station.”

You were walking home from the fabric supply store when a young man stopped you. He couldn’t have been older than 20. He pulled a gun and pointed it at you.

“Give me your purse,” he said. You saw the way his hand was wavering.

You straightened up. “No.”

“You-you can’t say no! I-I have a gun!”

You just blinked at the man- practically a boy. Then you kicked him in the groin, causing him to drop the gun as his hands flew to cup his injury. You pressed your foot on top of the gun, preventing him from picking it back up, then you dialed the police.

They brought you to the station to give a statement. You were sitting next to one of the detective’s desks when Spencer ran in.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay? What happened?”

The detective nodded at you and gestured toward where Reid had come from, indicating you were free to go.

You shrugged at Spencer. “Some punk-ass kid tried to mug me. Had a gun and everything.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, I knew he wasn’t gonna go through with it.”

“How could you possibly have known that?”

“Spence, I’m from Philly. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to mug me at gunpoint.”

His eyes went wide as saucers. “That doesn’t make it better!”

You smiled and kissed Spencer’s cheek before taking his hand. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I love you.” Your smile widened as Spencer’s face started to pale. “I mean, uh-”

“I love you too, Spence. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Okay, closing night,” Mr. Meadows said, addressing the students, all in their brightly colored costumes. “I’m incredibly proud of all of you for making it this far. This is our last show, you’ve all done great so far. Go out there and give them one last show to remember. Now, before we get in places, Ms. (Y/N) is going to lead you through a vocal warm-up.”

“Thanks, Mr. Meadows,” you said, taking your spot in front of the group. “Okay, guys, you know the drill. Repeat after me, then all together.” You took a deep breath before leading, “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock, in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block.”

After the cast ran through their warm-up, you said, “I’m so proud of all of you. Go out there and break legs. I’ll see you all after at intermission.” You waved before slipping from backstage, making your way to the lobby.

It wasn’t often that you got to just sit and enjoy the hard work your students put in, but one of your interns was staying backstage in case of any costume emergencies. You spotted Spencer in the crowd and wove through everyone to get to him. With him were Henry’s parents, Jack’s father and aunt, as well as the rest of the BAU team.

“Hey,” Spencer said, grabbing your hand and giving you a quick kiss. “Glad you could join us.”

“Me, too,” you said as you slowly made your way into the auditorium to find your seats. “It’s gonna be nice to just enjoy the show for once.”

As the show began, you felt Spencer looking at you.

"What?" you whispered.

"Nothing. The costumes are beautiful. You're an artist."

Your cheeks flushed at his words. You took his hand in yours and rested your head on his shoulder.

Like Cinderella and her prince, Spencer was your happily ever after.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #bau

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mydearlybeloathed · 1 month

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𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ⁴

𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐲…

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: on the night of your promotion, you ruminate on just how far you've come, and make the harrowing realization that you've gone too far down this road. with only whispers as a guide, the deserter sets out to find the strawhat, finally done running from your problems.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.7k (wow)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gn reader, mentioned death of a mother, the crisis climaxes, alcohol like once i think, the happy ending :)

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬: the night we met, your hands are cold

series masterlist

The party—gala, more like—was in full swing. Violins swelled and a piano forted, and somewhere out of your sight was a woman singing opera. The music would have been lovely had you been anywhere else, but here you are.

At a Marine Gala of all places. You heaved a heavy sigh, sipping at your champagne as you forced a smile, pushing back your shoulders.

The heavy gaze of your father rested on you from across the ballroom, worry lining his face at the thought that you might do something to disgrace your family name. That thought had never been more tempting, but you were nothing if not calm and collected.

So you busied yourself with being a wallflower, dwelling in the itchy fabric of your outfit. It was nice, you gave it that, a rich blue color you might have picked for yourself if you had the option, which you hadn’t. Your father chose this outfit, like he made most of your decisions these days.

He didn’t think Koby was a good influence? He had you transferred to another ship. He didn’t think you were ready for that promotion? He told your superiors just that. You hated him. You wanted to end him. You smiled at him from across the room as he raised a glass in your direction, speaking to Vice Admiral Garp in a low tone.

You downed your glass and wiped your chin, resting your eyes for a moment. Your father had risen to the rank of commodore recently, which had been a major boost to his ego. You’d been feeling the brunt of it for weeks. But maybe, things were about to change. This party was for you, after all.

The partygoers grew sparse for a moment, and as if light were shining down in a heavenly glow, there was Koby, his eyes scanning the room as he rose on his tiptoes. A wide smile split onto your face, and not even Helmeppo bobbing up behind Koby could sway it.

Uncaring of your father or proper etiquette anymore, you waved wildly and called, “Koby!”

A few strangers cast you dark looks as Koby’s bright eyes found yours. He all but raced in your direction, speed walking across the floor to maintain some level of poise. He nearly hugged you, nearly spun you around he was so happy, but settled on taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

You returned the gesture with a roll of your eyes. “Pleasure to see you, Captain Koby.”

“The pleasures all mine, for certain,” he answered, barely able to keep the mirth out of his tone and eyes.

Helmeppo caught up to his friend, looking from you to Koby before doing a double take. A little grin slid onto his lips. “Oh, Commander.”

You nearly replied when Koby swatted his arm and gestured to the medal pinned over your heart. “Captain, remember? We’re at their promotion gala.”

“It’s not just my gala,” you said, shuffling your feet. “There’s others promoted too… And don’t call me Captain.”

Koby’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze flickering all over your face. He was disappointed to find that even more light had left your eyes since last he saw you. This world was draining you of everything beautiful about you, and he feared the day the proud yet haunted cadet he’d met swabbing the decks all those years ago would be gone for good.

“Helmeppo,” Koby said distantly. “Can you get me a glass of wine?”

Instantly the boy perked up and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder, muttering something as he went off in search of a drink. You watched him go, tired eyes fluttering, and as soon as Helmeppo was out of sight Koby set a hand on your shoulder and began to usher you deeper into the crowds of people, well out of your father’s line of sight. “Koby—?”

“You look miserable,” he drawled, squeezing your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

“I…” You thought of several reasons why, like the consequences if your father found out, or maybe being mugged on the streets, before you grew sick and tired of this awful anxiety you’d been dealing with for years.

Letting out a determined huff, you nodded, allowing a smile to show. “Okay.”

જ⁀➴

A laugh ripped out of you at some awful joke Koby made as you walked through the night chill, heart light and shoulders relieved of that weary weight usually stacked on them. Koby bumped your shoulder. “You feelin’ better?”

You nodded despite yourself. “Yeah. A bit.”

The truth was, you never were better. You’d perfected the art of going numb, ignoring the ache of regret always looming in the back of your mind. But then, just some months ago, you’d seen stupid Red Hair Shanks, and he planted all these thoughts in your head. Just like he planted them in Luffy’s.

Your steps faltered, face falling, and you came to a halt to turn out to the sea on your left. The boardwalk of the city dropped off into deep blue waters splashing up against it. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as Koby noticed you’d stopped.

He slowly inched up beside you, following you gaze. “What is it?”

You fiddled with the medal pinned to your clothes, a symbol of your new position among the Marines. “Do you think I’m a good person?”

The question caught him off guard. “Uhm, yes? I mean, of course I do.” He ducked to catch your gaze, growing increasingly worried when you simply closed your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You hung your head and chewed at your bottom lip. “I… I’m tired, Koby.”

The bags under your eyes were evident, and so Koby nodded. “We can head back to base. I’ll tell your dad you’re sick—”

“Not just physically,” you choked out. Eyes pressed shut, you hissed out a sigh. “Mentally. I’m so tired of—of this.” You gripped your medal and ripped it off your chest, tearing a hole in your outfit. “I didn’t think I’d get this far. Now, I’m a captain. As a captain, I’m in charge of so many more people. So many more people will see me as this—awful thing that I’ve become.”

“Woah, hey.” Koby reached to take the medal from your vice grip, but you weren’t done, jerking away from him and looking right at him, eyes ablaze with years and years of thoughts better left unsaid.

“You know I never wanted this,” you nearly whispered. Your hands shook around the cold metal. “Koby… what if I can’t get out?”

For the longest time, all he did was stare at you, eyes slightly wide, and you feared you’d crossed a line. Regret pooled in your eyes as tears swelled at the corners. You half wished to return to the party, allow your father to berate you for disappearing, and continue a horrid night with your only friend angry with you.

Koby turned suddenly, expression unchanging, and trudged down the boardwalk, toward a row of buildings overlooking the sea. Hesitant, you followed, running your thumb over the back of your medal.

His pace slowed to allow you to catch up and walk beside him, your eyes stuck to the ground as you let him lead you blindly into the light of a hanging street lamp. You glanced up, gut going cold as you met eyes with Monkey D. Luffy.

You’d seen his wanted poster so many times you’d found every little detail you could, yet you still jumped out of your skin every time.

Instantly, a burn welled up in your chest, fists tight at your sides. “Why…”

“You love him, right?” Koby asked.

Dazedly, you scoffed, lost in the poster. “What kind of question is that?”

“He feels the same,” said Koby, watching you gaze at Luffy’s picture like one might gaze upon a magnificent fresco.

“You think so?” you wondered.

“I know so,” he replied with certainty.

Swallowing your tears, your eyes wandered around the wall in front of you, scanning over the several other wanted posters pinned up. Luffy’s crewmates took up much of the space, each looking so brave and fierce. Even Shanks’ poster was there, though slightly faded.

Luffy. Shanks. Even Koby. They all had something in common: that brave fire you’d always been too fearful to ignite.

Your fists started to shake. If courage was a fire, then you were a pile of wet logs, desperate for some kindling. Eyes flickering back to Luffy’s wide smile, plastered up on this wall, illuminated by lamplight, you forced down the taut coil in your gut, and exhaled.

As your eyes fell closed, every crashing wave and calling bird fell silent. You barely even heard yourself breathe. Love. You loved him. You craved to see him. A thought hit you so sharply, you didn’t believe it was your own: did you love him enough to do something reckless?

The tether tight on your soul quivered, sending shockwaves across the sea and right to the heart of a boy made of laughter. His laugh grew brighter till you swore he was right beside you, but as you opened your eyes, there was only Koby, staring at you with some concern.

“Y/N?” he spoke tentatively, causing you to force down a thick swallow.

Breathing uneven, you blinked widely at him. Yes, you answered the question. Go, it replied. “I can’t stay,” you said so quietly Koby almost didn't catch it.

But he knew. He understood. Koby reached for your hand, taking the shiny Captain’s medal from your enclosed fist, and glanced out at the ocean. When he placed the medal back in your hand, you moved instantly, rushing at the water and hurling the medal far into its arms. The splash was too far away to hear, but you felt the medal sink into the depths as another of the binds tying you down snapped.

Your blood rushed in your ears, that same exhilaration from when you’d chased down Shanks some months ago. This time though—you heaved a hefty breath, shock written all over your face—this time you were taking the first chance you got.

A laugh was dragged out of you as you raked your hands through your hair, finding Koby behind you when you whirled around. “Shit… my dad’s gonna kill me.”

Yet, the thought didn’t hold much power when you considered that Luffy used to promise he would take you far, far away from that man. Maybe… maybe you could take yourself away. To Luffy. Hopefully, he would recognize you after all this time.

And when you raisec your gaze to Koby, he was smiling, eyes squinted as he reached to grab your shoulders and tug you into him. Your arms wrapped tight around his middle, and he hugged you all the more tighter, his hand finding the back of your head. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” you murmured, dragging a watery chuckle from him.

“It’s not a competition.”

Jerking back, you scrutinized his face, swearing you would never forget him as long as you lived. Perhaps you’d see him again some day, long down the road, when he’s some big shot marine and you’re—well, you’re a pirate.

It had always been Luffy’s dream, his calling. For the longest time you had no clue if you had a dream of your own; you had one now. I’ll be brave, and Luffy will be proud. I’ll be proud. You wanted so dearly to be proud of yourself for once.

“Here.” Koby shoved a pouch of money into your hand. “Take this. Ask around for a way off the island. Y’should ditch the fancy clothes too.”

Nodding, you glanced down at your attire, deciding you’d snatch something off a clothes line and leave some beri on a windowsill. “What about you? You know my dad will suspect something.”

Koby simply shrugged it off, sporting a grin. “I’ve been with Helmeppo all night. No idea where you ran off to all of a sudden.”

Suddenly out of breath, you flattened your shaky hands against your sides, beaming up at him. This is it. My second chance. So many years of wishing and hiding had led you here. No more running, you decided.

“Tell him I said hi,” Koby murmured. He turned to look back down the street, where far off out of sight the marine gala went on through the night, unaware a deserter was gathering their nerve. “Go now. Get off the island before sunrise.”

You nodded, and despite the cold chill running all over your skin, you shoved out your hand to shake Koby’s, chin quivering. “Goodbye, Captain.”

His smile faltered, his eyes glassy as he shook your hand firmly. “See you, Y/N.”

The moment he retracted his hand you set one foot in front of the other, holding your breath as your fists closed around your pant legs. You didn’t dare to look back even once all the way through the city. Finding clothes wasn’t too much of an issue; you found a clothesline running between two buildings fairly easy, swiping what looked like a mens shirt and a pair of work pants. You snabbed a hat for good measure, and left a handful of beri in your wake.

Down to the docks you rushed, setting eyes on a quartet loading crates onto a small ship nearly the twin of the one Luffy had left Dawn Village on. You were gone before the sun ever rose above the horizon, and Koby was none the wiser as to where you had gone, and he told your livid father just that, all while Helmeppo swore up and down they lost track of you at some point during the night.

Free of your uniform, free of your title, free of your father—free of it all, you stood on the deck of that little ship, doing what you could to help, your smile unrelenting against the wind whipping against your face.

“What’re you smiling about?” asked the young son of the merchant who owned the ship.

You gave him some stupid answer about the sunrise being pretty, which it was, but you didn’t feel like explaining the euphoria you never thought you’d ever get to feel firsthand.

Luffy once tried to explain the feeling the sea gave, how he got so thrilled by the adventure being a pirate would bring. You never understood, simply nodding along to whatever he said, because he looked pretty when he smiled like that.

But you could feel it now. Deep in your chest danced a mix of nausea and excitement and dread all at once, but none of that mattered when the salt spray made your hair damp. You understood him now, and you couldn’t wait to tell him so.

You only had to find him now.

જ⁀➴

Luffy had been thinking for a while now, and it had his friends a bit worried.

Thinking about food, and the one piece, and the usual things he thought about—but mostly you. He’d been wondering a lot about when he’d find you again, and if he’d ever have the chance to get you back. So much time had passed, his grand adventure getting in the way of tracking you down, if he even could.

And sometimes, on odd days, he also wondered—what if you didn’t want to come home? That question was daunting, leaving him in a daze for a whole evening. It couldn’t be true. How could you ever want to stay there, wherever you were?

Surely, surely, you wanted to find him as much as he wanted to find you. Luffy longed to stand beside you as the sun longed to stand aside the moon. He ached to hold you close and never let you go, like he should have all that time ago.

Luffy knew you—probably better than you knew yourself. You’d done something heroic that day on the beach, dragging his grandpa down with you. But maybe… maybe if he’d done a better job at chasing away your fears, then you’d be with him now.

He hardly noticed when Robin sat beside him at the kitchen table, only blinking awake from his reverie when her shoulder pressed against his. “Luffy?”

He grinned. “What’s up?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just bored.” Her eyes found the sheet of paper lying before her captain, specifically the crudely drawn picture scrawled across it. “Uhm… what’s that supposed to be?”

Luffy’s eyes brightened and a smile split onto his face. “Oh!” He shoved the drawing in Robin’s direction. “Ya like it?”

Nodding, Robin wagered he’d drawn something between a stork and a windmill. “Mhmm. I like the… dynamics. What is it exactly?”

Nami walked by, mumbling reminders for the day under her breath, and she turned to smile at the pair, catching sight of the drawing. “That’s a nice drawing of Y/N, Luffy.”

“Thanks!” he beamed at her.

Robin watched a giggling Nami leave, slowly returning his gaze to Luffy. “Who’s Y/N?”

As if he needed a reminder of why he’d been upset. Luffy’s face threatened to fall before he pulled himself together and smirked. “A marine. A special marine.” His eyes settled on the drawing. “My marine.”

No further explanation provided itself, but Robin almost didn’t need one; the way Luffy’s entire being softened at the name revealed just enough. All afternoon she inquired about this marine, hearing stories from Luffy’s past that all included the missing person.

“Where are they now?” she asked when he was done, and he tilted his head. “The marine. Where are they?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Luffy shrugged as he added a few more details to his drawing. “That’s the problem, I guess.”

Robin poked his shoulder. “You don’t have a lead?”

Luffy shrugged. “Nope. Just that they’re with the marines. I always figured they’d give me a sign when they’re ready to be found.”

Though she hardly understood that logic, Robin nodded as she set a hand on his shoulder and took her leave. Luffy examined his drawing, letting out a near-depressing sigh, and wished beyond wishing that you’d send him a sign soon.

The truth of the matter was, Luffy had tried to track you down. He’d interrogated each marine he came across, getting tidbits of information about the notoriously cold Commander Y/N. But whenever he thought he’d come this close, you slipped through his fingers, always a few steps out of reach. Like you didn’t want him to catch you.

Let me find you, he begged, and the very last of the tether tying you to land broke in two, throwing you head first into the life the sea had raged for you. Haha!

Luffy jerked around, swearing he’d heard… something. But he was all alone, everyone off to their own devices. He shook out his shoulders, but nothing could rid him of the goosebumps.

જ⁀➴

You’d been somewhat well-known within the marines, but as a deserter? You were something of a celebrity.

Sure, hiding your face everywhere you went was tasking, but at least you looked nice in your wanted poster. You liked to think Koby had chosen the picture used, doing you yet another favor even as you ran for your life.

And your poster didn’t go unnoticed by any means. Nobles who’d crossed your path, fellow marines you hadn’t seen in years, they all gasped at the sight of your poster being added to their roster. A few in particular were rather noteworthy…

Nia, far too sweet for such a world (one wonders why she’s a marine), stood frozen for five whole minutes when she saw it, not sure whether to be horrified or giddy you’d finally done something about the forlorn look in your eyes. She balled up her fists, and wondered what freedom tasted like.

Vice Admiral Garp himself laughed so hard he nearly fell off his desk chair, startling the poor cadet instructed to take the poster to him. He swiped up the paper and wiped at a tear, positively thrilled. “Finally! The coward’s grown up!”

Red Hair Shanks, so tipsy he nearly missed it, before Beckman gripped his shoulder and smiled so big his cigarette nearly fell from his teeth. Shanks ripped the poster off the wall, admiring the number on your head. “Well I’ll be… They did it.”

And Monkey D. Luffy, wandering a port town with Nami’s hand on his shoulder to keep him from running off. Unsuspecting Luffy, griping that he didn’t need an escort.

Nami tightened her hold, steering him through the crowd of shoppers. “Listen, this is supposed to be a quick supply run. I can’t take any chances.”

“Nami,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “You’re hurtin’ me! Let go. I promise I won’t get distracted.”

She shot him a skeptical glare, assessed his innocent smile, and scoffed. “Fine. But I swear—”

She released him, leading the way to a bread stall. His eyes roamed over the busy market place, the scent of fresh flowers mixing with grilled foods. Some little kids played a game with a ball in an alley they passed, and two seagulls fought over scraps on the corner. A normal little town, full of life by the look of it.

“Oof!” Luffy ran right into Nami’s back, stumbling as he righted himself. He cast her a glower, huffing, “Now who’s sidetracked. This is a quick supply run, Nami—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, lips parted and she sightlessly reached for his shirt and started to drag him along once again. He huffed and puffed until Nami stopped again, this time in front of a long wall lined with poster upon poster of wanted criminals.

She snapped in his face, silencing his complaints. Nami wasn’t sure what to say, unsure if she’s right, yet somehow confident she’s not wrong. So she simply grabbed his face and turned it toward one poster in particular; the picture was of a person around their age, standing rigid and proud in a marine get-up. Their lips were pulled into a tight grin, but their eyes were dead and blank.

“Is that…?” Nami trailed off, watching with bated breath as Luffy reached to take it down, the corners tearing from the tacks used to pin it up.

Luffy held the poster like it was glass, eyes flickering all over, checking for inconsistencies. He found none, bringing the poster closer to his face, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips.

Former Captain Y/N L/N. Wanted dead or alive for ten million beri.

He hardly believed his eyes. His sign. You’re ready.

The whole town heard his victory shout, rattling windchimes and alerting everyone around that, “THEY DID IT! They’re free!” He whirled on Nami and shook your poster in her direction. “Nami, we have to find them! How do we find them?”

“Not sure,” she said, unable to help the grin on her face. “But we will.”

Now it was Luffy doing the dragging and Nami doing the whining, all the way back to the ship, and the whole crew was witness to the blinding smile spread on their captain’s face as he brandished your wanted poster to them.

What would he do? What would he say? Luffy figured he would apologize first—for what, he didn’t really know, he just felt like he should—and then he’d yell at you for feeling like you had to stay, before attacking you in a hug sure to drag you to the ground.

And then he’d kiss you, probably, definitely. You were long overdue for one of those.

He just had to find you first.

Sanji and Zoro stood leaning on the banister around the ship’s helm, watching as Luffy rattled on about how you’d love Robin’s library, when the cook turned to the swordsman, taking out his cigarette to speak.

“So we’re bounty hunting Luffy’s lost marine?” Sanji mused with a half grin, drawing a smirk from Zoro.

He cast Sanji a look and shrugged. The cook laughed wryly and stubbed his smoke on the banister. “This should be fun.”

જ⁀➴

Within a week the rumors had spread like wildfire across the sea: ex-marine Y/N L/N was searching for Monkey D. Luffy.

“Did you hear?” said a baker to his neighbor. “That marine deserter stole Yuri’s boat!”

“I thought they looked familiar!”

And some miles off, a widow whispered among her friends. “And as they were sailing off they shouted, ‘Tell Strawhat Luffy I’m after him!’ And off they were!”

Three islands later, the people of a lonely village began to whisper as Y/N the Deserter stepped off a little sloop. Your void expression, calloused hands, and narrowed gaze were intimidating enough, but what was more nerve-wracking was your silence.

As you did on every island before, you headed right for the closest bar, and without much pretense, you asked if Strawhat Luffy had been seen in the area. Usually, the answer was a nervous twitch followed by a thoughtful silence, and then, usually, a no.

Receiving the expected answer once again, you gave a frustrated sigh and said no more, sitting solitary at the end of the bar, shooting glares at anyone who dared to look at you too long. Deep in your thoughts, you wondered if this was payback for hiding from Luffy for so long, always slipping through his fingers as he was yours now.

All this happened five more times, three of which nearly gave you hope, but Luffy was always leaving as you were arriving, always just out of reach. Each time you left a village, you left with the same message: “If you see Monkey D. Luffy! Tell him I’m looking for him!”

No one was quite sure if the Deserter Marine meant to kill the Strawhat, or meant some other kind of pirate business. Either way, your intentions were clear to those you crossed, so you can imagine one small island’s sudden excitement when shortly after your departure, in sailed Monkey D. Luffy and his crew.

The restlessly bored daughter of the mayor wasted no time in rushing up to the pirate captain and explaining in long-winded detail your declaration. Luffy started to laugh almost maniacally, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to shake Zoro by his stiff shoulders.

The rumors stretched even to the marines, tirelessly searching for their escaped soldier, primarily the group led by Captain Koby, who forced down a laugh when the information reached him.

“I’m sorry,” he told his superiors. “We’ve searched for months, and honestly, we’re exhausting our resources over a deserter. I think it’s time we give it a rest.”

Slowly, your wanted poster was overshadowed by those around it, and people stopped whispering about Y/N the Deserter, who traveled from island to island, village to village, entering a spectral and leaving a spectacle.

You fought off bounty hunters and swindled food vendors, using all your money on information alone. A stolen sword on your hip and a suspicious maroon stain on the cuff of your sleeve, you looked more and more like a pirate by the hour.

Months. And nothing. No sign of him.

Nothing.

Till just now.

You weren't exactly sure if you were seeing right, squinting through the blazing sun as you slowly walked down the dock of the latest island. A ways away, pocketed away between two large vessels, was a caravel with a creative masthead; a lion, to be precise. That isn’t what stopped you in your tracks, though—emblazoned on the sail was a skull and crossbones, the typical jolly roger… accompanied by a Straw Hat.

So many days… you’d very nearly given up, the idea always at the back of your mind, wondering if all of this was foolish, if you’d made tragic mistake after tragic mistake and now you would never see your best friend and the love of your life ever again—yet here you stood, breathless, eyes locked on the ship you’d only ever dreamed of seeing.

On tentative feet, you walked down the docks, weaving in and out of busy sailors to reach that ship. The sky was cloudy and dark, and it would probably rain later that day, and still you swore a beam of sunlight was shining down upon the vessel. The Thousand Sunny.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you whispered, clutching at your gut as your skin got all clammy and cold and suffocating. “Oh, god.”

Hah! Was your mind playing tricks, or was he really so close you could hear his laughter just up on the deck of the ship. You barely realized when you stopped moving, only aware once your heart started thumping in your ears.

Your fists tightened with resolve at your sides and you surged forward, forcing step after step till you reached the gangway of the ship. Blood rushing, hands shaking, heart racing, you set one foot on the beginning of the wooden ramp, eyes raising to where the gangway opened up to the deck.

“Sanji! You changed the combination on the fridge again!”

Frozen in your tracks, you realized you’d forgotten what his voice sounded like. He sounded different now—older. Either way, you couldn’t move, listening closely as a man replied, “Yeah, I did. No clue how you cracked the first code.”

The scoff to follow was so clear you could picture the boy rolling his eyes perfectly. Your pulse thundered, drowning out every other noise, a chill passing through your blood once again. You could do this. You would do this. Luffy was right there.

“Hey.” You jerked back, wild eyes finding a man leering down at you, suspicion all over his face. One hand rested on the hilt of a sword, one of three. “What d’you want?”

Zoro’s brows met as he assessed the stranger staring blankly up at him, their jaw dropped as they searched for an answer. The stranger backed away like a frightened animal, cursed softly, and bolted deeper into the town.

“Okay…” Zoro tilted his head, wondering why he had the feeling he’d seen them before… Oh. Oh. Zoro’s eyes widened and he misstepped, nearly falling overboard as he raked a hand through his hair. “Shit—Hey! Hey, wait!”

Nami rushed to the edge of the ship in an instant, book abandoned on her chair. In seconds she zeroed in on the figure ducking into the crowds, her breath catching. It couldn’t be. It was too perfect. “That’s…”

Zoro barked a laugh. “Yeah!”

Her jaw set and she whirled on him in a flash, brows met. “You let them go?!”

“What—” He sputtered a response as she punched his bicep. “I didn’t—”

“What’s going on?”

Nami and Zoro froze, heads whipping back to face their captain as he hopped down from the helm, a pair of deer in headlights. Luffy’s head was tilted, his hat snug on his head, looking as chipper as ever. Nami tried to speak, yet her throat had run dry, only a squeak escaping.

Zoro expelled a sigh as gravity of the situation fully set in. Years and years he’d been listening to Luffy rabble on about first first-mate, his best friend, the one he’d lost to the marines. The true story of how you were separated was muddled and confusing, for sometimes it was you who’d left and sometimes it was him. You’d been as strange and elusive as the One Piece itself until the day you’re wanted poster was found, and Zoro realized you were a real person and not just some fictitious story.

You meant as much to Luffy as his dreams, and to Zoro, that was something sacred.

The words found him instantly, eyes locking with Luffy’s and voice laden with solemnity. “They’re here.”

Luffy’s face drained of color and Zoro nearly went to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “What?” he croaked.

“They’re here,” Nami gasped at last, a smile working its way up her face. Luffy turned his eyes to her, all wide and disbelieving. “We found them.”

The edges of Luffy’s lips quivered upward, gaze flickering between his friends. “I—I told you that innkeeper wasn’t lying!”

Nami rolled her eyes. “That’s what you’re focused on?”

Not even a beat went by when, “He did tell you so.”

“Yeah,” Luffy laughed. “You said we shouldn’t trust ‘em.”

She wasn’t in a fighting mood, not at a time like this, so she gritted her teeth and relented, “Fine, you told me so. Can we go? They ran off and who knows where they’ve gone.”

And just like that, Luffy snapped to attention, brows vaulted as his eyes darted to the crowded streets beyond the docks. “They ran away? Why?”

“Zoro probably scared them,” Nami grunted, swatting the broad shouldered man who huffed in reply.

“Whatever!”

The crew was rallied in ten minutes, their ranks spreading through the city in a matter of moments. Really, it was only a matter of time before they found you, at least Luffy told himself that.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Why did you run away?

જ⁀➴

The only reason you stopped sprinting was the driver who shoved you aside to help his lady into her awaiting carriage. Otherwise, you might have run from one end of the island to the other, just to be safe.

Teetering on one foot then the other, you spat a curse and hunched over, clutching at the collar of your shirt as you hurried into the awning of an alley. You muttered over and over, hitting the heel of your palm to your head. Slumping against the wall, you mocked yourself, “Oh, Tell Monkey D. Luffy I’m looking for him! Did you really think you’d be able to face him? You’re so stupid!”

And now, his friend had seen you. You’d have to escape the city somehow, sail far away, and start anew. A new name would have to be decided. Hopefully Absolute Fucking Idiot the First wasn’t too common.

Right after the foolishness was the shame—how could you come this far just to sprint as fast as you could from your him? The one you would travel every sea twice to find, if only you could find the nerve.

Clawing at your arms, inhaling deep, you allowed yourself a moment of peace (it didn’t work). Dark spots crept up your vision, wide eyes blinking fast, a cold sweat forming. You needed to sit down, preferably not in a damp alleyway.

You found your way to a bar, a scene you’d grown familiar with over the years. Though your ears and eyes were peeled, you couldn’t help the sneaking feeling that man was going to find you. You assured yourself it was a stupid, that you were good at hiding, that you’d made an art of it—but what if?

What if something inside wanted Luffy’s friend to find you? To drag you back? To give you no choice but to see Luffy and know him again? On that thought, you lifted your gaze and ordered a glass of juice, because you’d rather have a clear head when that crewmate of his didn’t stop searching.

Sipping at your drink, you sat a while in thought, chin rested on your palm as you swirled the juice around with a straw, creating little whirlpools. You nearly fell asleep like that when the bell over the bar’s door jingled. You peeked out the corner of your eye, seeing a pretty woman gazing around, looking for someone.

Her long dark hair draped around her shoulders as she crossed her arms and sighed, defeated. You turned back around and drank the rest of your juice, ignoring how familiar that woman looked. It was probably nothing; probably just another pirate off one of the many wanted posters you’d been presented with.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Every muscle in your body stiffened, all breathe lost at the mention of your name. You whipped around to find the woman a few inches away from you, her eyes now intently locked on yours.

You licked your lips as your panic swelled. A bounty hunter perhaps? “Who?”

“Y/N,” she repeated, undeterred. “The Deserter. Is that you?”

Leveling her with a glare, you stood and set a hand on your sword. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

Taking in her blank stare, you sidestepped and made to weave around her, heart racing once again, when she grabbed your tricep in a grip stronger than she looked capable of. You jerked away, but she only tightened her hand.

“Luffy’s looked for you a long time,” she whispered, shooting icicles donw your spine. “You mean a lot to him just to run off when he finally finds you.”

Slowly, you met her gaze, jaw slack as you heaved in deep breaths. “He… what?” You tried to get away, weaker this time. “Who are you?”

A grin slid easily onto her face, giving her an air of danger. “So it is you.” She extended a hand to you even as she kept you in place with her other. “Nico Robin. I’ve heard a lot about you, Captain.”

Instantly, every fiber of your being crawled, a sneer taking your face. “I’m not a captain.”

“Not anymore. Luffy was so excited when he found out.” Robin released you, grinning when you stood frozen in place. “Could we talk?”

You’re not sure how Robin got you sitting at a shadowed booth near the back of the bar, but there you were, sitting across form her as she stirred her drink. You felt stiff all over, hands folded in your lap. “Listen, I’ve been looking for him too.”

“We know,” Robin said after a sip. “We got your messages.”

Your skim warmed. “Right, uhm. I was headed for your boat—ship—Sunny…” You gaped, grasping at words that practically sprinted away from you. Were the walls closing in? Was the air getting thinner? You snatched at the first feasable sentence. “But I couldn’t...”

When you lifted your gaze, you’re not sure what you expected. Maybe for her to be angry, disappointed, amused even. But instead, she looked curious, her head tilted slightly, her eyes scanning your face.

“Why?” she asked ever so simply.

You felt very small, looking anywhere but at Robin, fiddling with your thumbs. Deflect. Deflecting is good. “Is Luffy okay? Good, I mean. Is he good? I heard him. He sounded happy.”

She didn’t answer. She only sat in silence, a brow raised. You cracked your neck from side to side, too awkward for comfort, desperate worries boiling up your throat and—

“I think… I think, sometimes, he’s still better off without me.” Your leg bounced up and down. “Like, what if I see him, and I haven’t changed at all? I’ve always been a coward. What if that’s all I’ll ever be?”

Robin watched you very closely, her heart aching as a part of her regretted being so harsh with you before. She’d only been thinking of Luffy, but still. She leaned closer and set her arms on the table, trying to catch your flickering gaze. “Hey.” She held your stare firmly. “You deserted the marines. A coward wouldn’t do that.”

“But I ran away.”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head, offering a slight smile. “You’re here with me.”

Robin never swayed in her direct attention to you, and though her gaze burned into you, something about its blaze was warm. Your mother had always been a blur on the forefront of your mind, killed in action some years after your birth. The one memory you had of her was of a scolding, when her eyes burned into you just like this.

“He looked for me?” you asked, tapering off.

Robin smiled. “Since he saw your poster a few months back. I suspect he’s been looking for clues even longer.”

“But… he’s gotten so… great. Everyone knows his name.”

“And yet…” Robin ensured she had your attention. “He never forgot yours.” She pushed aside her half-full glass and inched toward the end of the booth. “Why would he? To me, it seems like you’re the love of his life—maybe even above the sea.”

She left you dazed, not breathing nearly enough air, and you stammered as she stood to her feet. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the Sunny,” she shrugged, stretching. “Feel free to follow.”

You slipped to your feet as well. “You won’t make me?”

Now was when she looked amused. Robin’s lips quirked as she shook her head. “I can’t make you do anything. But, if you wanna prove you’re not a coward—”

She pivoted, hands in her pockets as she called over her shoulder, “—you know where to find him.”

And she was gone and quick as she appeared, out of the bar and down the street in a matter of seconds. Rattled, you leaned on the table and collected your wits from where they’d been scattered all over the ground.

You could have been standing there for three minutes or three hours—you couldn’t tell—but when you finally shook yourself back to reality you swiftly paid and set out into the street. You shielded your eyes and looked toward the sun, catching it hiding just behind the tops of the buildings on either side of the street.

A lot happened in those few moments of looking at the sun.

You were nine years old again, holding a training sword and having no idea what to do with it. Your father had shouted at you for not catching on quicker. Your mother’s grave was newly dug. You were only nine, yet expected to be so much more. You wanted—needed to be so much more.

A little boy watched on, wondering when you’d stop staring at the ground and notice him only a few feet away. After ten minutes, he grew bored and jumped off the log pile he’d been perched on.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, startling you.

You blinked widely at him. “Practicing.”

He grinned crookedly. “For a staring contest?”

“To be a marine,” you said forcefully as you thrust the little sword out pathetically. “Father says I have to be the best.”

The boy plopped down on the grass in front of you, pulling at pieces of it and sprinkling them back down. “Yeah, my grandpa says the same. Too bad for him though.”

You examined him carefully, letting your sword drop to your side as you slowly knelt beside him. “Why too bad?”

A wicked grin crossed his face. “I’m not gonna be a marine.”

“What will you be?” you asked when he didn’t go on.

“I dunno. Happy, I guess.”

“Can marines not be happy?”

“Not the ones I’ve met.”

He had you there. You puffed up your cheeks, took a quick look around, and leaned in very close to whisper, “I don’t wanna be a marine either. But that’s a secret!”

The boy nodded quickly, his smile so bright you felt warm under its shine.

You wandered down the street, head in the clouds, as a ghost of that little boy dragged you along with him, your hand trapped in his. A smaller you was stumbling to keep up, your strides too short.

“C’mon! Shanks is back!”

“Wait! Luffy, you’re too fast!”

He always let you catch up. Always. You blinked and the little boy wore a straw hat now and had a scar on his cheek. He was terrifying you, slingshotting himself across a forest. He was holding your hand and scowling up at your father, slapped across the face a moment later. He was telling you about his dreams, and how in every one, there was you.

“I’ll be captain of a mighty ship! And you’ll be my first mate, won’t you?”

And he was watching as you remained on shore, standing beside his livid grandfather, left to face the consequences on your own. Left behind of your own accord, feeling as if there was never any other choice.

“But there’s always a choice,” you whispered, and it hit you like a train; you’d been making all the wrong ones.

The street fell to the background as you lifted your gaze from the ground, finding the docks right there in front of you. Somewhere, the Thousand Sunny rested on the water, her masthead peering out as if watching for you. All you had to do was step beyond the sidewalk and onto those wooden platforms.

Feet itching to step both forward and back, you held your breath as your muscles locked up. Your world dug in its heels yet the sun continued to set, ignoring your hesitance, growing tired of waiting on you. As your fingers dug into your pants, you willed time itself to stop, just to let you think this through a bit longer.

You were denied.

“If you wanna prove you’re not a coward, you know where to find him.”

You expelled all your breath in an utterance: “I’m not a coward.”

Shaky legs carried you down the docks, past little sloops and grand vessels, around lumbering sailors and lanky merchants. The air chilled your bones as night grew closer, winds casting in from the sea. Salt air filled your lungs and pushed at your back, wrapping around you and shoving you forward still.

You walked and walked till you hit the edge of a gangway, falling forward and landing on your palms with a yelp. Heaving a sigh, you glanced up, finding the top of the ramp you’d seen earlier. No burly swordsman stood at the top. No one stood in your way.

But could you get out of your own?

Jaw set, you shoved to your feet and stomped up to the deck, steps faltering when you finally made it. How… lackluster. You released your stiff shoulders as you cast a look around, finding no reason for alarm or vigilance. No armageddon or catastrophe. Only a peaceful ship deck, drifting upon calm waves.

Not a soul stood on deck. A bucket hinted that someone had mopped recently, and a book lay closed atop a beach chair. Somewhere below deck was a shouting, but you couldn’t make it out. Whatever horrible fate you’d expected to face was nowhere to be found.

You were here, and all was well.

A small sound came from behind you, and it sounded like your name.

For once in your life you didn’t think before you whipped around, gut lurching. The boy was so close. He looked older, like you thought he would, but still very much the same. A new scar ran across his chest, revealed by the open shirt across his shoulders, but it was without a doubt Monkey D. Luffy.

His eyes pierced you, reality sinking in and crumbling you. After all the years and worries and waiting, he stood only a few feet away. The world didn’t break. The sky didn’t fall. You weren’t struck down by some mighty force of fate. Luffy didn’t look angry at all—in fact, he looked almost happy.

A small smile trembled on his lips, eyes so bright. “You came back.”

His name left your lips like a gasp as you stumbled for him on unsteady legs. You hadn’t even blinked and he was there, hands grabbing at your shoulders and running down your arms so delicately, as if you might turn to mist right then and there.

You reached for his hand and clutched it tightly, lacing together your fingers and marveling at how easily they fit—a pair unhindered by time. Your eyes flickered up from your interlocked hands to find his eyes. The softness of his features knocked the breath out of you.

You broke the bated moment, throwing your arms around him and pulling him close, your chin finding his shoulder. Luffy held you tightly with his eyes wide and his breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, ducking your chin to press your forehead to his collarbone. “I’m so—I won’t ever leave. Never. Please don’t—don’t—”

“I won’t,” Luffy murmured in your ear. His rubber arms extended to wrap around the two of you twice, for only once would never be enough. “I’m sorry.”

Just as tears began to break past your lash line Luffy took you by your arms and jerked you away from him, keeping you a breath away. “You never had to stay,” he practically hissed. “Why did you think you had to stay?”

He made it hard to think when he wiped the tears off your cheeks. All you could do was lean into his hands, stammering. “I just thought you’d be better—”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. No, why would you ever think that?”

You blinked, at a loss for an answer. “I dunno. I—I’m just fucked up like that. Self-destructive and… what-not…”

Luffy didn’t let you lower your head even as your cheeks warmed his hands. His fingertips traced the apples of your cheeks, memorizing the feel of your skin. He leaned closer, catching your gaze with a reassuring smile and stroke of your face. “I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me. Ever.”

Slowly, you nodded, a burn rising in your neck. “Deal.”

He pulled you into an impossibly tighter embrace, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your back. You hooked your hands around his shoulders and breathed ever so gently as his hand settled on your back, soothing the tension wrought throughout your body.

You shivered, nails slightly clawing at him. Close was not close enough. “I missed you.”

“Me too… Worm.” And the moment was broken as the most unflattering laugh left you. You pushed him off with a scoff, grinning wide as his brows vaulted innocently.

“Shut up! I don’t even read anymore!”

The smile quickly slid off his face, replaced by a face so cutely quizical. “Why not?”

“I just…” You thought of how to phrase it. “I don’t have anything to read, and if I did, I still don’t have the time.”

Just a beat later he had you by the hand, determined as he started to tug you along with him. “I’ve got something to show you.”

You were dragged below deck before you could say a word, led swiftly through the dimply lit hallways. His snickers and beaming smile flooded your head and left you helpless to ask anything at all, following after him as best you could. You passed by an open door that presumably led to a kitchen, briefly spying a crew of people gathered around a table as you zipped on by.

Luffy stumbled to a stop right outside a closed door. Chest heaving, you rose a brow. Luffy grinned, squeezed your hand, and pushed inside. It was dark, voidish shapes scattered around. Luffy left your side, rushing to a lantern and igniting it, casting the room in a warm glow. Jaw falling slack, you spun around, gaze flickering this way and that.

“A library,” Luffy said needlessly, at your shoulder once again. “Like I promised.”

On every wall a floor to ceiling shelf was littered with books tall and wide and thin. Your hand brushed the many spines, the deep warm colors and soft leather and canvas covers running under your fingertips. You pinched yourself next, heart hammering in your chest as you swiveled around, blinking quickly. “Luffy…”

It was one thing to hear that he’d never forgotten… but it was a very different thing to be standing in the tangible proof that Luffy never stopped believing.

It felt as if you were seeing him for the first time all over again, all doubts cast away and dashed out. He was the same Luffy, but he was stronger, mightier than the Luffy you’d known. More determined, if it was possible. As he stood there before you with a hope laden gaze, his dream felt real.

A shiver ran down your spine; Luffy would be the Pirate King, and by God, you’d be there to witness it.

Your fear had gone somewhere you couldn’t find nor feel it, and though it left a gap in your chest, that gap was quickly being filled by a ten-fold love for this boy.

You took his hand and held it in both of yours, peering into his eyes all glassy-like. “Thank you. For not giving up.”

He grinned, asking, “Was there ever any doubt?”

You’d get into that later, perhaps with a therapist should you pass one on the seas. For now, you scoffed a laugh and pulled him closer, a hand reaching for the scruff on his neck and carding through it. He leaned into you, nose brushing yours, as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You pursed your lips despite sighing at the soft touch. “You missed.”

“I did?” Luffy snickered as you rolled your eyes. He caught you off guard, darting in to kiss you slowly, drawing you in close.

“Join my crew,” he asked—stated, more like—holding so much hope in his eyes that you had to stop just to admire him. You relished in the fact that he was right inf ront of you, reaching to trace his face from his temple to his jaw, vowing to never take him for granted ever again.

The tethers and cords of your souls melded back together, as they should have remained from the very beginning. “Yes, Captain,” you replied, laughing at how his smile grew brighter.

He gripped your hands in both of his, tugging you along as he retreated for the door. “Wanna meet the others?”

You dug your heels into the floor, chuckling dryly. “You know, maybe we should hold off till tomorrow, yeah?”

Luffy paused, brows meeting, blinking slowly. “Okay, if that’s what you want…”

Purring your lips, you looked from each of his eyes to his nose to his forehead, sighing when defeat found you. “You really want me to meet them now?”

The squeeze he gave your hands, along with how the smile grew back on his face, was answer enough. Another sigh pulled at your chest as nodded. “Lead the way.”

By the end of the hour, the entire crew had come to a decision: you fit in perfectly, even if they had to (gently) jam your piece into the puzzle just to get you to converse with them. “They’re nervous,” Luffy not so silently whispered to the others, causing heat to crawl up your neck as you pinched your nose.

Gathered around on various modes of seating, you found yourself wrapped in an uncanny warmth despite the chill of the sea air. You shared a crate with Luffy, thigh to thigh, his hand playing with your fingers as he recounted story after story of his adventures with his friends.

A bittersweet smile sat on your lips, happy he was happy, wondering what could have been if you’d gone with him. Stop it. It’s in the past.

“What about you,” Robin interrupted Usopp’s next inevitable tangent, eyes zeroed in on you. “Surely you’ve got stories.”

All eyes shifted to you, and the warmth fled the moment instantly. You shook you head quickly. “Nah, nothing as interesting as yours.”

Luffy bumped your shoulder, suddenly excited. “Then tell us a boring one! I wanna know what you’ve been doing.”

Grinning softly, you stared at your feet, twindling the toes of your boots.”I don’t want to think about it.”

That surely sucked the happiness out of air, replacing it with an ominous vagueness. Luffy’s side pressed against yours, and with a sigh you quickly broke the awkward silence. “Not all of it was bad, though. I had Koby—Oh! He says hello, by the way. I did some good things too, or I hope I did. Like, this one time, my captain at the time got a call from a nearby village.”

“The call was from this girl, I think,” you recalled. “She pleaded for help. These pirates had come in and plundered everything… The call ended in a gunshot.”

You had the whole crew’s attention then, the silence almost eerie. You cleared your throat. “So we took maybe twenty marines and headed to the island. By then the pirates had hostages at the center of the town.” You pushed back your shoulders, imitating your superiors. “Surrender now, said the captain, and the leader of the pirates obviously laughed in his face. Captain Gozi—that’s his name—kept pressing in, acting so docile, even as the pirate captain pressed a gun to the head of this young boy. Gozi is a good man, but we had differing opinions on how to go about the situation.”

Nami interjected, “How did you want to solve it?”

You hesitated before admitting, “Well, I did wind up solving it, and Gozi wasn’t too happy about it.”

“What did you do?” asked Chopper, his ears flitting back against his head.

“The pirate captain kept on laughing, and when Gozi continued to try to negotiate, the pirate threw the boy down and was about to shoot—so I shot first. Right here.” You tapped your forehead. “That’s actually the reason I was promoted to captain. They made me out to be a hero.”

“Woah,” Usopp sighed.

Zoro tilted his head. “So you shoot and you use a sword?”

“I’m sort of a jack of all trades, master of none.”

Sanji shrugged. “Still better than master of one.”

Before you could say something quippy in return, a swift peck was left on your cheek, leaving a blooming warmth on your skin. You whipped around to blink wide eyed at Luffy and his lopsided smile.

“What?” you laughed.

He gently kicked your foot. “I just really love you.”

A series of coos erupted from Nami and Chopper, along with some snickers from the boys, and you sat growing increasingly flustered under the attention. You rammed your forehead into Luffy’s shoulder to hide your face, dragging a bright laugh out of him.

Minutes later, when the focus shifted away from you and toward the next elaborate tale to be strung by the Great Usopp, as he called himself, you leaned into Luffy and murmured softly. “I really love you too.”

High above, the stars shined and wove themselves through the night sky, no longer tiring themselves with transferring the love of a pair between the edges of the seas—they were together again, at long last, and the stars rested easy now that Fate had had its fun.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @khaleesihavilliard @gingernut1314 @lifesurfer2475 @shuujin @maybe-a-bi-witch @bi-narystars @luciledreamz @awenthealchemist @baku-boneless

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hrryshoney · 2 months

Note

#1 😏😏

oh i got youuuu, sorry this is so late but i hope u enjoy friend :) i have severe writers block so let’s see if i can pull myself out

1. “What if I just continued to rile you up?”

It has been a night. Matty had brought you out for a night with the guys, a little bar and some karaoke. You knew you would have a good time regardless, but when you heard Charli was going to be there it sealed the deal for you. Why would you ever miss out on a night with your closest, and most fun, friends?

But now, you were wishing you had declined his offer. Not because you weren’t having fun, but because Matty wouldn’t know self control if it slapped him in the face.

When he had a few drinks in him, Matty was all over you. But he knew what he was doing. And that almost made it worse. That the alcohol hadn’t in fact been muddling his brain, and that he just loved to tease you. Whether he was burying his face in your neck to press kisses up the expanse of your skin, or if he had his arms wrapped around you practically hanging off your body.

Or, when he had his hand on your thigh. Innocent enough, he was caught in conversation with somebody you couldn’t remember the name of. He trailed his fingers up and down your leg, tapping them lightly every so often. You were fine with it, happily zoning out looking at one of the TV screens above the bar.

But then he started moving his hand higher up your thigh, the fabric of the skirt you were wearing getting slowly bunched at your waist. You turned your head to look at him, realizing he was still fully immersed in his conversation. What you could see, though, was that hint of a smirk on his face. And then you knew, he knew what he was doing. And he was having fun with it.

Your hand moved from where it was resting under your thigh to grab his, smoothing your palm on the back of his hand. When he didn’t stop, you squeezed him, trying to intertwine your fingers with his. Matty moved his hand so it was on top of yours, squeezing back and then moving your own back beside yourself.

You assumed he was done then. Until his hand moved back to the exact spot he was previously in. Rubbing circles into your upper thigh, and pressing down when he felt you squirming in the booth. His friend payed no mind to you, as what was happening all took place out of sight. Matty’s hands moved diligently below the table.

He kept this up for what felt like hours, and Matty’s friend just talked so much. You had to say something, or else you would go insane. “Matty?” You looked over at him, trying to cross your legs. You were stopped when you felt his hand tense, his strength not allowing you to complete the action.

When Matty looked back at you with a winning smile, you knew you were in for it. “Yeah, honey?” He tilted his head as he looked at you, and you were all too aware of his friend watching the conversation. You kicked his foot under the table, and Matty’s hand only moved higher up your thigh, his foot lightly brushing your ankle. “What do ya need?”

You knew he only had three drinks max tonight, and he just wanted to watch you squirm. You cast your eyes to the man across from you, then back to Matty. You squinted at him and bit your lip, hoping he would get your message without you having to spell it out for him. “Can we talk, please?” You pouted your lip out, fluttering your lashes at him. You saw him bite the inside of his cheek, raising his glass to his lips with his other hand to hide the expression on his face.

Matty regained his composure, letting his attention leave you to turn back forwards. “Luke, mate, can you give us a minute? I mean,” Matty looked at you from the corner of his eye, purposely lowering his tone. “Women, am I right?” He smiled condescendingly, and you watched Luke’s eyes go wide in understanding with a nod. You clenched your jaw and looked at Matty, lightly punching his shoulder.

“Fuck you.” You said, a giggle slipping through your serious facade. Matty flicked you back, his hand still not leaving the spot on your thigh. Your skin felt warm, now.

“Oh, you know you want to.” There was that grin again. You rolled your eyes, and you felt your skirt moving again. You looked down at Matty’s hand, and realized the better half of your legs were now completely on display. Though they were hidden by the table and booth, you were still in a public space. With people.

“Not here.” You said in a sing song voice, scooching away from him in the booth. Though, his hand still lingered on your leg. You could never truly reject him. “Don’t tease me.” You whined, throwing your head back against the wood backing. “You just want a rise out of me.”

Matty raised his eyebrows at you, a look of faux offense crossing his face. He brought his free hand up to his heart. “What do you take me for?” He chuckled at the expression on your face, still massaging your thigh. You swore you could feel him touch the fabric of your panties. Your hand came down firmly on the table.

“Matty!” You squeaked out, almost too high. You checked your surroundings, but realized everyone was either too drunk or immersed in the loud music to care. “I take you for a tease. Now, knock it off.” You tried to keep your expression stern, but it faltered when you felt his breath fan across your neck.

“Aw, baby.” He pouted his lips at you, speaking in an almost patronizing tone. “What if i just continue to rile you up, huh?” Matty’s fingers tucked themselves under the waistband of your underwear, fingernails lightly scratching your abdomen. “What are you gonna do about it?” He leaned in, nose skimming across your cheek. He licked his lips, and you rolled yours between your mouth as to not let a sound slip out.

Matty lowered his head, pressing kisses to your collarbone. Lightly sucking the skin of your neck, his teeth grazing the area. His hands continued their path, and you could feel the pad of his fingers on your clit. Barely touching, but making your mouth fall open. “I- Matty.” You closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard.

Matty’s fingers circled your clit, then dipping down to gather the wetness from your hole. “Be good for me, maybe I’ll let you cum.” You nodded your head at him mindlessly. He smirked, fingers continuing their assault. He rubbed his middle and ring through your slit, coming back up to pinch your clit. You let out a quiet whine, looking around quickly to make sure no one was in ear shot.

He somehow leaned in even closer to you, his breath on your ear causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “Fucking slut getting stuffed with my fingers in public.” He took two fingers down to your entrance, circling there before thrusting them inside of you. Your eyes went wide, and you tried to bring your hand up to your mouth as casually as possible. “Don’t want them to hear you? But you’re so eager for it. Should at least let them hear how good I make you feel.” His dark brown eyes were almost black now, fingers moving in and out of you at a steady pace. His thumb coming to press down on your clit.

You shook your head, “O-only you. Only you get to hear me.” You don’t know how you managed, but you pushed the sentence out. You tried to clench your thighs, but Matty’s strong hand was in the way. His opposite hand coming down to rest on your thigh, prying them apart.

“That’s right, baby. Only me. Only I get to hear you, and see you, and fuck you. Only I get to treat you like the whore you are, right?” Matty’s tone made you dizzy, but you couldn’t help but agree with him. It was the truth. It was only ever him. You slightly bucked your hips into his hand, punching his fingers deeper inside of you. He pulled them out for a second, pinching your clit and then shoving them back inside of you.

“Matty,” You lowered your voice, head falling on his shoulder. Your chest was heaving. “I need to cum, please. Please let me.” You pleaded, needing to feel release. His fingers sped up, and the pressure on your clit increased. You spread your legs further for him, and you were so close you could practically taste it.

Then, it stopped. Matty’s fingers were out of you, all contact from your clit was gone. His hand left your thigh, and your panties. You opened your eyes and looked over at him, the feeling of pleasure now dissipating from your stomach. You were sure you looked crazy. “Alright, darling?” He asked, smile on his face as he brought his digits to his mouth to lick his fingers.

“Are you fucking serious?” Your tone was incredulous. You felt shaky from your ruined orgasm. Looking around once more to make sure nobody’s attention was on you. “All that just to stop.” You chuckled, knowing you sounded like a brat.

“I told you if you were my good girl that I might let you cum.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. Matty moved, slowly getting out of the booth. “Gonna take you home and let you prove yourself to me. Then I’ll give you whatever you want.” He winked as he sleeved on his leather jacket, holding his hand out for you to grab. You complied, stepping out of the booth and letting him lead you through the crowd of people. When Matty opened the passenger side door of the car for you, you clenched your thighs together once more.

With him in the driver seat, he pulled out of the bar’s lot. The familiar drive home laying out in front of you. Matty’s warm hand was back on your thigh.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy blurb #matty healy smut #a little smthg as i write gyno breeding #some blurbs to hold us over lol

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curseofhecate · 4 months

Text

And you understand now why they lost their mind and fought the wars

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

They are best friends since forever yet they only now realize they're in love with each other.

3.1k

This had been long overdue. But its finally here. I really hope you enjoy it and its not that bad as it is in my head. Also its the first time writting for Lockwood and I have yet to read the books because I'm a slow reader and I'm still stuck at a thausand boy kisses by Tillie Cole. This based off of one of my favourite Taylor Swift songs, You're in love (Taylor's Version).

The tension in the room was unbearable. It wasn't unusual for a case to go horribly wrong but it was a rare occurrence that one of them would get hurt.

Last night's case could be rightfully referred to as a disaster. It had all gone wrong from the very start. The little information they had on the house's history, Lucy forgetting the salt bombs, the client's lie about the number of ghosts they'd have to face,it had all led up to this.

No one had gotten seriously injured but in Lockwood's eyes even a broken wrist was too much of a damage. Especially when it was his best friend that had suffered the injury.

It was well past 3 am now and tiredness was evident among the team. After a difficult case and a trip to the hospital, the last thing the three of them needed was their boss scolding them and pointing out everything they had done wrongly.

Lockwood sighed, waving them off and assured them that they'd continue this conversation in the morning to which the rest of his team groaned. George was the first to go up to his room, complaining about how he needed to shower. Lucy lingered for a bit, finishing the rest of her tea in one big sip before bidding them goodnight and retiring to her room as well.

That left the two best friends alone in the kitchen. Lockwood got up from his seat, only now noticing how his tea had grown cold. He placed the kettle on the stove and opted for chamomile while the girl lit the three candles in the middle of the table. As he placed the two mugs on the table she turned off the lights and sat down next to the boy. "It's hurting my eyes" She shrugged at the boy's confused expression.

Taking a small sip from the steaming mug in front of him, Lockwood turned to look at her again. Only this time his gaze didn't give away irritation or anger. His eyes had softened, the previous flames had died down and in their place was now worry and adoration.

This was a side of Anthony Lockwood few people were privileged to see, and even to them it was a rare sight. It was a look meant just for her, his best friend since he could remember.

His gaze shifted from her eyes to her injured wrist that now had a cast wrapped around it. "Does it hurt?" He asked gently, grabbing her wrist to inspect it, even though one couldn't notice anything out of place due to the cast.

"I'll get over it. We both know I've had worst" She shrugged. Anthony sighed. He didn't like the idea of her getting hurt, especially because of him. Reaching over the table for the marker George had abandoned he smiled a little once he saw the little doodle on the thinking cloth. Another version of George’s take on angry Lockwood.

“Well in his defense, it did look like smoke was coming out of your ears” Y/n chuckled once she saw what he was looking at. Lockwood didn’t argue, only uncapped the marker gently grabbed her injured wrist again.

“Can I?” he asked looking up from confirmation. The girl nodded, moving closer so that it would be easier for him to write on her cast. And right there, in the dimly lit kitchen and in the early hours of the morning, Lockwood wrote his name in black ink. He was careful, writing it on her inner wrist where no one could see his first name, Anthony, written in calligraphic letters, if they didn’t already know.

“People will think I’m your property Lockwood” she joked. “As if you could ever be someone’s property” he argued.

He hoped that the dim light would hide the rosy color that was spreading on his cheeks and that she couldn’t feel the heat radiating off his face. And, truth is, there wasn’t much proof of Lockwood’s blushing. But she knew him too well and could tell by the tiny and subtle change in his demeanor.

She had seen just enough to know.

It had been roughly a week since that night when someone else noticed the carefully written word. She and Lucy had been hanging out in their shared room, goofing around, flipping through magazines, painting each other’s nails and gossiping. It was one of the very few nights they didn’t have to deal with visitors and hauntings, which was a rare occurrence.

“Oh come on! I want to sign your cast” Lucy complained, holding up a pink glitter pen. “No Luce, you’re going to ruin it” she said, letting herself fall back onto the bed, sighing. It had been a long day. Between spending the better half of the day with George at the Archives, doing research for tomorrow night’s case, coming back to find Lucy and Lockwood arguing about who would go out to buy the groceries (which was pointless as Y/n offered to go instead, to which Lockwood insisted he’d be the one to do it since she had a broken wrist and, according to him, couldn’t carry a single bag but still let her tag along with him) and dancing with Lucy to whatever song the radio was playing she had become exhausted.

“How come Lockwood can sign your cast but I can’t” she pouted. Her words had her sitting back up in mere seconds. “What? You two know that I’m not stupid enough not to notice. God, even George isn’t that oblivious”.

“George knows too?” the other asked, confused.

Lucy nodded in response. The girl groaned, falling back onto the bed, already knowing what’s coming.

“So, has he asked you out yet or-”

A pillow was thrown in her face, cutting her off. “Shut up” Y/n said, blushing, head down looking at her hands in a futile attempt to hide the pink color that was rising to her cheeks. Lucy took hold of the pillow and threw it back at her friend with little force so as to not hurt her. “You're blushing” she announced laughing at her friend.

“Oh shut up!

"Are you sure you're going to be alright on your own?" asked Lockwood, standing in the middle of their living room, their equipment bags placed down on the floor beside him. Her and Lockwood had been arguing back and forth all day about whether she could, or not, join tonight's case. It had already been four weeks since the accident that led to breaking her good wrist and the girl was growing tired of not being able to accompany the others on their nightly adventures. However no one could deny that she couldn’t yet fully handle a rapier so Lockwood won that argument.

"I could still come with you, '' she offered, hoping that he would finally cave in. "N/n we've already been through this'' he scolded, like a parent would their child,which was quite funny since it usually was the other way around whenever Lockwood decided to do something reckless (which was at least once during every case).

"Fine."

"You still haven't answered my question," he pointed out.

She sighed. "Yes, Anthony I'm going to be just fine. I can handle myself. Besides you are the ones staying out after curfew and putting yourself in danger while fighting ghosts."

"Like you don't do the same every other night."

"Apparently, I don't," she said, raising her bandaged wrist.

Lockwood laughed at her antics. "As soon as you can handle your rapier without dropping it every two minutes, I'll let you come with us. I promise. But until then you have to rest."

"I think I've had enough rest for the next eternity" she groaned.

"I just don't want to risk you getting hurt again. I want you to be safe. And taking you with us when you can't use your rapier means you can't defend yourself. And as much as I'd love to be your personal knight, I can't risk anything happening to you."

"I know Anth" she said, moving forward to pull him in a hug. The boy copied her actions, pressing a soft kiss on top of her head.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Lucy hated that I love you, didn't seem to be doing anything for the two. She hated that they were both so clueless to their feelings for one another. She hated that they couldn't just kiss already. She hated that she had to sit through all this painfully slow slow burn. But most of all she hated that she'd have to ruin their little moment.

"Come on lovebirds. We have a ghost to take down" George interrupted them before Lucy could even say anything.

The Lockwood&Co agency was out of commision for the holidays.

It usually felt nice to have a break. Not when it was the Christmas season. There were, simply, too many things to do, and that left all four of the friends exhausted. And now, well into the evening of Christmas Eve, the house was for once quiet.

George and Lucy had retired to their bedrooms a little while ago, which left Lockwood and Y/n. The two best friends were sitting side by side on the couch, sharing a blanket. Two empty mugs were abandoned on the coffee table in front of them and the radio played softly in the background.

And while Lockwood was immersed in the book he was reading, his best friend was resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting from the book he was reading to the window.

The usually bleak weather had been replaced by a lighter sky and a soft white had started to cover everything. Noticing this, the girl tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and lifted her head from his shoulder. This seemed to gain his attention as he averted his gaze from the book and looked at her confused.

"It's snowing,'' she announced. Getting up from the couch she pulled on her snow boots quickly and reached for their coats, throwing Lockwood his before putting her own on.

He didn't need to ask to know what that meant. Actually he knew just the moment she pointed the change of weather out to him. He knew there was no point in arguing with her, so instead he put on his coat and started searching for his own pair of snow boots.

When he had successfully put them on he was quick to follow the girl out the door leading to their backyard. And just as the door closed behind him, he felt something cold hit the back of his head. "Hey" he exclaimed, faking agitation as he turned to face her.

The girl gave him an innocent smile which didn't last long when a few seconds later she broke out laughing. Lockwood was amused. For a moment he froze in his place, not because of the cold or the snow but because he was mesmerized by the girl in front of him and time stood still for a second.

What could he have possibly done to deserve an angel like her?

The boy was pulled out of his trance when another snowball hit his face and his best friend was suddenly laughing harder than before.

He smiled a little, scooping up snow from the ground and throwing the snowball at her. The girl stopped laughing, clearly not expecting it. She glared at the boy as if he was an old friend that had betrayed her and turned into her worst enemy before her face broke into a soft smile as she picked up snow to throw back at him.

"Oh, it's on" Lockwood shook his head as he copied her actions.

Their little snowball fight lasted a bit over 20 minutes and it consisted of throwing snowballs at each other, laughing and giggling as Lockwood chased her around. Eventually they both got tired and when he finally caught her he lost his balance and ended up tackling her to the ground.

He rolled on his back and the two laid there, on the snowy ground, for a few minutes, laughing until they eventually calmed down. There was a silence then, one that lasted only a few seconds and yet it was enough for Anthony John Lockwood to realize that he didn't just love his best friend but he was in love with her.

Pulling himself up, he offered his hand for her to take. She joined their hands and let him pull her up. The two stood there, looking into each others' eyes with their faces only centimeters apart.

Anthony paused, as if wanting to say something but had decided against it at the last second. Then, his eyes never once leaving hers, he said "You're my best friend."

He had told her these words many times yet this once, they seemed to hold a completely different meaning. One that suggested that maybe she wasn't only his best friend and that maybe the line between platonic and romantic love had become blurry.

And it was at that moment that she realized that he was in love. With her.

He was in love with her.

And so was she.

She didn't give it a second thought, because if she had then she would have never actually done it, before pulling him closer and pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss.

And for the second time that day, time stood still for Anthony Lockwood.

And when she pulled away, she looked into his eyes and she told him that "I love you too."

And this time, the phrase she so commonly used with him held a different much deeper and more sacred.

The next morning she woke up in his room, to an empty bed. The clock on the bedside table read a few minutes after seven. She didn't bother changing out of his shirt that he had given her last night to sleep in, because she didn't want to accidentally wake up Lucy, with whom she shared a room with in the process. Instead she walked straight into the kitchen, knowing Lockwood would most likely be there.

And he was, sitting at the table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him and another mug placed directly opposite from him, where she would usually sit.

They greeted each other with a simple morning and she walked over to him first, leaving a kiss on his cheek before settling in her seat, her hand reaching over the table for his. Then there was a quiet "Merry Christmas" and after that a comfortable silence followed.

The two didn't need to exchange words, they understood each other perfectly even without saying things out loud.

She wished every morning could be like this. She wished she'd never have to worry about a case going wrong again or him doing something reckless that would put his life in danger as he more often than not did. She wished she could freeze time and stay in that moment forever.

None of them heard the timer going off. Not when the smell of something burning filled the room.

It was still a wonder for George how Lockwood had managed to burn the toast.

"Did you know that Lockwood has a picture of you in his wallet?" Lucy asked, staring absent-mindendly at the ceiling while laying in her bed. "He does?" asked the girl who lay next to her, turning to look at her friend.

"Mhm" the redhead nodded. "I noticed it yesterday when we went grocery shopping together," she continued.

"That's a bit weird. To keep a picture of your girlfriend in your wallet" Y/n pointed out.

"I actually find it really romantic. It's like he wants to have a piece of you with him all the time. I didn't really believe it could happen outside of romance novels" Lucy shrugged. "Hm. Who knew Lockwood could be such a romantic. Don't tell him I told you though because he will refuse it."

"That he keeps a picture of me in his wallet or that you called him a romantic?" the other girl laughed.

"I was talking about the picture but I guess he would have the same reaction in both cases."

She never really knew what it was like to be in love. She didn't know how to expect it would feel. She didn't even know how one falls in love with another, so much that they would go to the ends of the earth and sacrifice both themselves and the world for the other person. She thought it was something that existed purely in books, novels that would keep her up all night. And even if it did, she thought that she would never find it. That it wasn’t for her.

She never believed that she would find the Mr. Darcy to her Elizabeth Bennet; she'd never meet someone who would give up becoming a god for her like Percy Jackson did for Annabeth Chase.

Or at least she didn't used to believe.

But in the end, she found everything she could have asked for and more in the face of Anthony Lockwood, first her best friend and now her lover.

And suddenly, she now understood why some lost their minds and others chose to fight the wars, and even why certain people spend their whole lives trying to put the feeling of loving someone in such a way into words.

Because really, no amount of words, no matter how many or meaningful they were, could ever even begin to describe how she felt for him.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co #curseofhecate

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2tyongs · 7 months

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[3:45 AM] stars . . .

bf!doyoung x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship,

warnings: none other than it's not really proofread!

a.n. first post oh em gee kinda nervousss! i don't see a lot of 127 fluff on here anymore so i guess i gotta do it myself 😒/hj. requests are open and feedback is always appreciated! i hope you enjoy <3 happy halloween btw 🙏🏾

doyoung never knew what love was supposed to feel like until he met you.

you were like a breath of fresh air in his life. taking his normal, mundane tasks like going grocery shopping and transforming them into something more thrilling, or making him experience new things that he would never do on his own. you had made his daily routine into something new, something beautiful.

he will always love learning more about you no matter how long you have been together; your hobbies, your favorite places, and what your favorite shows are. everything about you intrigues him and compels him to familiarize himself more and more with everything you consider to be part of yourself — past and present.

he will always listen to what you have to say, holding onto every word. even the little things that you thought never mattered or were worth remembering yourself, he remembers. he remembers the names that you had wanted to name your pet years ago, the way you don't care for certain holidays like valentine's day (he will always still make the effort to show that he loves you on these days anyway; bringing you flowers and cooking your favorite dishes so you have something to look forward to, even on the days you typically hadn't expected to before.), and the books you said you wanted to read but never got the chance to purchase. he notices when your gaze lingers on an item for too long when you're out shopping together, making a note to himself to come back and buy it for you for a special occasion coming up.

one night while the two of you were lying on the couch, you mentioned that you had always loved going stargazing when you were younger after seeing the two main characters of the movie you're watching sitting under the stars, sharing their dreams.

doyoung had made a mental note of this former interest of yours, which led the two of you to where you are right now: sitting on a soft blanket and staring at the warm night sky. you were seated in front of him, resting your back on his chest with your head on his shoulder, enthusiastically guiding his vision to all of the constellations and stars you could remember as you pointed them out the best you could.

“...that's the big dipper, but if you look closer you'll see that it's part of a constellation called the great bear," you point to the left, tracing out the pattern with your finger. "not many people know that the big dipper isn't considered a constellation." you explain softly, never taking your eyes off of the view.

doyoung doesn't mean to get distracted from your explanation, but he can't help it when you look so excited. reliving your childhood with the stars above brings you so much joy that a smile makes its way onto your face as you share your knowledge with him. he admires your beauty as you talk about the things you're passionate about, trying to etch the sight of you into his memory forever. looking at you is something that he will never get tired of. the soft curve of your lips, the way your lashes cast shadows onto your face, the beauty marks that adorn your complexion.

you start to talk again until you feel his eyes gazing at you instead of the stars above. you turn to him, momentarily dazed by the amount of fondness that you can see in his eyes as he looks down at you. you smile softly, “what? why are you looking at me like that?”

doyoung smiles back, “no reason. i'm just happy.” he can tell you're not exactly pleased with his answer if the way that you raise your eyebrow at him is anything to go by.

"'just happy?' i need you to elaborate a little more, doyoung." you tease, nudging him, and glance back up at the sky.

he rolls his eyes with a smile still gracing his features, holding you closer, "i just really love being with you, hearing you talk about the things that you love, that's all." you turn to him again. you can hear the sincerity in his voice and see it in his eyes and it makes your heart melt. you're too flustered by the love you can almost see and feel exuding from him to say anything back, so you decide to continue looking at the view ahead of you instead, tracing patterns on the back of his hand.

there's a short silence until you finally break it, staring up at the sky, "i love you." you tell him, leaning your head onto his shoulder once again.

he knows that you love him. you show it every single day in the way that you make time for him and the way that you've let him become a part of your life in a way that no one else has, letting him see parts of yourself that no one else could.

"i love you too. so much." he replies, kissing the crown of your head and rubbing your waist with his thumbs.

he always thinks to himself that even if he were dealt a different set of cards in his life, the stars would always align to give him the grace of being here with you. and he's more than certain that no matter what those cards looked like, there's no way he could love you any more than he does now.

doyoung knows that no amount of words or physical affection could ever be enough to express the love he feels for you. but for now, you just being there with him, letting him hold you, this will suffice just fine.

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stardustjmk · 2 months

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Tears For Fears | J.T.K

Summary: in which spending some time with your friends sounds like a fun time, until alchohol gets involved.

Warnings: angst, alcoholic parent, alcohol consumption.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader | Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers | Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: one thing about me is i’m gonna write self indulgent fics. i’m also sure there’s someone else out there who needs this, and even if you may not relate, i hope it brings you some joy and comfort, because who doesn’t love a good, fluffy jake fic? also, i apologize if there are any errors, it’s been so long since i’ve written anything. oh, and this fic has nothing to do with the duo tears for fears i just rocked with the name LMAO

You knew alchohol was bound to be involved. After all, you’d spent almost a decade with the four boys, so their habits weren’t something you we’re oblivious to. Regardless, you accepted, reminding yourself that even when damn near shit-faced, they never acted like your mother. In fact, the last time you’d been around the group while they were drinking, you felt comfortable enough to relax, and even have a drink of your own. It was only a wine cooler, but it was a step farther than you’d normally go, and the fact that you felt comfortable doing it was a big deal to you.

So, going into the little getaway, you figured it would be like that again, but that wasn’t the case. At the time you accepted the offer, you were in a good mood, almost entirely unbothered by the idea of alchohol being present. In fact, having a few drinks of your own sounded nice, but now, as you pad down the stairs and hear the unmistakable popping sound, your heart sinks.

You were all to familiar with it, and when you rounded the corner to then be hit with the smell of whiskey, you swear your stomach flipped, and your head began to spin. You’d taken a deep breath, trying to not let it bother you, but then came the sound of ice clinking as it hits the glass, with the crackling sound of the liquid being poured over it a moment later. For a second, you felt like your younger self again, the dread you felt then coming back to you in this very moment. For your sake and everyone else’s, you decided that a breath of fresh air would do you some good, and made your way to the back door.

You step onto the back porch and pull the door closed behind you, being ever so gentle with it. For whatever reason, if you used even a little bit too much pressure, the door would slam shut, and you remember Karen jokingly scolding you for it the first time you’d been here. The memory brings a small smile to your face, despite the anxiety that manifests in your chest. You suck in a sharp breath, the cool air filling your lungs as you do so. It’s refreshing and grounding, your breath swirling in front of you as you exhale.

You release the door knob and fold your arms in front of yourself as a gust of wind travels through the Michigan night, and your body shudders involuntarily. You scan the porch, and the scenery surrounding it, taking in the nostalgic view. Then, you remember the boys mentioning that they’d put up fairy lights the last time they were here, and sure enough, the string lights lined the roof of the porch. You scanned the floor, searching for where you could plug in the lights, and did just that as you found it.

It lights up the porch, casting a gentle, warm glow over everything. The light only travels a few feet out from the porch, leaving the rest of the yard to only be lit up by the bright moon. You sigh, then walk to the steps that lead to the grass, and take a seat on the top one. The wooden floor of the porch is cold, on your thighs, making you shudder again. It’s quiet, aside from the muffled chatter coming from inside of the cabin. Then, the whole reason you’re sitting here dawns on you again, and inevitably, your mind wanders to an unpleasant place.

Jake is the only one who knows about your past. In depth, at least. He found out years ago, when you both were still teenagers. It was common for you to flea to the Kiszka home to get away from your mom, but usually, you would disguise it as something else. Fortunately, they were always welcoming you with open arms, happy to have you no matter the circumstance. Normally, you’d be able to leave your house before it got bad, until one night where you’d pushed things too far.

You were fed up with your moms habits, and for the first time, tried to stand up for yourself. You simply tried to stop her from getting another drink, doing your best to be calm, but of course she, in her intoxicated state, blew up on you. Normally, you wouldn’t fight. You’d disassociate as she scolded you, telling you that you’re too young to understand, and that you should wait until you’re her age, having to soak up everyone’s bullshit, and then you can ask about how many drinks she’s had.

That time, though, you fought back. You argued with her for at least an hour, and by the end of it, were in shambles. She’d told you off in a way that you’d never been told off before, essentially calling you a disappointment and a burden. You managed to text Jake before she took your phone - for no reason, might you add - and when you told her that you were leaving, she said “Go cry to the Kiszka’s like you always do.” with a venom dripping from her words unlike any you’d heard before. To this day, you remember that vividly.

You held off your tears long enough to get past Karen, as the last thing you wanted to do was worry her, certain that she had enough on her plate with her own kids. Despite being able to tell you were upset, she could also read that you didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, so she dismissed you. You’d been to their house enough to know who’s room was where, so it wasn’t hard to get to Jakes- the twins’ room. You were relieved to find that Jake was the only one in the room when you walked in. Not that Josh being there would have been a problem, - in fact, in most cases, you’d gone to Josh for comfort, as he was always the perfect balance of silly and comforting - but this time, you longed for Jake.

Before you could determine why that was, you’d broken into tears. Jake immediately jumped up from his bed and took you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You buried your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him twice as tightly as he did you. He was taken aback and remained silent, just letting you sob in his hold. He carefully brought you to the bed, where he continued hugging you. Unsure of what exactly to do, he wearily rubbed your back. You missed it in the moment, just Josh had come into the room, and before he could say anything, Jake shooed him away.

Josh closed the door and left, knowing that wasn’t the time to be snarky.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?” Jake said, his tone somehow a mix of playful, concern, and comfort. You drew in a shaky breath and ended up explaining everything to him. You told him how it happened, what your mom had said, and even traveled back to past experiences. Jake was at a loss for words, but his touch delivered a comfort that surpassed anything he could have said, and you spent at least an hour clinging to him.

Later that night, your mom called, having sobered up. At that point, everyone except you and the twins had gone to bed. Josh was the one who picked up the phone, and you ended up taking over. You’d been too exhausted to fight with her, and simply went along with her suddenly apologetic acts. She didn’t put up a fight when you said you’d be staying at Jake’s place, but you knew she’d be on your ass about it the next day. However, as Jake looked at you from the couch with worried eyes, you couldn’t be bothered. This was your home - he was your home, and in that moment, you were sure of it.

In the midst of recalling the bittersweet memory, the back door opens and brings you back to reality. You look over your shoulder, relieved to see Jake standing there. “Hi,” you say softly, your voice strained slightly. “Hi,” he hums in response, shutting the door in the same manner you had done when you came out a few minutes ago. “You okay?” he asks, the soft rasp of his voice making you slightly giddy. “Yeah,” you say, but he knows all too well that something has to be bothering you at least a little bit.

He remains silent, standing near the back door, his gaze lingering on your backside. It’s quiet for a few moments, before he speaks. “Is it the alcohol?” he asks, and you should have known that he’d be able to easily detect the issue, but a part of you is still shocked that he was able to figure it out in such a short amount of time. Reluctantly, you nod your head. Guilt begins to pool in the pit of your stomach, as you hate the idea that your own issues might affect their fun, but unbeknownst to you, that’s the last thing Jake is worried about.

He takes a few steps forward and leans on the railing of the porch, forearms resting on the wood. He glances down at you, then looks out in the distance, following your own gaze. “Do you want me to tell them to put it away?” he asks, and you sigh. It’s frustrating, in a way. The fact that you can’t seem to get past it, that you can’t just let loose and trust yourself, and your friends, all because of a bottle of alchohol. “No,” you respond flatly. You can feel Jake’s eyes on you, and you try your hardest to stop your bottom lip from quivering as you get the urge to cry, but you can’t help it.

Fortunately, Jake doesnt overreact. He takes slow steps behind you, his signature chelsea boots thudding on the floor with each step. He plops down beside you, his thigh pressed against yours. It’s a subtle move of comfort, one that works, and only does so when Jake does it.

Your relationship with him, at this point in time, is hard to explain. You’re not just friends, you both know it, and so do the boys…hell, even his parents have probably caught onto it. That being said, you’re not officially dating either. Neither of you are oblivious to the chemistry you share, and you suppose that’s why you never felt the need to bring it up. However, as time goes on, a part of you wants to push the line of friends, to see what could become of your relationship if you were to bring attention to the aforementioned chemistry you have.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Jake asks, his eyes practically staring into your soul as you make eye contact with him. Your heart leaps at his words, and you swallow harshly. “I don’t even know,” you mutter, chuckling softly. It makes him smile; your brief amusement. “I guess i’m just frustrated,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips as they purse. “Elaborate,” he says simply. Now, he’s turned his full body towards you, and rests his arm over your lap, his hand cupping the outer side of your thigh. Again, your heart leaps in your chest, and your stomach flips.

You avoid his gaze, looking off into the distance once again. You press your lips together for a moment, thinking about how to word your thoughts. “I feel bad…like, I hate that I can’t just relax and let you guys have fun.” Jake hums, “We are having fun,” he says, making you roll your eyes subtly. “You know what I mean,” you finally return your eyes to his, and every part of you wants to lean in and kiss him, especially given how cute he looks in these moments. He’s staring at you with big, brown eyes, ones that are too often hidden behind dark sunglasses, and the way he looks at you makes your head spin.

“Sure, but we don’t have to drink to have fun,” he explains, pressing his point further. You eye him, shoulders slumping with defeat. “I know, but,” you pause. It’s always conflicting; the half of you that wants to join in on the drinking, to just goof off and enjoy the tingly feeling of alchohol in your system, versus the other half of you that wishes it would cease to exist. “But what?” Jake asks, his voice impossibly softer. Your brows furrow, “Do you do that on purpose?” you ask, and his expression mirrors yours, with his brows knitting together in confusion. “Do what?” he asks.

You aren’t even sure how to explain it to him. If only you could put him in your shoes right now. “I don’t know, Jake, you just,” you’re getting flustered now, almost regretting that you even said anything. He waists, and you swear he’s batting his eyelashes at you. Your breath catches in your throat, and it takes every fiber of your being to remain still. “You just have this way of…being, I suppose,” you say, and you know it sounds stupid, but it’s almost worth it when Jake smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, looking away, and a part of you is almost frustrated with him, but it doesn’t last for long.

“Come on, talk to me,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “About what?” you ask. “Either the drinking situation, or whatever my way of…’being’ is,” he uses air quotes when he says ‘being’, playfully mocking you. You huff, “I guess i’m just scared,” you say, then clarify, “of drinking, I mean.” He nods, “What are you afraid of?” he asks, and your mind goes right back to where it was earlier, when you’d seen Josh pop open the very whiskey your mom used to drink - you weren’t upset with Josh, or any of the boys. They didn’t know, and even if they did, you wouldn’t have been upset.

“Well I mean, for starters, it doesn’t even feel that great to drink-“ Jake stops you. “No, what are you afraid of?” he repeats, making you swallow. You stay quiet, pressing your lips together. You’re searching for any comfort you can get, and Jake delivers it as he takes your hand in both of his, his thumbs soothing over your skin.

“I’ve seen what it does to some people, Jake,” you mutter, and he leans in to ensure he hears you. He nods, thinking back to the night where you told him everything.

He felt so helpless, it hurt. He remembers it almost as vividly as you do, and certainly remembers the way his chest ached as you cried into his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He also felt angry, knowing that you’d have to go home and deal with your mom again, but he knew better than to try and do anything - at the end of the day, all he could do was hold you, be there for you, and even if he wasn’t sure how to do that, he internally promised himself to do his best.

“I don’t want to be the way my mom was-is…she stopped for a while, just drinking wine here and there, but she’s picked up whiskey again,” you explain. Jake had yet to learn that, and that tells him all he needs to know. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and the sheer gentleness of his words makes you want to dissolve into a puddle of tears. “It’s okay,” you respond, voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t have to drink, but I want you to know that you will never be like your mom, okay?” He says, and you can feel a lump forming in your throat. You choose to nod rather than speak, not trusting that your voice wouldn’t fail you. He lifts a hand to your cheek just in time for a tear to fall from your eyes, and he swipes it away gently.

“Come here,” he says sweetly, cradling your head to his chest as he embraces you. It’s nostalgic, this moment, and how similar it is to that night you spent with him, sobbing in his arms. Fortunately, this time, you’re much more calm, even if the tears are still falling. “Jakey,” you hadn’t intended to use the nickname, but sometimes, it finds it way out almost instinctively. “Yes?” he responds, rubbing your back. You nuzzle into him, taking a moment to relish in his hold.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask. He didn’t know exactly what to expect, but that wasn’t it. Between the overwhelming urge to confess to him right now, and your desire to finally overcome your own fear, you’re warming up to the thought of a shot or two.

“Yn, sweetheart, I already told you that I don’t care. I don’t need to drink to have f-“ you’re the one to cut him off this time. “I know, but do you want to have a drink? Because I think a drink sounds kind of nice,” you say. Jake sighs, not a frustrated sigh, but rather a…disappointed sigh? He’s unsure of what exactly he was sighing for, but the possibility that you were going to confess to him flashes through his mind, and he knows deep down that’s the reason for it. Suddenly, he’s on par with a drink as well, but remains mindful as you lead him back inside.

Youre half expecting to be bombarded by the other boys, but you find sam sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, with Josh and danny in the middle of some intense conversation, one that they don’t pull away from. “Probably talking about music,” Jake mutters, shutting the back door. You glance at Jake, then look at Josh. His hands mimick Danny’s when he’s drumming, and what Jake said makes sense. “Seems like it,” you respond, then follow Jake into the kitchen.

“Please tell me you bought something other than whiskey,” you say, grimacing at the sight of the half empty bottle. “Honestly, I don’t know, I didn’t buy anything,” he says as he starts rummaging through the cabinets, and the idea that he refrained from buying anything because of you warms your heart. You watch as he scans the cabinets, and eventually, he finds the stash of drinks, listing them to you. You take your pick, grabbing two glasses as Jake opens the bottle. He pours a small amount into both glasses, and you don’t miss the way he takes a second to put the whiskey out of your view.

He turns his attention to you as he grabs his glass. “Thank you, Jakey,” you say softly, and he smiles, clinking his glass against yours. “Your welcome,“ he says softly, and you both down the shot, almost in sync as you place your glasses on the counter. You stand in a comfortable silence for a few moments, and given how rare it is for you to drink, it’s not long before you feel the subtle affects of the alcohol taking place.

“D’you wanna tell me about my way of being, now?”Jake asks suddenly, eyeing you. You know that, unless you seriously didn’t want to, he’s going to press you until you expound. Now, you’re even more unsure of how to explain it. “I don’t know how to explain it,” you mumble, looking at him. Your eyes meet, and he waits patiently for you to continue. “You just…” you bite your lip, hesitant to tell him the truth. He steps forward, closing some of the distance between you both. “Talk to me, baby,” he says, and it takes everything in you to keep your composure.

The amount of love you feel for him is overwhelming, and right now, between the very slight buzz you’re experiencing, his closeness to you, and the nickname, you’re almost dizzy. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Jake,”

you finally give him a peak into your mind, and even though you can’t tell, his heart is rapidly beating against his rib cage. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Like, everything you do is so…you bring me so much comfort and peace, just by existing,” you explain, and despite trying to fight it, tears well in your eyes.

“You just mean so much to me, Jake and…I don’t know what i’d do without you, and especially nights like these, I can’t hardly stand just being your friend,” you know you’re jumping around a little bit, but you figure your point is getting across just fine.

“Then, what do you want us to be?” he asks softly. He’s not trying to be flirtatious, or teasing, he’s genuinely asking, and with the way he steps even closer, making you feel like he’s the only person in the world, you feel so comfortable giving him an answer. “Everything,” you respond. “I like what we have, I dont want to lose it…but I also want more, I suppose,” you say, eyes unable to break away from his. “I want to wake up to you, to go to sleep with you, to go everywhere with you, to just-“ you pause, choosing to save him the long explanation. “I love you, Jake.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you talk again just as he opens his mouth to speak. “And that’s not the alcohol talking,” you assure him. He laughs, shaking his head. “Baby, you had maybe an ounce or two, I know it isn’t the alchohol,” he hums. If it weren’t for the pet name, you’d likely have been annoyed at his teasing, but instead, you feel like you’re melting under his gaze. He takes one more step, your body’s almost touching. He slowly leans down, cupping your cheek as he does so. You lean into the warmth of his palm, eyes fluttering shut. They open only for a moment, and close when his lips land on yours. It’s a soft, but passionate kiss. One of your hands finds its place on his chest, the other gripping his wrist to keep his hand on your cheek as you fervently kiss him. When he pulls away, you’re both giddy.

“I love you too, yn,” he says honestly, and even if the way he just kissed you should have been enough to tell you that, hearing him say it lifts any doubts you had. “…And that’s not the alcohol talking,” he playfully mocks you, laughing as you gently smack his chest.

#new fic who cheered #i need jake #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka fanfic #fanficiton #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jtk x reader #gvf x reader #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic

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aloneinthehellfire · 1 year

Text

Chapter 23: The Aftermath

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Word Count: 4847 words of these kids definitely have ptsd now

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, blood, hospitals (i myself am not fond of being in one), minor violence?, some nice sweet stuff in this one since all the others have been an angst fest

[A/N: this is kind of like a filler episode we all know and love on our fav shows (or not lmao) but i really wanted to give a shot at what was happening before 'two days later'. you don't really have to read this chapter if you don't want to, but there are some important parts?]

The Aftermath

Dawn was breaking by the time you left the Upside Down, slowly casting an orange light on your silhouettes. For a moment, everyone glanced over at the rising sun.

It wasn’t until you were heading to the RV that you realised this particular sunrise wasn’t meant to be seen by your eyes, or any after that. It was a bittersweet reminder that you almost never saw a sunrise ever again. You didn’t even remember the last.

Steve drove away from the trailer park, Nancy taking care of Eddie’s wounds in the back, while Dustin and Robin shared stories of the night. Despite their efforts, there was an unease that even the attempt of comedic conversation couldn’t break.

You sat in the front, staring out of the window and wincing at the reflection of the girl with a blood-stained face staring back.

There was too much running through your mind to truly allow you to focus, only ever seeing the same images burned into your brain. The visions of the people you lost, the grave inscribed with your name. The look in Vecna’s eye when he took your life. Your blood.

“Hey.”

Steve’s foot gently nudges yours, voice lowered in attempt to keep the conversation private. Not that it was needed; Robin and Dustin’s exchange of tales were loud and excitable, the pair happy to just discuss random movies and keep Eddie awake.

“You okay?” He asks before his face drops, shaking his head and looking back to the road. “Sorry, stupid question.”

“We lost.” You say after a time, quietly. He glances over to you.

He took a moment to decide his next words, flexing his knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Not yet. We’ll get another chance, and we’ll win. I know it.”

“Yeah.” You try to agree, but your heart wasn’t in it.

“Look,” Steve sighs, quickly checking the mirror to ensure the others were distracted, “All I know is that we’re okay. That you’re okay.”

His voice was slightly cracked at the last three words and your whip your head to find his eyes, frowning.

“Steve-”

“No, I-” He breathes away the reddening of his eyes, focused on the road ahead in the soft yellow glow of the headlights, illuminating the paths hidden in darkness from the early morning shades of trees. “I genuinely thought I was gonna have to figure out the rest of my life without you and I never wanna do that again. I wish I could say it was the first time.”

“When have you…” You shake your head, confused.

Steve’s eyes flicker to yours, gulping. “Last year. When… the Russian base. We got separated. All I could hear were your screams. Even if I was getting beaten to a bloody pulp, those screams were the worst torture, believe me. Then- then that woman showed us a knife- your blood, and…”

A tear rolls down his cheek as he continues. “Jesus, I seriously thought that this year would be different. You left, and believe me that sucked, but you were safe. That’s what mattered.But I- I couldn’t get any of it out of my head. Then the worst finally happened just a few hours ago and I don’t even know how I’m gonna process that one.”

“You aren’t the only one.” You admit quietly and he nods.

“Yeah, of course. Right, I can’t even imagine-” His breath is shaky and you lower your head.

There was always a part of you that declared you needed to be strong, to never show weakness. It was that part that always ended up failing you, spinning you out of control until you did something you regret. But those usually extended from small lies or lack of communication. This time, it was quite literally death.

And you didn’t have the strength in you to pretend like you were okay.

“Don’t ever die again.” Steve frowns, breaking the silence, eyes filled with that painful memory. His lips were tight, glistening eyes watching as the light began to beam between the branches you pass. “Please.”

You lean over and wipe the tear from his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Good.” He chuckles, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Because I’m not letting you go that easy.”

That was the first time you felt like you smiled for a normal reason. The only times happiness had struck you over the course of the past few days were when you celebrated that your friends were alive. This… this felt better. Because it wasn’t a relieved smile for once. It was the joy you felt after the boy you loved told you that this was forever.

The moment was broken with a thick air of smoke clouding the road, Steve pulling the RV to a stop and frowning.

“What’s going on?” Nancy joins you at the front, peering through the windscreen.

As Steve wordlessly shakes his head, you can make out a shadow in the distance, a scarlet outline. Your eyes widen.

You were out of your seat and jumping from the door in no time, feet planting on the solid ground before taking a few steps. Your breath slipped from your lips, a clearer view of what you feared.

The Creel House was surrounded by the dark smoke but illuminated by a red light, almost like fire.

And it was no longer standing.

A huge slit broke the house in half, the beating heart of a gate staring back at you. Your gaze travels up the building, face dropping completely. The attic was incinerated.

“Do you think they got out?” Dustin asks with the smallest whisper.

Your friends had collected behind you, poking their head out of the vehicle and staring at the destruction with wide eyes.

Robin nods vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, they- they had plenty of time.”

Your eyes flicker around, part of you hoping to find Lucas safe and sound among the rubble. Nothing.

Erica would have gone for help, you tell yourself, he’s fine, she’s fine… Max is fine.

“Maybe they’re-” Dustin hobbles down from the step in the direction of the building, until his ankle folds beneath him and he’s almost face first on the ground.

Steve catches him just in time, “Woah, no, okay. We’re getting you to the hospital. You seriously need that ankle checked out.”

“But-”

“No, he’s right.” Nancy affirms, nodding. “You’re obviously in pain, Eddie needs those bites properly treated. And Y/n-”

Nancy turns to you and for the first time tonight, took in your appearance, breath hitching. Almost your entire torso was covered in dry blood, splattered across your neck and face. Three gashes were torn into the fabric of your shirt, outlining the red scars that replaced your once fatal wounds. Bruises coated the public skin, some more brutal than others. You were, to put it simply, a mess.

“I’m fine.” You shrug, clearing your throat. “But, yeah. We, uh… we should get to the hospital.”

You ignored her worried look, turning away from the wreck and stepping back into the RV, reclaiming your seat. Steve slips back behind the wheel, taking a deep breath and relying on the headlights to guide you all safely through Hawkins.

The earlier chatter of distraction had dissipated into unsettling silence. Perhaps they were originally riding the high of their survival, but now the truth of the surface had unveiled itself and plunged them into dread.

And it only got worse.

Driving through streets of chaos, your heart drops; crumbled buildings, fires burning away memories, people cradling limbs as they’re pulled from beneath.

Crying parents held their children, police men desperately trying to assess the source of the destruction. It was soul-breaking to see the panic, residents fleeing their homes without a choice. Hawkins was once so cosy.

The aftermath of Vecna’s victory hadn’t just hurt you. It affected the entire town.

The road to the hospital was busy with cars, forcing Steve to stop in the Family Video parking lot. Luckily for you, the final destination was only around the corner.

Steve supported Eddie’s weight, the latter insisting he was fine when, especially in daylight, he clearly wasn’t. Dustin simply loops his arm around Nancy, allowing her to help him along with no complaints. From the grimace of his face, the adrenaline must have worn off and he was now feeling the pain of the drop.

Robin offered to help, only met with a few murmurs of ‘no, it’s okay’ before she gave up and shuffled up next to you, her curious eyes assessing the buildings around her.

After seeing the Creel House destroyed, your hope had gone. You knew Max was dead, that part was made very clear by the grand opening of Hawkins’ biggest gate yet. But you also knew Lucas had to have seen that, and he wouldn’t have left her side, even if the ground was swallowing them both up. It hurt.

Lucas had a natural charisma about him when you first met. It was late, your first night in Hawkins, and the house beside you was lively, bundles of excited chatter and exclamations spewing from the tiny window of the basement and echoing straight to your window. It wasn’t until you took a step out of the house for some fresh air that you met the kids; Will’s shy smile, Mike’s under-eager wave, and Dustin’s wide grin. Lucas was the first one to talk to you, a warm welcome to the town.

Ever since then, you’ve seen him grow from that 12 year old boy into someone you wished you could be. You’ve dealt with his unrealistically optimistic flirts, his arguments with the other boys, his small and quiet conversations about wanting to play basketball like the older kids did but scared he would upset the Party. And he dealt with your sarcasm, your denial of emotions, even your constant refusals to assist them even though you would do anything for them. When you think of any memory tied to the town, almost every one had him connected into it, his sincerity and love for his friends inspiring you to make the same sacrifices onto selflessness. You couldn’t have hoped for a better person to care for your sister.

The thought of losing them both…

Warmth slipped into your hand and you look up to see Robin’s smile, her hand squeezing yours gently as you led the others towards the hospital. Neither of you spoke, only basking in the safety you felt with eachother, calming nerves.

As the greying white of the building appears into view, flashing lights blare the road behind you, screeching sirens of persistence loud enough to pierce the chaos around you.

The ambulance stops just outside of the entrance, a gurney being pulled from the back and slid onto the paving. You barely take notice, head hung low as you glance back to check on Dustin and Eddie.

“Is she gonna be okay?! Anyone?!”

Your head whips up to see someone else emerge from the transport, reddened eyes and quick breaths as they yell in exasperation.

Erica steps around him, noticing you stood with a look of shock on your face. She immediately turns to get his attention, pulling on his shirt and nodding in your direction.

Lucas’ face drops when he sees you, eyes widening. He glances to the gurney.

It doesn’t take long for the puzzle to build itself.

“Max.” You breathe out, loud enough for your friends to halt all movement and find the source of your whisper.

Without even waiting for confirmation, you drop Robin’s hand and sprint over to where they were carting your sister into the hospital, a sob leaving your lips when you see her face, blood staining her cheeks in tear paths.

“You need to step back.” A nurse informed you a little bitterly and you shake your head, keeping up with the fast pace.

“She’s my sister!” You insist and the woman sighs, nodding to another worker.

“And we will let you know everything once we finish her surgery.”

“No, I- Surgery?” You repeat, hand brushing against Max’s face before she’s pulled away from you and through restricted doors, leaving you stood alone in the foyer, murmurs of busy people vibrating around you.

“Y/n?”

You turn around to see Lucas stood a few steps from you, body almost curling in on itself like he was guilty, ashamed. With the drop of your heart, you realise he must think you’d hate him for breaking his promise. Your feet moved quickly.

Closing the distance, you wrap your arms around him and pull him close. His arms immediately clung onto you, soft sobs vibrating into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I tried- he-”

“It’s okay.” You soothe, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re here. That’s what matters. You did everything you could.”

Lucas’ mumbles of apology quickly faded into silent tears, his tight grasp finding comfort in your arms and letting you hold him up. Behind him, Erica patiently waits, her sad eyes finding yours and flickering to her older brother, a look of helplessness.

The doors open to reveal the others, Steve calling for doctors passing by and struggling to make excuses for Eddie’s condition.

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you, we…” Steve stumbles over words, looking to Robin.

“Uh, yeah, we… found him. Like this, I mean. We found him like this.” She finishes, turning red. She was never one for lying.

The doctor raised an eyebrow and Eddie sighed.

“Bats.” He states and they look surprised.

“Bats?” The doctor repeats and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, bats.”

Nancy clocks the medic’s startled face and clears her throat. “He might just be in shock, you know. The, um, earthquake must’ve spooked a lot of animals.”

“Right.” The doctor sounds hesitant but motions over a nurse, whispering something in her ear before she helps them take Eddie from Steve’s hold.

As they pass, Eddie sends you a smile, your brain instantly recognising that look where he hides something behind his eyes. You frown, carefully pulling away from Lucas but keeping an arm around him.

You watch as the doctor nods to a guard by the entrance, the man moving swiftly across the foyer and towards where the medics were helping Eddie.

And, with the sickening realisation, you knew there wasn’t even a small chance he’d have a normal life after this.

Because you never managed to clear his name.

Steve was by your side as you glared up at Officer Callahan, arms crossed as you stared with such malice he was starting to look uncomfortable.

As you intended. After all, his spiel about Eddie’s ‘murder rampage’ boiled your veins with each shake of his head.

“I’m just stating the law-”

“Fuck the law!” You spit and he widens his eyes, adjusting his hat.

Steve raises his brows but says nothing, trying to hide a smirk as the officer slowly shrinks in size.

“And it’s not even true. Which we’ve been trying to tell you for the past 20 minutes and honestly, I’m really starting to think our law enforcement is really fucking stupid.”

“Hey, now-” Callahan complains but you raise your hand and he shuts his mouth.

“Please, tell me how it’s humanly possible for anyone, much less Eddie, to be able to do that to someone.” You challenge and whatever retort he had was thrown away, shoulders slumping as he sighs.

“It’s not up to him.”

You and Steve turn to see Powell enter the hallway, nodding to his colleague.

“Since he was seen in contact with 2 out of the 3 victims, we have to take into account that he doesn’t have any kind of alibi.” Powell explains and you purse your lips.

“Explain my sister, then.” You say and he looks surprised, glancing to Callahan for clarification but in return getting a shrug.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Max is currently in surgery after being found with all her bones snapped and her eyes bleeding.” You try and keep control over your voice, wanting them to take you seriously. “Exactly like the other kids. And Eddie couldn’t possibly have done that.”

“How do you know that he didn’t?” Powell raises an eyebrow and you’re ready to answer until Steve’s reminding touch stops you.

“Uh…” You struggle to speak.

To tell the police that you had been hiding a fugitive wouldn’t look great for anyone, but especially not you. You knew about the records they kept on you at the station, the looks you’d get anytime you would pass an officer. They’d be quick to assume that Eddie had an accomplice.

“He was with me.” Steve breaks his silence and your eyes widen, whipping your head to him. He avoids your eyes, looking to Powell and scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, long story short I kinda ran into him at Skull Rock, got to talking. I mean, I was all on board thinking Eddie could’ve done it until I actually met the guy and yeah, I gotta tell ya… not a murderer.”

Callahan’s eyes narrowed while Powell assessed Steve’s face for any hint of a lie. You held your breath.

Powell eventually nods, glancing off into the distance before running a hand down his face. “Alright.”

“Alright?” You prompt, brows furrowed.

“We’ll reopen the case.” He states and Callahan turns to him with wide eyes.

“We will?”

“Yes.” Powell nods, adjusting his hat and finding your eyes. “I can’t guarantee anything will change, but he’ll no longer be in our custody. At least not until we’ve dealt with this earthquake.”

You let out your breath and exchanged a triumphant smile with Steve.

Callahan clears his throat pointing a stare. “It does mean we’re gonna have to take statements, from you and your boyfriend here. We expect you to show up this time.”

His narrowed eyes stay on you until he’s rounded the corner, contrasting the slight nod giving by his chief and then they’re out of sight, leaving you and Steve stood outside of Eddie’s room with dumbfounded smiles.

“Did that just really work?” You ask, unfolding your arms and frowning in joyful confusion.

“I’ll be honest,” Steve runs a hand through his hair, “When you said ‘I’m gonna scare them into freeing Eddie’, I kinda expected to be visiting you behind bars.”

You smirk. “Aww, you’d visit me?”

There was a smile on his face, but not from the humour. He was glancing to where Powell and Callahan had disappeared then returning to your face, struggling to keep his lips from widening into a grin.

“What?” You question, cocking your head.

“Nothing, I just…” He wets his lips as he shoves his hands into his pocket, grin on display. “You didn’t correct him.”

You furrow your brows, searching through your memory. “About what?”

“Nothing.” Steve shakes his head, grinning still. “Don’t worry about it.”

Laughing, you open your mouth to respond when something catches your eye. Silhouettes of two figures stood down the hall, sporting matching jackets that you’d recognise anywhere.

Steve frowns, looking over his shoulder to what stole your attention and he holds his breath. He turns back to see your furious gaze, the way your hands balled into little fists.

Lucas had explained everything, from the very beginning of Max baiting Vecna to the ending of Jason showing up out of the blue, smashing her Walkman in the process. Erica was quick to chime in about his friend, the attack. Needless to say, one of them had picked a wrong day to show up in your line of vision.

“Okay, let’s-” Steve begins, but you’re already storming towards them. “Nevermind, okay.”

“Hey!” You shout across the hallway, the boys’ heads locating the call. The one with darker hair looked surprised, fearful even, making you think he knew exactly who you were. The other sported a hat, and, adding fuel to your fire, seemed completely unbothered.

“Can we help you?” He grumbles. Andy, you read on his jacket as you stop in front of them.

You take a look between the two before settling on Andy. “You the one that tackled a little kid and threatened to break her arms?”

The boy beside him- Chase- shifts uncomfortably, looking to his friend with a startled expression. Andy barely flinched.

“No.” He spat, shoving his hands in his jacket and nodding to his friend, a cruel smile on his face as he begins to turn away.

“You realise harming a minor results in both jail time and high monetary fines?” You retort, his footsteps slowing.

He looks to you with a scoff. “You a fucking cop or something?”

“No.” You shrug, tilting your head. “Just a friend of the victim.”

“I don’t know what that little shit said but I didn’t do anything.” Andy insists, voice deep. It wasn’t a plead of innocence. It was a warning.

“Look, we’re just here looking for Jason.” Chase interjects, looking extremely nervous.

“Uh…” You frown, feeling a little guilty in knowing the truth. But you didn’t want to be the one to bear the news. “Haven’t seen him.”

“Waste of time.” Andy mumbles, scanning your body before rolling his eyes and sending Chase a sarcastic look. You purse your lips.

“Maybe if you had checked on him before running away like a wimp, you wouldn’t be wasting your time.”

“Andy?” Chase frowns and Andy’s amused face abruptly drops to a scowl. Chase seemed to have no idea of the previous events of the night, part of you wondering if he wanted out of the ‘hunting’ after his teammate died. Or maybe he was just morally better than the rest of them.

“I’m warning you.” Andy grits his teeth, body fully facing you now. He was clearly a violent one.

Maybe you should take the warning. After all, Andy was physically built as an athlete, much taller and stronger than you were. Your most recent exercise was climbing up a rope and hell, that was a struggle.

But Vecna had really heightened your preferences on what you would find intimidating.

“About what?” You challenge, raising your eyebrows. “You gonna break my arms then run away? Because as I recall, my friend still has her limbs perfectly intact and she’s 11, so… if you can’t even win a fight against a literal child, what makes you think you’ll win-”

Andy’s arm flies out, hand flat as he aims to swipe it across your head. The effect would have hurt for sure, if someone hadn’t caught it just before impact.

You barely flinched as it was, already set to have dodged the attack. But there was something even better having Steve Harrington stood next to you, hand gripping Andy’s wrist tightly as he glares at him.

“I’m warning you.” Steve threatens, voice low. “You fucking touch her and I guarantee someone’s losing their arm today.”

He violently thrusts Andy’s arm back to him, earning a wide-eyed stumble. Andy moves forward, but Chase blocks him.

“Come on, man, let’s just go.” He places a hand on his shoulder and manoeuvres him backwards.

There’s one more angry look from Andy before Chase manages to wrangle him back down the hall and out of your sight. You figure this won’t be the last of seeing him.

“I swear you make more enemies than you do friends.” Steve lets out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

“As long as I always have my knight in shining armour to save me.” You bat your eyelids sarcastically and he chuckles, clicking his jaw.

“I’m just glad I actually did something this time instead of running in when it was all over.” Steve smirks knowingly and you look to the ground.

“Can’t believe he did that to Erica. That any of them were just ready to kill a guy because of what? A- a game that they thought was satanic. Part of me felt bad for Jason, but the rest of them barely had an excuse.”

“And Jason did?” Steve quirks a brow.

You sigh, “He was broken. Chrissy was his girlfriend and, I mean, he clearly loved her. Love makes you do crazy things and no, I do not think anything he did was right, but he was hurting. So badly. God, if I was told that someone I loved was murdered, I’d…”

“Hurl Molotov cocktails at the guy who did it?” Steve suggests, attempting a joke but ultimately placing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know.” He mumbles into your hair after a while and your shoulders slump. Of course he already knew what you were thinking.

“We should probably be in the waiting room. For when the doctors have news.” You say quietly and he nods. “Maybe get some coffee so I can be awake. They’ll be a while.”

His arm slips from your shoulders but instead finds your hand, intertwining fingers as you walk towards the busy noise of people impatiently waiting for good news.

“Should also probably get our bruises looked at.”

“I’d rather suffer in silence until I get a good night’s sleep.”

“You literally just said you wanted coffee.”

“Huh, then I guess it’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me really.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You guys heard from California yet?” Lucas asks, his voice thick with tears as one hand holds an icepack to his face. He was trying his best to stay calm, but his leg anxiously bounced as he leant back in his chair. Erica's head was rested gently against his shoulder, the girl drifting off to sleep.

“No.” Nancy sighs, scrunching her face. You knew she and Jonathan hadn’t been talking as much lately. You prayed that everyone was okay, and that Nancy and Jonathan would be fine. They were meant for eachother.

“Oh my god.” Robin suddenly blurts, standing up abruptly. She glances around at everyone’s concerned faces. “I gotta call my parents.”

Once her eyes locate it, she bounds over to the phone hanging from the wall, scrambling to dial a number in. Nancy raises her head.

“What is it?” You notice Nancy’s fallen expression, the tightening of her lips. It looked like she was about to cry.

“My parents. Holly.” She says in breaths and you move from your chair to crouch in front of her.

“I’m sure they’re fine.” You comfort, placing your hand over hers and dipping your head down to find her eyes. “Okay, your- your dad is always watching those disaster documentaries, right? He would have gotten your mom and Holly to safety in no time.”

You didn’t have that much faith in Ted Wheeler. It wasn’t that he was a bad father, or anything like that. You were just closer to Karen, her taking you in like you were her own, and their marriage was far from perfect. Ted seemed grumpy most of the time, but regardless he definitely had love for his family. That was something you could have faith in.

“Yeah.” Nancy gulps her anxiety. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. I’ll call them when the phone’s free.”

You stand in time to see Steve rejoin you after a brief coffee run, noticing Nancy’s unease straight away.

“Nance?” He questions, placing her coffee beside her and another on the small table for Robin, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She sends him a quick smile, reaching for the cup and holding it up. “Thank you.”

Steve walks back to the seats opposite her, carefully placing himself in the seat beside yours, holding two cups. Gratefully, you take the hot beverage from his hands and hold it to your lips, breathing in the familiar scent. If you were going to be here a while, you needed caffeine.

Just as you shift back into your seat, echoing footsteps approached behind you.

“Mayfield?”

You whip your head up, exchanging wide glances with Lucas, and jumping from your seat to raise your hand.

“Hi, yeah. I’m her sister.” You stumble across the words, not expecting to hear back from the doctors so soon. The surgery would surely take hours to be successful without…

...without anything going wrong.

Your face drops as the doctor hugs the clipboard, offering a tight smile.

“I’ll need to speak to you privately.” Their eyes shift to the curious faces of your friends behind you. “Family only.”

You glance back at Lucas, the ice pack now deserted on his seat. There wasn’t much to do, so you made a silent vow to tell him everything.

As you follow the doctor down the surgery hallway, the bleached white walls seemed to be closing in on you, tightening your chest. Not a word was uttered as you pushed through the doors, entering a room with artificial lights that blinded you on first look.

The doctor stills, turning back to you and sighing. They didn’t need to say anything.

Your eyes had already drifted to the window beside you, your furrowed expression faltering.

Chapter 24: Hell Comes To Hawkins ->

[A/N: guys, there's only one episode left of Raining Hellfire 4 SOMEBODY SEDATE ME]

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711 / @eddiesbirdie / @livasaurasrex / @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs / @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley / @mothmanatemycat / @sheisjoeschateau / @champagnejoker / @umidktbh / @fallinginlovewithqueue / @ilovetaylorswift132006 / @live-the-fangirl-life / @sadbitchfangirl / @cherrymedicine13 / @engenelxver / @sagaonpandora /

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thesamoanqueen · 2 years

Text

I'm good

Ratings: 18+

Warnings: SMUT; Rough/Angry sex; Hit of public sex; errors after errors after errors after errors after errors (…).

A/N: Angry Roman is a lot, so... if you don't like, don't read.

The hotel parking lot had some weird fluorescent lights, not exactly the kind of lights to put in a parking lot with all those pillars. But who cared? Maybe they had put them on last, after forgetting them and she was concentrating on them to avoid the silence of that car.

He was angry, really angry and Y/N didn't know what to do. Roman hardly ever got seriously angry in reality and on the rare times she had witnessed it, it had not been a sight to tell or see. But tonight they had reached a whole other level and the car was starting to hold tight on her, she felt guilty and she didn't even know why.

- Where were my cousins? - he asked suddenly, his hands still clasped on the steering wheel and eyes cast down.

Y/N bit her lip, the heel pressed to the mat under the seat and her hands flattening the edge of the sweatshirt he had given her to cover the glitter-filled dress. She knew where he was headed.

She loved the twins, she really loved them. She had loved them from the first second, when just a week after signing her contract with the federation, she saw them playing football with an empty box of Chinese food in a hotel parking lot in Tucson. At four in the morning. She had grown fond of them immediately, it had been easy: they were like two big Samoan children, it was almost impossible to hate them. They had grown up in a large and close family, forming a group was natural for them. Of course, they too had bad moments and for some it was not the best to find them both in front of them if things went badly, but in general it was easy to love them. Or at least for Y/N it had been so. She had started going out with them all the time and for her it was now "familiar" to have them around, she didn't even ask anymore where they were going or what to do. She was with them, she would have fun anyway, even if every now and then they got carried away... they were the ones who introduced her almost to everyone into the federation. They had introduced her to Roman. And Jaxon. Jaxson? Jackson? No, Jason. God, she just couldn't remember that dude’s name!

- I told them I was on my way back to the hotel.

She really did it, after repeatedly trying to enjoy a night that didn't take off. They were almost completely drunk, Naomi wasn't in much better shape, and she had to tell the bartender to call a cab to take them back when they finished making bad videos on the dance floor, but there was no point in giving Roman those details. Not at that moment.

- One of them could have accompany you - he replied quickly and Y/N turned to look at him confused.

- I'm not a child Ro, why would they?

They weren't in the ring, they didn't do business on commission and those two, as much as they enjoyed having fun and sometimes too much, could be blamed for anything but that. They had grown up together, in a family that didn't compromise on those aspects, why was he asking her those questions? If they had known that the guy would have taken it out for being rejected and would have followed her to the car to complain, they wouldn't have even made him get to the door. She wouldn't even let him get to the door.

- You could have called me - he replied, avoiding her question and Y/N went back for a moment to look at the parking lights, feeling that strange weight in her chest again.

- I thought you hadn't arrived yet, you had the interviews... these things always last longer than expected and to get here it took three hours by car - she reflects aloud, while Roman sighed and rested his head on the seat.

The last few weeks had been hectic, the PPV was approaching and he was as always in the mainevent. Journalists were in line to ask him the same questions over and over from all kinds of sports and non-sports news, he had podcasts to participate in, programs to make appearances. The federation exhibited him to the limit on those occasions and everything had to fit into his agenda, already planned to the minute for the previous months. She had seen him eat in the gym, sleep on the bus, change on a plane, wash in the locker room as if he had nowhere to go back and didn't want to get in the way. They were friends, they had sex - lots of sex - but she had no right to speak in his life and deep down, even if Y/N wasn't the face of the federation, knew how many sacrifices required a job like theirs. She didn't want to bore him, steal his time or worse, seem more of who she was.

And that had been one of the reasons she'd agreed to talk to that guy, friend of Xavier. She wanted to distract herself, find an alternative, but it was hours of stolen sleep, songs repeated in a bar like any other and two watered-down drinks that she had thrown away almost entirely. If she had known it wasn't the right night to spend with the twins, maybe she would have worked out, eat in the bedroom and hid under the covers to rest for a while, instead she'd had to get that guy out of Roman's hands before he lost control to the point of getting a call.

She watched him run a hand over his face, eyes closed and brow furrowed. He was angry, he was really angry and in one night Y/N had managed to smash his agenda, forcing him to take her back to the hotel when thanks to the advance interviews in Columbus, he could already be in bed.

- Roman ... - she called him softly, his heavy breathing filling the car, while he tried to calm his nerves.

She reached out to his arm, trying to get him to let go of the steering wheel and a low growl echoed in his chest, his face still motionless.

- Ro - she tried again, his grip getting tighter.

- He was yelling at you.

Y/N opened and closed her mouth for a second, her knees lifting on the seat to help her turn and look at him better. Was he angry about that? Was that the reason he had asked about his cousins? He thought...

- It was a little bit my fault - she admitted, snapping her tongue.

Jackson, Jaxson, Jason or whatever his name was, hadn't been nice to yell at her, but she had been a bit of a bitch, she had to admit it. Sitting on a stool for hours talking and finding that those next to you aren't paying attention to you isn't exactly an incentive to stay calm. Especially if that someone then decides to leave without a credible explanation for that behavior.

- He was trying to put his hands on you - Roman added deaf, his tone even angrier than before and Y/N shook her head, even though he wasn't looking at her.

No, he hadn't. He had just gotten closer than he should and maybe, on the other side of the road, from where Roman had swooped in with his car, it might have seemed the opposite, but no, it hadn't happened. Or she would have turned him against the sidewalk before he touched her hair.

- He was just mad cause I didn’t remember his name. - she tried to make him think, but he didn't want to know, he even seemed to get worse.

- I swear ... if he- he complained, his head wandering from side to side, his lips curled.

- ... hey ... im good, im alright... look at me Ro, im good - she quickly called him, her hands stroking his beard on both sides and pulling him towards her.

She saw him reopen his eyes with a still furious look and a small pout of disapproval escaped her along with a sigh. She stroked his face with her thumbs, her nails scratching his jaw in that gesture that seemed to relax him so much. His eyes remained planted on hers as his hands detached from the steering wheel and encircled her waist, creeping under the sweatshirt to hold her. Her fingers stopped, sliding further down his neck and the instant Y/N looked down at his mouth, Roman pulled her against him, lifting her up to sit on top of him.

The car was spacious, but he was a big guy and trying to sit as best she could, Y/N dropped her Balenciaga, Roman's mouth already against her in a hot kiss that threatened to make her out of breath. She felt her hands grab her ass, the boner pressing heavily on her center, the breaths echoing in the cockpit like a continuous roar. He was devouring her, without a plan, without holding back and she liked it more than she should, perhaps because of the tension or the memory of what had happened, she didn't know exactly, but she was already a mess.

They had seen each other practically every day, but they hadn't touched for more than a week and realizing that she had kept count, Y/N was not so surprised that she had missed him.

- I don't have the patience to... remove your clothes r-right now - she heard him warn her, between kisses and with her hands already on his belt, Y/N giggled.

- Considering... we're in a-ah... a parking lot, thanks-fuck! - she gasped, stopping as his hands pushed their way under her dress and two fingers slipped past her lingerie.

She felt him make his way inside her, his teeth biting her neck, the heat of his body almost burning her skin despite being dressed. He pumped in and out, merciless and furious, without waiting, her moods already wetting his palm, flattened against her center to also stimulate her clit at every intrusion. His fingertips caressed her walls, pressed in places where she herself would not have imagined she could have wanted them, and she lowered her head to his shoulder, curling her face against his neck. Roman’s beard tickled her face and from her mouth now came out only disjointed, broken breaths, the warmth mounting and her mind focusing only on him and what he was doing to her. He was in control, needy, his body even seemed to vibrate with tension, looking for a release.

- Rise up babygirl, i need you - Roman pushed her, but his arms had already lifted her.

With her knees pressed to his thighs, the abdomen contracted and short of breath, Y/N whimpered from lack of contact, until Roman stopped fumbling with his pants, releasing his already completely hard manhood. She looked at him with her lip between her teeth and a needy moan left her, as if she had been waiting for that moment all along. His hand rubbed his boner quickly a couple of times and without waiting for instructions, Y/N positioned herself on his lap, letting him slide inside her inch by inch, until it filled her completely.

- Hmm… f-fuck, ah, yes.

- Oh m-my- she closed her eyes, her forehead pressed against his.

Car sex wasn't comfortable, but having hardly any room to maneuver was forcing them closer than necessary and for that she would never stop thanking. She clung to his shoulders with her nails, walls tightening damp around his member one spasm after another, while Y/N tried to get used to having him completely inside her. She was literally sitting on it and her body was begging her to move, but Roman held her still by her hips and she was forced to cling to his hands, hearing him growl at her attempts to escape.

- I'm gonna fuck you so hard... that you forget you ever even m-met that asshole, you hear me babygirl? - he warned her seriously, running his tongue over his lips and Y/N could only respond with a moan as his hips lifted, pushing hard inside her.

She had him almost in her stomach, deeper than she'd ever expected, and her walls were holding him in a vise. He kissed her all along her neck, arms lifting and impaling her mercilessly, at a too frenetic pace from the very beginning. He was stiff inside her, hands gripping beneath her dress, the deep, hoarse moans echoing in her ears in a continuous up and down. He wasn't taking advantage, but a part of him was certainly venting and the idea of being there, at his mercy, was a turned on for Y/N. She indulged in his thrusts without thinking, letting him pump, brand her, and erase everything from her mind beyond the repetitive and overpowering movement of his hard-on. Y/N swayed her hips meeting his thrusts, the wet noise of their bodies mingling with the strangled moans, the air heavy with their breaths. She bit his neck, a kiss and another, until Roman slipped his arm behind her to pull her against him and Y/N stuck her fingers through his dark hair, feeling his forehead pressed against her neck, almost he was concentrating on that one continuous operation. He lifted her up a bit, reversing the movement of the thrusts and then letting her fall back on him, the tip of his cock pounding incessantly against her sweet spot, a satisfied growl accompanying every squeeze of her walls.

- Y-es… you're choking me b-babygirl, yes– he growled, digging his fingers into her hips in what was sure to be a mark the following day.

- R-Ro please… Im… Im-I need

- No. N-Not now, take it! - he stopped her abruptly, pushing her back against the steering wheel.

The new inclination, however minimal, gave Roman a greater range of motion and one of his hands slipped under her, pressing his thumb on her clit and taking from her a moan more like a scream. She was dizzy, about to crumble and honestly did not even understand how she had not yet collapsed against the horn, calling back whoever was guarding the hotel garage. Roman even seemed to increase the pace with each cry of her, as if they gave him the charge to continue and Y/N went back to holding on to his big forearms. Her buttocks slid against her jeans, the dress scratching her legs and her hair that was falling curl after curl, every time Roman grabbed her neck to bring her closer to him for a new sloppy kiss. Her moods by now were dripping everywhere and the sound of Roman's fingers spreading them on her button made her close her eyes, her chest rising and falling in search of an air which was perpetually missing. Careless, she pulled away from the steering wheel, clinging to his neck almost with despair and Roman gripped her against his chest, a hand behind the back of her neck and his lips pressed against her temples.

She felt his shaft throbbing inside her with the spasms of her moist center, pounding her most sensitive spot relentlessly with increasingly disjointed movements and opened her eyes again, begging with her forehead pressed on him. She saw his sweaty face, his muscles tense, sinking inside her, hammering her to the point of no return. He was destroying her and she couldn't, she didn't want to, do anything but stand there in his hands and let him have what he wanted.

Trapped in his press, her body bouncing with every thrust, she felt like she was losing connection with time and space, her mind completely empty and her core burning despite her leaking without restraint. One thrust, another, in a loop interrupted only by the low, husky noise of Roman's moans, she was out of breath and she opened her eyes again, begged him again, her head nodding. She couldn't resist anymore.

- … R-Ro ple-ase… ah! Please!

- G-Give it to me, its mine! Hm, g-give it, to, me, cmon – he conceded in the end and for Y/N it was enough, her body suddenly surrendering to the wave of pleasure that had mounted inside her and crumbled her there, in a parking lot with those lights pulsing behind her eyelids.

Roman continued his run undaunted for another minute, pushing under her with his head bowed, his abs contracted and his fingers pressed to her skin, emptying the last remaining energy and himself into her with a growl that made her body tremble. They were tangled up to each other, Y/N with her head resting on his shoulder and Roman with his chin on her temple, in a silence interrupted only by their breaths that slowly, with difficulty, tried to stabilize. She rubbed her nose against him, exhausted, feeling his hands slowly caress her aching legs and she inhaled deeply, the car smelling of sex. Of him.

- Babygirl… - he called back softly, his voice rough and Y/N lifted her face to give him a quick kiss on the jaw, before collapsing again.

- Im good - she assured, feeling him tighten his grip anyway.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanross @wickedsunfire @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @mcreignsera @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @jeyreigns @civildawn @minanajra @romanmydaddy @raidenandreigns @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @itjazzbicch @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @mariamheeeeee @vintage-pvssy @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @helensanders92 @niknakbucks92

#roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fan fiction

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andkisses · 6 months

Text

♡ always, promise | sunoo ♡

you decide, snuggled up as the weather turns colder, that sunoo deserves all your love

♡ sunoo x gn!reader | wc. 1.4k ♡ genres/tropes: domestic, fluff, two dorks in love who say it ♡ mentions of/warnings: sunoo calls reader a pet name ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for mingyu from svt ♡ masterlist ♡

Rain showers the roof in soft pats, sliding down the walls and running over the windowsill before continuing it’s journey downward. Outside, the trees and grass and flowers have become an electric shade of green, with the leaves glowing in the fresh water. Wind blows the light raindrops around in swirling circles, creating a delicate mist that moves and breathes at a moment's notice.

Just inside, separating cool from warm, is the fireplace, flames licking and crawling around the logs. They crackle and spit when the wind rushes or when raindrops slip down the chimney. A warm glow casts around the living room, where the heat keeps the winter chills at bay. Soon, the weatherman figures on the television, the rain will change into sleet and then into snow. By tomorrow morning, he determines, there should be a good foot of fluffy white snow blanketing the ground. Double check your plans, he warns, because some things will have to change.

But you don't have plans. You hardly even hear let alone register what the weatherman is droning on about over your heartbeat. And you swear you can hear his, too.

Every single blanket the two of you owned, including the fluffy comforter off the bed and the soft throws from the couch and every extra one from the linen closet, were tossed onto the floor between the couch and the fireplace. The coffee table has long been pushed aside and forgotten along with the cooling mugs of cocoa and coffee resting on top. Every single pillow has made its way down with the blankets, too.

And then there’s the two of you, snuggled up in borrowed hoodies and long pants and warm fuzzy socks. You're in one of his hoodies—you "borrowed" and never returned (partially because it's warm and partially because smells like him) but he never asked for it back (partially because he knows you love it and partially because he loves how it looks on you). You're both buried beneath the blankets and pillows, but still close enough to feel the fireplace's heat to feel delightfully toasty.

Close enough to feel each other's warmth.

Your hands find their way to cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, eyes closed with a soft and peaceful smile on his face. A frown shapes your lips. “You're still cold,” you say, pinching his still-red cheeks. “You shouldn’t have come over in the rain.”

He laughs, giggles turning his cheeks warm beneath your touch. “What are you? My mom?” He reaches out to boop your nose. “I distinctly remember you saying you were lonely and asking me to come over.”

You make a face, scrunch your nose–because he’s right. You were lonely and you did ask him. And you had been paying attention to the weatherman earlier, imagining the snow and ice and what it would be like to build pillow forts with Sunoo and keeping each other company. He’s already closed his eyes again, melting into the touch of your hands. God, you’re so in love with him.

But you don’t let him know that. That would be embarrassing. Instead, you counter, “You could get sick.”

One eye slowly peers open mischievously, the matching eyebrow quirking up. “Me? Sick?” He laughs again, shuffling closer to you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in, and you end up with your own arms around his neck. He plants a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, and even though you can’t see it, you can feel his smile against your skin. You must have me mistaken for someone else. I'd never get sick.”

You stay there like that for a while, a smile secure on your lips, you nestled in his arms and safely tucked under his chin. He curls into you, almost like a kid who’s spent too long from home. A drowsy state falls over the room, and you see everything through warm, hazy vision. Outside, the rain had turned to sleet, just as the weatherman predicted. It pinks at the windows. From behind the clouds, the sun begins to sink below the horizon, taking the little light with it. The streetlights turn on. The flames of the fireplace continue to flicker, casting everything in a moving orange glow.

“If we fall asleep now, we’ll ruin our sleeping schedule,�� you murmur, already feeling the warm hands of sleep coaxing you away from the land of the awake. “We’ll wake up at like four in the morning.”

Sunoo pulls you a tad closer, hands spread out, one splayed against your ribs and the other running soothing patterns over your back. “Or,” he begins, eyes glittery in front of you with firelight, “we fall into a deep slumber and don’t awaken for thousands of years, but when we do, we'll be rulers of a magical land.”

You blink, eyes tired. You can’t help the smile on your lips. “Would you be the king?”

“Yeah, but I'd let you do whatever you want.”

A lazy laugh escapes your lips, and you move your arms from his neck to wrap them around his torso, to hold him close, face tucked into his chest. He's precious, you realize suddenly, and you feel as if he needs protecting. You think back to when you first met, and he was a cute, bubbly, adorable hot mess trying to start a conversation with you. His confidence clashed with his nerves about you. His cheeks had flushed red hot and he could hardly look you in the eye, but when he did, all you saw was genuine sincerity and child-like curiosity. When he finally asked, "would you be my friend?" you couldn’t fathom how someone could possibly say no. The next memory, the one where immediately after you said yes he jumped and giggled like you told him Santa was actually real and on his way right then.

“You're smiling, I can sense it,” Sunoo coos, drawing more circles onto your back with his fingertips. “What’cha smiling at, honey bee?”

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed by how such a simple, faraway memory could make you feel so giddy and lightheaded. It pairs with your feeling from earlier–how madly you love him–and you know your face is red. “It’s nothing.”

Sunoo pulls away slightly, a small smirk across his lips, mischief in his eyes. “Nothing, hm?” he echoes. He quirks his eyebrow up again. “If nothing does this to you, I'd love to be nothing. I’d be able to make you smile all the time.”

You can’t get your hands to cover your cheeks fast enough, so you bury your face in his hoodie, listening to the charm of his giggles as he laughs at your antics. You pull him even closer, and you feel him do the same, enveloped in his warmth.

Then, he whispers, soft and tender. “I love you,” he says, and you’re convinced your heart is about to burst. “You don’t have to say it back yet; I know it’s big, and—”

“I love you, too.” The joy in his eyes, growth of his smile, how his touch holds you that much more. It makes it all worth the nerves you felt building those worse, convincing yourself to say them before you took Sunoo up on his offer of not saying it back. You really lucked out with a boy named Kim Sunoo.

“Always?” he asks, a tone of seriousness. You know there’d been people before you; you know they weren’t always as kind or as protective with his heart. If they were, you wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t be in your arms pleading with you. “Promise?”

Kim Sunoo, you decide, deserves a soft, good love. Before you kiss him, you see snowflakes falling outside. You imagine the two of you, bundled up, running around and playing. You can see snowflakes landing on Sunoo’s lashes, imagine him laughing as he pulls you in for a kiss, hands on your waist. You can imagine helping give him everything he deserves.

“Promise,” you reply. You kiss him then, soft and delicate, ignoring your crazed heartbeat. When you pull back, you move your hands from his cheeks to the back of his head, carding through his locks before moving him to be tucked beneath your chin. Sunoo curls against you, a happy hum against your throat as you continue to stroke through his hair. “Always.”

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen scenarioes #enhypen imagines #sunoo fluff #sunoo headcanons #sunoo scenarioes #sunoo imagines #prose #enhypen #sunoo

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sweet-villain · 1 year

Text

Looks and Feels Like A Dream~E.M

Anonymous asked:

Could u do a extremely toe curling mouth foaming eye rolling fluffy fic about Eddie and reader having a baby, like after reader gives birth (And only wayne and Eddie is there because yes) and he just holds the newborn and just staring at them with tears in his eyes and wayne checking up on us and when they start to cry he holds them and keeps saying like "Shh daddy's here now" or when they we're born "Hi baby:)".I love your fics sm about eddie.

@woahlifehitsyahuh @cinemaquinn @pleasantlycrazyworld. @moonchildquinn @haileighboi @ceriseheaven @harringtons-cupid

He never imagined in his life that he would be a father to a little bundle of joy that he's holding in his arms. He rocked the little one in his arms as you soundly slept in the bed, after a long night of giving birth to your baby. Eddie had the biggest smile on his face, dimples out looking down at his child.

" Never seen you this happy, boy besides the day you brought her home" Wayne motions with his head towards you sleeping. Some strands of hair were plastered against your forehead and your head turned to the side with a smile on your face. It's been a long 9 months and long hours of giving birth, you were resting while Eddie was watching the baby.

" They are the best thing to happened to me" Wayne made his way over to stand next to Eddie, overlooking his. shoulder. " You better not to do anything to mess this up."

Eddie shook his head, " not in a million years."

He raises his head as eyes fall on you remembering the day you bumped into him getting to class.

You were holding your notebooks in your arms, eyes on the floor hurrying to class when you rounded the corner bumping into something. Rather someone sending yourself flying to the ground. Your notebook sliding across the floor as you land on your bum, about to say some words to whom you bump into when your eyes meet those brown eyes.

Eddie's breath hitches as the sight of you. He feels like you have a halo above your head, glowing as he gaps at you. You were say something and he didn't seem to hear it as he shook his head.

" I'm sorry what?" you giggled, Eddie swore his heart sped up at that very moment. " I said, my name is Y/N and I'm sorry I bumped into you" his face turns into a smile, dimples out. It was the cutest thing you have ever seen.

" No problem, sweetheart. Names, Eddie" he says getting up from the floor offering his ring clad hand to you to help you up. He feels the softness of your hands helping you up from the floor.

" Where are you off to?" He bends down to grab your notebook seeing on the front of it a hand drawn dragon that spitting out fire. His eyes grew wide as he look at you. " This is so cool, did you draw this?" he asked pointing to the drawing on the front cover. You had taped it to the front of it, cut it out of your sketchbook.

A hint of red appears on your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear, you nod. " Yeah, I draw"

" This is so cool, you're already so cool in my books" he says handing it back to you. Your hand brushed with his feeling goosebumps up your arm. Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with him one more time.

" Let me walk you to class" he says. You were already late since the bell had already rung. " I would love that" Eddie walked besides you to class, casting a look at you once in awhile with that dimple smile.

That day he knew he was already in love.

Looking back down at the little bundle of joy in his arms, his everything along with you, he was happy. He didn't need anything else right now. This was where he was meant to be, he was meant to be a father and was more than happy you were the mother of his child.

" You're thinking way too hard there, boy" Wayne says watching as Eddie kept glancing back at the baby and at you.

" I'm just thinking how I got so lucky" Wayne chuckles motioning with his head towards you again. " Because of her" Eddie nodded that he agreed with Wayne. If you hadn't bumped into him that day then he wouldn't be here right now.

" Hey dork face" your head snapped towards the voice, rolling your eyes once you pin pointed who was calling your name. You slammed the locker shut as Jason Carver headed your way with a smug look on his face. " What do you want, Carver?" he leaned against the locker near yours as he took in your appearance.

" What do you say I take you out this Friday?" your eyebrow raised in question on what brought this one. But Jason had overheard Eddie talking to Gareth about you. He found out that Eddie indexed liked you, more than a friend but that wouldn't happen on Jason's watch.

" No thanks, Carver" he frowned getting off the lockers as he took a step closer. Eddie has been walking down the hall seeing the back of Jason's jacket but as he got nearer he heard your voice. " If I wanted a date, I would of asked a tree. I'm sure it's far more interesting than what you have in your pants."

Eddie couldn't help but snicker hearing what you said to Jason.

Jason glared as he huffed his nose in the air.

" You're going to regret it, dork face" he pushed past you making sure to bump his shoulder into yours as he walked away. You took notice Eddie was watching, waving to him. He took the chance to make his way over to you.

" I'm suppose Carver asked you out?" you nodded, shiver causing Eddie to laugh. It made him happy that you rejected Jason, that mean he had a better chance.

" I'm not really into jerks, only metal heads with a dimple smile, who plays in a band, are a dungeon master and that are the cutest boys in the world" you confessed hoping Eddie would put two and two that you were talking about him.

The color on his face washed off like he had seen a ghost when he heard you. Worry consumed you, nervously biting your lip hoping you hadn't lost your best friend and the boy that you longed for. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes scanned your face seeing the worry casting over in your eyes.

" Sweetheart.." he started to say, blinking a couple of times as he try to register what you had just told him. " Are you saying what I think your saying?" a hint of red appears on your cheeks, brushing a hair behind your ear as you shyly looked away. " Yes, Eddie. It's you. I like you, more than a friend way."

You hadn't seen the smile spread across his face gasping when he took you in his arms, picking you up as he twirled you around in his arms. Classes were already starting but you didn't care, because right now this moment mattered more than anything.

You squealed, giggling as Eddie sat you down and cupped your face with both his hands.

" I like you too, sweetheart. Always had and always will. You mean so much to me" he says. His big brown doe eyes gazing at you lovingly. He never imagined his best friend, you would feel the same way he felt for you.

He finally had you and you were his.

Eddie cooed at the baby in his arms, his child that had been born this morning. He felt his eyes prickle with tears and felt his heart swell up with happiness. Everything felt so right to him, holding his child in his arms. He promised as he walked around your hospital room that he wouldn't be like his father, he would do everything he could in his child's life to be the father this child needed and wanted. He made a promise to you as he looks over to you.

He would promise as soon as you got out of hospital bed and home, with the baby that he would make you his wife. He'd been waiting to ask you since the moment you first walked into the trailer, smiled seeing the cups on the walls and walked into his room telling him you didn't care about the mess and his room felt like home to you.

It did, his room and the trailer had became your safe place from your own home. Eddie became your safe space, your person and he did everything he could to make you happy.

" Eds?" you called out to him one day, watching him hunch over on the floor as he worked on his campaign for the coming two weeks. It was all coming together. You couldn't help it as you watched him with a peak of his tongue out, his hair fanning over his face shielding from his beauty.

" Yeah?" He asked, focusing on scribbling some notes not noticing the way you were looking at him. Your eyes were shining and you had the biggest smile on your face.

" What do you think about having a baby?" his head shot up faster than you could blink at your words. His mouth a gap as he stared at you trying to process the question you asked him. He blinked his eyes not knowing what to say at first. You've been with Eddie for some time now, almost at graduation, being with him through the monsters that crawled through Hawkins and staying over more, basically living with him. Wayne didn't mind. He adored you.

" A baby?" he dropped the pencil from his hands as he fully turned to face you. His eyebrows knitted together as his mind raced with thoughts of having a child with you.

The nibbling on your bottom lips, the hope in your eyes and the way you nervously played with the ring on your finger didn't go unnoticed by him. He saw how nervous you were being about this. Have you been thinking this for awhile?

" What brought this on?" he asked as he crawled towards the bed, siting on the edge with this hand on your thigh. The warmth from his hand spread through you giving you comfort.

You shrugged, " Steve talked to Nancy having his dream of six nuggets, and it got me thinking of wanting to be a mother. Just having a little one running around. You know?" you swallowed the lump in your throat as you nervously continued, " and I want the baby to be ours. A little Munson."

If he didn't love you anymore than he did now, he did now. His heart swelled up at the thought of having a child with you. One day. You wanted him to be the father of your child.

" Sweets.." he shifted closer to you, reaching over for your hands and laced it with his. " I want nothing more than to make you happy, even have a baby with you. But let's wait a bit before that. Okay?"

You sadly nodded, frowning as you looked away feeling some sort of sadness and he noticed the way your mood has changed.

" Sweetheart, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Just were graduating, and then I want to find a job and-" you stopped him shaking your head.

" I'll wait as you long as we need" you tell him, reassuring him that your okay and that everything would fall in place.

It did. After graduation, Eddie had found a job as a nearby mechanic while you worked at Benny's diner. Benny absolutely adored you that he told that once he was going to retire, the diner would be yours for the taking which you were happy to take. You told the new to Eddie, and he loved the idea of you running it. After a few months of working, coming home to Eddie, moving a few trailers down; not too far from Wayne, you were settling living your life with Eddie.

Then, you found out. You were pregnant and as soon as Eddie walked thought the doors of the trailer his hair tied back, over alls and oiled cover him, he collapsed on the floor from you tackling him. His brown eyes stared up at you with worry and wonder. Hands on your hips, not caring that he was getting your pants dirty.

" What is it, sweetheart? What's wrong?" he asked.

" I'm pregnant, it's really happening Eds" his brown doe eyes widen as he sat up embracing you in his arms with happiness as tears rolled down his eyes. He was going to be father.

He pulled away staring up at you as you cupped his face with happiness.

" We're going to be a family" he nods as he hugs you tight, his head on your chest as you two stayed like that for a while. Eddie didn't care that his back was hurting or that he was crying like a baby. He was happy. He was happy doing this with you. Having this life, with you.

Looking back on it, Eddie was glad you bumped into him that day that he met you. It started something beautiful. His life with you. His love story with you.

" You look like your going to cry again, boy" Wayne says as he sits in his chair. " I'm just happy, the happiest I have ever been" he tells Wayne.

Wayne can tell the look on Eddie's face that he fell in love all over again, having his child in his arms and having this moment. He was happy himself watching how much Eddie needed this.

" you deserved this, boy. I'm happy for you, happy for her too" he looks over to you. Your eyes started to flutter, Eddie handed the little one too Wayne as he rushed to your side. He wanted you to be the first person he saw after you woke up. You had a long night delivering the baby and falling asleep from exhaustion.

" Hi, sweetheart" Eddie says as his face appears in your vision. His brown doe eyes are full of love and happiness as he looks down at you. A smile spreads across your face.

" Hi, Eds" His fingers brush away the hair that stuck to your forehead, leaning down pressing a kiss there. Your heart swells up seeing your little one in the arms of Wayne.

" I hope it wasn't anymore trouble leaving you like that with the baby" you tell Eddie. He shakes his head, " I've got it sweetheart."

Wayne stands up as he makes his way over to you and hands over your child, you take the little one in your arms glancing down hearing them coo at you as brown eyes stare up at you with wonder.

" Hi" your eyes prickle with tears holding your little one, yours and Eddie's little miracle. Eddie sat on the edge of the bed as his arms wrapped around your shoulder and his lips met the side of your head.

" I love you both, so much" you hear him whisper as he watches you hold his child in your arms. You turn your head, smiling and chuckling seeing the tears run down his cheeks and the dimple smile flashing down at the little one.

" We love you too, thank you" his eyes turned to you with his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

" Thank you for what?" He tilted his head.

" For being mine, for everything and for our little one, our miracle" his heart sped up as more tears started to shed down his cheeks.

" No, thank you. Thank you for being the brave telling me how you felt that day, thank you for being my happiness, thank you for being my person and thank you for bringing our miracle into the world" he leans down pressing a kiss onto the baby's head.

His wyes grow wide watching as his child wraps their hand around Eddie's finger, grasping it.

" They are strong little one" he chuckles as you do too, you hadn't even noticed that Wayne took a picture of this moment. His own tears falling down his cheeks as he watches his nephew be the happiest he has ever been.

" Daddy's here now, everything is okay" Eddie cooes down at the baby hearing the little one coo at him.

#Eddie Munson #imagine Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson one shot #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fluff #Stranger things x reader #jewls writes

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infernalodie · 2 years

Note

Can you do another sadie sink request?

Maybe like black!male!reader shows up to the premiere of stranger things season 4, the reader is just throwing compliment afterr compliment at sadie and she gets all riled up and they go back to the hotel after and have sex, and then just lounge around and the rest of the cast comes to the hotel room and they all have a movie marathon, including some of the reader's movies?

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 || 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤

"𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘶𝘩, 𝘯𝘰"

Inspo: Chris Brown - Roses

Pairing: Sadie Sink x Black!Male!reader

Summary: Praising Sadie might just be the switch to get her riled up.

Warnings: Fluffy that goes into smut. Praise kink, choking kink, switch!reader, size kink, and slapping.

Words 1337

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

Cameras flashed left and right, sending blanks in your vision as you stood and smiled. The Louis Vuitton suit hugged your large frame nicely as you smoked a cigar. Enjoying the time off from work to come and support your girlfriend, who had practically dragged you out of the studio to come. She wasn’t going to take your reassurance to show up, so she had made you rush through your wardrobe and fix something that could impress and was presentable.

So, you were now posing for people who likely didn’t give a shit about you being there. Instead, they were likely more attentive to Sadie, who stood only a few feet from your side. Posing for the cameras as you frequently took glances in her direction. Often being caught by Sadie who would hold a grin knowing she had your attention almost always.

And when the two of you were together, people were asking for interviews with both of you. It is a rarity that you, specifically, were out in public. So, seeing you and your girlfriend together was foreign, but as well as a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

“Y/n, did you get to see any of the behind-the-scenes for the show?” The woman, Gloria you believed she said her name was, asked.

“Yes, I did actually,” you answered. “I had Caleb or Wolf secretly videotape scenes of Sadie and send them to me. I will say that it is likely the best acting I have seen in a long time.”

“Really?” Gloria gushed. “That just builds up more excitement for the season’s release.”

You smiled, glancing down at your girlfriend who was nibbling on her bottom lip. Trying to suppress a goofy smile from appearing. “Well, she just had this way of stealing the entire stage, you know? Like, I’ve seen many actors do it, but knowing that it’s my girlfriend doing it, I guess it just made it that more exceptional,” you explained. “She’s just amazing talent and I know that she’s going to do amazing things down the road and I hope I can be there for all of it.”

Sadie felt her heart grow ten sizes at your words. Her hand grabs yours and interlocks your fingers. Your thumb rubbed gently over the back of her hand as you gave a gentle squeeze.

Gloria smiled, finding the words and actions adorable. “But Y/n, you aren’t always out in public or accepting interviews, so we don’t know much of your life. I was wondering what your reaction was with Sadie doing All Too Well?”

Your lips curved into a grin, glancing down at Sadie who seemed to have frozen up at the mention. Eyes staring into open space as she thought back to the night when you finally saw it. That night consisted of a lot of possessive words, bitting, kissing, and a lot of Sadie’s throat hurting after calling your name for three hours. She still remembers how you denied her every orgasm she came upon. Mocking her with words that only made her plead for it further. “Such a good toy for me to play with,” is what you told her. God, she loved seeing that side of you.

But your voice freed her from her sinful thoughts, looking up at you as you said, “Well, I thought what Taylor crafted was beautiful,” you began. “Taylor and I have worked together many times in the past and I think this avenue she’s going down is amazing. Sadie was fantastic and Dylan was great as well. The story being told without it being verbally told was a great choice was what was trying to be communicated.”

Clearing your voice, trying to hide the evil grin. “But I will admit, I was kinda weirded out seeing another guy kissing my girlfriend,” you admitted. “But that’s acting. Sadie reassured me after we finished watching it when I was just staring at the screen in shock.”

Gloria laughed, you as well, but Sadie felt heat spread throughout her body. Knowing that you weren’t exactly lying, but you weren’t telling the truth. Because whilst you praised her for her acting, you had also done it while fucking her. Practically mocking her as your cock stretched her, showing her who you belonged to.

“Thank you for your time, guys. Have a good night.” You and Sadie bid goodbyes, continuing through the premiere. But the entire time, Sadie couldn’t help but want everything to be over. Just so then she got you alone back at the penthouse you had rented out for the both of you.

Almost sensing the dread of continuing tonight, your hand softly rested on her lower back. Fingers curling when feeling the outline of her thong and give a gentle tug. Sadie gasped, hands coming to your chest as you kissed her head. “We’ll be home soon, red,” you reassured. “Then, you can have your fun.” That statement alone made Sadie’s stomach bubble up with excitement and arousal that was beginning to slowly take hold of her mind. Already know all the things she wanted to do when you two got alone.

“Such a good boy for me.” Her words were panted out, body covered in sweat as she bounced on your cock, loving the sight of your blissed-out state. Loving the feeling of your cock twitching inside her just by the small comment.

It hadn’t taken long for Sadie to yank you into the penthouse and start getting you undressed. Lips messily smashing together with her not wasting any time to get you ready before making sure she showed her dominance tonight.

Leaning forward, Sadie’s hands planted themselves on either side of your head. Still, you did not open your eyes, far too focused on how her walls squeezed you nicely. But all it took was a firm slap across the face that brought you back to reality. Unable to get out a comment before the same hand that slapped you was around your throat.

Sadie grinned in amusement at your unmistakable arousal at the actions. Groaning loudly as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Eyes on me, baby. I want to see every little cute look on your face.”

Your gaze flickered back up to hers, hating how her ego always seemed to grow with the role switch. But you couldn’t care less when she rocked her hips the way she’s doing. Bringing out the most desperate and feral side of you that needs more of her and now.

So, without much thought besides the idea that popped up, you stood up with your arms hooking under Sadie’s knees. The new position made Sadie sink to your pelvis, moaning at the fullness of your cock. But she couldn’t think much about it when her back met cold glass.

Looking over her shoulder, the city lights below filled her vision. Turning her gaze back to you, she was greeted by an animalistic look on your face as you pulled your hips back. Leaving only the tip in, making Sadie whimper. But as fast and as hard as you could, you thrust forward and slammed your cock inside her.

Sadie visibly shook at the shock of the shot of euphoria. Doing it again, she choked on a moan. Her nails dug deeper into the back of your neck with each pound to her flesh. And soon, it became far more desperate and feral, needing to feel her walls continue to convulse around you.

“O-Oh, you fuck me so good, baby,” Sadie praised. “Your cock fills me up so good- Oh, God!”

You grinned, seeing the way her face contorted in pleasure. “Rub your clit for me.” Your order was followed by Sadie rubbing the bud feverishly. Unable to hold in the shaky exhale that fell from her lips as she closed her eyes.

In no time, Sadie finally met her high. Her hands shot back against the glass as her hips jutted forward unapologetically. Legs curled around your forearms as you kissed her cheek. Lips curled into a grin, listening to her whimpers as you slowly pumped your cock deeper into her pussy.

“Such a good toy for me,” you whispered, kissing the corner of her lips. “Good job at the premiere tonight, red.”

#sadie sink fanfiction #sadie sink imagine #sadie sink x black!reader #sadie sink x black!male!reader #sadie sink x reader #sadie sink x male!reader #poc reader #sadie sink x black reader #sadie sink x black male reader #x black reader #x black!reader #x black!male!reader #sadie sink fluff #sadie sink #sadie sink smut

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illneverbesorry · 2 months

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me

Don’t Stand So Close to Me - Part 1

Warning; - Mentions of thoughts/attempt of Suicide, Teacher-Student relationship.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

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He hadn’t meant to hurt you so by pulling away, but he could already see the suspicion in the eyes of your fellow classmates. Now all he could do to try and ease his own broken heart was to watch you from the shadows in silence.

Now a 7th Year, you’d truly bloomed and blossomed into an even more beautiful rose and that was part of the problem. Aesop found it harder and harder to hide his affections for you, from his eyes lingering far longer that appropriate for a teacher to the constant half smile that graced his lips when he so much as heard your name even now, months on from the moment he ruined his own life.

Sadly, in Hogwarts, rumours can become cemented into the minds of even the staff if its spread with enough conviction. Whispers started with the words ‘Teacher’s Pet’ and Aesop knew it wouldn’t be long before even Black would take notice. He was left with only one choice if he was to save your reputation, he had to sacrifice his heart.

***

“We can’t go on like this Y/N” he whispered one night into his drink while you were curled up on the sofa with a book in his private chambers. Your head snapped up so fast you feared your neck would break

“What?” you whisper back in fear, you’d dreaded this moment, always fearing that one day he’d come to his senses and move on from the young, inexperienced fool you were.

“There’s already talk of a relationship between a teacher and a student and fingers are being pointed all over, its only a matter of time before they figure it out. Best to just end things now. Its best for both of us” he said turning towards the fire so you couldn’t see the tears glistening in his eyes.

“You’re just giving up? After everything? Don’t you love me anymore?” you tried to fight back the tears, but you couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice.

“Like I said, this is for the best. No point delaying the inevitable” he dances around your question, knowing he couldn’t lie to you.

“Please just tell me” you begged, moving to stand behind him, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and take comfort.

“No” Sharp simply answered, you took that simple word as your answer – his love for you was now gone, when in truth he was simply refusing to answer it at all. But he knew it was the escape clause he needed. He wouldn’t ruin your life any more than he had already.

With a gasp of anguish, you grabbed the few things you had kept there and made your way to leave his room for the last time, casting a disillusionment charm you whisper as you step out of the door “I’ll never be sorry”

You never hear his reply of “Neither will I” before he burst into tears and fell to his knees.

****

Everything had started so innocently; he can remember the chill that ran up his spine even now, when in your 6th year Poppy Sweeting came bounding up to him crying that you’d gone to astronomy tower in a zombie like state. Sharp knew what you planned to do before Miss Sweeting could even finish her sentence. Flooing as far as he could and running the rest of the way his leg be damned.

How he’d reached you in time he’ll never know, but he thanked Merlin that you were still gripping the railings and hadn’t heard him rush over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist he tugged you away from the ledge. You’d begged and screamed for him to let you go, but he just held you firm falling to the floor with you in despair. You cried for hours, sat on that floor, your face buried in Aesop’s chest. You were so young, too young to have lost so much, so quickly.

You followed him aimlessly when later he led you to the dungeons, the place that would become your sanctuary from that night on. He made you tea and he just listened. You poured out your heart and pain, you hadn’t had anyone just listen to you before.

Fig was a great mentor but you always felt you HAD to please him, do what he wanted. You never felt like you could ever really talk to him, especially about your magic. Such a gift as he saw it, not the curse you’d come to see it as.

Sebastian was the same, he saw your magic as this Holy answer to his problems. The Keepers saw you as their saviour. You were so much to so many people. You felt you had no choice but to use this magic to help the wizarding world. Saving hamlets from spiders, dispatching ashwinders and poachers, saving beasts and most importantly saving the school from Ranrok and goblin rebellion….but it was never enough, there was always more and you were so tired.

So Sharp became what no one else was to you, a lifeline. The one thing you could cling onto and tell him how you felt, how scared you were, how angry you were. You told him everything, and it took him all of his strength not to find those four abandoned frames in the map chamber and burn their remains. How dare they put so much onto your shoulders?! Apparently, it was too much for the four of them to handle but they were fine with dropping it at the feet of a young woman.

You both dropped into a routine, you’d meet every evening for tea, you’d help tidy the dungeon and just relax. You wouldn’t always talk, sometimes just being in each other’s presence was enough to ease two wounded souls.

Then the worst possible thing that could have happened to Sharp did so, your 17th birthday.

He didn’t know what he was thinking getting you such a gift. Hardly something appropriate for a man of his age to be getting a young woman, let alone a teacher for a student. But he’d seen it in a boutique window and he could almost see the smile on your face and had to buy it. It was a golden locket probably the most expensive gift he’d ever bought anyone but he couldn’t pass it up. It was perfect.

He wrapped it and hidden it in his desk draw ready for your nightly visit. He felt almost giddy, he knew he was getting in too deep and the fact that you were now of age would only make things harder for him. You most likely saw him as another father figure like Fig, the very thought made his heart ache but it was probably for the best. He was a broken man, permanently injured and scarred, what would a young woman like you ever see in him. A gentle knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts, he smiled despite his dark thoughts and called you in.

“I have something for you” Aesop spoke after a while of jovial conversation about your day “Happy Birthday Y/n��

You sat slacked jawed staring at the box in his hands, you hadn’t expected a gift from him, the thought that he’d carefully picked it out for you gave you butterflies. You gently take them gift smiling brightly at him, tearing into the paper and gasping as you saw the contents. It was stunning, something you always wished you could have bought yourself.

“It’s beautiful! Will you help me?” you asked taking the locket from its velvet box. Moving slowly Aesop took the chain from your hands and fastened it around your neck. You bit your lip when you felt his finger graze over your skin. “How does it look?” you ask turning to face him.

“Perfect” He answered but his gaze never left our face, wanting nothing more than to commit this intimate moment to memory.

Smiling up at him you reached up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, your lips gently brushing over his scar. You heard his breath hitch and froze, you slowly looked up at him. You saw reflected in his eyes what you knew was in yours and took the leap pressing your lips against his. Sighing contently Aesop wrapped his arms around you pulling you close. That one sweet kiss would be the start of his downfall.

***

Smiling to himself in the shadows of the clock tower where he watched you and your friends become reacquainted after the summer. He missed you so, even after breaking both your hearts the rumours didn’t stop. He’d lost you for nothing and he doubted you’d ever forgive him for betraying your heart as he did. Turning to walk away, he didn’t see your eyes snap up to the rafters watching him leave, your fingers idly playing with the locked around your neck as your heart called out for his.

_______________________________________________________

Please let me know what you think? i havent written in forever and am hella rusty so sorry for any mistakes! LOVE!

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp imagine #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #x you #professor aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #professor sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy fandom

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george-weasleys-girl · 9 months

Text

Enemy Mine - Epilogue

Warnings: Mentions of the war and war injuries. Nothing graphic.

~•~

Y/N pushed herself up. A blinding, electric pain shot behind her eyes, causing her gorge to rise with the surge of agony. Suddenly, someone was rubbing her back as she heaved into the can they'd placed next to her.

Then there was nothing.

The next time, she didn't try to sit up, instead opening her eyes slowly taking in the dimly-lit room. She dared a look around, turning her head to the left, then to the right. Next to her was her mum sleeping on a reclining chair. And across the room, someone was sitting in a chair, also sleeping, his chin resting on his chest. At first, she thought it was her dad, but the features were wrong. She squinted, but her head throbbed from the effort, and a wave of nausea rolled over her. Not wanting a replay of the last time, she lay back down and closed her eyes, letting sleep take her again.

~•~

Y/N looked around. The sun shone through the window, casting a golden glow across the room. A hospital room.

She raised her head a little.

No pain or sickness now. Good, she thought. Time to try sitting up.

Slowly, inch by inch, Y/N pushed herself up. Her arms shook from the effort, but it seemed the worst was finally over.

"Mum?" She croaked.

"She and your dad have gone home to get showers and something to eat. They'll be back soon."

Y/N turned toward the voice. "Fred?"

"The one and only," he grinned and handed her a glass of water. "Welcome back to the world. How are you feeling?"

Y/N shrugged. "Ok, I guess. Weak and shaky," she looked down at herself. "What happened?"

"You saved my life."

"I - I did?" Y/N's eyebrows crinkled together as she tried to dredge up any sort of memory, and then her eyes widened. "There was an explosion..."

"Yeah. You pushed me out of the way and took the hit instead."

A dull ache echoed down her spine, and she rubbed the back of her neck. Her mind may not remember what happened, but her body certainly did. "How long have I been here?" She asked.

Fred thought for a minute. "A little over two weeks. The days have started to run together."

"Two weeks?! Seriously? You better not be fucking with me Fred Weasley."

"Hey, I wouldn't joke about something like this!" Fred looked genuinely offended.

"No. No, you wouldn't. I'm sorry, Freddie," she reached out and squeezed his hand. "You've matured a lot these past few years."

"Didn't have a choice," he shrugged. "Owning a business and living in a war zone will do that to a person."

Y/N simply nodded and gave a knowing smile.

A companionable silence fell between them. So much had happened since that fateful day he showed up at her doorstep declaring his love. For a long time, despite their attempts at friendship, they danced a precarious circle around each other, with Y/N stepping close, only to pull back again. It wasn't until after she left Hogwarts and was no longer bombarded daily by the memories of their past enmity that her and Fred's friendship finally blossomed.

"Hey, um," Fred began. "Thanks for saving my life. I owe you one."

"I would've been very sad if you died," she said.

"I would've been sad too," Fred replied. "Well, not sad that I died. Though if I could feel sad about being dead, I would. You know? But no, what I mean to say is that I'd be very sad if you died."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at his fumbling sweetness. It was hard to believe this was the same person she'd waged war against for so many years. Fred Weasley was proof that people could change if they really wanted to. And it was that change that prompted her to speak the words she said next.

"I think I know of a way you can pay me back."

"Name it, and it's yours," he grinned.

"A kiss."

"What?" Fred looked like a fisherman who'd just caught a whale.

"You heard me."

He continued to stare at her, mouth hanging open.

"Of course, if you don't want to, I'm sure I can think of - "

"No, no, it's not that. I do want to," Fred stammered. "It's just that this is so sudden, are you sure you - "

"It's not as sudden as you think," she interrupted. "I've been thinking about it for a while."

Y/N could've knocked him over with a feather. "You have? For how long? Why didn't you - "

"Fred," she cut in. "Shut up and kiss me."

So, he did. Slowly and gently, afraid to apply too much pressure to her fragile being.

"I've dreamed of doing that for so long," Fred sat back, a little breathless. "Now the dream has come true," he marveled, his lips spreading into a mischievous grin. "You know, it took you long enough."

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "You know, this would've happened much sooner if you hadn't thrown that snake in my hair."

"Hey now! I was just trying to tell you I liked you."

"And in the process, gave me a snake phobia for the rest of my life!" Y/N reminded him. "You should've thrown flowers instead."

"Well, yeah, but then you'd be afraid of gardens." His grin was absolutely impish.

The mirth in her eyes belied her otherwise stern expression. "Remind me to kick your ass when I'm well enough," she ordered.

"Of course, my love," Fred smiled and outstretched his long arms. "My ass and all the rest of my devastatingly gorgeous self belongs to you and only you. Now and forever."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @charmedfandomgal @loveosewood @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman @igncrantbliss @28cnn @saintlike05 @millies0bsimp @yeah3459 @leeknows-wife @pandoraneverland @wickedsandwich08 @bai-wuxiangs-mask @c-yberstar @soosheee @ivvees-blog @withered-rxse @maddiedinosaur @astahsvea @impossibelle

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #hp universe #hp fandom

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brighttears · 7 months

Text

Filth III

No use of y/n, no physical description other than having hair

Summary: You have a nice but not quite peaceful morning in the motel before you are interrupted by intruders, but then another stranger comes along to break it up, though his intentions are unclear.

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: pet name (baby), fluff, y’all are madly in love, biting, some weird animalistic shit going on, not quite smut, vulnerable!Joel, light violence

A/n: a little weirdness in this chapter but what can i say… the next one gets nasty tho. once again enjoying this fic hope y’all do too :3

series masterlist

—

You wake slowly, daylight bleeding through the thin curtains casting pink tinted light into the room. Your eyes wander, remembering where you are; faded, peeling wallpaper, settled dust over every surface—a dirty, decaying motel. Four walls and a roof, quiet outside. More than good enough. As you sigh, your hand curls in, arm tingling, and your fingertips brush through hair, and you remember Joel in your arms. A sleepy smile spreads over your lips as your eyes fall onto him, still resting against your chest, your other hand still intertwined with his. Your body heat matches and makes it almost feel like you’re one person meshed into one, curled around each other in this motel. For a moment, it feels… normal, like you’re just two people, spending a night in a motel, and you hang onto the quiet feeling. You twirl your finger, idling in the locks on the back of his head. Joel’s breaths are slow and deep.

“I love you.” You tell him again, a whisper of air from your lips. Like breathing.

His body twitches, and you almost regret it as his eyes start to open, not wanting to wake him, but then they meet yours, and your heart swells at the sight. His eyes are one of those things about him that are stupidly pretty, fitting him perfectly, and ridiculously endearing. They’re dazed, as if opening from a deep dream, but it doesn't take long at all for them to fade into recognition. A smirk slowly tugs his cheek, and his hand cracks away from yours for him to lazily brush over your cheek.

“Good morning.” You croak, smile pulling wider.

“Mornin’.” He croaks back, voice deep and gravely.

There’s a sweet twinge in you just at that sound, another something new from him, and you realize that there’s a lot more to learn, to see, to hear from him. As you ponder, you stare for a moment, then sigh a smile and raise yourself to crawl over him, feeling over the floor for the panties from last night. You slink into them, the half-a-size-too-small waist band hugging your hips. You hear Joel let out a small groan, a lazy hand brushing over your thigh as you move back to fall down on your side to face him. A smirk tugs his cheek higher and his hands are immediately on your face, fingertips skimming over your lips, and you close your eyes as they wander up for a featherlight touch over your eyelids. His thumb brushes over your eyebrow, index sliding down the length of your nose before he curls his touch around your jaw.

When you open your eyes, there's a strange look in his, a sort of tentativeness, a splash of sadness within tenderness. Joel is a reticant man, and though sometimes his thoughts and intentions are easy to see—such as the hunger you’ve grown to know well—often, he’s enigmatic; and all it does is pull you closer to him. You swirl around the drain, gone more for him every day, every hour, every catching gaze, every touch.

Though his face is quiet, his eyes are full, heavy and holding. His knuckles brush your cheek, slow and gentle, those deep brown eyes enthralling you. After a long moment, he leans in and presses his lips softly against yours. You hold it just like that for a moment, and it has your mind spinning like a top, before his lips part and kiss deepens. It remains slow, warm, and savory. After another entrancing moment of his lips moving with yours, Joel’s hand shifts down, his thumb under your jaw with his palm on the side of your neck to tilt your head back, and he moves his lips to your cheek before coming over your neck, and you close your eyes. The skin is tender, you haven’t gotten a chance to see the damage, but you’re sure it's spotted black and blue and red. And there he is on it again, kissing over his marks, gentle lips this time. He has such a potent range to him, this such a perfect example. You want all of him. Every little piece.

When his tongue pokes out between his lips to press against your neck, your chest flutters, and he proceeds with wet kisses along the length of your throat.

Nobody has ever touched you like Joel, never this breed of intimacy, and you’re enraptured. All you can hear are the wet kisses, his small breaths, and the slow curl of sheets in your hand in an unconscious pull at them from the leaping pleasure of his touch. He pulls back only enough to whisper, the sensation of his breath over damp skin making your lips part, but the frustration in his unintelligible words is a prevailing distraction.

You pull away, taking his face in your hands to look at him. “What is it?” You whisper, brow pinching in concern. Joel swallows, trying to keep your gaze, but his eyes dart around, a loose hand closing around your wrist. Examining his demeanor, you yearn to crawl into him, to find your way into his brain so you can find his unease and soothe it, brush away the worry, kiss it better, to climb into his throat and dig his voice free; but all you can do is ask, looking for his gaze with a silent urge for him to release whatever he’s holding in.

When his darting eyes start to well up with tears, the glinting waterlines throw a shock of dismay through you and you roll over him, resting your torso over his. You keep your face in his hands as you pleadplead in a murmur, “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” You plead in a murmur. Joel’s breaths start to become shallow, body tensing underneath you, and he can barely look at you at all. A tear slips from his eye, and you wipe it away with your thumb on sight, and it aches. “Joel, baby, it’s okay,” you nearly whimper. His lips quiver with uncertainty, as if trying to speak, faltering each time, and he shuts his eyes with a shaky sigh as another tears slips out. “It’s okay, it’s okay, relax, Joel.” In an attempt to soothe the tension behind them, you brush your thumbs over the supple skin under his eyes, telling him, “Relax, love, it’s okay, you can relax.” He shudders a sigh, lips still quivering as the dam holding back sobs and failing words. Every part of you aches, heart quavering in your chest as you watch him struggle with himself. You want him to feel safe with you, know that he is safe with you, that he can let go. “It’s okay, you can cry, Joel, you can cry if you need to,” you assure him quietly, smoothing loving touches over his face. It seems to be the final straw for him, you watch, heart wrenched, his lip parts with quivers as the tears start to fall.

Joel tries to slide his arms between you to hide his face, but you press yourself closer, blocking his move by pressing kisses over it instead. The salty tears wet your lips as you plant them over his cheeks, his temples and forehead, eyebrows and closed lips. You kiss his nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin. Joel whimpers, followed by a small shaking sob, and you kiss his lips, wanting to suck it all out of him, free him, and you feel yourself beginning to cry with him. It's harrowing, seeing someone you love break, earth shattering when it’s for the first time. You're filled with panic and aching and sorrow, and hear yourself whimper as you press your lips against his.

His hands come up to your cheeks to keep your face against his, and the kisses become more frantic, that desperate need for each other slipping in abruptly. Joel’s strong arm wraps your back, squeezing, pressing your body into his, and sparks light up your brain. Your tongues press and teeth clack, breaths becoming heavier, limbs throwing and sliding and gripping. In a frenzied surge, you begin rolling around the bed, nearly grappling, attached, pushing each other into the bed as you kiss like you’re burning alive.

“Joel,” comes out of you as you press yourselves together harshly, wildly, and straddle him to kiss all over his face again. Devotion pours out of your lips and onto his skin, finger tangling in his hair as you land your lips over him blindly. Hastily, you climb down, arms pressed against his chest, nudging your face into his neck to kiss his throat like he’d kissed yours, worshiping the voice held within it. As you move, you feel his jugular against your lips, and you blaze, mouth reaching almost around the back of his neck in urgency to show every inch of him how much you want him, how much you love him. You pull his shirt to kiss his collarbone and shoulder, and Joel pushes his hand over the back of your head, holding you there with a soft moan. You reach for it, taking his hand in yours to kiss his fingertips, his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, the pumping veins. It travels up his forearm, your eyes screwed shut, suddenly overwhelmed by the love you feel for him. Your lips press over the soft pit of his elbow, his round bicep and shoulder, back to the base of his jaw and finally back up to his lips is a futile attempt to show him just how much you adore him. And though he whimpers into your kiss and clings to you with both arms wrapped around you, it doesn’t feel like enough. You don’t know what to do, lost in the love, drowning in it, and you cling right back, tears starting to squeeze out of your eyes.

The warmth of his body, his lips, his breath, his lips and tongue his teeth against yours swarms you, and you kiss aggressively, grabbing at each other, bunching up the fabric rifting your bodies, and the ilk of his grasp tells you that he’s just as lost in you as you are in him. You whimper at the thought.

If there were any word to describe this, all of this, to describe you and Joel, it would be desperate. Always desperate. You’ve never felt this kind of love; the totality, the carnal, absolute need to have and to hold and to express it. You kiss in a frenzy, messy, loud, drinking in your own personal elixir, and from your lips comes an endless flow of “I love you, I love you, I love you,”

Joel whimpers, his nails digging into you as he clutches you, and you’re soaked to the bone in vehemence. You feel like you’re losing it, your mind, control of yourself, something you didn’t even know was held back. You grab, anything, everything, and devour. You don’t know what’s happening to you. All you know is Joel. He wraps his legs around your waist, holding you as close as he can, and you kiss almost violently, but it’s not enough. Opening your mouth wider, it’s barely kissing at this point, just a deluge. You’ve never felt this level of passion, of need for another person in every way, above anyone, anything.

Both of your bodies move almost uncontrollably, desperate for something that you aren’t sure how to reach, but all you do is try. It’s not kissing, and it’s not sex, it’s making love. Every fiber of your being is intent on loving him. It’s overpowering.

You writhe on the bed together, wrapped around each other in every way possible, kissing feverishly, Joel basically bucking into you, his legs now intertwined serpentine with yours, like he’s trying to push himself into your body itself, as if trying to become one with you. You hold on.

Impulsively, your mouth moves to his neck, and you bite. You get it now. Why his teeth were so adamant to come over your skin. You want more. More of him. And you want him to know. You want him to be yours, and the intent has you crying. You bite his neck, his trap, pulling at his shirt again to sink your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, gnawing in an insane expression of love, and he moans, loud and breathy and open mouthed and almost a whine, a sound you’ve never heard before. He clutches you tight, nails digging into you so much it hurts but it’s love, love, love. Every part of each of you is becoming something else, some kind of animals you've created from and for one another. You writhe and buck and squeeze and bite and kiss in a craze of adoration.

Joel grabs your hair, nearly yanking your lips back on his, kissing again loudly, wet and hard. He suddenly flips you onto your back with a fleeting growl, lowering the weight of his hips over yours, and you automatically wrap your legs around them. His lips drag to your neck, kissing and licking and sucking, and your mouth falls open, fingers reaching under his shirt to drag your nails over his soft yet muscular back, and his skin is hot to the touch. You’re loud, but you are barely even aware of it, and you tumble over each other again, wrestling for more, more, more, never enough. Your writhe and snake and press, mouth and hands and every part of yourself searching and landing and sliding and bracing and grabbing, and you can’t let go.

After a while, Joel’s body ends up on yours, rolling over you to press you into the bed in waves, but it begins to slow. Hands running up his back to grasp his shirt, you whimper, legs holding him tight as his mouth passes from yours to your neck and back, and by now you’re basically covered in each other's saliva. His breaths are heavy, lips eventually landing on yours as the smacking kisses ease, starting to actually part into the common kiss. He sighs deeply, letting his body weight relax into you, and, for the sake of your breathing, you push him off to lay yourself on top. Both out of breath and nearly exhausted, the kisses become gentle, and Joel throws his arms lazily around your waist, still trying to keep you close. When you part, Joel slides his fingers slowly over your cheeks, brushing away the ears, and you almost chuckle, doing the same to him.

Your Joel. So sweet. So secretly affectionate. You barely saw any of this before that first time you had sex, though that time was a bit… different than affection, but Joel barely touched you at all before that—only when necessary. No matter how much he tried to hide that he cared, you knew he did, and maybe if you had cried before he would have done this, but nevertheless, you can’t say you would have expected it. But he’s a sweetheart. You doubt that he would have cried in front of you at any point before this. As your fingers brush over his face, you’re filled again with the intensity of your feelings for him. You would do anything for him. You would go through hell to serve him the world on a platter. All the good parts. Only the good parts. Because it’s all he deserves.

And he deserves to be able to be soft. And here he is, in your arms. You could almost start crying again.

“Joel I love you so much I could die.” You admit.

He pulls you into a long, slow kiss, and then, he takes your head in his hand, gently lowering it to rest over his chest. His heartbeat thumps against your ear, and you sigh. The life in him is just below you, he, who only days ago was nothing but a yearning, is now wrapped around you, right next to you, with you. His hands skim over your hair and back, breathing slowing against your body. You want him to be yours. Yours only. You the only one to hear his heartbeat like this. You the only one he holds, he the only one you hold. You want him to be just as yours as you are his.

After a moment, he pulls away, shifting up to sit on the bed but keeping you on his lap. Not wanting to break contact, your hands slide over his body, and you look at him. Silently, he looks back over your face, palm skimming down the back of your head, fingertips dancing over your features. One slides down to your chest, landing right over your heart, and you take a deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. That strange look is back in his eyes, a wash of emotions, seemingly everything all at once. Your heart beats against his hand, and it’s as if there's nothing between the organ and his skin. It beats, beats, beats, and you think that it might just be for him. For him to hold right in his hand. Your life, your mind, everything, everything, everything.

Your mind drifts to that first moment.

“I want something from you.”

“What?”

“Everything.”

“It’s yours. You can take it. Anything. I’m yours.”

Looking up at him, back into those easy brown eyes, you sigh deeply, your own promise filling your ears. I’m yours, I’m yours, I'm yours.

Joel leans his forehead against yours, and you exchange breaths in silence. Connected.

He starts to whisper something, but cuts himself off, sighing, then shifts himself from under you to stand. His body faces slightly away from you, left on the bed, watching him, sitting with your shins under you. Waiting. He shifts his weight, mouth opening and then closing, trying fruitlessly to meet your eyes, brow briefly pinching in frustration. Patiently, you wait.

Eventually, he looks at you, face softening, though a slight pain remains. How deeply you wish to know what he’s thinking, what he needs, what he wants, what you can do. You wait.

“...I love you.” He says softly. There's a light, resentful lilt, and though the words are finally yours to hear from his lips, you feel lost in them, puzzled by his tone, but then he says it again, louder, like a finalization, “I love you.” When he turns towards you and his eyes meet yours, his face softens, and he starts to repeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you I love you I love you,” barely even waiting between words as he repeats it over and over again. Your chest thrashes, starting to breathe heavier, and you watch him as he walks closer, taking your face in his hands. “I love you, I love you.”

After another deep sigh, breathing in—his words, his scent, the musty air in this tiny motel, the trace of home for the night, because when he's there it feels like home, everything about right this second—you shift your head to rest against his chest as he stands in front of you. Your breaths are even and calm, but your entire body is snaked and swirled by the strange feeling that you think is what you’ve seen in Joel’s eyes.

As much of a solace this love feels like, love is trouble. Love means loss. Love means fear. Love promises agony. These byproducts are nothing you’re not already well acquainted with, but the love between you and Joel is new, both in time and caliber. Within your heart slowly punches up the feeling that would be there if he was gone, but knowing that he’s here now battles with it, striking swords and switching blood as you lay your head against his chest.

As he speaks, you feel his words rumbling against you. “Stay with me. Please. Promise me,” he says with a sorrowful urgency, arms tightening around your shoulders, “you’ll stay, please, don’t leave me. I’ll do anything, just please don’t leave me.”

You raise yourself to stand, placing your hands on either side of his neck, keeping your gaze locked together, and you want to scream it, but, also wanting it to be for his ears only, you keep your voice soft. Only for him, “Every part of me loves you, I’m yours, and I always will be. Everything, I’ll give you everything, just to be with you. I can’t leave you. Now that you’re here, I can’t. I promise, I promise, I’m yours, and I need you, I need you, I need you,” you tell him with grave earnestness, holding him and hoping the intensity in your eyes shines through. Joel looks right back with a look you’ve never seen before, and something you can’t describe, but it’s clear, and you feel like it belongs to you. Like this look is for you alone. His warm, calloused hands cup your face, and you hold each other, staring intently as the words pass between you.

“Don’t go. I’ll go insane if you do. I can’t lose you.” His words come out almost in a whisper.

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t go,” you whisper back, shaking your head gently in his hands, brow furrowed.

It’s a scary world for words and promises like this, but right now all you feel is fuck the world, fuck god, fuck science and chance and fate and death, you’ll never leave Joel. You’ll never leave him alone. At this point, you don’t think you can be without him. Something inside you has finally snapped, and you’ve fallen forward into it, and you’re stuck there now. If he dies, you do, too. But until then, you will stay with him, keep him safe, keep him close. As long as you live. And you will die together, that’s the only way this can end.

Joel’s hands shift, pulling your face closer. “Please stay with me. I can’t keep going alone. Please, let me take care of you, let me love you.”

“I will, I will, I will,” you tell him, and the desperation between you is audible. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours,” you repeat in a whisper, feeling like you could never say it enough, you need him to know it, in his bones, that you’re his, forever.

He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours and he shakes ever so slightly, like he’s forcing the words out in a deep voice, “I’m so in love with you. I love you and I need you and I want your hands all over me all the time and I love it when you kiss me… god, I love you, please don’t go.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t go,” you whisper, tears once again threatening your eyes knowing how difficult it is for him to even speak these words to begin with, which shows just how deep his beg is, “I’ll be here. Everything, everything, Joel, I’m yours.”

He holds you tighter, bunching your hair in his hands. “You’re so beautiful, an’ everything about makes my head fuckin’ spin. I love everythin’ about you. Every little thing. I love all of it. All of you.” Slowly, pulls you into an embrace, and your cheek is against his chest again, heartbeat thumping against your ear. “I’ll do fuckin’ anyting for you.” He whispers.

It seems like the most obvious thing to say next: “All I need is you.” And it’s true, he’s the one. The only one. And you know he’ll protect you. And you’ll do anything you can for him and more and anything he asks. Anything he wants. And as long as you’re together, it’ll be okay, and even when it isn’t, you’ll figure it out. You and him, he and you, against the world. You almost feel stupid with all this corny shit in your head and on your lips, but it’s just true. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re in it now. You and him, he and you.

As you let your weight fall against him, his arms around you, you feel so incredibly lucky to have met him, to get the chance to know him, for him to have let you in like he has. To be able to touch and kiss and hold him, to hear him, have him, love him, and for him to love you back. And that you have time. You don’t know how much, and you doubt it’ll ever be enough, but you have time.

For a while, you stay like that, holding each other, simply soaking it all in, before the world interrupts in the form of faint voices coming from outside. Joel’s demeanor instantly switches, entire body tightening as he pulls away from you to look out the window through the thin curtains. Then he pulls you to the wall perpendicular to the door, his eyes intense as he looks at you, pressing a silencing finger to his lips. Even after all this time, your heart still hammers in situations like this, and, being with Joel, you’re being caught off guard constantly; maybe it’s dangerous to be so lost in each other, but fuck it, it makes it worth it.

You hear footsteps nearing, a group, and they chat casually. You take a breath to pull yourself together, and remember you need pants. Quickly and quietly, you take the pair off the floor and pull them on, then take your gun out of its holster on your belt. Joel grabs his jacket off of the bed to shrug back onto his shoulders, then hands you your pack from the floor before he slings his own on, and locks the door. After reassembling yourselves, you go back to pressing your bodies against the wall. Joel slides over to lean his eye to the peephole, then gestures for you to come closer. You look through after him and through dusty and smeared glass you see the blurry silhouettes of four people nearing the motel. Though you can’t see them well, you can hear them, and they sound completely oblivious, laughing and talking without a care in the world. Negligent idiots, you think

Joel pulls your arm back and you go back to the wall. “We wait.” He tells you quietly with those intense eyes, “We keep quiet, and we wait. No sound, no movement, nothing.” You nod, and then Joel presses his body flat against the wall, one hand resting protectively over your stomach with the other holding his gun. As the sounds grow nearer, he cocks his gun, you following suite, taking deep, calming breaths. Even if they’re idiots, you need to be ready.

The group starts going through the motel, faint sounds of them kicking around debris, still chatting. One of them, a man, says, “Nothing here,” and then another, a woman, says, “There’s still the second floor.” You hear their footsteps coming up the stairs then, and just as you had started to calm it, your heart rate picks back up. They start at the other end of the balconied hallway, taking their agonzing time to make it to your room. As the footsteps become louder, you look at Joel, but all he does is raise his fingers back to his lips.

Then, they’re at your door. The doorknob turns, and a young man’s voice says, “Hey, this one’s locked.” Panic buzzes in your body and you look back up at Joel, but his eyes are glued on the door. From your position, you notice that if the door opens, it will open towards you, but the room is set up for there to be just enough room on the wall beside it to fit its swing, and standing perpendicular, you will be ready to shoot down whatever comes through it.

The voices on the other side are loud as they discuss the door.

“It’s an old door,” comes the young man's almost squeaky voice, “it’d be easy to pick.”

“What, you got a fucking lock picking set on you?” The woman mocks, “I say we just shoot the lock off.”

Your eyes squeeze shut momentarily, riddled with pulsing fear, and tug Joel’s sleeve to get him to look at you, your eyes silently pleading, what do we do? He brings his mouth to your ear, speaking almost inaudibly, “Don’t move, don’t talk, just wait. If I say hide, hide. If I say shoot, shoot. If I say run, run.” You nod, and he presses his forehead against your temple before looking back at the door.

The doorknob jiggles again.

“What, you didn’t believe me?” Says the young man.

“Shut up.” Says the woman.

“Shooting it would be too loud. Let’s just kick it in.” Says a new voice, low and nasally.

“Why don’t we just leave it?” Comes another deep voice. “The rest of it’s empty. I doubt there's anything in there ‘cept for some dead body.”

“No, I bet there’s someone in there.” Says the woman.

“Well, if there is, who knows what they’re packing? Could be a whole group.”

Fucking idiots. You think again. If they had any brains at all, they, first of all, wouldn’t have announced their presence in the first place, and even if they had, they would not be loudly discussing their plans with the idea of anyone being in the room. Now, you know how many there are, how they plan on coming into the room, and some of their dynamics. The men seem to be somewhat subordinate to the woman, who continues to speak adamantly about getting into the room while the others sound hesitant to attack without provocation. At this point, they’re shamelessly arguing, and it actually begins to calm your nerves some.

“I’m not leaving until we see what’s in this fucking room.” The woman concludes loudly. After a moment, there’s a loud bang on the door, and another, the doorknob tremoring and you flinching with each hit. Nevermind intelligence, there’s four of them and two of you, and you’re stuck in a room. You still don’t know what Joel wants to do, his focus unwavering on the door. Does he want to just shoot them as they come in? You’re hesitant to the idea, but then remember what Joel told you yesterday. Kindness is dangerous. If he says shoot, you shoot. So you will.

There’s another loud bang on the door and your body jumps with another flinch, but you breathe deep in and outs, trying to calm yourself down, be ready—to shoot, or wait, or hide, or run.

As more kicks land, the woman shouts over them, “Keep trying! I am not fucking leaving until we get this damn door open!” Joel grips his gun, face hard. After one final bang, the lock finally cracks.

The door creaks, banging lightly on the wall as it falls open, but no one jumps in, as you had expected them to. You and Joel remain completely still, fingers on your triggers. Slowly, hands raise up through the door, holding a handgun straight out. “Come on.” The woman demands the rest quietly, and then she eases into the room. She has long, tangled blonde hair that rests over her shoulders, with beady eyes that narrow as she turns her stance towards you and Joel. All he does is raise his gun towards her, so that’s all you do, too. Still mostly in the doorway stand the other three. One of them, a man with a messy mop of dark hair, holds a shotgun in a less than professional grip. A shorter man, sporting a dirty, puffy red vest, holds a baseball bat, while the last, shorter and thinner than the rest, holds a machete. They stare blankly at the two of you, glancing at the woman. Joel remains tense, but does not move. The woman’s face hardens, eyes trained on him, her gun aimed directly at his forehead.

What the fuck is going on here? Why hasn’t Joel shot? Why hasn’t she? Why is nobody fucking moving?

Joel’s face is steely, brow quirked in a frown. The woman’s lips curl into a sneer as she takes a slow step forward, the barrel of her gun mere inches from his forehead.

“Don’t fucking move.” You spit unthinkingly. The anxiety is gone, though your heart still pounds, now filled only with the thought of Joel’s safety.

Her face hardens further, then twitches, her hand tightening on the gun, and you can tell she’s more than ready to pull the trigger.

Your mind races, assessing the situation. You want to shoot her now, but you know that if you do, her hand will tense and she’ll fire a bullet right into Joel’s brain. You need her to point it at you. Then you’ll move—duck and fire, and then you and Joel will shoot the rest of them down. You need to get her agitated, get her mad at you, but you can’t let on how much you care about Joel because she’ll surely use it against you. You search your mind for something to say.

“I said back the fuck off.” You nearly shout at her. “It’ll be a waste of a bullet. We don’t have anything, and we haven’t done shit to you.” You continue to talk loudly, trying to get her attention on you. She raises her eyebrow, seeming to be surprised by your defiance. These are some ballsy motherfuckers, thinking they’re so smart, so in charge, despite how idiotic their behavior has never ceased to be. Her face remains hard, but she adjusts her grip on her gun, considering what to do next. Finally, she turns to you, cocking her gun as she points it at your forehead. It wasn’t even fucking cocked? You know what, whatever—“We checked the motel, there’s nothing here. Unless you’re interested in some jewelry,” you tell her venomously, cocking your head towards the desk where the few dusty pieces of jewelry lay strewn by the woman who stayed here decades before you.

Her eyes narrow, eyes flicking towards the desk and then back at you. Slowly, her finger tightens ever so slightly on the trigger, calculating whether or not she wants to shoot, when a voice cuts the silence, causing everyone to freeze in place, then whip their head towards the doorway.

There’s a man leaning against the balustrade outside, older, with almost neck length, wavy, graying hair, and a short beard. He’s thin but muscular, wearing a gray button up tucked into his jeans, secured with a thick leather belt. Well groomed, you notice. Holding a fat pistol loosely at his side, his voice is gruff; annoyed, but casual, sort of slow, with a western twang.

His head is tilted as he speaks, face calm, “I could hear all you dumbasses from a mile away. What are you, a bunch a idiots? If there were any Infected ‘round here, they would have already eaten y’all up. And, as I’m sure you have noticed, this place is picked clean. There’s nothin’ to find. So, what I’m wonderin’ is what, exactly, are you still doin’ here?”

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