#also if someone can just hop in my box and be like

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 

-

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 

A hot cowboy saved your life. 

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 

You needed your furniture, after all. 

It will be okay, you tell yourself. 

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 

“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 

He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

-

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel x reader

[drudyslut]

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/drudyslut/739556685075611648

Rafe dating pogue reader and she and her (maybe she still lived with her family too) are moving houses/apartments and she’s like “rafe will you help me/us move?” And he’s like “sure?” And after moving boxes and furniture all day he’s like “I’m never letting you move stuff again. I’ll just pay someone. This was too much work” and then one of the first things they do once she makes her bed with sheets and blankets is fuck...

he’s such a cutie, willing to help then later on saying “yeah fuck this next time i’m paying someone”

CW: smut! 18+ established relationship, rafe’s a lil sweetie but also whiny bc manual labor, unprotected sex, praise.

note: this has been in the drafts since January (LMAO) and idk if i even like it but here ya go. likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

You’d been waiting on this day for so long. Finally getting to move out of your parent’s house, and live on your own. You wouldn’t lie and say you weren’t going to miss them, of course you were, but living on your own meant getting to do whatever, whenever. It also meant you could have your boyfriend over whenever you wanted without the fear of your parents coming home and interrupting whatever it was you and Rafe were doing.

Your parents weren’t too fond of the idea of you dating a Kook. The Kook prince at that. But they didn’t know Rafe like you did, no one did. Not even your friends understood your infatuation with the eldest Cameron child. But not even the snide remarks and insults your friends and family made about Rafe made you leave. You loved him. And he loved you.

You’re sitting on your bed, swinging your feet back and forth as your eyes scan the length of your childhood bedroom. Boxes are scattered all around the room, the walls bare from removing all of your pictures and posters. You finally had everything packed, and now, all you needed to do was get moved into your new apartment.

Pulling your phone from the back pocket of your shorts, you pull up Rafe’s contact, pressing call and placing the phone between your shoulder and face. It rings once. Twice. And finally, he answers.

“Hey baby, what’s up?”

You smile. “Hi, Rafe. I was wondering if you could come help me? I have all my shit packed, but no way to get it moved into my new apartment.”

There’s a long pause. His silence making you wonder why it’s taking him so long to make up his mind. You are his girlfriend after all, he should want to help you.

He finally speaks after a beat of silence. “Sure, princess. I’ll be over in thirty.”

Your smile widens. “Okay, I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, princess.”

You hang up the phone, deciding you could use a quick snack before he arrives, and making your way into the kitchen.

-

Thirty minutes later you’re lying in your bed, scrolling through TikTok when you hear a knock on the front door. Smiling to yourself at Rafe’s arrival, you hop out of bed and make your way to the door and swing it open.

“Hi, princess.” Rafe says, the smile you love so much gracing his face.

You step into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Hi, handsome. Thank you for coming to help me.”

His hands grip at your hips, pushing you back so his blue eyes are on yours. His eyes scan the length of your face for a minute before he speaks. “Of course. I’d do anything for you, baby.”

You can’t contain the wide smile that spreads across your face, butterflies explode in your stomach at how sweet Rafe was with you. Letting out a content sigh, you grab his right hand and begin pulling him into the house and to your bedroom where all of your stuff was.

“Okay, so I really just need help with my bed, dresser, and desk. I can fit most everything else in my car, and your backseats…”

Rafe exhales deeply, his eyes slightly widened when he looks over the expanse of your room. He brings his left hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Fuck. I should have just hired someone to do this.” He says admittedly.

You frown. “Baby, if you don’t wanna help I can always call JJ and John-”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’m going to help you baby, you just have… A lot more than I remembered. I guess it looks like more while packed all up and not placed in its respective places throughout the room..”

You smile up at him. “Yeah I guess so. I really don’t have all that much..”

Rafe dips his head down toward yours, placing his lips on yours softly. “I love you. Let’s get you moved.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “Oh, and never say you’ll call those fucking pogues to help you out again. As long as you have me, you have my help, and I don’t want you hanging around them more than you already do..”

-

Three hours, and many boxes and pieces of furniture later, you and Rafe had finally gotten all of your stuff moved into your new apartment. The two of you are laid in your bed, his right arm tucked under your waist while his left is draped over the top of your waist. His left hand rubs slowly up and down your side, his face buried in your neck as he whispers softly against your skin. “I love you, but never again. Next time you move, I’m hiring people to do that shit.”

You giggle, turning onto your side so you’re face to face with him. “I’m sorry, you didn’t have to help baby, but I’m happy you did.”

He tightens both of his arms around your waist and rolls onto his back, bringing your body with him so you’re laid on top of him. You place both of your palms on his chest, pushing yourself up so you’re straddling his hips.

His hands rest on your hips, his fingertips lightly scraping at the exposed skin of your sides, a trail of goosebumps rising. “Will you stop that?”

You frown. “Stop what?”

“Acting like I hate helping you. I don’t.”

Sighing, you say. “I know you don’t hate helping me, Rafe. But I know you didn’t enjoy that.”

He smirks. “I didn’t. But you know what I will enjoy?”

The feel of his cock hardening beneath you has you gasping. You playfully smack his chest. “Rafe Cameron. You’re such a horny bastard.”

His darkened over eyes find yours as his smirk widens. His fingers dig into your hips, pressing your clothed pussy into his now hard cock. “Only for you, princess.”

A squeal comes from your lips when he lifts his body, tossing your back onto the freshly made bed. He grabs at the hem of his black T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head and tossing it to your bedroom floor. Your hands fly to his defined abdomen, running your nails down the soft, yet hard skin.

“You wanna play, baby?” He asks, his voice is low and raspy, making arousal pool into your panties.

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding your head as your eyes find his.

He smiles widely, quickly popping the button of your denim shorts before working the zipper and sliding the fabric down your legs. He moves to your shirt next, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor with his shirt and your shorts.

You’re left in nothing but a red, lace set. Rafe’s eyes take in your entire body, making you squirm underneath his stare. “Rafe.” You breathe out. “Please, touch me.”

He smiles widely, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties and sliding the lace fabric down your legs. His fingers dance across the skin of your lower belly, making a shiver run through your body and your breath hitch in your throat.

He runs his fingers down the expanse of your stomach and down to your inner thighs. His fingers brush across your aching clit and your hips buck upward. He begins sliding his fingers slowly through your wet folds, gathering your arousal on his fingers before he removes them and brings them to his lips. You watch in awe as he sucks on his index and middle fingers.

He hums in appreciation. “So wet, so sweet… And all mine.”

You watch as he quickly strips himself of his khaki shorts, leaving him in a pair of black boxers. Your right hand goes to palm his hard-on through his boxers, pulling a low groan from his throat.

“So fuckin’ needy, baby.”

He slides his boxers down his legs and his hard cock springs free, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. Your mouth waters at the sight of his long and thick cock.

Rafe firmly grips the base of his cock, stroking it softly before he lines himself with your entrance. He slides his swollen tip through your soaked folds and you whimper, hips bucking wildly with need for him to be inside you.

He slowly pushes the head in, pulling a soft moan from your lips. He grins, pushing more of himself inside your wet cunt. He groans when he finally pushes all the way inside, your warm inner walls clenching around him tightly. “Feels so fuckin’ good baby, fuck! I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy.”

You whine when he slowly pulls himself back. His right hand grabs at your left leg, lifting it and placing it over his shoulder, allowing him better access to thrust himself in side you. A sharp gasp falls from your lips when he slams himself back inside you, his head hitting that sweet spot inside you.

Finding a good, quick pace, Rafe slams himself in and out of your soaked pussy, the squelching sounds of your cunt and skin slapping skin bounce off the walls of your small bedroom.

You wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him further into your body as he continues his assault on you. “Ffffuck, Rafe! Please! Harder!” You cry out.

A low growl rumbles through his chest, his hips picking up in speed. He harshly slams in and out of you, hitting at your g-spot with each thrust.

“Fuck, baby! ‘M gonna fucking cum all inside this pussy, you want that? Want me to fill your greedy hole up with my cum?”

You whimper, chest rising and falling rapidly as a warmth spreads in your lower belly. Your pussy tightens around his cock, squeezing at him tightly as your release nears.

“Yes! I want all your cum, Rafe! Please!”

You shout out a string of curse words followed by his name, legs shaking uncontrollably as you come undone around him.

He harshly thrusts one more time, his dick twitching inside you as he comes undone right behind you, filling your pussy with his cum.

“Fuck! Such a good fucking girl. My fucking girl” He coos as he thrusts two more times, fucking his cum deep inside you.

He drops your left leg onto the mattress and collapses on top of you, his breathing uneven. He rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms tightly around your body and pulling you into him, leaving a kiss at the top of your head. “I love you, princess.”

You smile, your heavy eyes fluttering. “I love you too, Rafe.”

RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r

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[quiet-onset]

fever pitch

pairing: michael berzatto x reader

wc: 12.1k+, somebody sedate me

summary: an assortment of your time with michael berzatto

warnings: no use of yn, smut, so minors dni!!!, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, by ext. dubcon since reader is unaware at the time, oral (f receiving), drug use and addiction (character and reader), canonical character death/suicide mention, pregnancy mention (sorry not sorry), please do not read if any of this is triggering for you!!

a/n: beta’d by @brattylyricist bc she has no other choice than to put up with my bs!! also bc the content matter here is triggering and i have personal experience seeing the damage that addiction can do to someone you love, I’m including national hotline phone numbers here. please don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it: national suicide prevention hotline: dial/text 988, substance abuse and mental health services administration: 1-800-662-HELP. again, please do not read this if any of the warnings are triggering for you!!!

The day went by in a blur. You got up, showered, did your hair and makeup. You ate the little breakfast you could stomach. You put on an acceptable black dress and matching high heels.

You drove to the church — tried to sit in the back, but Sugar pulled you to the front pew, right next to her. You stood behind the lectern and said kind, loving words. You drove to the cemetery and watched as his casket was lowered into the cold. And you went to the repass, doing your best to stay out of Donna’s way, knowing how she gets when she’s both sad and under pressure. 

But you hadn’t cried.

You sat on the stairs with your wine glass filled with water as everyone mingled, exchanging condolences about your dearly departed. You let your heart ache as you downed the glass, stories of him being told by this person and that.

But you still hadn’t cried.

Donna burst out of the kitchen, her hair a bit disheveled and eyes red from crying. “Have you seen Carmy?”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It must have been the seventh time she had asked. “No, Donna, I have not seen Carmy.”

“What a fuckin’ help you are.” She snapped, pulling a box of cigarettes from her apron. With her other hand, she snatched your empty wine glass and turned on her heel. “I do all this work, and I can’t even go outside to smoke.”

You followed close behind, huffing as you stood. “I thought Sugar was with you.”

“Sugar is with her.” The middle child interrupted. She gave you a weak, empathetic smile when you entered the kitchen behind Donna. A wine glass of her own in hand as she sat on the kitchen counter, she sipped on red wine. “But Sugar can’t cook.”

“Not like Carmy, you can’t. Get your ass off my fuckin’ counter, shoo!” Donna swatted at her daughter’s thigh until she hopped off the counter, snatching her half full wine glass as well. She downed the wine in a couple seconds, and you and Sugar shot each other a look. It was passing, but you both understood the meaning — Donna needed a break.

“She doesn’t have to cook, Donna. Just watch everything. Keep an eye on it, y’know?” You tried to intervene but she was having none of it.

“I don’t need an eye. I need hands! I need someone who can cook!” Donna threw the glasses into the sink, and you flinched when they shattered against the metal. “Fuck!”

“I’ll do it, Donna.” From the shakiness in her hands, you know she’s so close to losing it. To taking everything in the kitchen and throwing it on the ground, at the wall, at whoever she deemed worthy of having something thrown at them. “I know I’m not Carmy, but I’m better than Sug.”

“Hey!” Sugar sounded defensive, but you and Donna barely paid her any mind.

“You can’t fuckin’ cook, Sugar, get over it.” Her mother snapped. “I’d normally have Mikey do it, but he—”

“Ma.” You gently placed your hands on Donna’s shoulders, and a bit of the tension fell from them. You hadn’t called her that in a long time — it no longer felt right — but doing so made her recall happier times. You looked her in the eye, reassured her. “You go outside and smoke. I’ll take over for a few minutes, okay?”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she was still shaking, but you could tell it grounded her a bit. “If everything else goes to shit, make sure the fish is good, alright?”

“Save the fish. Got it.”

Donna nodded, pulling a cigarette out of the box. Then she finally walked toward the exit of  the kitchen, twirling it in her hand. Just before she left, she glanced at you again, her voice shaky. “You.. you would’ve been good for him. If he’d let you.”

When Donna left, there were tears in your eyes. Sugar watched to see if you’d need comfort, especially after one of those tears fell from your eye. But you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You turned to Sugar, gesturing toward the sink filled with broken glass. “Could you…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She was quick to do so, grabbing a paper bag to put shards in. You both worked in a comfortable silence. The only sound was the clinking of glass against each other. Sugar battled over whether she wanted to speak, but she figured if she needed kind words, then you definitely did. “Ma’s right, y’know. Michael lo—”

“Sug. Please.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause as you stirred a pot of stew, then you sighed. “I know he did. As much as he could anyway.”

—

Michael met you on a sober streak. He’d been clean for three weeks, the longest stint thus far. When Richie found out about his addiction, he dragged Michael to Narcotics Anonymous. You’re gonna die cooking at the restaurant or doing something cool, not fuckin’ OD, Richie had sneered in the car.

He sat in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling like a child. Despite being sober for three weeks, he maintained that he didn’t need to come to these meetings. To Michael, this was just proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. Regardless, Richie drove him to every meeting and planned to do so until he seemed ready to go on his own.

The host of the meeting, Brayden, greeted Michael with a kind smile, but he responded with a grunt. For three weeks, Michael sat silently in that circle and said absolutely nothing. He wondered what it took to get the man to speak, but of course, he’d never pressure anyone to share before they were ready.

Then you walked in. You seemed a bit more put together than others in the room, but still a bit shy. An oversized sweater wrapped around your frame, and you pulled it even closer, eyes glancing around the room. You nodded a greeting to Brayden before sitting in the circle across from Michael. When you noticed him glancing your way, you offered a friendly smile, and he returned it.

He knew then that he’d return to his weekly NA meetings.

The session started shortly after, but Michael was only half listening. He was mostly glancing back and forth from whoever was speaking to you. He liked the way you gave your full attention to every person who spoke, even when they said things you didn’t agree with — he could tell when you didn’t, a little crease would form for the briefest moment between your brows. But it always disappeared, and your attentive expression returned. 

“Alright, would anyone else like to speak? Someone new maybe?” Brayden asked, quickly glancing at Michael.

He’d never admit it, but his heart was pounding at the idea of airing out his dirty laundry to a group of strangers. He took a deep, nervous breath, but then another voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” You said, watching the relief wash over Michael’s face. You cleared your throat, pulling your sweater closer as you introduced yourself. “I was in a car accident two years ago. It, uh, it killed my son… That plus divorce plus prescribed oxy apparently equals addiction.”

The slightly playful lilt in your tone made Michael chuckle quietly, though you both knew nothing was funny. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Still, you continued, “I’ve been sober for two months, but my son’s birthday is coming up in a few months, so I, uh, needed a meeting. But yeah, that’s my story.”

After the meeting, you stood by the snack table, nursing a cup of coffee. Michael approached cautiously as he poured his own coffee. “Can I ask what his name was?”

You looked up from your paper cup into warm brown eyes. “Sorry?”

“Your son?”

“Oh.” You paused, and your heart sank at the reminder that your baby was gone. “His name was Benson.”

He snorted into his coffee cup, trying to hide his quiet laugh by clearing his throat. You noticed the light in his eyes, and it inexplicably made a smile pull at your lips too. “Sorry.” He said. “Benson’s a great name.”

“It’s a dorky name. Dorky first name, anyways. It’s what his father wanted.” You confirmed with a chuckle. “But it was my son’s name. So I liked it.”

“Course.” He smiled at you kindly. He was charming, and you liked it. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand. You went against your better judgment and invited him to your place. You both spent all night wrapped in your sheets, in each other’s embrace. He left for work the next morning but not before getting your phone number. 

You texted Michael and arranged to meet up again that night. Then, you called your sponsor. 

That was the beginning of the end.

—

“Cousin, your girlfriend’s here!”

“Not his girlfriend, Richie.”

“Not yet.”

“Send her back!” Michael’s voice floated in from the back of the kitchen.

You sidestepped Richie and walked through the kitchen, saying your hellos to everyone. “Where’s he at?” You asked.

“The office.” Tina answered, lightly nudging you in his direction. “He’s not having the best day.”

You nodded your understanding and proceeded to the small office where Michael was leaning back in his chair, hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. “No, I just don’t understand why we keep talking about the same shit.”

You leaned against the doorframe, giving him a small smile. He gave you the tiniest acknowledgment, a small wave, before spinning around in the chair to face the wall. You scoffed jokingly, closing the door behind you, “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

“Carmy, you’re a big shot in some fancy, five-star, European restaurant, what the fuck do you wanna be here for?” He asked exasperatedly. There’s a short pause, mumbling from the other side of the phone before Mikey throws a hand in the air. “Five star, three star, who gives a shit? Look, Carmen, you’re doing big things, good things. Stay in Europe. I gotta go.”

When Michael hung up, a long, tired sigh racked his body. “This would be a perfect time for—”

“One month.” You interrupted. You knew all too well where his mind was headed. He was spiraling into that dark, secluded state of mind you’d found him in just a few weeks after you met. He’d relapsed after a particularly hard day at the restaurant, something about finances and paying back a loan that he refused to tell you more about. But you’d helped him then. Picked him up, dusted him off, and called his sponsor — Started him back on the path of sobriety again. If you could help it, he’d never reach that lonely place again. 

“One month.” He repeated to himself. Then, he spun around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You walked over to him, standing between his spread legs. He immediately rested his forehead on your belly, groaning when you carded a hand through his hair. Your other hand rubbed circles into his back, the tense muscles a sharp contrast to his soft black locks. “I take it that was your brother?”

He grunted affirmatively. “Keeps askin’ to work here.”

“At The Beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t he a professional chef? Why don’t you let him?”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re supposed to be on my side.” He grumbled, pulling you down to sit on his thigh. 

“I am on your side.” You chuckled. You took your thumb and rubbed gently at the spot between his eyes until the frustrated crease disappeared. “‘M just saying, he’s a trained chef, this is a restaurant. I don’t get what’s not adding up for you, baby.”

Michael sighed, looking up at you. He brushed a stray hair from your face and smiled up at you. You smiled back encouragingly, patiently waiting until he found the right words. “Carm doesn’t know.” He admitted.

“Carm doesn’t know…?”

“About the painkillers. And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.” His brow furrowed once more, making you frown. “I mean, he’s got three Michelin stars. The kid’s a fuckin’ genius in the kitchen — he doesn’t need to be around all this shit, all my shit.”

You let his words sink in, deep in thought as you stroked his hair. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you thought about all the stories Mikey and Richie told you about the youngest Berzatto. How he could be quiet and unassuming, but, with a little encouragement, always came out of his shell around family and friends. Maybe, for Carmen, it wasn’t about the restaurant.

“Maybe he just wants to see you.” You said pensively. “I mean it’s been how long since he’s been home?”

A scoff passed Michael’s lips. “A long fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe the restaurant is a pretense. I mean, he would come work at The Beef and stuff, but maybe he just wants to see you again. Hang out with his big brother like he used to.”

His thumb stroked your thigh as he looked at you, silently admired the way you seem to come in and make all his problems melt away with a single thought, a word, a smile. “What about the whole bein’ an addict part?” He asked.

“You don’t have to tell him right away.” You suggested. “Baby steps.”

“You are too fuckin’ good to me, y’know that?” He grinned back at you. When you rolled your eyes playfully, he pinched your side, making you jolt and laugh. 

You pulled his arm around your waist, settling your hands at the nape of his neck. “So, you’re letting your brother work at the restaurant?”

“How ‘bout we just start with a visit, hm? I’ll tell him to come home for a week or somethin’, stay at mine.” He compromised. “Baby steps.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” You cooed playfully, pinching his stubbly cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He swatted your hands away, leaning forward to press wet kisses to the column of your neck. He smirked as you suddenly ceased your pinching, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You should let me return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Not in your office!” You gasped when he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder before soothing it with his tongue. 

“Why not?” He chuckled, lifting you onto his desk. He probably should have been a little more worried about his records and papers getting folded under the swell of your ass, but all he could focus on was the small strip of fabric covering the part of you he wanted to devour. “Wouldn’t you prefer I be addicted to my girl than painkillers?”

“That’s not, ah,” You jolted above him, the sensation of his thumb pressing into your sensitive clit knocking you back to your elbows, “That’s not funny, Mikey.”

“What’s Brayden say?” He muttered, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers expertly tugs your lips apart, and he pressed a soft teasing kiss to your hood-covered button. “Humor’s my coping mechanic.”

“M-mechanism.” The correction came out in a soft moan. Just then, his words hit you — his girl. He’d never said that before. All the times you’d kissed, made out, had sex, he’d never called you his girl. You liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue effortlessly. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, his hands finding your calves as he looked at you. His brown irises held the tiniest bit of vulnerability in them, an emotion reserved for you and you only. “I mean, if you wanna be. Do you?”

You smiled and encircled his wrists, tenderly stroking his skin with your thumbs. It was a simple touch, but it made the hairs on his arm stand at attention. Strange how you always managed to do that. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He exhaled. His large hands slid up your inner thighs, pausing at your core. With a gentle touch, he tugged your folds apart, watching the way your entrance fluttered. His mouth dropped open, and he let his saliva drip down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Now, get comfy, sweetheart, ‘cause I missed this pretty little pussy.”

—

“Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

You’d torn your apartment apart. Old storage boxes that gathered dust were now open and emptied. Your clothes were thrown all over the place. You managed to push the couch and check the floor, but you found nothing but crumbs and linty hair ties. 

Tears started to blur your vision, and your chest felt heavy, like the entire world sat directly on your lungs. Your breath was just as shaky as your hands that tugged at the roots of your hair. You ran to your mess of a kitchen and scrambled for your phone, typing the familiar number from memory.

Your ex-husband answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where’s Eli?” You heard him call your name, but his confusion was the last thing on your mind. “Benson’s stuffed cow, Eli. Where is it? I can’t find it.”

He sighed, his voice lower and more scratchy than you remembered. He must’ve been crying, too, you thought. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You helped me move out. Did you take it? I swear to god—”

“I didn’t take the damn cow.” He snapped. “Do you think I’m that selfish that I would keep it from you?”

“I didn’t call to rehash our marriage, alright? I need Eli, okay? I need him.”

The line went silent. You both knew you weren’t talking about the stuffed animal anymore. He let out a deep breath. “Have you tried therapy?”

“I don’t need to pay a bunch of money to have someone tell me I need to get over the death of our child.” You hissed, scrunching your nose at the suggestion. 

“Have you been to his grave?”

You wiped your tears away, thinking about the cold, unfeeling stone that solidified your son’s death. You hadn’t seen it since the funeral. You took a shaky breath, “Do you have Eli or not?”

“I don’t.”

He tried to speak once more, but you already hung up. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without this one piece of your son. Tears dropped onto your phone screen as you scrolled and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name you were looking for. The line rang three times before a deep voice greeted you. “What’s up?”

“I need to see you. Where can we meet?”

Hours later, Michael was walking toward his apartment building with Carmy. He’d been purposefully avoiding bringing up The Beef, and luckily Carmy didn’t push. Instead, his little brother decided to bring up the little stuffed animal that Michael had pushed into his jacket pocket. “So,” Carmy started quietly, “You startin’ a collection with that thing or…?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael laughed. He pulled the stuffed cow out of his pocket. “It’s my girl’s. Remember I told you about her son?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes she likes to talk to me about him. She brought this over to my place a few weeks ago to show me. Apparently, the kid was obsessed with cows.”

“No shit. Look at you, bein’ vulnerable.” Carmy chuckled in amazement, admiring his brother’s new relationship.

“Yeah, whatever. The, uh, anniversary of his death is coming up, and she’ll probably be wanting this, so you can meet her while you’re here if she’s feeling up to it. Sound good?”

“‘F course.”

When Michael unlocked the front door, he was met with chaos. The front door banged into the coat closet door, somehow left open with coats strewn across the floor. The rug in his living room was flipped over, and the couch was now far from the wall. Michael was only brought back to reality by the stunned woah that passed through Carmy’s lips.

Somehow, Michael knew. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he remembered that feeling. A feeling that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, traveling throughout his body until it pounded at his head. It was dread, hopelessness, not knowing how he’d find the strength to take another breath. He knew, and he needed to help you.

“Di-Did someone break into your house or something?” Carmy asked, closing the door behind him.

“Just stay here for a second, little brother, okay?” Michael’s voice was dismissive, preoccupied, as he followed the trail of despair into the kitchen.

And there you sat. Red eyes, swollen from crying. Head lulling from side to side and your heart almost numb enough to keep the darkness from creeping in and making a home, uninvited,  in the hole of your chest. Your arms circled around your knees that you’d drawn up to your chest, hugging them close. Maybe, if you squeezed hard enough, you could stop grieving and move on.

Michael approached slowly, like you were a wounded animal. “Baby?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He crouched down in front of you, steadied your head with a firm hand on your cheek. His warm, calloused skin helped to ground the thoughts in your fuzzy head. He looked you in the eyes, bold and sincere, just as you had when he relapsed. “I could never hate you. Never, you hear me?”

You paused for a moment before trying to explain. “I couldn’t find Eli, and I just- I started going fucking crazy—”

“Eli?” He asked, pulling the stuffed cow from his pocket. “Sweetheart, I have Eli. You left him the time you came over a couple weeks ago, and I was gonna take him back to yours.”

Michael thought the knowledge would console you, warm your heart enough to give him just the tiniest hint of a smile. But you just threw your head back frustratedly, the impact against the wall causing a dull pain to crash through the back of your skull. “Fuck.”

“Baby, why—”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You’re no—”

Tears gathered once more. “If I had just called you… I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” He regained your attention, this time with both hands holding your face steady. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake, ‘s all.”

“I fucking relapsed, Michael.”

“I’ve relapsed, and look at me, huh? Picture of a healthy, law-abiding citizen.”

“Michael.”

“You’ll start over. Just like I did. Here, give me your phone.” You dug around in your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. He turned the screen toward you so you could watch as he scrolled through your contacts until he found your dealer’s name. Then, with zero hesitation, he blocked the number. “See? Good as new, yeah?”

If tears could show your appreciation, you’d have cried an ocean’s worth. But the most you could do was throw your heavy arms around his shoulders and press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. To you, nothing you could ever do or say would be enough, but to Mikey? If he could take your burdens and make them his own, carry the weight of your world on his back, he’d do it without a second thought. Your appreciation wasn’t needed — only your love. And he knew he had that.

“Uh, Mikey?” Carmen’s voice called from the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

Michael reluctantly untangled himself from you for a moment, signaling for you to stay quiet. But you knew what was in there — you’d left the needle on his coffee table. Immediately, you could hear Mikey try to calm his brother down. “Carmen, it’s not what you think.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looks like a fuckin’ needle. Jesus Christ, are you—”

“I’m not high, Carm, just listen for a second.”

“Listen to what?” His voice got louder, more angry. “Michael, are you fuckin’ serious? You know this family has… issues and this is what you do? Fucking shit!”

“Hey, relax, alright? You’re making a big deal out of nothin’.”

“Nothing? If you’re getting high, it is a big deal. A huge fuckin’ deal.” Carm pushed his brother on the chest, hoping it’ll knock some sense into him. And Michael, he just curled his fists, restraining himself. The last thing he wanted was to lose control on his own brother. Carmen took a step toward, pointing one accusatory finger.

But before he could get a word out, a small voice, your voice, stopped him. “It’s not his.”

Icy blue eyes met yours as he took in your disheveled frame. You stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning against the threshold to hold yourself up. The high was starting to wear off a little, but you still felt the lingering effects. You tried to give him a smile, but a weary sigh passed through your lips. “Hi Carmen. I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

Carmen looked back and forth from you to Michael. His eyes narrowed as his breath started to even out, confusion replacing anger. “You’re the girlfriend, yeah?” He finally asked, confirming your name.

You nodded, gauging his reaction as he let it all sink in. “I had been sober for a while, so I asked your brother not to say anything. But today was- today was hard.”

“Right,” The younger brother nodded, finally taking a step back and pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “Uh, sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, Michael isn’t… he’s not using…?” He knew the words, knew the question he wanted to ask. But he was so afraid, so terrified of what the answer might be.

You knew the answer. It would have been less than savory, admitting that Michael was also an addict and had relapsed more than once since you met. The truth was potentially earth-shattering for Carmen and Michael alike. You glanced over at Michael, at how he hid the fear from his eyes. Still, you see it. In the way his hand flexed at his side, and how he refused to look in your direction. It’s almost like he knew what was coming if you told the truth, that he might have lost his brother for good. 

That fear broke your heart. So, you lied. Took your blame and a little on the side. “No. No, just me.”

You excused yourself back to the kitchen to hide your tears. You hugged Eli close, burying the stuffed animal under your nose.

It smelled like Michael.

—

That fucking fork. 

Fuck forks. Fuck Christmas dinner. Fuck all seven fishes. Fuck Pete’s eighth fish. And, above all, fuck Michael.

Chaos ensued after Michael gave in to his self-destructive tendencies. He all but flipped the table over in an effort to fight. Fak was making sure Sugar and Pete got out unscathed. Carmy practically begged his mother to stay out of it, and she only relented when her eldest son started making taunting braying noises — she retreated to the kitchen with a cigarette and the bottle of merlot in hand.

You gave up trying to help Michael calm down when he wretched himself from your grip, nearly knocking you into a wall in the process. Richie rushed over to help steady you, and Carmy, over all the chaos, called your name, “Yo, are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You called back sarcastically, rubbing your sore arm.

Carmen then turned his attention to his brother. “Michael, shut the fuck up for two seconds, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt someone!”

“Kinda the point, little brother.” Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Lee. He tried once more to push past Jimmy to no avail.

“Yeah? Was hurting your girl part of the point, smartass?”

Michael turned to you, the anger in his eyes slowly overtaken with concern. He hadn’t meant to push you; he didn’t even know you were one of the people trying to hold him back. But that didn’t take back his actions. Your gaze went cold as you pulled away from Richie, pushing Michael hard on the chest. “I’m not his fucking girl anymore.”

Then, you hightailed it out of the house. Everyone went silent as you peeled out of the driveway, rubber squealing against pavement.

Richie watched Michael carefully, noticing how his brow furrowed and his chest heaved. He took a step toward him and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikey,” Richie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Michael pulled away and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving Richie to call after his best friend from the dining room. 

Over Richie’s voice, Carmen could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen followed by the soft glug of wine as she turned the bottle up. And immediately, he followed after his older brother. Richie tried to stop him, “Cousin, he just needs a minute.”

“Yeah, just a minute?” Carmen replied dismissively. “Fuck off, cousin, he’s not a baby.”

He pushed open every door looking for Mikey. Finally, he came upon one door that wouldn’t budge, locked from the inside. Carmy pounded on the bathroom door. “Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“Go away, Carmen.” Mikey paced the bathroom floor, hands pulling at the roots of his hair. He wished he had an answer for his brother, but he came up short. Maybe it was pride, or ego, or his innate tendency to self-destruct, he couldn’t choose. So he just paced the floor, avoiding the sight of his own reflection.

“Mikey, you need to go downstairs and fix this shit, alright?” Carmy continued. “Ma’s drinking herself stupid, Sug’s a mess, your girl just fuckin’ left, c’mon man.”

“Hey, you think I don’t know that?” The older brother hissed.

He braced himself on the sink, finally looking up into the mirror. He looked disheveled, angry. His hair was messy from pulling at it, and the whites of his eyes had a red tint to them. One prominent vein pulsed in his forehead, and suddenly, the need set in. 

His head is fuzzy, brain pounding at his skull. So many thoughts, too many, clouding his head. He lifted his hand to push away a few strands of his hair, limp with sweat, and he realized that his hand was shaking. Even as he closed his fingers into a fist, it trembled like an earthquake. He blinked hard, eyes scrambling as he tried to think of a quick solution, a way to gather himself before he faced his little brother again.

Carmy was quiet as he started to think maybe he should have listened to Richie. “Mikey?”

No answer.

“Mikey, look, I’m sorry—”

The door flung open, and Carmy studied him. His hair was pushed back. His eyes were red, but Carmy assumed Mikey must’ve been crying. Everything seemed right, but there was something he couldn’t place. Something about his big brother that was very wrong. “Nothing to be sorry for, Carm.” Michael told him, one big hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

When Michael started booking it downstairs, Carmy was quick on his trail. “Wait, go? Go where?”

Michael responded with a call of your name, “Gotta make sure she’s good.”

Carmy ran a hand through his golden brown locks as he followed his older brother out the front door. Their sister noticed the argument and followed them out the door, “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sug, go back inside.” Michael stopped for the briefest moment to turn around and place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“He’s leavin’.” Carmy sighed frustratedly.

“He’s leaving?” Sugar turned to Michael. “You’re leaving?”

“Fuckin’ snitch.” Michael mumbled under his breath. He squeezed Sug’s arm with a tight smile, “I’m just goin’ to find my girl, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

“How are you even going to find her?” Carm scoffed.

“You know her password, right?” Sug asked her eldest brother. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but you could track her phone. Here, give me yours.”

“What about Ma?” Carmy threw his arms up in defeat. Michael was the one who started all that mess, and now that it was time to pick up the pieces, where did he go? Chasing you. Like always, Carm thought to himself. “You’re the only one who can get through to her when she’s all…” He waved his hands around as if the devastating words he was looking for would magically appear.

“Well, you’re home, ain’t you? She missed you — just sit with her till I get back, alright? I gotta go.”

And just as quickly Mikey was off too, running toward the closest train station.

If there were ever a time for oxy, that would’ve been it. But instead, you drove and drove and drove until the tank was damn near empty. You pulled into a parking lot and called your sponsor. She talked you down, persuading you to delete your dealer’s contact information in your phone. When the long conversation was over, you were still angry, furious even, but you’d at least lost interest in relapsing.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped in the driver’s seat when calloused knuckles tapped on the car window. Michael wasted no time in starting an argument. “What the hell were you thinkin’, leavin’ like that?” He yelled, voice only slightly muffled by the barrier.

“How did you even find me?”

“Sugar showed me how to track your phone.”

“You tracked my phone?”

“Open the fuckin’ door.”

You pushed the door open and got out of the car, deciding your best course of action would be to walk away from him. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Where are you goin’?” He was quick to follow you as you walked down the street, just a few strides behind.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s the plan here, huh?” He asked. “You just gonna keep walkin’ till your feet fall off?”

“No, just till I’m away from you, Michael.” You retorted coldly.

“Hey, stop calling me that.”

“That’s your name!”

“Not to you! To you it’s Mikey, or baby, or my love, not fuckin’ Michael!”

“Fuck you, Michael!” You caught him off guard when you spun around, poking your index finger into his chest. “You couldn’t just let it be. You had to ruin Christmas for the whole fucking family!”

“Why do you care so much, huh?”

“Why do I— Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You do nothing but ruin shit for yourself for no goddamn reason! No one forced you to throw that fork!”

Michael scoffed and ran his hand over his lips, his warm breath evaporating into the cold air as he raised his voice again. “So we’re gonna pretend that’s why you’re upset? Because of the fork?”

“I’m upset because you ruined any chance at having a good Christmas with our family!”

“They’re not our fuckin’ family.” He laughed, though no traces of humor could be found in his eyes. “They’re mine! Okay? I’m the fuckin’ Berzatto, not you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You parted your lips to retort, but he just kept going, slicing your heart in two with expert precision.

“You wanna act like the- the chaos bothers you, but you thrive on that shit — You’re just in a shitty mood because you miss your own family, and now that you can’t replace them with mine, you want some fuckin’ oxy to ease the pain, ain’t that right?”

Smack!

You’d never hit Michael before, never wanted to. Like any couple, you had your share of fights and passive aggressive comments. One thing you two never did, though, was weaponize your addictions against each other. It was an unsaid invisible line that had never been crossed until now. Michael Berzatto, the man you loved more than life itself, had never been so mean. At least not to you. 

It happened faster than you expected, your small hand reaching up and slapping across his stubbly cheek. He just stood there, eyes dark and slightly angry, but you weren’t afraid. You were furious, hot tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

You slapped him again. And again. Then, you beat on his chest with your fists. Michael started trying to swat your hands away, but when that proved ineffective, he caught your wrists in his hands, yanking you into a nearby alley, away from the night’s few prying eyes. 

“Stop, stop.” He grunted when you landed another smack to his head, finally pinning you up against the nearby brick wall by your wrists. “Stop.”

“I hate you.” You spat.

“No, you don’t.”

You continued to fight against his grip, but he was strong and steady, keeping you in place as you continued to tell him how much you despise him. He knew he was wrong, but he refused to say it. After all the shit that went down that night with his family, with you, he felt like he was going crazy. It was like he was abandoned in the middle of the ocean in a boat with a tiny hole. And even though the hole was small, it was so methodically cut that water was pouring in like a faucet, and the boat was sinking. So he grabbed onto the only lifeline he was certain would be there: you.

You, with the most beautiful eyes that were now filled with angry tears. You, the hero of all his dreams and the victim in all his nightmares. You, whose heart was so broken, so crumbled when he met you, yet still managed to love him with all your being.

He loved you. 

It all hit him at once, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. You turned your head away from him, rasping out your hatred once more. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” His voice was deep and rough, but the tone was soft. Was he even talking to you?

“Yes, I fucking do.”

His lips trailed across your jawline, wet kisses placed on his path. “No, you don’t.”

You hated how easily he was able to do this to you, like pushing a button. You were supposed to be angry with him. You were angry with him. But your body didn’t care about the argument. Your body slowly gave up the fight against his grip, wanting the heat that his touch produced, your emotions be damned. A few tears fell from your eyes just as a soft moan slipped past your lips, an instinctive response to the way Michael’s body pressed yours against the wall, his growing length pressed into your hip. 

He slipped a leg between yours, pushing his denim-covered thigh into your pussy. You could feel a wave of arousal soaking your panties. “You’re mean, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He admitted quietly.

He used his grip on your wrists to gently pull your hands to your breasts. He pressed your hands in before covering them with his own, helping you knead the sensitive flesh. Even beneath your layers, you could feel his touch, and it made you whimper. His deft thumb ran over your hardening nipples, and a soft groan tumbled from his lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted his acknowledgement. And his lack of apology.

He kept up his movements, moving your hands to squeeze your breasts, pressing his thigh into your weeping pussy. Somewhere along the way, your hips began to rock back and forth on him. His brown eyes never left yours, even as you cried. It was strange, how your heart hurt so badly that tears fell freely down your face, but your body was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Still, you gasped for breath as the pleasure began to creep out of your core. “Mi- Mikey,” You moaned. “Please!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Let it all out.”

And it all came out at once, sobs pushing past your lips as euphoria crashed over your body in waves. You clenched around nothing, head tipping back to hit the brick wall. But you never felt the cold brick — one of Michael’s hands left your breast to cup the back of your head, the protective gesture juxtaposing the unending push of his thigh into your pussy to help ride out your orgasm.

Even as your orgasm faded away, your hips continued to buck against him. Your hands found a new home on his broad chest, trailing down, down, down until you felt the leather of his brown  belt. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down so you could easily reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He moaned at your firm grasp, hips bucking into your touch.

Everything moved much quicker now, more desperate than before. You stroked his cock, spreading his precum along the shaft. His forehead pressed against yours as he stared at the way your smaller hand worked him over, twisting over the head on every downward stroke. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned.

“Help me.” You whined needily as you thrust your hips against his thigh once more, hoping he’d get the message.

He nodded quickly, kneeling down in front of you. His big hands slide up your thighs under your jean skirt, flipping the rough fabric up over your belly. Your legs were covered by sheer black stockings, a layer of protection from the cold winter chill. But neither of you could bear to wait, to take them off properly. He tore a large hole in the crotch and pushed your panties to the side, muttering curses at how your arousal shone in the moonlight. 

“Perfect fuckin’ cunt, sweetheart.” He pushed his index finger through your swollen lips, collecting your juices before slipping into your twitching hole. “Can you take two for me?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He pushed his middle finger in on the second thrust, curving them to press on that spongy spot on your upper wall that you can never reach yourself. You cried out his name, and your back arched off the wall. His fingers were bigger than yours, thicker too, but they still didn’t fill you the way that you needed.

You whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking firm and hard. “Want your cock, Mikey. Want- oh shit!”

Your orgasm was hard and unexpected, pulling you under before you could even tell him to fuck you. Your legs buckled, and you buried your hands in his thick, black hair to ground yourself. A muffled moan came from between your legs when you tugged on the roots, trying to pull him off your sensitive clit.

He finally relented, pulling away from you and pushing his fingers, soaked in you, into his mouth. He licked them clean without hesitation, only stopping when you tugged on his wrist. You pulled him in by his shirt, kissing him. It was deep and passionate, proving what you both knew to be true.

You didn’t hate him. Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t is the better word.

He cupped your face with both his large hands, wiping away any remnants of tears from your earlier sobs. His tongue licked into your mouth as you moaned, tasting the sweet tang of your juices in his saliva. You reached down to stroke his cock again, and he crowded you closer to the wall. “Want you inside.” You whispered.

“I know, baby.”

His open jeans impeded his efforts to get closer to you, buttons, zipper, and belt now in the way. His hands hurried to push the waistband of his open jeans down and out, ignoring how the frosty air raised goosebumps on his skin. His belt buckle jingled loudly, and something clattered to the pavement, but you could only focus on getting him inside you. His hands returned to your face, making you keep your gaze on his.

You pushed his cock through your pussy lips, let your arousal messily coat his shaft until it was all over your inner thighs. Both your panting was the only thing you could hear over the wet sounds of his length sliding between your swollen lips. You whined when the head of his dick bumped against your clit. 

“Guide me in, sweetheart.” He told you, eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want.”

His head, already weeping with precum, nudged at your entrance, and you canted your hips up until the first few inches sunk inside. You lifted your leg around his hip in an attempt to take more of him, but it wasn’t enough on your own. Finally, he pressed forward, fully sheathing his cock within your soft walls. All the while, Michael held your face between his hands, gazing deep into your eyes as you whimpered. “There you are.” He groaned softly. “My girl.”

Your heart twisted at his words. How could he even say that? After saying the most vile things to you, what made him believe that you’d still be his? He nudged his hips forward a bit, and the tip just barely kissed your cervix, shooting a strange blend of pain and pleasure up your spine. You shook your head, hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself. “No, I… I- fuck, Mikey, I hate you so much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” You moaned pathetically, still seething, angry enough to lie through your teeth just to give him a glimpse of the pain he caused you. Your nails dug into the thick fabric of his coat as he began to move, thrusting in and out of your cunt. The alley practically echoed with squelching sounds, and anyone walking by would know what was going on in those shadows. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care, lips falling apart as your sensitive walls clamped down on his length.

“You don’t fuckin’ say that to me.” He repeated with a grunt, leaving the tiniest pat on your cheek to regain the attention of your eyes rolling in pleasure. “You love me. Know you do. ‘S — shit, you’re so tight — ‘s the only thing I’m goddamn sure of, you hear me?”

One hand left your cheek to wrap around your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his hip. He thrusted again with renewed strength before looking down to where you both connected. The sight made the pit of his stomach flip deliciously: the slightly tanned base of his cock coated with a creamy white ring, little strands of your wetness dangling between you both when he dared to pull his hips away. “Fuckin’ takin’ my dick so well, baby.” He bit his lip, his voice sounding almost entranced. “Squeezin’ like you don’t want me to leave.”

“Good thing I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He continued, groaning when your hands slid up his back and into his hair. You pulled hard, and his thrusts faltered ever so slightly. His other hand left your cheek to brace himself against the wall, and his head fell into the crook of your neck, puffs of his hot breath warming your skin.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, M-Mikey. Can’t take your shit out on me.” You mewled as he adjusted his grip on you, pushing you closer to the wall. He left you no space to squirm when his hips started to move faster, his cock bullying its way in and out of your soft, puffy folds to nudge against the spongy spot on your upper wall. You cried out as that unique sensation shot pleasure to every nerve ending in your body, “Fuck, right there!”

“I got you, sweetheart, that’s it.” He responded in kind, adjusting his stance just right so he could drag the notch of his cockhead along your G-spot with every thrust. “Right there, yeah?”

“Oh my god, don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come!”

Michael lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes again. They were dark, glazed over, as he slowed his hips, still moving but not enough to finish you off. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he flooded your insides with his release, but he wanted to hear you say it: he wanted you to take back your words. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Your pussy fluttered around him in tandem with the whine spilling past your lips. “Mikey—”

“You don’t hate me. You love me. Say it.” He punctuated each sentence with a nudge against your G-spot, soft and tempting.

“N-no, you,” You heaved out a shuddering breath when his fingertips met your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, slow, torturous circles. “You’re being unfair. You- oh my god, yes - you can’t be n-nasty to me and—” 

“Just say it for me, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. He was practically begging you to take it back, but, of course, Michael Berzatto would never stoop to such lengths. So, he kept rubbing your clit and nudging your G-spot, punching the breath out of you with his thick cock. “Promise I’ll make you come. I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you. Just need to hear it.”

And, of course, as you always did, you gave in. “I didn’t mean it.” You admitted breathlessly. “I love you.”

The tension visibly rolled off his shoulders as his head dropped to your breasts, pounding your cunt as you moaned beneath him. “Fuck, I love you, too, baby. Love you so fuckin’ much, it hurts.” He groaned into your skin.

“Mikey, ‘m close!” You gasped, the assault on your cunt and clit too much to bear. 

“Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart.” He huffed, nails digging into your thighs, your stockings providing no refuge from the dull pain. “Show me how much you love me, c’mon.”

And then, white-hot, earth-shattering pleasure. You nearly blacked out as you clenched around him, stars burning into supernovas behind your eyelids. Your fluttering walls begged him to stay buried deep inside you. Back arched against the wall, your breasts pushed closer to his face, and he didn’t bother lifting up, resting his cheek on the soft fabric that covered your warm flesh as he fell over the edge with you. He groaned out your name as he shot thick spurts of his warm, sticky come inside you. He knew he’d never come so much in his life, only lifting his head when he heard louder squelching noises from where you both connected. 

As he thrusted, slow and deep, the white creamy juices that once only circled the base of his cock dribbled out of your pussy, around the sides of his length. A bit slid down your thigh, and his eyes rolled back, reveling in how his balls pulsed with pleasure at the sight.

His whole body relaxed as you both rode out the waves of pleasure. As you came down from your orgasm, your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered closed as you cherished his weight on top of you. When your eyes opened, your vision was still a tad blurry, but you blinked through the fog. 

There was something bright on the ground. It was small, cylindrical, and… red? No — it was orange.

“What’s that?”

Michael hummed in response, his speech a bit slurred. “What’s what?”

He lifted his head from your breasts, following your gaze. And he froze, eyes stuck on the tiny bottle of painkillers he’d swiped from his mother’s medicine cabinet after you left. It must have fallen from his pocket when he opened his jeans.

“Are you high right now?”

Michael almost cringed at your whisper. It was different from all your yelling and slapping and arguing before. You were just mad then, and he knew that he could win you over like he had a million times before. This time, it was sad. Cold. Disappointed. 

He wasn’t sure if he could come back from that.

You wriggled beneath him until you could push him away, watching him stumble a bit. He was no longer standing tall, a bit slouched, and he swayed aimlessly from side to side. With the way he was fucking you, his blood was pumping, so they must just now be kicking in at full force. You knew — you were certain of the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Michael. Are you high?”

He had just enough of his wits left to take a step toward you with remorse in his voice, “Baby, I—”

You held up a hand, taking a step away from him. “I… I’ll call Richie. You can stay with him tonight. Or your mother, I don’t….” He called your name again as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down over your ass. “I can’t do this with you right now, Michael.”

You waited for a moment. For what, you weren’t sure. An apology? An explanation? An unremorseful tirade? Part of you would have even been okay with a fight.

But he just leaned against the brick wall, unable to support himself on his own any longer. He clumsily tucked his softening length back into his pants and mumbled his short reply, a correction. “‘S Mikey.”

Snow began to fall in time with your tears. You drew your coat closer, and turned your back to him. “I’m going home.”

—

“Besides work, how’ve you been feeling?”

“I don’t know, just extremely tired all the time. But what else is new, y’know?”

“And how’s your love life?”

“This is your way of asking if I’m still sleeping with Michael.”

“Well, are you?”

You let out a scoff as you adjusted your position on the couch. Your therapist, Deborah, watched you with knowing eyes as you sat against the arm of the couch, offhandedly pulling a throw pillow into your lap. Your index finger wrapped endlessly around the fringe as you carefully mulled over your words. “Well, I haven’t relapsed in almost a year and a half.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Also not what I asked.”

“Okay, I’m still seeing him. Or, sleeping with him.”

“So, it’s not a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want it to be?”

You paused. You thought about the possibilities of what could have been — of what once had been. Dates, family dinners, shared apartment. Maybe you’d have gotten married and had kids. You’d have brought them up to be better, to break the cycle of whatever crazy shit made you both the way you were. But you also had to accept who he was. 

You replied, “No.” It was a lie, and Deborah knew that, but you played it off anyway.

She leaned forward, setting her notepad down and resting her elbows on her knees. “Is he still using?”

You nodded reluctantly, “He says he’s not. And he hasn't been high around me since the, uh, Christmas dinner thing last year. But I’ve seen it… pill bottles lying around. Prescriptions that aren’t his.”

You trail off, once again running through what might have been. Would Michael still be sober if you stayed with him? Were you the only thing keeping him from losing his mind? Were you to blame? Your finger slowed around the fringe, heart aching in your chest. 

Deborah gave you a cautionary look, like she could read your mind. “Stop it.”

You sighed, “But what if—”

“Michael is a grown man. His sobriety is his responsibility, and his alone. Just like yours.” She repeated the same words that she did almost every session, reminding you that you were not at fault. “I know it hurts, and it’s okay to let it, but you cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“I just- I miss him. How he used to be. But if this is all I can get…” You feel pathetic for even admitting it, but it was the truth.

Deborah watched you carefully, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do but advise you. You were going to see Michael whether it was a good idea or not. So she figured you should know what you’re really getting into. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you know what codependency is?”

Your brow furrowed, “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s when two people depend on each other in an unhealthy way. Usually, one person learns to placate the other, keep them calm, while the other person continues unhealthy behaviors because they know their partner will be there to help them when it gets too bad.”

“Okay, I see where you’re going here. It’s not healthy for me—”

“It’s not healthy for either of you.” She clarified. “I know you love Michael. And I’m sure he loves you as much as he can. But I think the best way for you to help him and yourself — if that’s what you want to do — is to stop enabling him.”

Stop enabling him. 

That’s all you could think about for the rest of the session. Those three words terrified you. How would he react if you put your foot down, if you said this needed to stop? What if he never spoke to you again? You loved him, the man that put your heart back together when it was in a million shattered pieces. You were lost, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Twenty minutes later, when you left your therapist’s office, your phone dinged with a text. It was Michael, as usual;

u busy tonight? wanna see u. 

And of course, you gave in. But not without thinking up a plan. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply:

meet me in the parking lot off fourth street at 7:30. wanna take u somewhere.

And you tried to hold out, you really did. But no sooner than you arrived, Michael’s lips were on your neck, sucking and licking, making it hard to think. Before you could even remember Deborah’s warning, you were in the backseat of his car, fogging up the windows as you bounced up and down on his cock. “‘M gonna come!” You warned him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” He encouraged with a groan, strong hands plastered flat against your sweaty back. “Tight cunt’s gonna pull the come right outta me.”

“Fuck, ‘m coming, Mikey!” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you down on his cock to ride out your orgasm. Your clit bumped deliciously against his pubic bone, and your walls clamped down even tighter, throwing Michael headfirst into his own orgasm.

“Holy- oh my god, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby.” He moaned, throwing his head back. His hips pushed up of their own accord, his thick cock twitching inside you as he shot his come as deep as he could go. He brought one hand down on your ass as you thrusted weakly against him. “That’s it, sweetheart, get every drop.”

You rested your weight on him, your sweaty forehead against the leather headrest. You both took a silent moment to catch your breath, regroup after the explosive sex you always seem to have. Turns out, even with all your disagreements, the attraction never stopped. His hands rubbed up and down your back, almost lulling you to sleep until he pressed his fingertips a little harder, and a moan passed through your lips, eyes shooting open. Michael chuckled deeply and kneaded at that spot, “What was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You admitted, tension rolling away as he worked at the knot. “My back has been killing me lately.”

“Work?”

“Maybe, but ‘m not sure. Just hurts sometimes.”

“Lucky for you, you got your own personal masseuse.”

You snorted, “My hero.”

His hand smacked against your backside playfully, making you jolt on his lap with a giggle. He laughed along with you, “Watch that tone, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, laughter dying down as your eyes haphazardly scanned the ledge of the back window. And next to an empty cup, you saw a piece of paper. A prescription made for Natalie Berzatto.

And it hit you like a train. You couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to either of you. You couldn’t keep taking the best parts of him and ignoring the fact that he needed help. And he couldn’t expect you to be around at his beck and call forever. The time for playing pretend was over — you needed to take a real step for the both of you. 

You swung your leg over his lap and sat next to him, scanning the car floor for your panties. “Get dressed. I still have somewhere to take you.”

“You kidnappin’ me, baby?”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t go willingly.”

Minutes later, you were walking into a nearby building. The entire walk, he asked and asked where you were taking him, but you never answered, merely saying it was a surprise. When he walked in, and his eyes fell on the folded chairs set in a circle, his smile dropped. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.

“Michael, wait!” You were close behind, following him back outside into the hot, sticky summer night. “Just listen to me, okay?”

“So- so you think ‘cause you’re sober now you can do whatever the fuck you want, is that it?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I told you I wasn’t fuckin’ using anymore!” He yelled at you.

“And I know that you are!” You snapped back. “I’ve seen the empty pill bottles, Michael. All the prescriptions that are never in your own fucking name. I’m not stupid!”

“Stupid enough to keep comin’ back!” He spat at you. “W-what changed, huh? Is it the therapist? ‘Cause before her, you were happy to just fuck me and leave, pills be damned.”

“Oh, fuck that, Michael.” You laughed humorlessly, pushing at his chest. “You are not doing that anymore, being a dick to me because you can’t accept the truth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would the truth be, sweetheart? Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“That you’re gonna fucking destroy yourself if you don’t get help!” You shouted. Tears were filling your eyes at the thought, and you realized you weren’t even angry. You were desperate — desperate for him to do something, anything to help himself. “You- you push everyone that loves you away! Me, Richie, Carm—”

“You leave Carmen outta this.” He grumbled, looking away to avoid seeing the tears that fell down your face.

“Everyone that cares, everyone that tries to help, you just treat them like complete and utter shit because you don’t know how to ask for help! But you don’t have to fucking ask, Mikey — we’re offering! You just have to take it and do something before it’s too late!”

Michael was quiet, eerily so. There was a time when you would’ve been able to read him like a book, to say exactly what he needed to hear. But you couldn’t anymore. And that scared you.

You stepped forward with a sniffle, placing your hands on his biceps. You rubbed up and down in a way that you hoped was comforting. “Just one meeting. That’s all I’m asking.”

When he finally looked back at you, his chest tightened at the sight. Your beautiful eyes, filled with tears and a shimmer of hope that he might agree. And part of him wanted to. Some inkling deep down inside of him wanted to wipe your tears, take your hand, and march into that meeting determined to stay sober for the rest of his life. If only to settle down and make a life with you, one that he could be proud of.

But, as always, something stopped him. A small doubt creeping in, telling him he couldn’t do it. That he wasn’t capable of normality, that it wasn’t in his blood. He was drowning in sorrow and pity, and he was willing to accept that darkness — welcomed it, even. But what kind of man would he be if he dragged you under with him? He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head. Your hands slid up his forearms and stopped on his wrists with a desperate iron grip. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not going to that meeting, baby.”

“Mikey, please.” You begged. “I love you.”

“You can’t fix me.” He hoped you heard what he meant to say: I love you, too.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and responded in kind. It was gentle, melancholic, but it was his way of saying goodbye. His way of expressing the love that he could never quite show you in the way you deserved. But the love was there nonetheless, tearing at his heart until his chest was hollow, nothing left but the memory of you.

When he pulled away, he had to pry your hands off him and take a step back. He gave you a sad smile, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meeting, sweetheart.”

He turned around and walked away. A few tears escaped his eyes when he heard a heart-wrenching sob pass through your lips. He wiped them away quickly and tried to walk faster. 

He was gone the next month.

—

“We’re closed!”

“Maybe you should lock the door then.”

You were still in your black dress and heels when you arrived at The Beef. No one knew where Carmy was, but you’d had an idea in the back of your head. You weren’t sure if you were right, but it only made sense that he’d be at his brother’s restaurant. 

Well, at the restaurant his brother left him. 

When Carmy emerged from the back, he stared, his eyes red from crying. “How’d you know I was here?”

You shrugged, “This is usually where I’d find him too.”

“Yo, please, please don’t come in here with that sentimental bullshit, alright?” He said, his tone sharp and mean. “If I wanted to hear about how great he was, I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

“You should’ve been there anyway. He was your brother.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Carmen, I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

He turned on his heel, stomping back to the kitchen, and you followed close behind. “What did you come for then?”

“We’re going to a meeting.”

Carmy kneeled on the floor, next to a bucket of soapy water and a wet rag. He picked it up and wrung it out with a grunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Would you prefer NA or AA?”

He was scrubbing at the same dirty spot that he had for the last hour and a half, but your question made him pause. He looked up at you in disbelief, letting out a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“There are two NA groups I know of, but only one AA, and it starts soon so—”

“Y’know, you’re the addict here, not me.”

“Which is exactly how I know you need to go to a meeting.”

He was seething, an angry red steadily creeping from his neck to his face, one prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he shouted at you. “Goddamnit, I don’t need to go to a fuckin’ Al-Anon meeting! I’m just grieving, alright?!”

“Carm—”

“No, fuck that. The whole reason I didn’t go to the funeral is so I wouldn’t be around that bullshit! You know how Ma gets, and without Mikey here to fix it…”

“Michael was never gonna fix your mother.”

“Right, ‘cause he was too busy trying to fix you.” Carmen let out a harsh chuckle. “‘I’ll call you back, my girl needs me. Hold on, my girl is on the other line.’ Instead of fixing his restaurant, or-or helping his mother, he was making sure you were on the right track. Making sure you don’t relapse.”

Your heart stopped. Your blood burned. You wanted to let loose on him then and there. Yell and shout and cry about how Michael could barely fix himself, let alone you. You wanted to tell Carmen that it was you who desperately tried to fix Michael, make him sober, turn him into the man you knew he could be. Or at least, the one you believed he could be. The man Carm thought he was.

It baffled you how the entire family managed to hide the fact that Michael was an addict from Carmy. But it was a group effort, a last ditch effort to give him the big brother he’d always wanted, the one he remembered from his childhood. He was truly blind to Michael’s true nature, but you knew it was partially because Carmy had his own thing going on. You could see it behind his eyes — it was the same look Michael got before he did something self-destructive. 

Instead of yelling or screaming like you wanted to, tears filled your eyes. You knew from experience the Berzatto men could be mean, especially under pressure, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t hold them back. Tears fell freely down your cheeks. 

But unlike when his older brother spat unkind words your way, Carmy didn’t try to distract you from it or talk his way out of it. No, his face dropped when he realized the severity of his words. He watched as your knees buckled beneath you, moving across the floor to catch you once an ugly sob wretched its way past your lips. He held you as your body shook with the emotions that you’d been ignoring all day. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay?”

You don’t know how long you cried. You just sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left, until you felt completely and utterly empty. Luckily, Carmy helped you sit on the floor. He sat next to you, both your backs against the dishwasher. It creaked loudly under your combined weight, and you sat up. “Sorry,” You croaked out. “Should I not lean on that?”

Carmy chuckled quietly and drew his knees up, resting his forearms atop them. “Piece of shit doesn’t work, don’t worry about it.”

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips as you leaned back and wiped away your tears. “Good. For me, I mean. Sucks for business though.”

His smile faded away as he watched you wipe your tears. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the fact that he’d been so mean, that he’d made you cry. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only reason you broke down, but he didn’t like that he piled on. He called your name softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Carm, it’s ok—”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You were right. Michael couldn’t fix Ma’s problems. And you didn’t need him to fix yours. He was lucky to have you.”

A sigh passed through your lips, and for the first time in a long time, tension rolled off your shoulders. “He loved you, Carmen.”

He fought back a sad smile, “He loved you, too.”

You paused, tears of grief filling your eyes before you remembered what you came for. You took a deep breath and wiped at your cheeks. “I need to show you something.”

His brow furrowed, turning a bit to face you, resting one leg on the ground. “What?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and pulled off the case. You lifted the strip of film from your rubber case, handing it to him. “This is why I need to go to an NA meeting tonight. Figured you could go with me.”

A hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes, Carmy let out a single quiet sob as he stared at the two black and white ultrasounds. “Is it…?”

You nodded, “They are.”

“They?”

“Turns out, you can’t forget to take birth control for even one day. I thought taking two the next day might help, but here we are.” Chuckling quietly, you wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once more. “I’m not… I’m not asking you to replace Mikey or be their dad or anything. It would… y’know, just be nice not to do this by my—”

“Woah, hey,” He stopped you with a shake of his head, not even wanting you to think like that. “You’re family, period. Have been since Michael brought you home. And always will be. Alright?”

Finally, a sliver of hope. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good.” He handed the photos back to you gently, as if one wrong move would ruin them. Then, he stood on his feet, wiping a hand over his face and taking a deep breath. He offered his hand. “Now, come on. I’m taking you to your meeting.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear smut #sorry in advance for this one lol

[impishjesters]

Jax-in-a-box

warning(s): mentioned spicy jokes/comments note(s): (In response to the request) We don't have Jack in the box around here so I actually had to google it, thought it sounded familiar lol A/N: This idea was so cute and I had so much fun writing it. It is sort of implied the reader is attached to said box, but not how. But now I am imagining them hopping around like the Pixar lamp so that’s hilarious. If you want more hc's of the reader detached from the box feel free to send in another request~ request: I'm requesting a Jax x reader (crushing and actual relationship stage if possible) where they are kinda Jack in the box theme (no not like the restaurant mascot, I was telling my friend about this idea/request and she thought I was talking about him 😭) So the reader is the tallest of the group and has long hair, similar to the rope-likeness to Ragatha’s hair and they also have very stretchy arms and can do a bunch of things with them (wrap one of them completely around a person, can reach the top of the tent etc.) The reader also likes to stay in their box most of the time since it's dark and peaceful but isn't like antisocial, likes to hang out with the others and does light hearted pranks on them (Jax included, no one is safe).

Crushing Stage

You aren’t on the same level of jackassery or prankage that Jax is, but you do have a knack for more light-hearted pranks and that’s admirable because he always gets a good laugh out of whoever you prank.

Though that’s not saying much, all of them have been subjected to a jumpscare or two by you, trying to approach you when you are in your box really is unpredictable.

Like did you not hear them or are you intentionally trying to jumpscare someone? (It’s usually the first one, the walls aren’t thick but they can muffle when someone is trying to directly talk to you.)

Actually, the first time you scared Jax it was completely unintentional. Sometimes you sort of just, blend into the scenery when your box is tucked alongside other stuff. You didn’t even know he was there when you popped out and just, scared him.

Fortunately for him, nobody else was around because the sound that left him was priceless. He hates it (affectionately) that you use that to tease him every now and then.

Another time that you startled (read: scared) him was when you were hanging off the ground, he hadn’t been aware you were quite literally hanging around until you dropped down, the box making a comically loud noise in the process. (Which is funny because that time others were around, luckily Jax didn’t scream.)

The more he gets comfortable with you the more he finds himself leaning against your box during group socializing time or even letting you wrap one of your arms around him and yoink him around (usually out of harm’s way, Caine’s games are too much sometimes)

In the fashion that “a boy tugs on a girl’s hair because he likes her”, Jax has very much tugged your hair—it’s long and there’s a lot of it so it doesn’t always get in the box when you close the top. So parts stick out and he’s definitely let that part of his brain act on the “what if I just..yank it?”

Afterward, he just does it because he likes that your attention turns directly on him. It’s never a violent tug or anything, just enough to get your eyes on him.

Dating Stage

Not too much changes when the two of you start dating. There are still pranks but the two of you are closer and whatnot.

However, there is the new addition of more risque jokes/comments, such as the comment about whether cranking the handle on your box does something. (The first joke happens whether those kinds of comments discomfort you or not, though he’ll stop if they do. But if they don’t? Oh boy, expect so many awful jokes.)

At first, he had no opinion, but he kinda likes that you’re taller than him. The only other person is Kinger and he’s usually hunched over.

He finds your stretchy arms to be both useful and entertaining, though seeing them stretch to extreme lengths kinda bugs him out. (which is ironic because he’s a stretchy toy himself)

Along with leaning against your box, now he’s more comfortable actually sitting on it, or rather the ledge of it when it’s open.

He’s definitely sat on it while it was closed before though, you may or may not have accidentally thrown him off. (he’s irritated, but honestly, he should’ve seen that coming)

On occasion when the gang is stuck playing some dumb game that he’s not really paying attention to, he’ll sit on the ledge of your box and mess with your hair. It’s similar to Ragatha’s but longer and it’s a nice time-waster just seeing what he can do with it.

Since you tend to stay in your box more than your actual room, it makes finding you at times a pain. Sometimes Jax gives up, sometimes he asks where someone saw you last, and sometimes he just yells out. The first few times it’s all fun and games but afterward, he just gets irritated, it’s like you move around just to piss him off.

For whatever reason in the beginning he never questioned how exactly you worked, you know, being in a box, or part of a box? Expect plenty of questions and the occasional attempted peek into your box to see if you have legs (maybe a spring?) or not. (he’s not trying to be dirty he’s just intrigued.)

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

[greywritesthings]

overwhelmed

Spencer Reid x Autistic!Reader

Warnings: description of overwhelm? sensory overload if there's any more let me know!

A/N: not sure what the inspo what behind this but here it is, i am working on another longer fic so this is a filler for the mean time, likes, reblogs and comments appreciated! Im autistic so i have a bunch of stuff I'd like to put in for a second (possible series?). For specific senarios ect ect please feel free to send them to my ask box!!

Requests are open for Spencer Reid! Disabled & multilingual characters encouraged

Part 2

Masterlist!

The buzz of the air con unit, the incessant hum if the fluorescent lights, the constant chatter of the co workers you were unfamiliar with all came together to create an almost physically painful environment. You adored working in the BAU but these days where it was lengthy paperwork done on painfully bright computers with the general hubbub of the office made you want to scream. It often ended with Hotch sending you home with paper files to do with spencer but he was off today and you were still intimidated by Rossi so couldn't ask him. Spencer would normally ask for the both of you but he was out with Hotch, they were doing a local death row interview together. You were exhausted and it wasn't even eleven am. You decided to stop by Penelope's office who had made it as sensory friendly as possible once she found out about your autism, something you had appreciated immensely, especially for days like today. “Hey pen? Can i stay in here for a bit?” You ask, walking into the dim room. “Sure thing sugar, you can stay in here for the rest of the day, Rossi told me to come get you for a thing anyway so come over here my fine furry friend.” she beacons you over to the seat next to her. 

You couldn't have gotten out of the office faster. Penelope had helped as much as possible but the sensory overload was too much from nine am and you haven't been able to do anything about it aside from chew on some ice every so often. 

The idea of taking the subway home made your skin crawl, but you hadn't brought your car to the office this morning, driving was also being far too overwhelming. You would have called Spencer but you had no idea when he would be home given death row inmates either got really chatty or liked to drag on the interview. You decide to just sit on the curb for a while allowing the cooler night air to calm you down enough so you can try and get on the metro without crying. 

You weren't sure how long you were sitting there, legs curled tightly against you, head resting against your knees and back pressed against the wall but you flinched when someone walked up and tapped you on the shoulder and scrambled to stand up. “How long have you been out here?” the stranger asks in the darkness. As your eyes adjust you realise its Hotch, meaning Spencer is probably here too. You just shake your head with a pleading look hoping he wouldn't ask you any more questions tonight. “Spencer is in the SUV, I've told him to take that home to save you both taking the metro tonight. Go home, tomorrow's paperwork will be dropped off at your house.He didn't let you get a word in edgewise so you just nod, thank him and wish him and Jack a goodnight, setting off towards the remaining SUV with the lights on. 

“Hi honey, you okay?” Spencer asks as you hop into the car, throwing off your blazer before settling in and pulling on your belt. “Bad day?” he asks again trying to gauge how your day went without getting you to talk. You just nod as you reach across to put a hand on his thigh to try and signal that you were okay, just exhausted in every sense of the word. You tap his thigh three times then five, three to say I love you then five to encourage him to talk about his day and not worry about rambling even if you didn’t respond. 

Once you get home you drop your things and make a beeline for the couch, flopping face down and screaming into the pillows. “Bath, shower or later sweetheart?” He knew you wouldn’t go to bed without showering but also knew you were too overwhelmed to do anything that required mental effort right now given the whine you let out into the cushions at his question. “I'm going to order some Thai, then do you want to get changed and we can watch a movie? He suggests. “Nada en inglés, por favor” is all you mumble back. He was used to your disdain of English, despite it being your first language. You knew bits and pieces of French, Spanish and German prior to meeting Spencer but since meeting him you had come to learn some Korean and Russian. “Okay dear, i'll go order, you get changed.” he says as he leaves the room going to the phone. You drag yourself off the sofa across the apartment to the bedroom. Grabbing Spencer's caltech sweatshirt and joggers from the bed that you had left there this morning and throwing your suit in the hamper to be washed tomorrow.

You spent the rest of the night curled up under the weighted throw Penelope had knitted you for Christmas on your first anniversary at the BAU and watching old Russian movies. Spencer played with your hair until you fell asleep contemplating how he was going to get you to bed without waking you up.

#greyswritings #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

[wileys-russo]

First time calling Alessia ‘baby���?

short n sweet.

baby II a.russo

"but i like it better when you make it!" the blonde smiled as she rested her chin on her fist, looking back at you adoringly as you rolled your eyes playfully.

"correct me if i'm wrong here less but i think when you invite someone over for dinner its generally not so that they cook it for you!" you teased, but regardless began to grab out the necessary ingredients already knowing where everything was, comfortable and familiar in alessia's small flat.

only living the floor above her in the block, there was seldom a day that passed where either one of you didn't spend some amount of time in the others home.

you had first encountered one another the day she moved in. you were returning home from a rather stressful work shift, rummaging around in your pocket for your house key when you heard a rather loud crash from downstairs.

racing down you found the then unfamiliar blonde laying on the floor with a defeated sigh, boxes scattered around her where she had obviously tripped over something and sent them flying.

"hi, do you need a hand?" you bit your lip to refrain from laughing at the scene in front of you, alessia's head darting toward you with a mortified expression, cheeks tinted a rosy pink with embarrassment.

"she needs more than a hand she needs an entirely new body. less you're such a clumsy idiot!" a shorter brunette had then stuck her head out of the girls front door, rolling her eyes and bending down to collect a box before venturing back inside.

"i'm y/n. you just moving in?" you asked with a friendly smile, hopping down the last two stairs and offering her a hand up. "i'm alessia, and yeah. sorry for the bother! i was basically unofficially born with two left feet." the taller girl joked, rubbing the back of her neck nervously, admittedly a little more stunned at your beauty than the fall she'd just had.

"less man you gonna stand around flirting all day or get her number and come and help me?" the brunette returned, sending alessia's cheeks an even darker shade of red at the comment. "tooney!" the girl hissed as the shorter of the two shot you a wink and grabbed another box.

"she's very single." the girl notified you bluntly as alessia looked back in horror at her best friend who quickly made herself scarce. "sorry about her." alessia mumbled in embarrassment, unsure how else to really continue on after the interruption.

"she seems fun." you grinned, eyeing a pen on the floor and feeling a sudden unfamiliar wave of confidence roll through you. "give me your hand." you motioned as alessia looked at you with confusion but did so anyway, you quickly scribbled your number down on her wrist and placed the pen in her palm.

"oh, thanks!" alessia perked up, twisting her wrist to read the numbers as you headed back upstairs, hearing her friend call out for her to hurry up from inside.

"oh and for the record, i am also very single." you smiled shyly before disappearing out of view, only letting out a breath after you'd closed your own apartment door.

it had been several weeks since then, and with a very insistent ella urging her on alessia had asked you out for coffee that very next day, and then you'd asked her to the movies, and your ongoing back and forth of dates had commenced.

though nothing yet had been made official, the two of yet to properly talk out how you were feeling, there was a strong connection building.

"hey i invited you over purely for the pleasure of your company, the cooking for me is just an added bonus." alessia winked cheekily as you shook your head with a smile, flicking on her stove top. "well then the least you can do is be my sous chef." you placed a chopping board, a knife and a variety of different vegetables in front of the striker.

"if you can manage that without injury." you teased as the blonde now rolled her own eyes, mocking you under her breath. "can you do the carrots first please baby." you'd asked casually before turning back to the stove, not even at first registering what you said.

"what did you just say?" alessia breathed out, she having most definitely registered the new term of endearment. "i said can you do the carrots first please baby." you repeated, your eyes widening as you heard yourself, unable to force yourself to turn around to see her reaction.

"sorry, i didn't mean to-sorry." you shook your head, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks as you busied yourself filling the pot with water. "you don't need to be...baby." alessia replied, a rosy pink glow coating her own cheeks as she also refused to look toward you to see your reaction.

unknowingly you both smiled shyly to yourselves, butterflies erupting in your stomachs. a few beats of silence passed before you quickly changed the topic, asking her how training had been.

even though neither of you had discussed it, it seemed you had both just confirmed that in fact the connection was mutual, and you were both excited to keep exploring it.

#woso x reader #woso #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Bryce/Jared, Elaine; Man of the Hour (Day, Week, Month, Year)

For the prompt: One of the articles Bryce mentions. "…like, a profile thing? How it was growing up gay in hockey, that kind of thing… A chance to establish myself as like, I am now,” Bryce says. “Kind of like — not set the record straight, exactly, but like, show I’ve matured and stuff. "

It’s the definition of a typical Vancouver day, drizzly and overcast, when I meet Bryce Marcus. He likely needs no introduction, but I will introduce him anyway: the star centre for the Vancouver Canucks who went from being the enemy while playing for the arch-rival Calgary Flames to becoming possibly the most beloved man in the city: certainly if you you asked the fans streaming out of Rogers Arena after watching the Canucks win the Cup for the third time, or the hundreds of thousands of lining Burrard to cheer on their Canucks at the Stanley Cup Parade on a beautiful sunny day this June.

The weather is anything but glamourous today, however, and at the Marcus Matheson household, the surroundings aren’t either.

Jared Matheson, husband and teammate of Bryce, apologizes as I step over a box in their hallway. “We’re kind of in the middle of a move right now.”

They’re trading their two-bedroom condo for something ‘a little more permanent’. Both have decided that wherever their NHL careers may take them, Vancouver is going to remain home, and they’ve just closed on a house nearby.

“Bryce is weirdly excited about getting to mow the lawn,” Jared tells me as we wait for Bryce to finish getting ready. In light of the hyper-competitive Vancouver real estate market it’s entirely understandable to be excited about lawncare — it means you have a lawn to care for — but one wouldn’t have expected that to extend even to Vancouver’s sports stars.

When Bryce emerges, five minutes after my arrival, he announces himself by swearing as he trips over a box of his own, and then apologising, both for his language and his tardiness.

“He was doing his hair,” Jared says.

“I was not,” Bryce scowls, but doesn’t offer an alternative explanation.

After a quick tour of their condo, which is currently half in boxes, Bryce and I hop into his Audi S8 — naturally courtesy Capilano Audi, whose ads featuring him are inescapable during Canucks games. We drive to Richmond so he can show me his old haunts: elementary, middle, and high school — though he finished high school in Washington while playing for the Spokane Chiefs — his home rink, the Dairy Queen his mother took him after hockey games. He’s a capable, if slightly aggressive driver. I mention this because from the dire warning I received from Jared on the way out the door I genuinely believed I might not survive the drive.

Bryce finally pulls into the driveway of an unassuming but cheerful house on a quiet suburban street. The morning drizzle has faded, and the weather is now just as bright and warm as his childhood home, and the mother who raised him there. Already waiting for us on the porch, his mother Elaine Marcus offers me a glass of lemonade. “Store bought, I’m afraid,” she says with a smile. “I’m not much of homemaker.”

Over lemonade and cookies — “Also store bought,” Elaine admits, “but this bakery is very good!”, and she’s right about that — she shows me an array of childhood and teenage photos while Bryce complains to his mother that she’s ‘embarrassing’ him.

The photos are more inspiring than embarrassing: photo after photo of a beaming little boy in an equally small Canucks jersey, proudly brandishing a plastic mini-stick (Canucks branded, of course). A true example of someone who grew up to live his childhood dream.

Sadly, as he gets a older the smile disappears, as does the man beaming in the background of so many of those happy photos. His father, Ben Marcus, was killed by an impaired driver at the age of 32. It devastated Elaine and Bryce, who was only four at the time.

“It was hard,” Elaine says. “He didn’t understand. I didn’t understand, when it came down to it. It was a hard time. He wanted to play hockey all the time, it was the only thing he wanted. He was really only happy on the ice.”

“I just wanted him to be happy,” she says, smiling tearfully, and as Bryce wraps a protective arm around his mother's shoulders, I offer to give them a moment.

“It was a long time ago,” Elaine says in dismissal, wiping her eyes. “It’s just hard sometimes. Ben loved hockey, loved watching the Canucks with Bryce — he’d have been so proud to see Bryce lift the Cup for them. I am too, of course, but it was always Ben and Bryce’s thing. He would have been so proud.”

I do give them a moment then, and when I return, my lemonade has been refilled and both are all smiles once again, though Bryce's doesn't last. He cringes as we go through photos of his teen years. There’s a sullen look on his face in every picture.

And what was Bryce like as a teenager?

"I'll let him answer that," Elaine says diplomatically.

“I don’t really know,” Bryce says, looking thoughtful. “Angry, I guess. I was an angry kid. And confused.”

About his sexuality?

“Everything was confusing,” Bryce says. “But yeah, definitely that too.”

“Bryce cared so much,” Elaine says. “About everything. He still does. The world’s hardest on the people who care most about it.”

Like so many hockey players who’ve come out since Dan Riley and Marc Lapointe did in 2010, he credits their coming out as a major influence on his journey of coming to terms with his identity as both a gay man and a pro hockey player.

“You don’t really put it together,” Bryce says. He turned sixteen the summer the Leafs won the Stanley Cup, and Riley and Lapointe subsequently came out. “Like, okay, sure, you can be gay and play hockey. Except nobody thought that. I didn’t think that. If you said that, maybe I’d say okay, but I didn’t believe it.”

How, then, did he reconcile being gay and playing hockey?

“That's the thing,” Bryce says. “I didn’t, you know? I was playing hockey, so obviously I wasn’t, right? Because if I was gay, then I wouldn’t be playing, would I?”

“It sounds so ridiculous saying it now,” he reflects. “But that’s what I thought. And I wasn’t the only one.”

But even more than Riley and Lapointe blazing a trail before him, he credits meeting his husband Jared at a hockey skills camp in Calgary. In the year before he met Jared, then twenty year old Bryce was arrested twice, for assault and DWI: the latter in particular shook his mother, considering how his father died.

"I was worried about him," she says. "That's probably an understatement."

“I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn't met Jared,” Bryce says. “I genuinely don’t. I don’t think I’d be out. I know I wouldn’t be happy. You know, everyone says it isn’t like in the movies. Falling in love, I mean. That love at first sight and all that is b******t. But that’s pretty much what it was for me.”

Was it mutual?

Bryce laughs. “You’d have to ask Jared, he tells it better than me,” he says. “But no, not really. I wasn't good enough for him. I'm still not good enough for him, but I try to be."

Another warning I’d received from his husband before my tour around town? That Bryce was an incurable romantic. This warning certainly seems more warranted than the one about Bryce’s driving.

And what does Bryce think about Jared’s warning, and his additional suggestion to take anything Bryce said about him with a healthy grain of salt?

“[Jared]’s just modest,” Bryce says.

“He lights up when Jared’s around,” Elaine says. “It’s just like when he was a little boy — every time he stepped onto the ice, he beamed. It’s the same thing with Jared. He’s so happy. It’s so wonderful to see him like that.”

And how was it, not only getting to play with his husband, but to raise the Stanley Cup together?

“It’s a dream come true,” Bryce says. “Really. I know that’s such a cliche, but so is love at first sight, right? And the hometown boy winning it all for his childhood team. They’re all cliches. But they’re my life.”

“I know just how lucky I am,” Bryce says. “Winning with Jared, with this team — it’s been such a whirlwind of a year.”

I tell him to enjoy it.

“I do,” he says, smiling so widely I have no doubt he’s telling the truth. “I really, really do.”

#SOTM #fic snippet #bryce marcus #jared matheson #elaine marcus

[thedivineflowers]

Wassup my little scrunkly poo's 😘😘😋

I think I missed someone but idk if I did please tell me but this is the mc addressing the NRC students by familial terms!

Let's go bitch 😤

Father figure students first😋

Middle schooler!Mc: Hey papa-

Riddle (hear me out-): he's so gentle with you and all the heartslaybul residents were kind of expecting it at some point and Riddle just short circuited while he's blushing and he's about to cry. He will come check up on you at least two times a week and will offer you to live in heartslaybul with him so you can always have help wether it be with homework or with studying, he will be there for you to help you through anything.

Trey: he seemed so nonchalant about it and even responded with "what's up?" But when your not around he's chuckling and shit and you've got a happy baker always giving you treats when he can and won't give you your treats until he knows you brushed your teeth that morning. Will let you have sleepovers in his room and will always cover for you if you happened to skip class or something and if you help him with baking he'll let you take some home with you for you to share with Grim.

Leona: this bitch didn't even notice you called him papa until like ten minutes later and he won't address you about it but don't be surprised when you get an offer from him to live at Savannaclaw and if you don't agree to live there he WILL bribe you until you move in. When you move in Leona will be able to watch over you easier and you won't have to complain to him about food and living expenses (EVEN THOUGH YOUR A FUCKING MIDDLE SCHOOL KID) and you get to sleep in his bed without him pushing you off.

Jack: his tail is wagging more than before and he's trying to stop it the best he can. You've got scary wolf privileges now, use it. He's now coming to spend more and more time around Ramshackle to make sure you're okay and well. He is also bringing you more snacks and water during different periods of the day so you stay energized. Will take you on his morning runs and won't mind you sleeping on his back while he runs and will be ecstatic if you join him.

Jade: he is smiling even more and he just chuckles it off. You now have a scary eel following you around everywhere and if you happen to have an interest in fungi he will be over the moon and will help you grow your own. You will join the mountain lover club. You two will go on hikes everywhere and will taste test random mushrooms because you two felt silly and wanted to see if it was poisonous. The school is afraid of the two of you and your will to eat anything. He and you have contests of who can identify the most mushrooms and he always wins. He'll let you have sleepovers in his room with him and Floyd but for the most part recommends you to sleep in their extra room and will let you leave your stuff in there over time and next thing you'll know the room is yours. (It's strange how it's right next to their room and you three have a door that can connect the two rooms so you can just hop in when you'd like-)

Jamil: he fucking sighs. You're basically another Kalim and he can hardly deal with Kalim himself. Still though he'll offer for you to move into his dorm because 'you get to spend more time with Kalim and wont have to worry about living expenses' he is right about the living part but he just wants to keep an eye on you and make sure you eat enough food and get enough sleep. If you look even the slightest bit hungry he is stopping what you're doing and will make you something to eat and you have to eat at least three bites before you go back to what you're doing.

Vil: he pauses what he's doing and will turn around slowly. He immediately stops you from apologizing. Next thing you know you have makeup on and new uniform with the Pomefiore vest and following Vil around like Rook and Epel. When you come back from school Vil already has a room set up with your things and some gifts and essentials that take up more then five boxes. You have a whole new wardrobe with SILK and a nice comfy bed and bathroom. Epel is praying for you because Vil will be on your ass about taking care of yourself and will make you sit down and put on your routinely make up of you forgot or messed up a part. You're not a little sweet potato now. You're the prettiest child in all the land >:D (he calls middle schooler!mc sweet potato, not potato)

Rook: he is laughing and giggling and hugging you. You now have a bodyguard that will spoil you to endless amounts you have to beg him to stop buying you things. He insists that you move into Pomefiore so you two can spend more time together and will say that we won't stop spending on you until you move in. He will stalk you more and more to watch your health and make sure you eat enough. If he sees that you are the slightest sad he will drown you in complements and praise while pampering you.

Lilia: he stops making his ravioli and turns around slowly. Wide eyed. He will slowly float towards you as you apologize. He will hug you gently at first then he will crush you as he is spinning in the air with you and squealing. He must tell the other three, he can't hold the news in. Go and put on your uniform. It's already in your room with all your other things next to his room and make sure to put on the makeup he gifted you. Get ready for dinner he is making his ravioli and cake as a celebration of you joining the family! He already has the adoption papers signed and is ready to change your last name to Vanrouge. You have a bat dad that is willing to stay up with you at three AM watching paranormal activity videos and playing horror games while you two chug energy drinks. He already moved your stuff into Diasomnia when you were sleeping with the help of Malleus who is buzzing in happiness. If Lilia sees that you feel down that day he is stopping everything he's doing and will pamper you while you just soak it in like a sponge. He is willing to do the weirdest shit with you because when he caught you trying to quietly make a battery acid drink he just gave you a shitload of sour stuff that he has stashed and made one of his own too.

Mc: yeah this is my brother-

Ace: he just smirks and ruffles your hair while agreeing. He will tease you so much but being serious his eyes might get a little watery. You MIGHT get some of his allowance. Maybe. But like y'all two are having so many sleepovers at Ramshackle and eating so much food at the ass crack of dawn

Deuce: he will give a very small smile and nod along but you will notice a change when he volunteers to get things for you and he will come to Ramshackle more and will drag Ace with him because two big brothers is better than one. If you need someone to jump someone else he is your guy because he will go ham if someone says the wrong thing to you.

Cater: You're fucking done. He's already got a room where you can sleep and is so taking pictures of and with you every where. He is willing to just laze around or go partying with you because he's fun like that and will def make an account with just you and will make sure that you'll eat your fair share of vitamin gummies for kids that he has (I hc he has vitamin gummies for middle schooler!mc and he will have EVERYTHING)

Ruggie: his tail is wagging like crazy and he will definitely include you in his to do list as he will buy whatever you want because he's got a shitload of money from Leona and if you buy him donuts he WILL wrestle you to the ground and will ask for anything you need help with cause man's desperate to pay you back and seem like a good brother to you. He will ask for you to move into Savannaclaw as Leona already agreed because Ruggie wouldn't stop bothering him about it. So now you've got a brother who will come and do anything for you as long as you keep on referring to him as your big brother.

Azul: his face turns blue (octopi have blue blood right?) as he looks at you like you committed mass murder. His eyes will then get watery as he is just silent. When you apologize a tentacle will pull you to him out of nowhere as he just coddles you. He will ask for you to work at Mostro Lounge but guess what? Your pay is higher but don't SNITCH to anyone or he's gonna be the scariest mf you've ever seen. He's got a room all for you and you get a goddamn water bed like what - and you can get free meals from there if you're grades are good.

Floyd: BIGGEST HUG HES EVERE GIVEN THAT IS NOT INTENDED TO MURDER SOMEONE. He's doing his little laugh and he's just jollying around like a happy camper. He's already got Jade that views you the same way. He's already got a room set up for you after he threatened some people and if you don't wanna sleep in it then you can sleep in his and jades! He's willing to let you sleep on his bed while he sleeps on the floor or you two can do like some weird ass ninja poses that feel oddly comfortable while sleeping. But he will do anything you want. You wanna go set a car on fire because you were hungry? He's already dragging you there and it seems to everyone that you two have the same thought process and which you two do but is the tiniest bit different

Kalim: he's squeezing you and jumping up and down and omfg- you have a whole ROOM AS BIG AS A HOUSE all for you. He wont hesitate to throw a party just for you. You got a passing grade in a test? Hooray the party is on Friday! 😘 But tbh you could just fucking smile and hes all over you gifting you shit and he prolly will take you to see his family because you will fit right in and if you happen to enjoy HIM pampering you then you will surely enjoy the way his family pampers you and they will see you as another child of the al asim family that deserves the extra bit of love.

Epel: shit, how tf is he gon' tell his momma this? But being honest he is letting his country accent go HAM while he's with you because he knows you won't snitch 😊 . He has a big ass bed he is willing to share it with you. Y'all do all kinds of shit like watching those weird ass documentaries or listening to the songs about tractors that he likes so much. If you happen to be sneaky he will def have you sneak into Pomefiore because Vil actually likes you and will not mind that much. But if epel has to suffer, you have to suffer if epel has to cake on his skin care stuff he's doing the same to you. He will cheer you on if you happen to get into a fight the minute he hears about it he is fucking sprinting across the school to either cheer you on or join you.

Idia: He is frozen. Shooketh. Flabbergasted. You? The talk of the school, view HIM as your big brother? Now it feels like those animes where the younger sibling is so much more popular than the older and the older is said to be an outcast and lonely and- he is short circuiting but he won't treat you differently than he does Ortho. Considering that you have a mind that can be put in the nearest mental hospital he will just vibe with you until you go drag him out and force him to grab a cluster of daddy long legs. He has a room made personally for you. Yeah. It even has all the cool computer stuff so you can feel smart whole thing and looking on different screens 😈🥸. He has it in your favorite color and has all your favorite things inside. He will send Ortho to go fetch you when he has something cool to show you and you and Ortho are attached at the hip 😎.

Ortho: bro makes sounds like mobby form imagine learning and he is lifting you in the air and you can feel the gears in his body shifting because of his excitement. He is already having a room ready for you with the help of his brother and is your personal emotional support buddy and best friend. He will literally find papers for you to sign to be his younger sibling. Don't ask how or why just sign. He's already got a room ready for you. He also has his own pod in there where he sleeps so if you're ever scared or lonely he can sleep in his pod in your room or he can just warm himself up and hug you while you fall asleep. You're cold? Dw big brothers got you he's already heating his body up and when he hugs you he feels so warm. You need a energy drink? He already has one stored. with his scientific fact robot brain he can and will back you up when someone tries messing with you because Ortho don't deal with someone disrespecting his younger sibling 🚨 and will become sassy. You two are never seen without each other and if you are, fucking run because you will literally go crazy if you can't find Ortho and he will do the same if he can't find you.

Malleus: He is a warm and happy dragon. He is just buzzing with happiness now. Either he is following you around or you are following him around. But either way if you guys are not seen without one another y'all are gonna be in the bitchiest mood ever. He will make it his personal duty to make sure that your pampered and treated like the royalty you are because he already has the papers for you to sign for you to be his sibling. If there are no rooms available for you in his dorm he will share his room with you and honestly he doesn't care what you say he already has your stuff packed and a bed is already ready for you to sleep on. Your cold? Dw he will use his magic to warm ya up. Someone bad mouthed you? The student is already begging on his knees for forgiveness the next day. You dont understand history class? He can help you because he was there during that time 🥸. It's kinda funny because you have a tall ass dragon prince brother that seems so calm and then the brother has a smaller younger sibling that goes batshit crazy over anything and y'all two even each other out definitely.

Silver: he won't register it prolly because he was dozing off but in his dream some how some way the memory will come back to him. He will be staring at you more gently than how he did before and he will convince his father to adopt you. He will share his room with you and is alright with it. Like I bet he prolly has a closet full of plushies that he or you could sleep in when it gets cold and the other one is hogging the bed. He will teach you how to use the sword and some special tricks he uses 😈. But I hc that middle schooler mc and Silver will be so alike. Like mc is sleeping through all the alarms just like silver and someone has to wake them up by hitting them with a pillow HARD. And still even after that they both will be so sleepy. And both of y'all would looove after school naps because waking up with a mouth dryer than the sunset savannah, sweating at your back, one sock missing and the other one halfway off your foot, and not knowing the time is how you two wake up from naps after school and maybe even in the morning when y'all forget to wake up :>.

Sebek: he is yelling about how inappropriate it is to address him like that but internally he is screeching and crying. He will lower his voice when he is around you and is more gentle when he is scolding you. He WILL teach you how to wield a sword and will spar with you every night to see how well you've improved. He will share his room with you if you want to move in with him and he will suggest it to help you with sword training, def not because he's worried about your living conditions 💀. He will brag about you and how your so smart and he won't brag about you as much as he does Malleus but he will brag about you because he's proud of you and your achievements must be acknowledged!

#twisted wonderland x reader #thedivineflowers #middle school mc #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #deuce spade x reader #ace trapolla x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader

[rayslittlekitten]

Can I?

A/N: Okay y'all. It's here, it's done. Y'all voted on this a while back and it was a bit challenging as I made the mistake of starting to write it with Will in mind so I had to make adjustments, but I think I figured it out. Thank you so so much to @musings-of-a-rose for taking a look at this for me. You are a doll!

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6,033

Pairing: Benny Miller x BFF! F! Reader

Plot: A night of unexpected events occur when you and your best friend innocently test out sex toys you had drunkenly purchased for shits and giggles.

WARNINGS: This is the first fic I am NOT including warning tags because I don't want to spoil anything. There's nothing typically potentially triggering like dark stuff (i.e. CNC) but still I wanted to keep it a mystery going in. SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Your friends were supposed to watch the fight with you tonight but they had bailed with some excuse or two except for your best friend. You thought that his brother would at least still be joining as they usually do everything together - like you wouldn’t be surprised if you found out they hold each other’s dicks while the other pisses - but it’s just going to be you and him tonight. Instead of going to the bar like originally planned, you both decided to pick up a case of beer and hang out at your place. It’s cheaper and less crowded. 

There’s a rap at your apartment door and you go to open it. As expected, it's your best friend with the supply.

“Hey, Benny! Just in time!”

"Hey, you got a package," Benny says as he hands you the beer. He bends down to pick up the small brown box off the floor by your door. "What did you order?"

"I have no idea what that is," you reply as you make your way over to the kitchen to stick it in the fridge. "I don't remember ordering anything. Where does it say it's from?"

"The return address just says Warehouse, in Ohio," he replies, inspecting the non-descript package and following you further into your apartment after shutting the door behind him.

He hands you the cardboard box before taking his jacket off and making himself at home. You rip open the package and after seeing the contents, you laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" he asks, walking closer to you.

"This was a drunk purchase. I totally forgot about these!" You reach in to pull out the items and show him your new purchases.

"What are those?" He looks perplexed.

“This one is a vibrator I keep seeing on Instagram, but it's supposed to be like, amazing," you answer.

"How the hell are you supposed to use that?" He takes one of the packages from you and inspects it, looking at the pictures on the box.

"Well, one way you can use it is you insert this side into your pussy and this part is supposed to sit on your clit," you point and explain to him. "It also comes with a detached remote so someone else can control it.

"I don't know if that's a terrible time or a great time."

"The vibration is supposed to be very powerful but quiet," you add. "Supposed to be discreet. They try to sell it by showing women supposedly wearing it in public under their clothes without anyone apparently knowing and their partner has control of it and she's like losing her shit."

"I'm curious now."

"For science!" You declare as you snatch the package from him. You start opening it up and pull the contents out. "Shit, it needs AAA batteries. TV remote!"

You head to the living room and he follows you. You take the batteries out of your TV remote and shove them into the new toy. After turning it on, it buzzes lightly in your hand, moving subtly.

"Let's see how crazy it can get." You start playing with the buttons until it goes up to the highest setting and Ben's eyes get wide as saucers watching it flop around in your palm, practically jumping out of your hand.

"Jesus Christ!" Benny hops back.

"Yeah, now imagine that between your legs."

"I'm not sure I want to. Looks like it would scramble all the sperm inside my balls. Besides, I don't think it was made for my body parts," he points out.

"You just don’t have an imagination," you jab. "Hmm, should we test drive it?" you suggest as you shut it off.

“What do you mean?" he asks curiously.

"See if the hype is real," you answer. "Especially that other one." You point to the other toy that's still in its package.

"That one's supposed to feel like your clit is actually getting sucked on."

"I didn't even know such toys exist," he confesses. 

"There are soooo many sex toys out there, you don't even know. Why don't you go get us some cold ones while I figure these out?" you suggest.

"You really wanna do this?” He checks again.

"Yeah, why not? It's not like we have anything else better to do except watch two grown men beat each other up," you state. “Come on, this isn’t any different than the time we accidentally found Will’s porn stash and you got a boner.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t jerk off.”

“You totally did. Not in front of me, but you were not discreet when you snuck off to the bathroom with one of his magazines to ‘take a shit’,” you look at him knowingly.

“Okay, fine,” he shrugs and adjusts his forward-facing cap. “You have a point.” He heads back into the kitchen to grab some beer.

When he comes back with two opened bottles in hand, he finds you reading the manual and reviewing the other toy.

"So how exactly are we testing these?" he asks, settling down next to you on the couch and taking a gulp of his beer.

"Well, I'm not gonna stick it down my pants if that's what you're thinking. Would that be too weird?” You scrunch your nose while looking over at your best friend who looks just as clueless.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking. It ain't going down my pants. No amount of alcohol is gonna get that to happen."

"Okay, I didn't think this through. I mean, I guess we can just test it on our arms or something," you shrug cluelessly, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind and then going back to the manual.

"How would that work?" Benny asks as he takes the remote sitting next to him, inspecting it.

As you begin to answer, he starts randomly pressing buttons and you shriek, jumping in your seat. Benny also jumps back, spilling some of his beer as he reacts to your sudden outburst.

"What the hell?!" He looks over to you.

You instantly reach for the vibrator that happened to be sitting between your legs, snug against the front of your pants and toss it at him. Benny tries to dodge it like it's a dead cockroach, but it lands on his lap and he immediately launches himself off the couch. The vibrator continues to bounce around the cushion of the couch until Benny finally shuts it off.

"What the hell was that, man?" Benny looks over at you.

"It was between my legs when you turned it on, you ass!"

“Well, what the hell was it doing there? You said you weren't gonna test it that way."

"I wasn't! It just happened to be there while I was reading on how to operate the other one. Why'd you turn it on?" You shoot back.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" He shouts. "This shit is like rocket science! How do you women even use these things?"

"Men use them too," you correct him. 

“Well, clearly I never have," he admits and returns to his seat, flicking the vibrator towards you to make room for himself.

"You're such a prude. It's not like I was wearing it," you say, grabbing it away from him.

"I'm not a prude! You freaked out so I freaked out." He takes another gulp of his beer.

"Whatever," you mumble, still feeling a bit flustered and embarrassed by what had happened. You turn your attention back to the other toy. 

"Wait, you've never used any sex toys before?" you shift your attention back to him.

"Nope," he shakes his head.

"Not even with a partner?" You raise a brow.

"Well, one time this girl wanted to make things interesting and suggested a dildo, but it wasn't for her," he starts. "She wanted to stick that up my ass and I was not about that. Especially not after what I had for lunch that day."

"Aww, no peggy for Benny?" you exaggerate a pout.

"Hey, you should think twice about who you're poking fun of.” He shows you the remote in his hand and turns it back on, spooking you when the vibrator goes off between you and Benny.

"Okay, you're having too much fun with that." You reach over to grab the remote from him but he moves it away from your reach. 

You lean in further, but his long arm prevents you from getting access to it. At this point, you’re practically climbing on top of him. 

“You’re right. This is fun,” he laughs.

When you get close, he transfers the remote to his other hand so you shift yourself but lose your balance, landing back on the still-on vibrator. You shriek and Benny laughs at you. He turns the setting to the highest as you try to get away from it in your awkward position.

"Benny! You can't just go from 1 to 100 instant—" You finally roll off of it and give yourself a moment. With your eyes closed and teeth digging hard into your lower plump lip, you try to get yourself together.

“Are- are you okay?” Benny asks as his laugh dwindles. “Did you have an orgasm or something?” he jokes.

“No…” you start. “But maybe I almost did - maybe!”

His laugh finally dies, but a smirk remains on his face.

“Seriously?!” His eyes grow wide, turning his body towards you.

“That toy is no joke,” you point to it still wriggling on the couch. “And now I really wanna know what it can do.”

Benny shuts it off and his eyes shuttle between the toy and you.

“Uh… like, now?” He questions.

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating. 

“That would be weird, right?” You ask with a squinted eye. “Never mind, forget it—”

“Have at it,” Benny interrupts. “Now I wanna see what this thing can do, too.”

“Really?” You ask with a raised brow, surprised.

“Yeah, like you said, what else is there to do? For science!” He brings up his beer bottle to celebrate it.

“Dork,” you chuckle, snatching the toy.

“Also, maybe I can learn a thing or two from it,” he replies. “Not that I need any help in that department, but I’m always open to learning new things,” he adds.

You roll your eyes.

“Hey, I’m a fighter and a lover. And I’m great at both,” he winks. 

“Are you done stroking your own ego?” You look at him, unimpressed.

“I’m sorry. Yes, you can go on to stroke yourself,” he answers, trying to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smirk.

“You’re so dumb,” you roll your eyes again and try not to crack your own.

“But I gotta be the one in control.” He holds up the remote in his hand.

“Benny-“

“I may never have the opportunity to ever do this again,” he says. “Besides, isn’t it what makes this fun? Someone else controlling it?”

You stare back at him and think about it.

“Okay, fine, but-“ you point a finger at him.

“I promise I won’t go from zero to 100, okay? Scout’s honor.” Benny brings his three middle fingers up.

“You weren’t a boy scout,” you point out.

“Fuck you. I was one for like a month,” he corrects you. “So are we doing this or what?”

“Turn around,” you tell him.

“What? I can’t watch?”

“Not watch me put this on. Turn around,” you repeat.

He rolls his eyes and turns his whole body around so the back of his head is facing you. You keep an eye on him as you wrangle your jeans and slip the toy inside you until it fits snug. Benny takes a sip of his beer as he waits patiently. He hears you fumbling around and finally you tell him he can turn back around.

He turns to face you and he looks confused.

“What?” You ask him.

“You have it on? Under your jeans?”

“Yes. I wasn’t gonna let it all hang out willy-nilly,” you tell him. “If you don’t believe me, turn it—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Benny flips the switch and you seize up. He can’t hear it, but your reaction confirms you have it in. He watches you as you stay still and quiet for a few moments.

“Can I up the speed?” He asks.

“Is this the lowest setting?” You calmly shoot back.

“Uh, yeah I think so.” He looks down at the remote to see if there’s any indication.

“Okay, go up one notch. One!” You glare at him.

“Okay, here we go.” He turns it up and you twitch.

You start shifting around in your seat until you feel the vibrator is in optimal position.

“How many speeds does this thing have again?” You ask out loud, reaching for the instruction manual and scanning it. “TEN?”

“Well, here’s number three,” Benny says as he ups the speed.

“Ben— ohhhhh…” Your scolding got cut short when the vibrator starts to really hit the right spots. 

The tip of the dildo part tickles your g-spot as the outer part flickers over your clit. You close your eyes and bite your lower lip, trying to concentrate and keep your composure.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you mumble.

“Uh… how are you doing?” He asks, not sure what else to do.

“I’m… “ you freeze up for a quick second and then relax, letting out a heavy breath. “Jeeeesus,” you hiss.

Benny remains quiet as he watches you slightly gyrate against the couch. You close your legs together and cross your knees, trying to recalibrate yourself for the ideal position. He notices your breathing has gotten heavier.

“Higher?” He asks quietly, afraid to interrupt your flow.

“I’m already slipping all around,” you answer without opening your eyes, almost forgetting you aren’t alone.

“That’s not a no…” he points out.

Your teeth digs even deeper into your lower lip as you contemplate whether you want to chase your impending orgasm or not. You hate that at the current setting, it’s only enough to edge you and need a bit more to get you over the top. 

“Okay,” you finally say. “Do it.”

Benny takes it to number four and you yelp instantly.

"Oh my god," you start giggling. "This is fucking crazy!"

Your thighs tightly clamp together and your back arches off the couch. You throw your head back as your jaw drops open, letting out a silent scream. Your hips rock against the vibrator, trying to get to the finish line.

"I'm not gonna lie. This is getting me hard."

You open your eyes and glance over at him to see him palming the front of his jeans and rubbing himself through the denim as he watches you trying not to lose your shit.

“How close are you?" he asks.

You feel your face get really warm all of a sudden. His baby blues pierce your eyes and you're suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you already are, like you just got caught doing something you shouldn't be doing, but at the same time, it’s kinda hot seeing Benny turned on watching you to the point where he’s quasi-touching himself. Noticing your state of shock, he amps up the vibration and you let out an uncontrolled moan.

"Oh, fuck!“

Your hips buck off the couch as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. You continue to moan as you ride the wave and try to catch the next one, grinding down on the couch. You don’t even care how silly you might look to Ben right now. All your focus is what’s going on between your legs. Suddenly the vibrator gets stronger again.

“Ben, stop! It’s too much!” You shriek.

You’re relieved when the torture stops, but it also feels odd as you feel the residual buzzing between your legs.

“So… how was it?” Benny breaks the silence. “Was it all your hopes and dreams?”

You take a moment to yourself to process the experience before answering.

“This shit is… I don’t think I ever want to experience the highest setting on this thing,” you tell him. “This thing is like a torture device. It feels like I pissed myself.”

You turn to look at him as you catch your breath and you’re reminded that Benny’s having his own fun with this, bringing you back down to earth. He scoots a bit closer to you with his hand still over his crotch. This new tension is clearly mutually felt as you both stare at each other, waiting for the other person to say or do something first. Your eyes ping pong between his face and his crotch, which he is still lazily rubbing.

“So uh… what now?” Benny asks, licking his lips. “Round two?” he brings up the remote still in his hand.

“N-no! No, no! Don’t you dare-“ you reach for the remote again, but he pulls it back behind him.

You chase after it, lunging towards him and end up getting right in his face.

“Benny!” You try again, but pause when you catch him staring at you, his face no more than a few inches away from yours. 

It may be the post-orgasm bliss or the awkward position you both found yourselves in, but you’ve never noticed how easy on the eyes your best friend is. He swallows hard as his eyes scan your face.

“Can… can I kiss you?"  he asks suddenly, leaning in and nudging your nose with his, testing the boundaries.

You lick your dry lips and swallow as you glance down at his mouth, seeing it slowly closing the distance. He ghosts his lips over yours, stopping short of actually putting it on yours, waiting for your permission. You answer his question by closing the gap, slotting your mouth over his.

He kisses back, gently at first, matching your energy. When you slip your tongue into his mouth, he cups your face and returns the gesture. You’re both now devouring each other as he turns his body towards you to get into a more comfortable position, adjusting himself to accommodate the bulge in his jeans.

You both continue to make out with more urgency. Benny’s hands start cautiously exploring your body, placing a hand on your waist at first. It wanders down to your hip and he gives it a squeeze. Your own hands start roaming Benny’s body, touching his hard chest first. His warmth is welcoming, making you twist your body and lean into him. Feeling bold, Benny’s hand wanders to your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside, but far from your wet patch. 

“Can I touch you down there?” He mumbles between kisses while moving his mouth to the side of your face and down your neck.

“Wha-“ You let out a loud sigh when you feel his soft wet tongue on the side of your neck, shivering when he grazes a sensitive spot.

“Can I touch you down there?” Ben repeats, pulling back, his lust-filled eyes looking down into yours.

His fingers barely scrapes your inner thigh, but you feel the jolt of his touch travel up to where the vibrator is still sitting.

“Please?” He squeaks out as his fingers travel up higher and his breathing gets heavier, matching yours.

Even though the vibrator isn’t on, it still brushes against your clit every time you shift and it’s only making you want Benny more, to help you get some relief. Even though you’ve already cum, you are hornier than ever right now.

You simply nod before capturing his mouth again. You moan into his mouth when you feel his hand cupping you, rubbing small slow circles with his fingers. Your hips twitch when he drags his middle finger up and down the thick seam of your pants that’s pressing directly down the center of the outer part of the vibrator which is sitting directly on your clit. He’s barely putting any pressure, but you’re hypersensitive right now and it feels like torture. 

Now impatient, you start undoing your pants, trying to quickly get them off. You break the kiss to take a few seconds to focus on ridding your jeans. Benny watches you as he palms himself again, touching himself like he did with you. When you finally get your jeans off, tossing it over the couch, you reach into your underwear to remove the bane of your current existence - the vibrator. Without much effort, the vibrator basically falls out of you. It is drenched in your arousal, a thin sticky string still connects you to it. 

It made an audible noise when it slipped out of you, as did Benny. Before you can discard the very used toy, Benny’s hand is back on you, his fingertips teasing the band of your underwear. He keeps dipping further and discovers how slick you really are.

"Jeeeeesus Christ, you weren't kidding. That shit got you so fucking wet," he comments while teasing your opening, slowly dipping his fingertip in, putting light pressure against it but it took no effort to penetrate you.

An audible squelch can be heard when he enters a second finger. You moan, feeling his thick fingers filling you and stroking you inside. He’s definitely reaching places the vibrator couldn’t. He hums watching your face distort when he pushes in further.

Your hand grips his strong forearm, feeling his veins raised and his muscles flexing underneath your palms as he pumps his long fingers in and out of you. The tip of his tongue darts out and licks the corner by his upper lip as he starts curling his fingers up, reaching for that soft spongy spot at the roof of your vagina. Your legs open up wider for him as his fingertips rub your g-spot over and over again. Your senses are heightened watching him watching you with darkened eyes. His thumb starts rubbing your clit as he massages your g-spot and it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to peak. You rock your hips against his fingers as your muscles continually clench and release over his fingers. 

"Holy sh-shit," you tremble, feeling the aftershocks.

He pulls his fingers out, dragging them over your clit along the way, making your body twitch at the sensitivity. 

“I think I made you cum faster than that toy did,” he jokes.

You crack a half smile but you don’t have the brain power to conjure up a verbal response. After a shared moment, he leans in to give you a quick peck on your lips. As he gets up off the couch, Benny takes his cap off to adjust the position of it, switching it backwards before settling between your legs. 

The front of your thin cotton panties are completely drenched through. He can see your outline as the damp fabric clings to your puffy lips. 

“Can I taste you?” 

His puppy eyes peek up from between your legs. Your brain is mush so you simply nod.

He bunches the top of your underwear in his hand and yanks it up, causing it to brush across your clit. Your hips twitch and as he continues to rub the fabric over you, seeing your reaction to it and drawing out the tease. You moan and gyrate your hips when he puts his mouth between your legs over your underwear.  He laps up your juices, licking and sucking as he continues to tug at your panties taut against your dripping cunt, putting pressure on your sensitive nub.

"Ben…" you pant as you push his cap off and run your fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair.

His scruff brushes the insides of your thigh as he continues to eat you out. You gasp when you feel the tip of his tongue breaching your opening, forcing your underwear aside and exposing your core. He puts more pressure with his tongue, slipping in deeper inside you and tasting you. Your hips start rocking against his face, but his tongue can only go so far. He shifts his attention to the swollen bud a little higher, scrunching your panties aside. He circles your clit with the tip before pressing the flat of his tongue and then his mouth over it, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks hard. Your thighs clamp around his head and his eyes focus on your face as his tongue continues to play your clit like a fiddle. He grips your hips and holds you down.

“F-fuck…” your breathing becomes irregular as your orgasm builds.

With his mouth still attached to you, he slips his finger inside you to try to find that spot again. You thrust against his face when you feel your third release breaching. Benny intensifies his sucking and fingering, feeling you clench around him. You cry out when the dam breaks and you convulse around him. He doesn’t stop until you still. As you’re coming down from your high, body slouched from being spent, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean.

“So you wanna try that other toy now to see how it compares to the real thing?” He asks as he stands up and wipes his mouth.

He was right about him not needing any help in the bedroom department. You can barely form words right now. Never in a million years would you think your best friend can eat pussy like an expert. Taking from his brother who he regularly competes with, he always strives to be the best in everything he does, but this is on a whole different level. And now he wants to use another toy on you? You don’t think anything can top what he just did to you.

"W-what?" you ask cluelessly, still recovering the most mind blowing oral sex you have ever received. 

Your eyes follow him as he reaches for the suction toy to show you. He tries to figure out how to turn it on as he kneels down, returning between your legs.

"You gotta help me out here--"

He's suddenly interrupted when you grab his face and smash your lips against his, tasting yourself. He abandons the toy somewhere and moves up to the couch next to you. You reposition yourself to straddle his lap as you continue to make out. As your hands wander down to the buttons of his jeans, he grabs your ass, squeezing them in his large hands. 

When you successfully get his jeans undone, he lifts his hips and helps you pull down his bottoms until he springs free. You look down and reach for his thick cock, warm and soft to the touch. You jerk him as he’s already hard as a rock. Your thumb brushes the underside of his head.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Now it’s your turn to torture him. You slide off his lap and on to the floor, kneeling between his knees. Once in a comfortable position, you grab his length, licking a trail from the base to the tip, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When you get to the top, you wrap your lips around him, wetting the head a bit before inching down to taste the rest of him. Your tongue swirls around his smooth and salty skin, lubricating him as you bob up and down.

“Shhhhit…” He throws his head back against the couch.

Feeling frisky, you try to deep throat him and he grasps within arms reach whatever he can as he groans. He looks over when a hand grabs something unfamiliar to him. It’s the vibrator and an idea comes to his mind.

“Wait,” he reluctantly stops you.

You pause and see him holding up the vibrator.

“Put this on while you suck me. I think it’ll be fun.”

You look at the vibrator for a moment and then back at him.

“I promise I won’t put it so high,” he reassures you.

“Fine,” you agree and you take it from him and slip it inside you, orienting it the right way. “You try anything and I’ll bite your dick off,” you warn, drawing a small chuckle out of Ben.

You get back into the position you were in before and put your mouth back on him. As you go back to sucking him, you yelp when Benny turns the vibrator on at a low speed. The noise you made sent a delightful vibration down his cock, making it twitch. He turns it up a notch and your hips move against the vibrator. You start moving up and down on him a little faster, stroking the base where your mouth can’t reach. You deepthroat him again until you gag, but you keep on going, sending your spit dripping down his cock and lubing him up.

“You look so fucking hot,” Benny pants.

His breathing is getting more labored. His hips jerk up and he places a hand on the back of your head. He’s not putting any pressure, but he fists your hair. He doesn’t pull on it, just moves with you as you fuck him with your mouth. You start quickening your pace feeling the vibrator getting stronger, trying to match it. Feeling the beginning of an orgasm forming, you rock your hips and suck him harder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you.

Not changing your rhythm, you watch him come undone as he pops in your mouth. He thrust into your face as his moans echo in the small space and grasps the remote in his hand, accidentally jumping it up another level, but it’s what you needed to push you over the edge. You grind against the toy as you moan with him still deep inside your mouth. He spills out of the corner of your mouth as his hips slow down.

When he stills, you suck him clean and swallow the load that remained in your mouth. You reach down to pull the vibrator off and toss it onto his lap. Benny jumps in his seat and shuts it off. You wipe the corner of your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you get up off your knees. He looks back at you with tired eyes as he tries to catch his breath, cock twitching. You squeal when he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap, careful with his half hard cock. You straddle his lap and he kisses you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth, tasting a bit of himself. The two of you lazily make out for a bit until Benny pulls back. You lick your lips and smile, looking down at him.

“We should start making this a regular thing, ya know. The toy testing,” Benny suggests, breaking the awkward silence and lightening the mood.

“Well, I do have a dildo I haven’t tried yet,” you half-joke.

He looks back at you with narrow eyes.

“You’re not putting that in my ass,” he states.

“Not what I was thinking,” you chuckle as you shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be double penetrated,” you explain.

Benny stares at you with a blank expression, but you see his semi twitch in your peripheral. 

“Gi-give me maybe fifteen minutes—“ he finally says, pointing to his softening cock.

“Whoa! Hold it there, cowboy,” you stop him. “Why don’t we just think on that? Besides, I don’t have any condoms or lube for that to happen.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” he shrugs. “I-I had a good time, if that’s what you were wonder—“

You silence him with a tender kiss before grabbing the vibrator to remove the batteries and toss them at him.

“I’m gonna clean up. Why don’t you put the fight on? I think It’s starting soon,” you tell him as you dismount him and grab your jeans off the floor while Benny pulls his bottoms back up.

“Look what the guys missed out on. Coulda had an orgy,” you joke.

“If everyone showed up, we’d be at a bar,” he points out, then swishes some beer inside his mouth.

“Fair. Okay, a Miller sandwich then,” you switch it up.

Benny chokes on his beer.

“Kidding!” You chuckle awkwardly. “Kinda. Sorry, you probably don’t wanna think about you and your brother fucking the same person at the same time,” you snort before finally heading to the bathroom.

When you get back, you find Benny putting his phone away and relaxing on the couch like he was before any of the sexy stuff had happened, with the TV on. The awkwardness returns. He hands you your beer as you sit down next to him, settling in. You both quietly watch the fight as it starts, but you steal glances at each other every now and then. At one point, you do a double take.

“Dude, are you smelling your fingers?” You look at him incredulously.

“What? I washed them, but I can still smell you.”

You grimace at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You smell good,” he shrugs. “It’s actually getting me hard again.”

You watch him adjust himself. The both of you stare each other down, trying to read each other until a knock on your door breaks the trance.

“Who the hell is that?” You ask, but Benny shrugs.

You get up to open the door and find the other Miller brother on the other side.

“Hey, sorry I’m late! I had trouble finding parking. Did the fight start already?”

You look back at him confused.

“Uh… are you gonna let me in?” Will asks. “I brought goodies.” He shows the case of beer and grocery store bag in his hand with a party sized bag of chips peeking out.

“Sorry, I just thought you weren’t coming,” you tell him while letting him in.

“I texted Benny telling him plans changed last minute. Did he not get it?”

“Uh, I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me anything.” You lead him into the living room where Benny almost looks surprised.

“Did you not tell her I’m coming?” Will asks his brother.

“Oh, sorry, forgot. I was uh, a little preoccupied,” he apologizes.

Will looks at both you and Benny suspiciously. 

“It smells… interesting in here,” he comments, his eyebrows furrow with curiosity.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Will. Let me take that from you.” You quickly change the subject, taking the bag and beer out of his hands.

“Wait-” Will starts.

“Get comfy. I’ll bring you back a cold beer,” you tell him before whisking away.

You stick the beer in the fridge and when you remove the party sized tortillas to pour some into a bowl, you notice some unexpected items in the bag. You take them out for a closer inspection and your eyes widen at the bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Maybe he bought these before his initial plans got changed.

You shrug, throw them back into the bag and return to the living room with a bowl of chips, cold beer and the grocery bag of personal items. When you walk into the living room, the brothers turn their attention to you, eyeing you like they’re expecting something other than the beer and chips. You look back at them suspiciously as they’re both very laxed and spread out on the couch on each end, leaving a space for you in between. As you walk over and settle in next to them, their gaze follows you.

“Here Will, I think these are yours,” you hand him a beer and his bag of items.

He takes them from you as he smirks.

“Thanks. So,” Will turns his body towards you. “Benny tells me you’re curious about some DP action.”

You almost drop the bowl of chips in your hands. Will is usually very reserved and diplomatic so you’re a bit shocked at how straight forward he is right now. You glare at your best friend who shrugs helplessly.

“I had to tell him what he missed out on.”

You glower your eyes at Benny, but then put two and two together, your focus now bouncing between the two brothers and realize that no one is probably going to watch this fight tonight.

#benny miller #triple frontier #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x f! reader #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #bff to lovers

[moongreenlight]

Insane reader my beloved. Literally my babygirl.

@katz-chow been ruminating on this one just for you <3

CW: Gore and violence

Reader who shows up late to their first meeting with the task force. Rolls up in their dark sedan with blacked-out windows and one too many dents on the front bumper wearing civvies instead of the uniform they were given and instructed to wear.

Reader who is a privately hired detective with a talent for interrogations. Not officially a member of the task force or the military because the tactics they use are far less than legal. More a secret weapon on retainer for when doing things by the book doesn’t do the trick.

Reader who gets on the good sides of the task force boys by being sugary sweet and barely hiding their true colors. Skins and bleaches the skulls of interrogations gone South and gives them to Ghost insisting they’re better than the costume store shit he’s got on now.

Gifts Price expensive cigars tucked between the fingers of a severed hand. Drops them off in large pink boxes with delicate ribbons and giggles when he asks a thousand questions about why and how and what the fuck he was supposed to do with this.

Tosses Gaz new knives on the field when they’ve landed a kill or just wrenched them out of someone’s stomach. They make a game out of chucking the gore-slicked blades at one another’s heads to see if they can dodge in time.

Starts playing dodgeball with Soap where they toss his less-stable bombs and unpinned grenades back and forth. Only stops after they’ve accidentally blown up the camp two missions in a row. (Also heavily rumored they have tramp stamps of each other’s names because they’re both too stubborn to back down from a dare but that’s just for vibes)

Reader who gets flown out on specialty missions where a hostage really refuses to talk and takes matters into their own hands. Sometimes hopping on radio when they’re in transit and requesting the force pulls extra men so they can play a live game of operation. They’ve been watching videos on the dark web and the first two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy from their military issued laptop so it’s like an 80% chance all the hostages live.

Reader who stops being allowed to train rookies because the first and only faux-deployment they led they told the group they ran out of rations three days in to a two week long training and they had to play rock-paper-scissors to create a bracket of people to eat first. The mission gets called early when Price gets word that there was actually a field amputation done. Reader doesn’t even apologize, just laughs their way through a barely reasonable explanation. I didn’t think they’d actually do it.

Reader who begs the boys to let them play kill, kiss, marry, kill in the middle of a boring interrogation and when they get told no or to focus on the task at hand, they throw such a fit that they end up sending a screwdriver through the eye of the person they’re supposed to be interrogating.

Reader who brings their own kit to interrogations. Lugs around pincers, rusted blades, rotary bone saws, and dull axes in a flamingo pink toolbox. Sets it up on a small table in front of the hostage and unboxes it like an influencer showing off PR.

Reader who also stops being able to run conditioning and drills with rookies because they pitted the privates against one another during a sparring session. Saying something about whoever could sheath a blade in the other first got a bonus check before tossing a few knives on the mat and walking away. Gaz had to run over and tell them you weren’t serious when he saw blood.

Reader who insists on being able to puppeteer the decapitated head of an enemy grunt they took down and reciting a few lines of Shakespeare to the boys. Dragging the mission out because they know as well as the boys do that everyone is on their timeline.

Reader who dances around hostages that have been zip tied to chairs and beat within an inch of their life. Singsonging threats and having the boys drag the limp bodies of their chain of command across the floor.

Reader who pouts when their victims pass out during questioning after a few of their fingers have been chopped off with a butcher’s knife. Huffs like they’re being put through a massive inconvenience and fishes smelling salts out of their toolkit to wake the poor sap back up.

#gn!reader but soooooooooo babygirl ykwim? #cod mw2 #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 2)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (2)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Jordan looked slightly better after the shower, however her demeanour was still down. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked even more slight in Lucy’s larger clothes. As she rounded the corner, YFN gave her a warm smile and Jordan took a seat next to her at the kitchen counter. Lucy slid a hot drink across to her and squeezed her hand for support.

Jordan held the cup in between her hands and looked at YFN. “Thank you for everything. Y…you…I didn’t realise how upset I’d beco…” Her lips quivered as she tried to stop herself from crying to no success. She became frustrated. “Argh I’m so sorry.” She buried her face in her hands again and YFN stood next to her, again wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and squeezing. Jordan leant into her. Lucy looked at YFN with wide, intrigued eyes. They’d only met an hour ago and Jordan was already so trusting of her. Who was she? What had they talked about?

“You’re okay, Jordan. You’re okay. Let it out, but don’t dwell, just like we said before, okay?”

Jordan nodded, her head moving against YFN’s torso as she hid her face. YFN took the tissue box extended to them by Lucy and put it in front of Jordan. She grabbed some tissues gratefully and blew her nose, leaning back. YFN took her seat again.

“Y…you’re my Australian guardian angel, honestly. I…” She looked at YFN with eyes that reflected her sadness. “Can…can you stay? Please?” She looked at Lucy. “Can she stay? She’s really nice I promise.”

Lucy gave her friend an amused smile and turn to YFN with a look of ‘I told you so.’ “Of course she can.”

Jordan looked at YFN. “I can stay for a little longer, but perhaps not the night. I am still a random stranger, after all.. and you two are officially the first people in this country I know!”

They both smiled at that, again the slight disappointment reflected on both of their faces. YFN wiped the rain that had dripped onto her face from her hair, and looked at Lucy, gesturing to the bathroom. “May I?”

Lucy watched her closely and held her stare with an interested one. “Of course – let me get some clothes for you.”

The shower was a much needed boost of warmth after the downpour. YFN wondered whether or not she should wash her hair, feeling unsure if it would be rude to use Lucy’s shampoo and conditioner. From what she could already tell of the woman, she decided she wouldn’t mind. Hopping out, she quickly dried and put on the clothes Lucy had given her, an unopened sports bra and underwear, along with some comfy grey sweatpants, a shirt and a hoody. Almost all of the sizes were just slightly too big, but she loved that. She could tell also that the hoody was not new, as it smelled like vanilla and bitter orange. Was that Lucy’s smell? Her stomach tingled with little butterflies, but she pushed aside the feeling. How was it possible to be attracted to someone after just knowing them for 10 minutes?

Jordan was on the couch when YFN came out. Lucy gave a smile, brushing past her as she headed to the bathroom to shower, and YFN joined Jordan on the couch, settling into the corner.

“How are you feeling, mate?”

Jordan laughed at the Australian term. “Better… Luce has been great, she’s made me feel a bit better about it all. Though, she is upset I didn’t let her know sooner.”

“Why didn’t you..?”

“It’s a bit difficult, to be fair. She plays in another country, and there’s no point worrying her from all the way over here. She can’t exactly pack up and leave to take care of me.”

YFN’s interest spiked at this a little. Lucy didn’t live in England? “No, but she can give you advice from afar and I’m sure she has people to contact here to make sure you’re safe and happy, you know? I bet you have a whole community of people around you. Shutting people out because you think it’s what’s best for them is not what you need right now. You need the support of your friendships.”

Jordan nodded slowly. YFN could tell it was not a comfortable thing for her – to say she needed help. Not out of pride, but purely out of worry she’d burden others.

They spoke a little more, and Lucy eventually joined them on the couch. She sat on the opposite corner of the couch, with Jordan between the two women. She laid her long, bronze legs out and stretched her arms over the back of couches, partially resting one hand on Jordan’s shoulder. Jordan reached up and placed her hand on Lucy’s without looking at her. They were definitely close friends.

“So how long are you staying here?” Jordan asked YFN.

Lucy pushed her transparent glasses up the bridge of her nose and answered for her. “2 weeks here, wasn’t it?”

YFN nodded, happy that Lucy had paid attention. “2 weeks in England, maybe, and then backpacking Europe. Any of those plans are subject to change though.”

“And you don’t know anyone here?”

“Nope. Never been here, and I do… I know you two.” She gave a cheeky grin.

Jordan laughed. “Isn’t that lonely?”

YFN got the impression that Jordan could sometimes be quite direct without realising or meaning it.

“Not at all! I’m old enough to enjoy my independence. No Contiki tours or raves or needing to worry about other people wanting to do things I don’t want to. I get to just explore what I want, when I want. And look! I met two footballers.” She gave a laugh and shook her head in disbelief.

Jordan turned to Lucy. “She’s never heard of either of us before.”

Lucy looked sceptical and then seemed to accept it. “You don’t follow football?”

“Ah, I do, of course! But my football is called AFL or ‘footy’ in Australia, and it’s an entirely different game, VERY brutal and fast paced.”

“I’ve heard of that but I’ve never watched any…”

“Oh please.. pull up AFL on YouTube. You won’t regret it.”

Lucy leaned across Jordan and handed her phone to YFN, their fingers brushing briefly, sending a shiver down her spine. YFN played AFL greatest hits for the two to watch. Their expressions of amazement and pain were hilarious to her as the AFL players crashed into each other, sacrificing their bodies for the ball. She explained the rules to them, and they both seemed quite interested and into it. At their request, she pulled up the latest game and they watched the highlights.

Lucy watched with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open. Jordan laughed and nudged YFN. “You’ve got a new ‘footy’ fan in that one!”

“How is that legal?! Are there rules?!” Lucy asked as she leant backward, cringing as a player was knocked unconscious.

“There are rules but as long as you’re going for the ball, it doesn’t matter if players get injured.” She laughed. “In a few states in Australia, they don’t even have grass. They play on gravel.”

They both turned to her with jaws hanging open. “WHAT.”

She laughed again, and the sound made Lucy smile. “If you two ever come over to Australia, please let me know so I can take you to a game. You need to see the MCG! It’s huge.”

They trio spent the rest of the night laughing and bonding over a surprising amount they had in common. On multiple occasions where Jordan had her head back, laughing hard, Lucy and YFN shared a look and large smiles seeing Jordan so happy. She eventually tired herself out and fell asleep, her little body curled up between the two. They left her like that for a while, her head leaning on Lucy’s thigh, and her legs draped across YFN, under a blanket the two shared. Lucy’s arm was still over the back of the couch, and YFN was very aware of how close it was. They watched some more TV in silence before Jordan started softly snoring. Lucy and YFN caught each other’s eye and both silently laughed. YFN tilted her head, a dimple appearing on one cheek and Lucy sharply inhaled at the sight. YFN gestured towards the door with a gentle expression. Lucy nodded and the two carefully extracted themselves from under Jordan. YFN’s only escape path was to move backwards and hoist herself over the back of the couch. The couch tipped slightly and she slipped, her knees still over the couch, Lucy running to catch her before the couch tipped and her head hit the ground. With one hand on the back of her neck and the other under her back, the two were laughing so hard and silently that their bodies were shaking.

With the support of Lucy almost under her, YFN let herself slide the rest of the way onto the ground. Jordan snored a little more loudly this time. YFN clutched her stomach with one hand, and Lucy’s arm with the other, trying her best not to laugh out loud. Lucy’s vibrating body was not helping her to control her amusement. They both made their way to the front door as quietly as they could, gasping for air.

“Wait a second.” Lucy left her at the door, which gave her time to order an Uber. Lucy returned with a bag and handed it to the woman. YFN looked confused, opening it to see her freshly washed and dried clothes.

“Oh!” She whispered, surprised. “Thank you!” She looked down at Lucy’s clothes on her. “I’ll get changed.” She went to move towards the bathroom.

“No..” Lucy put her arm out to stop her, her hand lightly touching her stomach. “Don’t worry. Maybe I’ll see you again, and I can get them back then? Otherwise, you can keep them.”

YFN smiled, that dimple appearing again. “Maybe.”

Lucy blinked and regained her composure, reaching out to take keys off the hook near the door. YFN reached out and lightly touched her hand. “No..” She said as Lucy just had. “I ordered an Uber. I think it’s best to stay with her right now… I’m glad she’s had a bit of fun tonight, but she really needs to not be alone any time soon.”

Lucy felt disappointed and tried to not show it, however she was blatantly aware that their hands were still touching. She couldn’t help as her eyes went from YFNs eyes, to her dimple, to her lips, and back up. YFN blushed slightly and pulled back her hand as she heard a car stop outside. She turned to look and confirm it was her Uber.

“I need to go.” She whispered.

“Thank you for…everything. Thank you for looking out for my friend. If you ever need me for anything, you know where I am.” Lucy smiled. She reached into her pocket to get the little piece of paper she’d written her number on but before she could, YFN gave her a soft hug. “Thanks, Lucy. You’re a really great friend to her, you know.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Lucy in the doorway wondering after her.

The next morning, YFN woke up with a disappointed feeling. She was disappointed that she didn’t have the number of Jordan, or Lucy. She was feeling worried about Jordan and wanted an update, even if they didn’t know each other well. She knew exactly what Jordan was feeling and it hurt her. Unfortunately, she’d let her pride get in the way and left quickly after hugging Lucy, not wanting them to get the impression that she was trying to get involved into their presumably famous footballer lives. She knew her best bet to see Jordan would probably be beach, but she also hoped she wouldn’t be there. She hoped Lucy had managed to get her back on a good path, and so she wouldn’t need to be alone at the beach. Regardless, YFN went about her day exploring. She took time to try some local foods, and spend time to relax by reading a book in a little park she came across. By sunset, she was back at the beach. Again, storm clouds loomed overhead which just made the sunset even prettier. She wriggled her toes so they were covered in the cool sand and thought about the squeaky white sand in Australia. She missed home already. But only for the scenery. YFN wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, watching the sun begin to disappear. She felt a hand on her back and jumped, her head pivoting as she locked onto a pair of amused green eyes. She could just fall into those and keep falling.

Lucy pushed the glasses up her nose. “May I join you?”

YFN smiled and nodded. They watched the sunset for a while in comfortable silence.

“How’s Jordan?”

Lucy sighed. “She’s doing okay. She’s with some more friends at the moment. I have a game on Friday night so she insisted I have my prep time. I’m surprised you two didn’t exchange numbers.”

“Me too – I’ve been worrying about her all day to be honest. She seems sweet.”

“The sweetest. And usually a little ball of happy energy too. Breaks my heart to see her upset.”

“I’m guessing you asked her where we met?”

Lucy gave a cheeky smile. “Of course. I wanted to see if you want to come to the game Friday night. I have an extra ticket in the family and friend section, and I think Jordan would love the company. My brother can be a bit…overwhelming and loud.”

YFN laughed, tilting her head back. Lucy couldn’t help but watch as she did. “So, nothing like you then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She grinned.

“Lucy, I’d love to go.” She beamed. “But I’m going to need someone to explain the rules to me.”

They watched the rest of the sunset talking and laughing, and ended up having to sprint to Lucy’s car as the rain began. Lucy drove YFN back to her hotel so she wouldn’t have to walk in the rain. She made sure to walk her up to her room and gave her both hers and Jordan’s numbers. “Jordan wanted you to have hers also. She wants to meet with you tomorrow I think… just text her anyways.”

“Oh, I will.” She looked up at Lucy again, beaming that she had made friends in a new country, and also excited at the prospect of her first football game. Her expression softened Lucy’s heart. “You can text or call me as well, for anything you need.”

“Won’t that be a distraction from training?”

“Yes… but a very welcome one.” She gave her cheeky, wide grin again.

“Can I ask you a random question?”

Lucy’s heart jumped. “Shoot.”

“I’m not really used to any accents around here yet.. what’s your accent?”

Lucy laughed. “Northumberland.” She said proudly. “Terrible innit?”

“No, I love it to be honest. You sort of just decide to lose letters along the way. It’s great.”

“Alright, settle down. I’ll see you on Friday then.”

“I’ll be the one with the Australian Flag.”

#lucy bronze #jordan nobbs #engwnt #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #woso soccer #lionesses #womens football #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine

[celtic-crossbow]

I may be opening a can of worms here but why are people so bent out of shape over someone writing Daryl as a dom? I’ve seen rants all over the place today. Calling people’s works shitty.

It’s fanfiction. Dude doesn’t even get sexual on the show, so how do you know what he would or would not be? Maybe he’s asexual? Who knows? I write him as a dom, sub, and switch. I’ve also written him as asexual because that’s where I’m at. Regardless, who cares? Stop reading if you don’t like it.

I get not having a lot to choose from if you identify a certain way. But some authors don’t feel comfortable writing aspects they don’t understand. Some just don’t want to write him a certain way. Even the people that are complaining that he’s not a dom have the right to vent that they don’t see him that way and to write him however they choose. What’s not cool is putting down the work of others just because it doesn’t fit your prerogative.

The point is to let people write what they like and/or are comfortable with. That’s the fun of it. You make the story. Ugh, humans get on my nerves.

I will hop off my soap box now. /rant

Here, have this quote from Norman. I think it really leaves things open for interpretation.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #I dislike people #rant #get over it

[rawmeknockout]

Request

Oh please more Whirl! Maybe with Seeker reader, I feel like even if his partner is more level headed he'd be able to convince them to do batshit things like screwing in the air or being his alibi for things. But also he's so fucking damaged and I want to hold him to my chest and kiss him.

It was just a passing question, one you didn't think about too much at first. Rodimus had asked you how things were going between you and Whirl, a polite question as he leaned too far back in the Captain's chair. It was dangerously close to dumping him out on the floor. And it was... Normal. Everything was normal between you two. It wasn't until you were walking down the corridor after your shift that you began to think about what normal was now. You hadn't even thought about the implication that it was "You and Whirl". The two of you never really established that there was a combination of your lives, although that didn't mean that wasn't what others picked up.

And perhaps there didn't need to be any clarification. Clearly others saw you two as a package deal, and, when you thought about it, that was how your situation had developed, right? You two were never truly separated, even when you were assigned separate tasks. Even when you spent hours, even days, apart, the end was the same. You went back to the same habsuite, the same routine, as usual. One that involved you and Whirl: intimately, familiarly.

How were things going? It's good. It's stable. It's you and Whirl. Things you wouldn't have attributed to the frenzied mech before. Everything used to be so different, back when you didn't have an inkling of a life where Whirl took part. He has pulled you into crazy shit, has driven you insane more times than you can count, has had you screaming at him until you felt light-headed over the careless way he'll throw himself into danger. Even coaxed you into flight-frame interface (which does not feel nearly as scandalous as it used to). At the same time, he's clearly mellowed out. Shown you how a mech like him can settle down, has shown you how you could settle down. He still throws himself into the heat of battle, longs for any chance he can get to feel the crunch of metal under his claws, but he doesn't aimlessly act out anymore. Doesn't pick fights where it's not warranted. Doesn't say the first thing that he knows will get a rise out of someone.

Where you used to dream of adventure, of the next chance you could hop on a ship headed for nowhere, of any chance where you could get away from your nuisance of a roommate, now you can only think of getting off work and returning to the comfort of your habsuite. You had once wanted to hold Cybertron in the palm of your hand, as many Seekers do, lead your own platoon of battle-hungry Autobots. That person feels unrecognizable to you.

You're stopped at your door before you even know it, having spent the whole walk lost in thoughts of yesterday, and the passcode is nothing but a secondary thought. As familiar as the back of your hands. Whirl is hunched over his desk, tinkering with an Earth toy that jingles with a broken music-box. His love of fiddling with clocks has led him to seeking out any odd piece of Earth tech he can get his claws on, the tiny mechanics so alike to the inner workings of what he was already familiar with. It took just one brush with some half broken contraption an alien vendor was hawking to spur a new hobby for Whirl. He's good at it. Bringing human technology back to life as if it were a beloved treasure. Even out in the deepest parts of space, there is the jingling of human music that Whirl is able to expertly lift from the brink of being lost.

These broken mechanisms shouldn't sell for as much as some of the vendors think they should, but you can never say no to Whirl's desires.

You can't imagine living any other way.

You lean over him, arms winding around his thin neck, to place a soft kiss on the top of his glowing optic. You feel the scrunched brow plates unfurl under your touch. Your wings flicker with your laughter.

Life with Whirl is good.

#asks #txt #transformers #reader insert #reader imagine #transformers idw #tf idw #transformers mtmte #tf mtmte #whirl #tf whirl #mtmte whirl #idw whirl

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Hi!!

Can you write something related to Matt? I'm soooo obsessed with him lately.

Not a specific request, just Matt 🥺

Thank you!!!!

Author’s Note: Someone sent in two requests in one ask and since this wonderful anon didn’t specify what they wanted their request regarding Matt to be about, I am responding to the Matt portion of that double prompt through this request! Below is the original request - I am still working on the Ruffilo request! So stay tuned for that!

Also - this is my first time writing a story with smut. So any and all feedback is very much appreciated.

From Anonymous:

Pls pls pls write smut/fluff with Matt and something angst/smut with Ruffilo? Like with Matt and slow burn friends to lovers and with Nick enemies to lovers?

Check out my other writings here: MASTERLIST

The Shirt

The blazing rays of the morning sun were already bearing down on Olivia’s shoulders as she unloaded the bags of fertilizer and potting soil out of the trunk of her RAV4. Even at 7am, Texas in the middle of July was scorching and that heat would take a bite out of you really quick if you weren’t careful. 

As she was stacking the last bag on top of the pile she had made on the corner of her driveway, a truck drove up onto the concrete slab and parked next to her. The bed of the truck was loaded down with various gardening tools, cuts of lumber, and a number of plants nestled in their temporary plastic pots. 

Matt Dierkes, one of Olivia’s oldest friends, emerged from the driver’s side, his long hair covered by one of his signature ballcaps. He wore an old Bloodline tee with the sleeves cut off and a pair of athletic shorts with the name of their high school printed on them. 

Matt had the next three months off before his next set of shows with the guys and had agreed to help Olivia build her own garden and green space in her backyard. Gardening was a hobby he had picked up during the pandemic when the music industry shut down touring wise so she naturally turned to her best friend for help when deciding to start her own. 

Shortly after he stepped out of the vehicle a little blonde blur of fur hopped out as well and bolted toward where Olivia stood. She stopped what she was doing and scooped Matt’s yorkie Boo up into her arms and hugged him to her chest as he licked her face in greeting. 

She let out a laugh in response and lowered herself into a criss-cross sitting position on  the ground to continue playing with her friend’s furry child. Matt lowered the tailgate of his truck and paused, peaking around the truck to watch his best friend play with his dog. The view made him smile. Two of his favorites in one place.

They soon moved everything, including Boo, to the fenced in backyard and quickly got to work. The plan was to get as much done in one day as they could by sundown and then finish whatever was left tomorrow. The reward at the end of the project was a pair of tomahawk steaks and a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper that sat on the top shelf inside Olivia’s refrigerator. 

They finally took a break a little after noon. They had gotten the ground cleared and the three raised garden boxes built and lined with a weed barrier. Now, they laid down on the cool concrete of Olivia’s covered back porch. Olivia with a couple of pillows from one of the lounge chairs nestled under her head, Matt’s with his head propped up on the side of Olivia’s stomach, hat off, now covering his face. 

The ceiling centered above them steadily pushed warm air down over their bodies. Boo lay curled up on the elevated cooling dog bed that she bought specifically for him that she placed next to the door while they worked. 

The mixture of warm air and cool concrete made it tempting to drift off to sleep and take a nap right then and there. One of her Spotify playlists shuffled out various songs through the bluetooth speaker sitting on the edge of the porch. She hummed along to lyrics of an A Day To Remember song and found herself absentmindedly playing with the hair on Matt’s now uncovered head. She loved his long hair and dreaded the day he ever decided to cut it. 

“Hmmm, if you keep that up I am going to end up falling asleep.” Matt commented, voice partially muffled by the hat. 

He moved the hat slightly, peaking to look over at her with a smile. Her eyes were closed and a content smile adorned her face as she continued to fiddle with his light brown locks. He reached up with his right hand and poked her side with his thumb, knowing fully well how ticklish she was. 

She squirmed and tried to swat it away with the hand not currently occupied with his hair. He did it again and when she tried to swat at his hand, he grabbed it and pulled it toward him, trapping it in his own against his chest. She let out a laugh. 

“Matthew, if you wanted to hold my hand you could have just said so.” she said, now looking down at him with a smirk. 

He rolled his eyes, jokingly flipped her the bird before throwing the hat back over his face. Her hand remained in place on his chest, his right hand draped over it. She made no effort to move it. They fell back into a comfortable silence. She continued to play with his hair and eventually felt him start drawing slow gentle circles with his thumb against the back of her other hand. They remained that way until their stomachs signaled it was time to eat lunch and get back to work. 

By the end of the day, all three garden boxes were full of the proper ratios of soil, fertilizer, and mulch along with strategically placed irrigation hoses. Pre-grown sprouts had been transplanted from their plastic pots along with regular seeds into neatly organized and labeled rows in each box. In a few weeks Olivia would have tomatoes, various peppers, carrots, asparagus, sweet corn, and potatoes growing tall and green in her garden. 

They both agreed that it was too late and they were too tired, sweaty, and partially sunburnt to bother cooking and decided to hold off on the celebration dinner until the next afternoon. After loading the various gardening and power tools back into the bed of his truck, Matt turned and watched Olivia walk over with Boo in her arms. 

“Can’t he just stay here tonight since you’re coming back tomorrow anyway?” She asked, not wanting to part with the pint sized pup that she had come to adore almost as much as his owner over the years. 

“Liv, are you trying to steal my dog from me?” He accused, stepping closer to scratch the little dog's head before looking down at his much shorter friend with a smile. 

“I don’t have to try, he likes being here,” she defends. 

Yeah, he’s not the only one, Matt thought

“and besides, he lives here when you’re on tour and now that you’re home I miss him.” 

“Oh, so what you’re saying is you can’t wait for me to leave again.” He teases. 

“No, I’m saying that now that you’re home, I miss having Boo around.”

“So you don’t miss me when I’m on tour, but you miss my dog?” He asks. 

“I’m going to smack you,” she threatens, “you know what I meant asshole”

“Boo, are you going to let her talk to your dad that way?” he asks with a sarcastic gasp. 

“Boo, If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your dad is a little jealous.” She states, kissing the top of the dog's head, smirking at her friend. Blue eyes glowing with a hint of mischief. 

He rolls his eyes. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

“Lies,” She states matter of factly. “So can he stay?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” he replies with a sigh. 

Everyone who knew Matt knew that he was certainly not a pushover. Quite the opposite in fact. He could be an outright ass sometimes. But there was just something about Olivia that made it hard to say no, even when they were younger. He chalked it up to her just being very persuasive and good at making a convincing argument. But as they had gotten older, he knew it was because he loved seeing the way her eyes lit up with excitement when she was happy. He liked being the one that made her happy. 

When he got home, he headed straight to the shower, wanting to rinse away all the sweat and dirt that had built up over the course of the day. From the shower he lazily went through the rest of his bedtime routine before seeking refuge under the comforter. 

Despite how much his body ached and longed for rest. His mind would not allow sleep to take hold. After a while he rolled over onto his back with a frustrated sigh and stared up at the ceiling fan. His bed was noticeably colder without Boo curled up next to him. His house was too quiet. It felt odd and out of place. Like something was missing aside from the obvious absence of man’s best friend. 

He used to love the isolation being home provided after months of time spent on cramped tour buses and in shared hotel rooms, but now he was dreading the solitude. 

Before his mind could ponder further he heard a familiar notification chime from his phone. He rolled over and grabbed the device off the nightstand, the light from the screen cutting through the darkness. 

Olivia: New Text Message

He unlocked his phone and was greeted by a photo of Boo in a bathtub, hair spiked up in different directions by the shampoo lathered in his hair. The message underneath read:

Olivia: Someone knocked over the trashcan while I was taking a shower and got caught red pawed with peanut butter all over him. 🙃

The message made him smile in amusement. Boo was notorious for knocking over and digging through the garbage if you didn’t keep the trash can secured in some fashion. He had done it many times when Matt had originally moved into his own place before he finally got a heavy metal can with a push pedal lid that couldn’t be knocked over.

Before he could type out a reply another photo popped up. This one showed Boo sitting, with freshly dried fur, looking up at Olivia through the mirror on the countertop next to the sink in her bathroom. The reflection showed Olivia smiling down at her phone screen behind him as she snapped the picture, hair dryer up and ready in her opposite hand. 

She was wearing an oversized t-shirt, which was practically a dress on her short frame. Not just any t-shirt. His t-shirt. His favorite Lord of the Rings t-shirt that he thought he accidentally lost. 

But there is was, and fuck did she look good in it. 

Olivia: Pupdate: Back to his clean handsome self! 😋

He zoomed in to see that she had gathered the pups hair up into a hair tie causing the free hair to stick up like a troll doll. His smile grew wider as he typed back a reply. 

Matt: You gave my dog a ponytail? And is that my shirt? 🤨

Olivia: Yeah! You guys match now! And I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lol 🤭

Matt: 🙄

Olivia: He looks cute and you know it! 🖕

Matt: So what you're saying is you think I look cute? And stop trying to avoid the question. 🤔

Olivia: I say you match and that's all you got out of that? 🙄

Matt: You didn’t say no. 😏

Olivia: 🤐

Matt: I’m taking that as a yes until you say otherwise and I want my shirt back. 

“Boo, I think your dad is flirting with me” Olivia said to the pup curled up under her arm, big brown eyes looking at her. 

Albeit she was flirting back, but they were both arguably kinda bad at it. 

Olivia: I plead the fifth and if you want it back you’ll have to come and take it. 

Matt: That can be arranged. 

Oh shit, maybe not as bad at it as she thought. 

Olivia: You’d like that wouldn’t you? 

Well, no turning back now. They’ve officially crossed into a territory outside of the realm of just friends. 

Three little text dots popped up at the bottom and then went away. 

Shit Shit Shit. 

She felt doubt start to form like a weight in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she read the messages wrong. Maybe he wasn’t flirting? 

Twenty minutes passed with no reply. She wanted to scream, and cry, and throw up all at the exact same time. Olivia was genuinely worried that she had just royally fucked up her friendship. 

She was anxiously pacing around her room, waiting for Matt to reply, when she heard her doorbell ring from downstairs. She looked over at the clock on her nightstand. It read 11:47pm. 

Boo let out a growl at the new noise. She tried to soothe the dog before leaving him secured inside her bedroom and headed downstairs to see who the hell was ringing her doorbell in the middle of the night. She was mentally chastising herself for not investing in one of those ring doorbell cameras that she always said she was going to invest in when she moved in two years prior. 

She stood on her tip toes and looked through the peephole. She let out a slight gasp by who she saw on the other side before quickly unlocking and opening the door. There on the other side of the threshold was Matt with a very serious look on his face, his brown eyes looked darker than usual. They both said nothing, a noticeable tension filled the air as she pulled the door open wider, allowing him room to step inside. She quickly closed the door behind him and re-secured the locks. 

“Matt, wha…” she started to ask, turning around to face him. 

“Shut up.” he interjected, stepping forward and connecting their lips in a searing kiss. 

They stood like this for a moment, before he took another step and the cool wood of her front door against her back caused her to part her lips in a gasp, allowing his tongue to slip inside. His hands left her face and traveled down the seam of her shirt. His shirt. Before he reached behind her thighs and lifted her up, legs wrapping around his center, as he carried them over to the couch across the room. 

That tension felt before snapped as hands found skin and clothing met the floor piece by piece. She didn’t have time to feel shy. The desire of it all was dizzying and they both craved more. He rolled her off his lap to where she laid across the couch and he began to plant kisses along her throat. Over her breast. Down her stomach. Watching her react with each touch as he made his way to her core. 

He looked up at her as he pressed gentle kisses against her inner thigh, silently asking permission to continue. She nodded and he didn’t hesitate. Her hand quickly found its way into his hair as his tongue worked deeper. Her head snapped back into the couch pillow as he gently introduced his fingers to her folds, falling into a steady rhythm as his mouth flicked over her clit. She tried to move her hips to match his thrusts but he firmly held her in place by snaking his free arm around her thigh. 

She let out a moan as she felt herself growing closer and closer to climax. The sounds of her moans and how she breathlessly whispered his name were like music and he was desperate to hear more. She looked down at him, his eyes borderline pitch black with lust. Their gaze remained locked as she felt her body coil tighter until it snapped and she screamed out his name in pleasure. Writhing beneath him as he continued to work his fingers in and out, while kissing the overstimulated bud. 

The sound of her voice as she fell apart made his dick twitch. She whimpered slightly at the absence as he made his way back up her body and attaching her lips to his in another deep kiss. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, her pupils blown with ecstasy. 

“Are you sure about this?” He said, seeking consent to continue. 

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into another breathtaking kiss. 

“Fuck, yes.” She breathed against his lips. 

She gripped his arms, nail leaving crescent moon indentions on the skin as he pushed inside of her. Sweat began to pool at the small of his back as she rolled her hips up to meet him, their bodies falling into a steady rhythm.

He placed his forehead against hers, eyes locked as he thrusts harder, deeper. Both chasing their high together. Olivia's eyes flutter closed as the pleasure builds closer and closer. 

“Look at me!” Matt demands. God the way he said that unlocked something in her. 

Her eyes snap back open to meet his. He picks up his pace with a grunt, alternating between deep full hilt thrusts and shallow ones that leaves her needing more. 

“Fuck, Liv, you’re doing so good for me.” He praises between his own moans. 

Her hands snake deeper into his mane of hair as they push closer and closer to the breaking point. He tries to hide his moan in another deep kiss. 

“Matt….” She whines, “so close..”

“That’s it, babygirl.” He praises, “cum for me, let me hear that pretty voice.”

She cried out his name in pleasure, star bursts dotting in her vision as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She writhed with overstimulation as he chased his own climax shortly after. He collapsed on her chest, both of them trying to calm their ragged breathing. 

Matt quickly got up and retrieved a wet washcloth from the half bath and cleaned both of them up before laying back down and pulling Olivia on top of him along with the decorative blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. She nestled her face into the crux of his neck, he rested his chin on top of her head. 

“Matt?” Olivia asks, voice muffled by how she was laying. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re still not getting the shirt back.” She says. 

He lets out a laugh. 

“Fair enough,” he replies, kissing her forehead, “It looks better on you anyways.”

#matt dierkes #matt dierkes smut #matt dierkes fanfic #matt dierkes x reader #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #matt dierkes x ofc #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens cult #bad omens x reader #bad omens x ofc #badomens #badomenscult #author: thatchickwiththecamera

[leafofkudzu]

Hey there! I hope everyone's back-to-school season has been going well, whatever that entails for them! The first Saturday of October is fast approaching, which means it's time for another art party hosted by my build, Verdant Shield [VS]! There was no poll for this one because I'm testing out a few suggested locations, the first of which is Vigil Keep!

For those who have no idea what these art parties are, they're an idea carried over from Final Fantasy XIV - in-game get-togethers for artists/writers/creatives of all types to hang out, chat, and create together! Grab your character of choice and dress them up, then find someone else whose look inspires you, and create! Afterwards, everyone posts their creations in a shared tag (ours is #VSArtParty) so others can see, interact, and share! Tl;dr - the 'goal' of an art party isn't to be drawn, but to draw others, and share with the community!

Details for location and /squadjoin information below the cut!

Location Details:

One of the most easily-accessible Order Headquarters, Vigil Keep is full of big open areas, but there's one specific spot just a bit Northwest of Vigil Keep Waypoint that's caught my eye as a staging area, as follows:

It's nice and open, but also has a lot of little walls and boxes and scaffolding to climb around on if you're the kind of person who likes to lurk. And also, it's completely F2P accessible and enemy-free! Also, though you're by no means obligated to do so, if you're indecisive about which character to bring to these, you should consider bringing your Vigil-affiliated ones! Thinking about this has made me realize that all mine are on an alt account though.... ;-;

Time & Squad Details:

As always, we'll be having 2 parties - one on EU servers and one on NA servers - with an hour break in between. People with accounts in both regions do tend to hop immediately from one to the other though, so don't be afraid to show up early!

The first party will be on EU servers and begin at 9pm Central European Summer Time (aka 3pm Eastern Daylight Time or 5 hours before in-game reset). I’ll be hosting on my EU alt account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Ashelin Falstaff for an invite.

The second party will be on NA servers and begin at 7pm Eastern Daylight Time (aka 1am Central European Summer Time or 1 hour before in-game reset). This one I’ll be hosting on my main account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Yui Kaiho for an invite.

Closing Words:

Next few parties will likely be me experimenting with new locations, so if you have suggestions for places to try out feel free to let me know! Also, there's a non-zero chance that next month's party will be Halloween-themed, so prepare yourselves for that!

Thank you so much to every person who comes out to these events, both regulars and those just checking things out are what make these so special and memorable! Here's to another fun party - I'll see you all next week! ♥

#i wanted to post this a little earlier in the day but work's been extra busy lately #but inventory day has come and gone and i am more or less free to relax now lol #gw2 #guild wars 2 #obnoxious tourist simulator #vsartparty #📢🎨

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Part 19.5 During the Voyage to Fishman Island (Not before Y/N gets the chance to say ‘Goodbye’ to her Grandpa Ray) with helping Brother Sanji with his Nosebleeds, a battle against a Giant Octopus, the creepy Caribou (Who snuck on board), getting separated from Luffy, Zoro and Sanji until they come back with Surume, escaping from the Flying Dutchman, and saving a big Shark they finally made it to Fishman Island

However they came across some trouble with some Fishmen demanding that they submit themselves to them (With orders that Luffy and Y/N come with them) only to escape with Franky using the final Coup de Burst! (Which everyone gets separated and everything turns black)

Next Request is about Fishman Island

-You squealed in delight as Rayleigh spun you around, holding you up, as he came to see you all off, wanting to make sure you were all able to leave safely.

-You were so happy, being able to see your Grandpa Ray after two years, hugging him close when he hopped onto the ship and you ran to him, “Grandpa!”

-Rayleigh loved being a grandpa to you, just being called grandpa made him so unbelievably happy, and seeing you happy made Luffy, Ace, and the others all happy.

-Rayleigh ruffled your hair gently, minding your horn, “Keep an eye on everyone Y/N, and I’ll come visit you later on, okay?” you beamed up at him, looking elated to have a job and you grinned, “I’ll do my best grandpa!” He just chuckled and he saw you all off, watching the ship descend beneath the ocean.

-You were in awe, looking around you, seeing the mangroves and all the life beneath the ocean, all the fish and plants, the sun shining down, making it look like it was sparkling all around you.

-Ace, Sanji, and Usopp had all quickly died at your cuteness while Robin and Nami were taking photos, wanting to record this beautiful moment, seeing you so happy.

-Sanji was bawling, ugly crying about ten minutes later, when everyone was discussing Fishman Island, as he was excited about mermaids, giving himself a massive nosebleed, something Chopper was scolding him for, but you were holding a tissue box, your large eyes looking up at him, concerned for him, “Are you okay, big brother?” You were so sweet and caring! How did they get someone as perfect as you?!

-You heard a loud sound as Nami shouted out, “Heads up!” and all attention went to a massive octopus, a kraken, who was surrounded by hundreds of broken ships and his eyes were now set on Sunny.

-You were hugging Chopper, the both of you screaming out in fear, but Luffy easily took care of it, chasing it away before they discussed diving to the ships below, as there could be good treasure.

-Luffy, Sanji, and Zoro suited up to go while you were pouting lightly, because you wanted to go to, being hugged by Usopp who was smiling, “Once we’re in a safer area, we’ll see about taking you diving as well.” You were quick to blind Usopp with your bright sparkling eyes, looking elated.

-Ace helped cheer you up, bringing you along to be on watch duty, waiting for the others to arrive back, “You can help me watch out for Luffy and the others.” You loved it when you got jobs, agreeing.

-When another ship sailed by, also in a bubble coat, you saw a creepy looking man who was trying to size up the crew before he saw Ace- then he saw you.

-Caribou, after he introduced himself, demanding that your crew hand you over, if they didn’t want to get hurt, and Ace was quick to send you back to Nami as his flames surrounded him, fully ready for a fight.

-A giant tentacle then shot up, easily destroying Caribou’s ship, much to everyone’s shock before you turned, seeing Luffy riding on the giant octopus from before, making your eyes wide.

-The octopus looked so friendly now as Luffy introduced him as Surume, his newest friend, as Surume called out happily, stretching a tentacle to you while Robin was holding you, letting you touch the octopus as you beamed, “It’s nice to meet you Surume- will you be my friend too?” Sumure quickly sank, overwhelmed with cuteness which caused laughter to fill the ship before he helped the ship move on.

-You were playing with Luffy and Ace, blowing bubbles, something Franky gave you, before you heard Franky call out, “Y/N!” you turned and your eyes went wide, finding a new person, but he looked like he was made of mud, but he was charging towards you, “You’re mine!!”

-Your arms curled up in fear, freezing, before he was quickly dealt with, being knocked out by Luffy with ease and you ran to Zoro, crawling into his arms after he kneeled, shielding you as they quickly locked Caribou into a barrel, sealing it so he couldn’t get out.

-You didn’t like him, he was scary and icky looking, and he gave you bad feelings, like Ov- Him. Only Zoro noticed your shudder of fear, but remained silent, as he knew you were safe.

-Robin noticed that you were a bit quieter after Caribou tried to attack you, and she took you inside, to let you rest a bit, holding you close, stroking your hair. She knew there was something there, an unknown fear- one that she wanted to keep you safe from.

-When the two of you came back out, your eyes were huge, seeing a giant shark, turning to Robin with large sparkly eyes, “I’ve never seen one so big before mama!” she just chuckled warmly, thinking you were adorable, “He is quite large- oh look Y/N.”

-She pointed and your eyes went wide, seeing Fishman Island in the distance, you were excited, as Nami said that you all might get to see Camie again and you beamed, “I miss Camie! And Hachi and Pappag too! I hope we can see them!”

-Smiles went around at your wish as you docked, seeing lots of Fishmen waiting at the dock, you looked excited, until you saw that they looked mad before you heard one of them shout, “Hand over Monkey D. Luffy and Y/N and the rest of you will walk away unharmed!!”

-Luffy quickly pulled you into his arms, making you calm down, as you knew you were safe with him as arguments broke out, your family saying they weren’t handing you over and you felt like a fight was going to break out.

-Franky then shouted, “Hang on everyone!” Luffy ducked down, keeping a hand on his hat as Franky used Coup De Burst, to get away from the Fishmen who were trying to board to take you away.

-There was a huge noise from the ship taking off and Luffy landed hard, and the force caused you to get ripped out of his arms and you hit the ground hard, being instantly knocked out.

#eri reader #luffy #nami #sanji #usopp #chopper #robin #franky #brook #silvers rayleigh #one piece