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gretavangroupie · 3 months

Text

Exposure

Word count: 11.3k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking. Smut: Kissing, Stripping, Photo Exhibitionism, Touching, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Oral M!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Oh! Didn't see you there! Happy February! Welcome to the very first installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy this first story in the set of four. We can't wait to share the rest with you! See you real soon!

You pull your jacket snug against your chest, your camera bag hanging heavy on your shoulder as you make the trek up to the front door of the house. You can hear music coming from the basement already, likely the bands warming up before the show starts. You sneak through the front door, breezing through the mostly empty house in search of the basement. Following the noise, you walk down the stairs and into a small swarm of people all bustling and busy trying to get things set up before the show. How you got roped into shooting a basement show on Valentine's day of all days is beyond you, although it’s not like you have anything better to do.

Your eyes search around for any sign of your friends but you know they’re probably either running late, which is not shocking, or busy unloading their gear outside. You typically never shoot events like this- well, this small, but a favor for your best friend was long overdue. You stand at a small table loading the film into your camera, her one begging request of her set being captured on film, about to be fulfilled. You look around for any other photographers but you see no one, and it’s then that you realize just how small of a gig this really is.

You did your best to blend in tonight, donning the industry standard of black, but realizing now that it almost wouldn’t have mattered what you wore. You kept it simple with a black long sleeve shirt, and a pair of black leather pants, adding a heeled boot to give yourself a little extra height behind the lens.

You grab an extra roll of film and shove it into your pants pocket before placing your camera bag beneath the stage for safe keeping. People are quickly starting to fill the small basement, and you’re thankful for this weeks’ cold snap, knowing that this basement would be sweltering otherwise. You pull your phone from your pocket checking for any signs of life from your friends, laughing as you see a ‘we’re running late’ text. Shaking your head you put your phone back in your pocket and start to check your settings, adjusting to the lowlight of the room.

The basement is fully packed at this point, the first band stepping on to the stage and starting things off with a blaring guitar intro. The lights dim even further, causing you to adjust your settings again, and you wonder if you need to grab your flash attachment. You feel a tap on your shoulder, a rush of nerves in your chest as you spin around to see who it could be.

“Are you shooting film?” A pair of dark brown eyes asks, a look of genuine curiosity painted across the irises.

You smile and hold up your camera, “Yeah, I am! How did you know?”

A smile sweeps across his face, his long dark hair hanging well past his shoulders, but partially obscured under a red beanie. His cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold outside, the alcohol in his system, or the weight of his cable knit sweater. “I’m a bit of a hobbyist. Specifically film. I recognized your camera.”

“You did? This thing is pretty old.” you say, pulling your hair from beneath your camera strap.

“Yeah, I have the same one. Mines the silver version though.” he says, leaning in closely so that you can hear him over the loud music.

You look up at him, and nod, leaning back in towards him as you respond. “Oh really? Does yours have the battery door issue?”

His hand lays softly against your shoulder as he leans in closer, ready to respond but your attention is ripped away as you see your friends in your peripheral.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, my friends just walked in and they are actually supposed to go on next.” you say holding up your camera to show your purpose of being here in the first place.

“You’re fine, go ahead.” he smiles, pulling away from you and taking a sip from his seltzer.

You send him a soft smile, taking a final look at him before turning to meet your friends. As you walk up to meet them you can’t help but to look over to where you were just standing, finding the mystery man gone. You scan the room as your friends talk at you, looking for any sight of him, but you’re snapped back to the present as they are called up to the stage.

With a hug from your best friend and a kiss on the cheek she darts up the small stairs with a smile. “Wish us luck! And make sure you get my good side!”

You make your way towards the front of the stage, checking your settings one more time as the band starts to play. Admittedly, they sound a lot better than they did the last time you saw them perform, and the crowd behind you really seems to be into them. You even notice a few people wearing their merch and wonder when that happened. Had you really been that absent?

You duck down as you work your way across the front of the stage, snapping photos of your friends as they play their hearts out. You quietly apologize to the people you block with your camera, taking a quick glance behind you with each step you take. About two songs into their set you’ve made your way to the opposite side of the stage, looking behind you only to catch a glance of your mystery guy, standing against the wall with his drink.

You try to pretend you didn’t see him, but it’s no use as you trip over an electrical cord and make a complete spectacle of yourself in the process. However, when you don't collide with the concrete of the basement floor and instead are met with a pair of warm steady hands, you feel a sigh of relief hoping that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see you trip after all. Turning to face your hero, you’re met with none other than your hobbyist.

A grin spreads across his face as he helps you to stand, one hand in his, and the other firmly planted on your camera.

“Falling for me so soon? At least tell me your name first…” he jokes, letting go of you as you steady yourself on your feet.

“Y/N…And thanks, I– guess they ran out of Gaff tape and I found the only cord not taped down.” you laugh.

He smiles and shakes his head in faux disgust, “Rule number one, always carry an extra roll in your gig box for the ladies. I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Well, Sam, thank you for not letting me fall in front of all of these people.” you laugh.

“Oh, I was actually saving the camera… Precious vintage...” he winks, pursing his lips together.

“Oh, of course. Yeah.” you stammer, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

As if he can sense your distress he places a hand on your arm, “Wait no, I was kidding. Of course I was saving you. Let me– Can I get you a drink?” he asks, trying for a peace offering.

“I think I’m kinda out of hands…” you laugh, snapping a photo as you focus through the viewfinder.

“I’m not…” he counters, “Whad’ya want? I’ll grab it for you…”

You lick over your lips, deciding maybe a drink assistant wouldn’t be too bad. You turn over your shoulder as he leans close letting you talk into his ear. “A seltzer, I don’t care what flavor, surprise me.”

He gives you an understanding nod and turns on his heels, disappearing into the crowd.

You watch your friends start to close up their set and you compose another set of photos you think will be the shots of the night.

“A drink for the lady…” he says, as he holds a drink up in front of the lens. You lower your camera and spin around to grab it from him, watching him crack the lid open before he hands it to you.

“Prickly pear, huh…” you pause, taking a sip of the fizzy drink. “Did you know that was my favorite or just a lucky guess?”

“Well, I figured… you have great taste in cameras…” he trails off, taking the drink back from you so you can continue to shoot.

You feel him lean into your shoulder, his warm breath on your neck. “The red light really does nothing for photos, does it…” he laughs.

“No, and I’m half convinced that’s why they do it.” you retort.

“Oh, it definitely is. Trust me. That and it looks badass.” he laughs, stepping back again.

As the set ends you watch your friends leave the stage, ready to drink and party with the rest of you. The room quiets to a dull roar as the next band starts to take the stage, ready to set up their equipment. You lower your camera around your neck, letting it hang freely as you turn back to Sam.

“You get the shot?” he asks, sipping the same Prickly Pear Topo Chico.

“I think so, looks like I’ve got…” you pause, checking your dial. “Two left on this roll. Should probably change over before the next act. Here, smile.” you say, holding the viewfinder to your eye.

He blushes a little, holding both of the drinks in his hands and giving you wide open mouth smile.

You capture those last two images and hear the winder start to spin. “That’ll do it!” you say, dropping your camera around your neck and pulling the extra black film cartridge from your pocket.

“Oh here, let me help you. You have your drink…” he offers, holding out your can.

“No! You don’t have to do that, it’s totally fine, I’ve got it. Just need to find a table or something so I can–”

“I know I don’t have to, I just– want to. I wanna help.” he says, his eyes sweet and genuine.

You think about it for a second, and consider that you really don’t have anything to lose. He wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t know what he was doing.

“Okay, sure, I’ll hold your drink now.” you smile.

His eyes are focused as he works to remove the used film, replacing it with the new roll as quickly and efficiently as he can, making sure not to expose the roll. He clips the door shut and makes sure it's secure before placing the camera strap back over your head, pulling your hair out from beneath the straps as gently as possible.

“There. Perfect.” he says, a warm smile on his lips.

“Thanks Sam.” you answer, offering his drink back to him.

“You can call me Sammy. All my friends do.” he says, accepting the wet can.

“Oh, are we friends now?” you ask playfully, all the while thinking that you might want to be a little more than that.

“I’d like to think so. Or– I hope so. I think you’re cute, film camera girl.”

“Do you?” you murmur, holding the can to your lips.

As if feeling a little shy, he ducks his head a little and licks his lips, “I do.”

Before you can reciprocate his sentiment the third band starts, and somehow they are even louder than your friend's band previously. The drums are blaring loud and you can tell they need their mics turned down about three notches. You take a few photos, figuring you can never have too much in your portfolio, but after a few shots and the crowd becoming a little too rowdy, you quickly decide you are done ‘working’ for the night. You lower your camera down and spin to talk to Sam, but you find he’s gone.

Your eyes scan the crowd for him, but again, you see no trace of the cream colored sweater or his red beanie in the sea of people. You do, however, spot your best friend off in the corner of the room being hit on by someone you know to be exactly her type. You lock eyes with her, raising a brow and she just smiles at you as she continues to talk to the tall dark haired man.

Letting her have her time with him, you make your way back to the stage to grab your camera bag. You head up the stairs, grabbing a new drink from the bar area and again searching for any signs of him. You mingle with a few strangers, making pointless small talk about work and the latest gossip before excusing yourself to the bathroom to pee. As you wash your hands you sigh at the missed connection with such a thoughtful and good looking guy, but chalk it up to being Valentine’s Day and not wanting to fall into that stereotype.

With your new friend gone, you decide to seek out some of your old ones. With your gear bag slung over your shoulder, you head towards the thick crowd in the main living room. As you make your way through, your neck cranes around the bodies in your way, searching for a familiar face. Looking out the back window, you see your friends near their band’s van. You push open the squeaky screen door and are greeted with a harsh gust of freezing cold wind. You retract, and before you can regain your senses, you hear someone calling your name from a little ways away.

When you get your eyes open, Sam is standing against the side of the house, exhaling a puff of smoke. He’s giving you a sweet, closed lipped smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. You feel a few butterflies in your stomach as you take in his sweet face, relieved that he’s happy to see you hasn’t disappeared like you thought. You approach him with a sweet smile, holding on to your bag strap with both hands while your main camera hangs around your neck.

“It’s cold as fuck out here.” You say honestly, suppressing a grin. He nods, taking another inhale off the cigarette between his fingers, his smile making it a little difficult. “I thought you left.” you add while he exhales the smoke away from your face.

“What, without you?” He says with a quirked brow and a playful smolder. You laugh, stunned silent by his charisma. He realizes and laughs it off, reaching towards you. “You need a hand taking that stuff to your car?” He asks, dropping his cigarette onto the lawn and stepping on it. He offers you a hand and you willingly offer up your bag, even though you really don’t need to.

“I didn’t really feel the need to get any more photos of the third band. I didn’t think the headache was worth it.” You say, a little tongue in cheek as you walk. Sam laughs loudly once, like it slipped out, then shakes his head looking at the ground in front of him.

“I was trying not to be too judgmental but, yeesh. They’re really something, aren’t they?” You laugh and pop open your trunk and he sees inside as he puts your bag in.

“You have a Pentax too?” He asks, seeing the other bag you left in the trunk.

“I do. I have a couple lenses for it, I use it when I shoot… bigger stuff.” You say, not trying to sound braggy.

“That sucker is heavy though. You must be jacked if you’re holding it up for an entire show.” He jokes, reaching for your bicep and squeezing twice. You flex a little, giving him a wink before you break character and laugh with him. You pull your camera from around your neck and slip it into its case.

“No but, I uh, I have a couple lenses too. I have a pretty big collection… It’s actually getting a bit out of hand at this point. If you ever want to borrow anything...” He mentons, helping you close the trunk. When he reaches up, his sweater rides up a bit and reveals that he’s got a white shoestring laced through the loops of his pants like a belt.

“I’d love to check it out,” you say honestly, rubbing your arms to try and warm up. The wind is brutal but the conversation is worth freezing for.

“This may be a bit forward… but the weather sucks, this music sucks… We could go have a drink at my place and I could show you?” He offers, shrugging a little bit.

“Well…” you start, looking over at the van on the other side of the yard. Your friend seems to be deep in conversation with the guy who was helping her load up, so you’re sure she won’t miss you if you slip away. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

“Two things, though. One, we have to take your car, since my friend was my ride. Two, I’m driving, because you’ve had a few.” He says, giving you a boyish smile and holding out his hands so you can put the keys in them. You eye him with playful suspicion for a moment, but then figure you’ve got nothing to lose.

“Fine.” You flick open your car key and offer it to him between two fingers with a grin.

As he gets in, you can’t help but micromanage his actions with your car as you buckle your seatbelt. “The emergency brake is down by your left foot, and just ignore the light on the dash.”

“I guess I should have told you that I have, indeed, driven a car before. I’m qualified.” He says, starting it and adjusting the mirrors. He’s a good bit taller than you, so he cranks the rearview upwards quite a bit. You roll your eyes at his comment, letting the radio play quietly rather than anything from your phone for fear of judgment.

“There aren’t any street lights on these back roads. You should put the high beams on.” You comment, looking over at him for a moment, taking in his side profile. He cracks a wry smirk and flourishes his hand, turning them on.

“You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?” He asks, not looking away from the road. You snicker softly.

“When I want to be.”

Before he can say anything in response, his phone starts to buzz in the center console. He reaches for it, swiping quickly across the screen to answer the call from a contact named Danny.

“Daniel!” He shouts, putting the phone on speaker. Without hesitation, you take it from him so he can use both of his hands and drive. He doesn’t object as the voice from the other end of the phone pipes up.

“Where’d you get off to?”

“Uh, I left. Are you good to get home?” Sam answers, flipping the brights off when a car drives by on the opposite side of the road. He puts them back on once the coast is clear.

“I’m fine, yeah, just checking in. Didn’t know you left. You bag that chick you were chatting with?”

You huff a laugh and look over to Sam shaking your head. Is this really how guys talk on the phone?

“Daniel, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell…” he jokes, sending you a wink.

“Right, are you going to that event tomorrow?”

“I had forgotten about it until this very second, but yeah. I said I would. Are you?” Sam says, and you pick up a bit of an accent. There’s a long A in forgotten where the second O should go. You smile softly as you watch the road and listen to them talk.

“Hell no. Neither is Jake. You’re stuck with Josh and his girl. So, have fun with that.” Daniel says, and you can hear him getting into his car on the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Alright, get home safe.” Sam says, sighing. They end the call and you’re more than tempted to ask him the meaning of all that, but he’s pulling into his driveway and the nerves start to take over, shutting you up. “Sorry about that,” he says, parking your car in his driveway next to his own.

“Do you live by yourself?” You ask, getting out of the passenger seat. The wind is still strong and it chills you to the bone. Sam sees and picks up his pace as he leads you to the front door.

“Yeah, it’s just me.” he says, looking over his shoulder as he puts his key in the door. It’s warmly lit inside his house once he steps inside and flips on the lights. There’s an array of musical instruments scattered about as soon as you enter, amps and drums and guitars either hanging on the wall or resting against each other. You raise your brows, looking over at him.

“You’re a musician, too?” You ask as he puts your keys on the cabinet near the front door. There are sliding doors across the front that are opened just slightly to reveal a substantial vinyl collection.

“I have many hobbies.”

You smile as you follow him through the house, looking around at the art covering his walls. It smells like incense and it’s warm- a little warmer than you would keep your house, but it’s cozy.

“I keep everything in here,” he starts, flipping on the lightswitch in one of the bedrooms. It’s furnished with a daybed, like a guest bedroom, but the opposite wall has a desk and shelving full of cameras, cases, lenses, accessories, attachments galore. You raise your brows, surprised, but mostly impressed.

It’s a solid half hour that you spend going item by item, gently looking over everything he’s collected, from vintage to like-new, functioning and under repair. He makes a point to tell you where he got each one, the quirks and intricacies of them all.

“That one’s really my favorite for portraits,” he says as you look over a lightweight film camera with a noisy lens, clicks filling the room. “She’s got a way about her that makes everyone look good, you know?” You nod, looking it over, peeking through the viewfinder.

“I dunno, I might be a lost cause.” You say, a little self deprecating. He sucks his teeth at you in playful disappointment.

“I just mean that, you know, as photographers, there aren’t many photos of us. I don’t think I’d know how to pose myself for a portrait.”

“Well, you don’t pose yourself, silly.” He says, looking up at you, not lifting his head and moving only his eyes. There’s a little smirk on his lips. “We should try it.”

You give him a suspicious look, laughing nervously.

“I look like a mess from the wind and… I’m hardly wearing any makeup..” You say, starting to rattle off excuses as your cheeks heat up.

“So? You look perfect. I don’t want to take… fuckin’ headshots. I want to capture you. This version of you, the pretty photographer that I’ve spent my evening with.”

The two of you lock eyes for a moment, his honeyed irises so warm and kind and sweet that you probably can’t say no to him if your life depended on it.

“Okay.”

That’s how you end up in his sunroom, sitting patiently on his couch as he gets set up, sipping a glass of wine. The room is full of plants and you brush your hand against the burnt orange velvet upholstery of his couch underneath you. You watch him move around the room, pushing the ottoman out of the way, adjusting the throw pillows on the opposite end. He reaches behind his head and pulls his thick sweater off, his shirt riding up to show that little shoestring belt and this time, a light dusting of hair above the waistband of his pants. He tosses aside the sweater, leaving him in a white t-shirt. You swallow a gulp of your wine, feeling a little warm.

“I like how you said, ‘as photographers,’ like you looped me in there with you,” he muses. “You’re a professional. I don’t belong in the ranks with you.” He says, grinning as he uses an app on his phone to mess with the lighting from the lamp in the room. It’s a hazy, warm light when he’s done, absolutely flattering to the eye, so you can only imagine how it’s going to look when he captures you.

“If you take pictures, and you enjoy it, you’re a photographer. I don’t think it’s fair to gate keep art of any kind, or… something that brings people joy, you know?” You say, watching as he grabs a cream colored, cable knit throw reminiscent of his sweater and drapes it behind you.

“That makes sense. Not all photographers are as humble as you, though.” He says, looking down at the camera and making some adjustments. He holds it up and looks at you, then he pulls it away. He looks again, then he hums like he’s thinking about something.

“This black shirt is kind of one-dimensional. I feel like it’s swallowing you up, you know? I feel like there's too much contrast with the colors in the room.”

You sip your wine and think for a moment, looking around. He’s probably right.

“What do you think about green?” you ask, leaning forward, placing the wine glass on the table in front of you.

“Do you have another– oh…” he starts, but is effectively silenced when you start to pull your shirt over your head. Underneath, you’re in a sage green longline bralette, the band of lace under your chest covering a good two inches of your waist. It’s not too revealing and from the shoulders up, it probably looks like a shirt. You shake out your hair and look up at him, tossing your shirt aside.

“Does that look better?” You ask, smirking at his reaction, pretending to be all business. He looks at you through the viewfinder and you hear him clear his throat.

“Much better. Yep. Uh huh.” he says, hiding his face behind the camera, but you know he’s looking at you. “Sit up for me?”

You adjust the way you’re sitting, sitting up straighter. He lets the camera hang around his neck as he approaches you, reaching out to gently position you. He puts your hand in your lap, then gently pushes some hair behind your shoulder. The other side, he wraps around his finger once, making sure it lays in a flattering way. He looks at you, not scrutinizing you, but deciding what he wants to do with you. His touch makes you feel like you’re on fire, his hands warm and so gentle, his motions purposeful and confident despite the delicate way he handles you.

He crouches down in front of you, holding the camera to his eye, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. You suddenly feel exposed in front of the lens, and it must be evident on your face as he moves his finger from the shutter release and lowers the camera from his eye. “You feel nervous.” he states with the nod of his head.

You shrug ever so slightly, finally feeling the nerves your clients tend to feel. You try to shake it off, but Sam, ever perceptive, pulls the camera from around his neck and sits it next to you on the couch. He pulls his own shirt over his head, leaving him in the same state of undress as you are. “There. Even?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

You smile and nod, doing your best not to stare at the small smattering of a happy trail at the top of his pants. You bite your lips together before looking back into the lens, hearing the shutter click and the film wind. He brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face to the side with the gentle touch of his index finger. He pulls it back quickly, returning to the shutter button and snapping another photo. He hums from his place behind the lens, standing quickly and scanning the room for something.

His heavy footfall pads across the room, snatching something from his piano bench before returning to his place on the floor in front of you. In his hands is a multicolored jewel tone pashmina, soft and worn, and clearly a staple in his wardrobe.

“Can we try this?” he asks, holding it up against your skin.

“Let me see…” you answer, grabbing it and draping it over your chest. With your torso completely covered you reach beneath it, pulling the green bralette over your head as he watches you with wide eyes. You toss it to the floor next to him, and reposition the fabric to just cover your chest as you lean back into the couch.

He swallows nervously as he stretches up towards the couch, adjusting the fabric how he sees fit. Your stomach shows beneath the edge of colorful fabric, the curve of your breast just peeking from the top.

“I– I think this is gonna be a good shot.” he says, looking at you through the lens. “Lean your head back a little more, and turn it to the side, just a touch.”

You follow his instruction, knowing the angles of this shot have to be incredible from his place on the floor.

“Perfect, I just…Didn’t want any shadows on your throat…” he whispers from behind the camera. You hear the shutter click, and a murmur of ‘fuck’ leave his lips.

You stay where you are as he lowers the camera, his breathing picking up a little bit as he tries to remain calm. “Your skin is so…pretty…” he breathes, letting his eyes sweep over you.

Your eyes connect with his, and in an act of insanity you pull away the pashmina, letting it pool at your side. His eyes can’t help but to flick down to your chest, his jaw dropping slightly before he notices and looks back up at your eyes.

“We don’t have to–”

“Do you not want to?” you ask, settling back onto the couch.

“No, I very much do.” he answers a little too quickly.

“So go ahead. Capture me.”

He takes a deep breath, holding the camera to his eye and lowering it back down. He grabs your hand and places it gingerly over your chest, letting your fingers rest just over your nipple. He brings the camera back to his eye, and takes the photo. “Fuck you’re gorgeous.”

Your cheeks blush and you hear the shutter click again.

“Sorry, but I think that's the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.” he says.

You smile and shake your head, letting your hand trail to the button of your pants. You slide the button through the loop and pull the long zipper, until just the smallest glimpse of your thong is visible.

You watch him swallow nervously again, focusing the camera on your hand as it lays across your stomach. As he captures the photo, you watch him try to recenter himself, knowing that he is probably just as turned on by this as you are, if not more.

“Take them off…” you suggest, watching his eyes flick up to yours.

“You sure?” he asks again, making sure you’re still comfortable.

“Very. If you are, I mean.”

“Lay across the couch. On your stomach.” he instructs, moving himself to sit on the edge of the chaise to your left. You position yourself against the plush couch, propping yourself up on your elbows, as you look back at him sitting behind you.

“Yeah, just like that. Stay there. Look at me, beautiful.” he says, growing more confident.

He leans forward, swiping your hair over your shoulder, giving him an unobstructed view of the curve of your back. And just as your eyes connect with the lens, he presses the button.

“Perfect.” he breathes, lowering the camera again. He stands from his place behind you, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, pulling them gently down your hips until they rest at the apex of your ass. Your thong is fully visible now, only the floral lace resting against your hips.

He moves back and you feel the couch dip as he kneels behind you, straightening the seam of the pants to rest perfectly in the center, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. You feel the goosebumps rise, and you hear the shutter, smiling as you know he’s caught the moment.

“Are you always this responsive to touch…” he asks, sliding your pants further down over your ass, pulling each leg free until the leather fabric is in a pile on the floor.

“No. Only when it’s really good…” you answer.

“Lift your hips up for me, rest on your knees a little, and arch your back.” he says, kneeling on the edge of the couch. His hand slides down your back to assist you, and slides back up, stopping at the hem of your panties. Two fingers hook into the fabric, pulling it down just slightly as you hear the camera shutter.

You can feel your arousal between your legs, not too far from where his fingers linger, but he releases your panties, sliding them back into place and letting his hand drift over the curve of your ass. He stands up in front of you, and you drop back down, stretching fully across the couch. You lay your head on your hands as you look up at him, watching him crouch down in front of you. He pulls a few pieces of hair over your shoulder, and moves your arm further up to reveal the swell of your breast as it presses against his couch cushion.

“Pop your hips up just a touch...” he breathes, holding the camera to his eye. “Look at me, baby.”

You bat your eyes as you look at him, seeing the photo in the reflection of the lens as he takes it.

His chest is heaving as he pulls the camera away, crawling towards you on his knees as he dusts his fingers over your spine. “You make an incredible muse…”

“A good photographer knows that seeing isn’t enough. You have to feel it.” you answer, melting into the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I think I feel it too much…”

He slides his hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to a sitting position. He reaches for your wine glass, turning back to you and placing it into your hand. You bring it to your lips, but as you tip the glass a stream of red wine trickles down the stem, dripping rapidly onto your stomach.

His eyes flick to yours, then down to the small streak of red against your skin, leaning his head forward and letting his warm tongue lap at the spilled alcohol.

Your eyes close on their own, a breath leaving your lips at the feeling of his lips on your body. He pulls back from you, waiting for your eyes to open, and as they meet you can see he’s asking for permission to continue.

You open your legs allowing him to move closer, and he takes that as his consent to move between them. He pulls the camera from around his neck, placing it gently on the couch next to you, before grabbing your wine glass and placing it on the coffee table behind him.

His hands slide up your thighs, his eyes examining every inch of your skin until he meets the edge of your panties. His eyes meet yours and you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on your skin again.

He hooks his fingers through the fabric and pulls them over your hips, tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He takes in a deep breath, lowering his face to your heat, but never breaking the eye contact he has with you. You let a hand slide through his silky waves, silently telling him you wanted this, and he obliges, pressing a kiss to your groin.

You feel his tongue swipe up through your center, long and slow, hot and soft against you. You fist his hair at the contact, a hum leaving his lips as they vibrate against your clit. Your legs open wider, allowing him to hook his arms beneath your legs, pulling you down the couch to meet his mouth. His tongue works at your clit, flicking back and forth as wet sounds fill the air in the room. His cheeks are flushed as his wet lips suction around you, his brown eyes fluttering closed with every pointed lick.

You can hardly tear your gaze away from him, your chest heaving as he brings you closer and closer to your release. Your hand reaches out to grip into the cushion, instead landing on the body of the camera next to you. It feels cold against your hand, and as you look at him you realize you might feel it a little too much, too.

Grasping it in your hand you pull the viewfinder to your eye, positioning him in the frame as he continues to work you towards your orgasm. As his eyes flick up to you, he's met with the camera lens, hesitating momentarily before pulling an elastic from his wrist. He doesn’t cease his actions as he pulls his hair into a messy bun, resting low on the back of his neck. He places his soft hands on the insides of your thighs, looking up into the lens with his blissed out eyes, ready for you to capture the scene below you.

Hearing the shutter, he grips into you harder, sucking your clit into his mouth with more force, desperate to get you there. His fingers brush your entrance, and with a carefully timed swipe of his tongue he presses them forward until his thumb replaces his tongue applying pressure to your clit. His fingers work inside of you until your legs start to shake with desperation. He replaces his thumb with his lips once more, the warm, wet sensation inching you closer and closer.

You take a few more shots, hoping to capture the way his dark lashes kiss his cheeks, and the way his nose brushes against you so delicately. Knowing the most vulnerable shots are usually the best.

He ruts his hips into the couch, desperate for some relief and the groan that leaves his chest is all it takes to push you to the edge. You drop the camera to your side, pulling his face to your body as your orgasm rocks through you. A pathetic sounding whine leaves your lips as his mouth slows, he pulls his fingers from you as gently as possible.

You’re left a panting mess as you ride the waves of your high, but as you open your eyes and see him licking his fingers, you reach for the camera once more, capturing the act forever on film.

He stands, offering you his hand with a smirk. You can’t help but to notice that his fingers are still pruny and soft as you place your hand in his, letting him pull your shaky body from his couch. He bends over and snatches the camera from the couch cushion before pulling you down the hallway towards his bedroom.

As you step over the threshold into his bedroom, you’re met with the dark walls and rich earth toned bedding. He drops your hand, and checks his film, before setting the camera on the edge of his bed. He grabs your hand again, and pulls you into him, snaking his other hand around your waist and pulling you close to his body. His eyes search yours before his lips crash to yours, a heady mix of cigarettes, red wine, and you.

Your tongue tangles with his as his hands grip into your hips, his hardness pressing against your bare stomach. You pull away, locking your eyes on his as you fall to your knees in front of him. You slide your hands up his thighs until you reach the thin white shoelace at his waist, pulling the tip until it unknots itself and slides to the floor. You feel him reach for the camera, letting it hang around his neck once more as he watches you.

You unbutton his pants, feeling the brush of his length against your hand. You work quickly to pull the pants and boxers to the floor, letting him step out of them as you take in the sight of him bare in front of you. You lean forward to kiss at the smattering of hair at his happy trail but you’re quickly stopped before your lips ever make it there.

He grabs your chin in his hand, placing his thumb over your swollen pink lips, pulling the plump flesh down to expose your bottom teeth as the camera snaps the image above you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can think of nothing but the feeling of your mouth around him.

Unable to wait any longer you grab him in your fist, stroking him a few times back and forth as his eyes study your movements. You wet your lips in preparation for him, letting your tongue dart out to lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock.

He pulls the camera to his eye again, “Stay like that. Just like that baby. Look up at me.”

He rests the tip of his cock in your open mouth, snapping a few shots as he leaks onto your tongue, before tossing the camera to the bed. “Fuck, are you sure you’ve never done this before? You look so fucking gorgeous.”

You smile around him, closing your lips and humming in response. You let your tongue slide up his length, taking him as far back as you can the first few times before working into a steady rhythm. Your eyes are locked on his, a look of awe and desperation written into his features.

His hand finds grip in your hair, moving with you as you work him, gentle whines falling from his lips as you swirl over his tip with each upward stroke.

Swallowing around him he sucks in a harsh breath, letting you slide back up before repeating the action. You tense around him as you gag, your eyes blinking away tears wanting to continue. Your eyes roll back as you taste the saltiness on your tongue knowing he is nearing his release.

He pulls away from you, cupping your face in his big warm hands, his thumbs swiping away errant tears.

“I– You’re– Get on the bed for me, sweetness. Wanna ruin that pretty cunt before I cum.”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly, a little shocked by the side of himself he just showed you. You take his hand with a grin as he offers it to you, standing and hopping up onto his bed, laying yourself back on his pillows. He follows you, leaning over to reach for the camera on the nightstand before doing so. He leaves it on the pillow next to your head, focusing all of his attention on you for the time being.

He’s tender for a moment, leaning down to kiss you briefly before he situates himself between your thighs. He kneels above you, looking down at the sight before him. He traces a gentle line down your sternum, then back up, dragging lightly against the expanse of your clavicle, then back down once more. His eyes seem to roam over every inch of you while you wait patiently for things to advance.

“You…” he starts, a breathy laugh leaving his throat, like he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “So gorgeous.”

“You’re sweet.” you respond, parting your thighs a bit more for him. He hasn’t stopped his feather light touches just yet though.

“Is that how you like it?” he asks, catching you a little off guard. Your eyes flick up to his and you can’t help the way you squirm a little at his directness.

“I…” you start, but he promptly silences you with a pinch to your nipple, pulling a wanton moan from the depths of your chest.

“Ahh. There she is.” He says, smiling. He lets go and leans down to give it a kiss. “Just trying to get a read on you.”

He palms your breast as he pushes back up, unable to take his eyes off of you. You watch the wheels turning in his head as he squeezes firmly, his eyes cutting to the camera next to your head.

He picks it back up, adjusting it with lightning speed. He looks through the viewfinder once before reaching for your tit again, your nipple slipping between his long fingers. He snaps a photo, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration while the aperture adjusts, the settings on auto now to save time.

“That artistic part of your brain just doesn’t turn off, huh?” you ask, reaching up to run a hand down his stomach, your patience running out.

“Blessing and a curse.” he mumbles, reaching forward into his nightstand. As he’s leaning over you, you can’t help but take a moment to place a few wet, searing kisses to his jaw and throat. You know they’re appreciated when he bucks his hips against you, his dick dragging against the inside of your thigh.

He sits back up, tearing the foil of the condom with little difficulty and flipping it over once or twice to check which way is right. He eventually distinguishes top from bottom and starts to slide it on, looking down in concentration.

After he’s done, he leans down towards you, placing hungry, wet kisses wherever he can find purchase. He reaches between your bodies, taking himself in his palm and brushing the head of his cock through your folds.

“Wait…” you say, and he rests his head on your chest for a moment, looking up at you with patient eyes.

“Yes, sweetness?” he says, pulling back, unsure if you’re about to call the whole thing off. You take a deep breath, reaching down to touch him gently.

“Can we take this off?” You murmur, your hand waiting to pull it off the moment he gives you the green light.

“God, yeah,” he says enthusiastically, a little chuckle leaving him as you haphazardly pull the condom off of him and toss it by the wayside. “Absolutely. Fuck. I want to…” He trails off, like he’s about to say something else, but once you slip the tip of him inside of you, he can’t get a word out.

He pushes in about halfway, stopping to settle and watch your reaction. You gaze up at him, reaching up to play with one of your nipples. He takes in a sharp breath at the sight before pulling out a little before he pushes all the way in, slowly.

“Oh… oh my god,” you manage to get out, unable to help the way the words scratch their way out of your throat. Sam’s eyes are glued to your center, watching himself enter you.

“Everything about you…” he says, taking a trembling breath, “...is fucking picture perfect.”

You smile at the compliment and watch his face for a moment, the way his dark lashes move quickly with his blinking eyes trying to process everything at once. He starts to move slowly, the drag of him making your breath hitch.

He fucks into you slowly, deeply, your head swimming at the sensation. It’s good, but it’s not quite enough, and you can’t help but speak up.

“Sammy…” you begin, calling him by his nickname, like he asked, affectionately. “Harder. Please.”

He snaps his hips into you in response, giving you a dirty smirk from above.

“You’re a backseat driver in the sack, too?” he quips, moving back on his heels a little to change the angle and give himself more range of motion.

“Shut up and fuck me. How’s that?” you bite, grinning up at him. Before you can even prepare yourself, he snatches your wrists, pinning them above your head in just one of his big hands, your slender wrists slotted between his lengthy fingers.

He looks like he’s about to snap back at you, but then his eyes narrow a little. He reaches for the camera again, holding it against the side of his body to flip the switch and open the aperture. He lifts it to his eye and snaps a picture of his hand pinning your wrists together, the strap of the camera falling a little bit into the frame.

Once he’s done, he drops the camera again and braces himself with his free hand, picking up an almost brutal pace. You can’t complain, because it’s what you asked for, and god did he deliver. The sound of skin on skin, his body meeting yours, rhythmically bounces off the walls of his bedroom. You cry out at the feeling of him, reeling at the sensation of him so deep inside you. Warmth starts to build in your stomach, your head getting dizzy.

“Are you getting close?” he asks in your ear, slightly breathless. You whine in the affirmative, spreading your legs further as if you need him even deeper. He lets go of your hands, sitting up a little straighter but still thrusting into you hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. Your eyes start to flutter closed, your back arching, and you feel his hips stutter slightly as he moves a bit on top of you.

There’s some clicking and you know what he’s about to do, but you can’t be bothered to change a single thing about what you’re doing. You reach for your chest, holding your tits steady as he pushes you towards the edge, waiting for the moment.

“Gonna cum…” you warn, your brows knitting together.

“Come on, beautiful. I’m ready.” he coos as it hits you, your lips parting, your head tilting back as you gasp for breath. You don’t register when the shutter sounds, but you feel the camera hit the pillow again and Sam’s got both of his hands on your waist, so you know he must have gotten the shot.

He slows his pace, allowing you to catch your breath and come back down to earth. His hand slides up to your throat, running his thumb over your lips in the same manner he did earlier, but this time instead of letting him tug at your lip you suck his thumb into your mouth.

“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, pulling his hand back and slowly pulling out of you. “Turn over for me.”

You blink up at him, a little bashful, your eyes darting to the camera, then back to his. You try to suppress a grin and give him a little shake of your head.

“Do you trust me?”

Feeling a little giddy, you roll over, pulling your hair over your shoulder before propping yourself up on your knees. You keep your face in his pillow, your eyes watching the camera laying near you as he presses inside you, the position allowing him somehow deeper.

His hands find your hips and as he starts to move, the grip tightens, pulling little hiss from between your teeth. You’re glad he doesn’t hear because you’d hate it if he stopped.

“Gotta be careful…” he mumbles, his voice strained. “Feels a little too good.”

You hum, a little laugh leaving you. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and definitely different from anyone you’ve ever slept with. His playfulness mixed with the dominance that peeks out on occasion is a potent combination you can’t seem to get enough of.

He uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into him, his pace slower, but the feeling of him nudging at your cervix with every stroke makes up for the change in speed. He rubs a hand over the curve of your ass as he slows down and releases his grip.

“Goddamn, that’s beautiful.”

The camera disappears and you push up on your forearms, suddenly shy and nervous and feeling like a shot of that isn’t quite as artistic as the rest of your photos. You look at him over your shoulder, a little suspicious.

“No, no no. Your back, your hair on the pillow,” he reassures you, a warm hand on your back. You giggle a little, laying back down. He splays your hair across the pillow, then taps your arm. “Move this up under you.” You do as he says, one arm and hand under you, the other hand above you, fisted in the sheets. His hand drags slowly up your back before he speaks again. “Arch a little more. Like you were before. Yeah, perfect.”

Click.

It lands on the bed, then he starts to move again. He groans, a bit louder than he has been, and you know he’s hanging on by a thread.

“Are you… Are you on birth control?” He asks, his voice slightly boyish in this moment. You can’t help but laugh softly.

“What, you don’t want to knock me up on Valentine’s day?” you joke, and he freezes. You wonder if you said the wrong thing for a moment, but then he speaks softly.

“I’m confident you won’t like my answer, sweetness.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, and when you do, you can’t stop the words that fall from your lips.

“Try me.”

He pushes himself deeper into you, so much so he leans over and braces himself on his palm next to your face. He’s closer now when he speaks, his breath hot on your shoulder.

“I’d love nothing more than to knock you up on Valentine’s day.”

Holy shit.

“So no plans in November, then?” you quip, grinning as the weight of him pushes you into his pillow.

“Mm, nothing too big, just a world tour.” he responds, thrusting a few more times. “Super flexible.” he grits out. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, feeling him start to twitch inside you.

“The answer is yes, by the way. About the birth control.”

“....It’d be cooler if you weren’t, but alright.” he jokes, his voice straining as his hips start to falter. You can hear him breathing through clenched teeth as his grip on you tightens. You tighten around him, arching your back just a touch more and as you drop your head between your arms, you see his hand frantically reaching for the camera one last time.

You can feel the tension in your stomach tightening, his hand sliding up to your shoulder to pull you back to meet him. “There you go, baby. Keep squeezing just like that. I’m right there.” he says, and you can tell by the lilt in his voice he is waiting for you.

You rock back, your bodies slamming together with a lewd smack, the sound itself just enough to tip you over the edge. You feel the rush wash over you as he pulls you in, wrapping his arm around your waist as his hips continue to move. He lets out a small grunt with each forceful spurt inside you, and you feel a wave of euphoria sweep over you as you realize he wasn’t joking after all.

“Fuck…” he whines, pulling out of you. You can hear him adjusting the lens of the camera and you’re so caught up in your own bliss you couldn’t care less that he is documenting his work. You feel him rest his hand on your ass, palming your cheek to the side for a better view as he leaks down the inside of your thigh.

The camera clicks, and just as you start to lower yourself down, you feel his fingers swipe up through the warmth dripping down your leg, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to look at him, his eyes completely fixed on you as he slides his cum covered fingers inside of you.

“Just for good measure, huh beautiful?”

You hear the shutter click a few times, a few indiscernible mumbles of praise from his lips, and finally the thud of the camera as it lands next to you on the sheets. He pulls his fingers from you, tapping your ass softly as an indication that you’re good to relax.

The mattress shifts as Sam gets out of bed, his footsteps heading towards the bathroom. The light shines for a moment accompanied by the sound of running water as you wait patiently. He’s back soon after with a warm, wet washcloth, and he gently parts your thighs to start cleaning the mess he made.

It’s quiet as he tends to you, his breathing slowing down as he does. Once he’s done, he slips into bed behind you, pulling your back to his chest.

“So… what are you gonna do with those pictures?” you ask, the smile on your face audible as you speak.

“Well, get them developed, I guess. But aside from myself and the poor person at the film lab, nobody will ever see them. Cross my heart.”

“And me,” you remind him.

“Yes, yes. And you, sweetness.” Silence hangs over the two of you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Will you stay?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You wrap your arms overtop of his where he’s holding you tight, nodding.

“I don’t think you could force me out of this bed.”

–

You’re woken by the warmth of sunshine on your face. Blinking and trying to remember where you are, you refamiliarize yourself with Sam’s bedroom in the daylight. Your eyes clear and focus on the camera sitting on the nightstand.

Sam is in a deep sleep, snoring softly with his mouth open, a few strands of his hair stuck to his face. You can’t help but smile at the sight before slipping out of bed and quietly sneaking through his house to collect your clothes strewn about.

You peek into his bedroom once you’ve gathered all of your belongings and he’s still out cold, only his feet poking out from beneath the sheets. Your eyes are pulled to the camera again, and then an idea forms. You tiptoe inside and carefully grab it, doing your best to remain quiet.

Needing darkness, you head for the bathroom and wind the film. You duck into his other bedroom on the way and grab an empty film canister. Hoping it’s quiet enough to not wake him, you close the bathroom door behind you and wait a moment before taking the roll out and putting it in the black container.

Once you’re done, you retrieve your keys from the cabinet by the door and grab an old receipt he must have just pulled out of his pockets when he was putting his keys in their usual spot. There’s a pencil on the music stand of the nearby piano, so you snatch it and leave him a little note. You write out your phone number, draw a little heart, and put the camera over the corner so you know he’ll find it. You silently sneak out the door and lock it from the inside behind you.

The drive back to your home proved to be shorter than anticipated, the light of day giving you a better sense of your location. You glanced over to the rolls of film laying in your passenger seat, taking mental stock on how many bottles of developer and Blix you had sitting on your shelf. It was times like these you were grateful for your little makeshift film lab, knowing that Sam said he would probably send these rolls off somewhere, and that some poor guy would have to see every lewd act appear right before his eyes.

You snatched the rolls from your seat and grabbed your camera bags from your trunk before making your way inside to your warm house. Feeling grimey, you ran yourself through a quick shower, eager to see what was waiting for you on these rolls of film.

Stepping into your lab you place the film rolls on the table, grabbing your Patterson canister, your chemicals, and your scissors to start the process. You trim the leads on the film rolls, smiling as you see your roll next to Sam’s. With the leads trimmed, you flip the light switch in your completely blacked out guest room, leaving you in total darkness as you pry the bottoms off of the rolls of film.

You load the long slippery strips of film into the plastic spools, screwing the lid back onto your canister before flipping your lights back on. You grab your chemicals and make your way to the kitchen, running the faucet to heat the water bath. It’s been a while since you’d done this yourself, but the process was ingrained into your memory, and you were careful to not miss a single step. You drop your bottles of Developer and Blix into the water bath, grabbing your thermometer from your junk drawer.

Your phone buzzes on the counter as you wait for the temperature to rise, your heart pounding as you see a new number flash across the screen. You make your way back to your lab, grabbing the canister off the table as your chemicals reach temperature. You carefully pour the developer into the canister, agitating it every few seconds while you read the message on your phone.

Unknown:

9:12am: Off so soon? And with my film? Should have known I’d never see those beauties. 😏

Your timer goes off letting you know it’s time to move on to the next step, so you set your phone down, ready to pour the developer out of the canister. Satisfied with yourself for not making a mess, you pour in the Blix, leaning away from the fumes as they waft through the air. You do your duty, agitating the chemical as directed, waiting the allotted time until it's ready to pour out.

You debate answering him right away, trying to leave just a touch of mystery in the air. You decide that you’ll wait until the film is done, teasing him with a photo for his eyes only.

You rinse your film with water to rid it of the chemicals, knowing there’s only a few more steps until you can see just how talented of a photographer Sam really is. You pour in your stabilizer, letting it sit for a minute, biting your lips together as you suppress the urge to text him back immediately.

With a deep breath you pour out the stabilizer, and unscrew the lid, ready to see if the evidence of your night came out in the wash. With shaky hands you pull the film strips from the spools, seeing 36 clear images appearing on the transparent roll of sepia film. A huff of laughter leaves your chest, seeing the negative image of your body in the tiny rectangles.

You suck your teeth as you hang the rolls of film to dry, knowing that in about an hour or so they will be ready to scan into your computer.

—

It seems like it’s taking longer than usual for the film to dry, at least it feels that way as you check for the hundredth time. An hour and some change later you’re dashing back to your computer with the film, scanning it into Lightroom to start inverting the images.

Your breath is stolen straight from your lungs as you see the first image. Your cheeks flame red at the sight of yourself, spread below Sam. You continue to click through the negatives, completely shocked at how good his composition is. You knew he was a hobbyist, but you start to wonder if maybe he missed his calling. You swallow harshly as you continue to look through them, but then you realize just how beautiful the photos actually are. You almost feel bad that you stole them away from him.

You work through each image, inverting the colors until they appear as they really are. You note the vintage look on the film and check the empty roll for the date. You smile as you read ‘86, knowing he shelled out a good amount of cash for that roll, and he decided to use it on you. The film comes out warm and grainy from the low light, but you feel that it adds to the photos, and you can’t think of a better turnout.

Your eyes catch on one photo, and after inverting the colors your suspicion is answered. The long finger shaped outlines on your hips were forever cemented in time. The memory of his grip burned into your mind. His body is connected to yours, and you can almost remember the feeling of him inside you as you look at the photo. You feel a rush wash over you, and you grab your phone tapping a few buttons on the screen until the camera opens. You bring it to the screen and snap the photo before attaching it to a text.

You

10:47am: *Attachment*

10:47am: I had something… pressing…to tend to. 😉

You snicker at your comment, hoping he will get the joke as you add his contact to your phone. You bite your bottom lip in concentration as you continue to work on the images, fixing the coloring and resizing them to the appropriate proportions.

As you reach the beginning of his roll, you start to see images of daily life, with people you don’t know, but are clearly happy to be having their photo taken by Sam. Bright smiles and warm moments captured by his keen eye.

Sammy

10:53am: Wow, um…

You

10:54am: I think they turned out pretty good, what do you think?

10:54am: *Attachment*

You attach another image of yourself draped across his couch, his pashmina spread across your body, the light hitting your throat exactly how he planned.

Sammy

10:55am: You’re so gorgeous, I don’t even know what else to say if I’m honest. I have to see the rest.

10:56am: Do you…Need help? I normally send my film off to be developed but it would be cool to watch.

As you click to the next image you sit in shock, trying to place the face next to Sam’s on his couch. You drop your phone to the table in front of you, trying to focus. You’re going positively crazy running through faces in your mind until it hits you. You take in the features and realize the man sitting next to Sam is the guy your friend was flirting with all night. Your heart starts to race as you make the connection. Is that the friend he left last night? Did she go home with him?

You blow out a deep breath and finish up the last photo of Sam and another long haired man, drinking foamy beers in what looks to be a foreign country. You smile at the bubbly mustaches on their lips and grab your phone to reply to his message.

You

11:02am: You’re a really great photographer, Sam. These shots are really, really good. All of them.

11:03am: If you really want to see the process you’re more than welcome to, kind of makes you feel like a mad scientist haha. I don’t have much going on at the moment, probably going to work on this next roll if you want to join.

Sammy

11:05am: What are you up to tonight? I have a work event I have to go to, but I’ll probably dip out early, especially if I have a good reason. 😉

You

11:06am: I have to shoot a show tonight, but I’m free after that…

Sammy

11:06am: So…

You

11:07am: Bring your film and a bottle of red. I just might have a few rolls we can use while we wait. 😏

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bountydroid · 5 days

Text

Darlin' pt 5

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt6

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Slowburn romance)

Description: Cooper starts to soften up.

Notes: This one is a bit longer! I might be a little slower between parts from now on as it is finals season and I'll be graduating with my bachelor's degree (yay!) plus I work full time. As always, any critiques are welcome!

The air between us after the hug attempt was thick with tension. We walked in silence as we made our way into the wasteland, clear tracks in the sand making the target easy to follow. I was sure that the look on my face was pathetic, like a kicked puppy. I tried to hide my hurt at first, but it didn't seem like he cared much since he had hardly even glanced at me since we left Ma June's shop anyway. At least I had Whilzig's dog. I knew he was just there to help us track his master, but his presence felt comforting. Without him, I think the tension between Cooper and I would be too much to handle.

I glanced over at the ghoul every so often. I was hoping I would catch him glancing back, a sign that he did in fact, give a damn about me. I felt deflated. Any hope I had about his feelings for me had vanished.

I let a quiet sigh escape my lips as I looked down at my feet.

This seemed to get his attention as he stopped in his tracks and whipped around to face me. "Stop it." He said sternly, a look of annoyance on his face.

I was sure that my face did little to hide the horror I felt at his reaction. "I am just tired." I tried to lie.

"Sure." He said back, crossing his arms. He clearly knew I was lying.

I felt anger prickle up inside me. "Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong? I didn't." I exclaimed. "I hugged my friend. At least I thought I did."

He didn't respond to this, instead opting to look out into the never-ending sand.

"Let's just keep going," I mumbled as I stomped past him.

Growing up I loved the sun. I loved to feel its warm rays on my skin as it shined through the window. Now? Now I hated it. We had barely been in the Wasteland that long, and I already felt like the heat was suffocating me. It didn't seem to bother Cooper though. He showed no sign of tiring or discomfort. "One of the perks of being a ghoul I guess." I thought to myself bitterly.

After what felt like ages, our furry companion barked and started running towards a large piece of metal. Cooper and I exchanged looks before picking up our pace to catch up to him.

"What the hell?" I mumbled as I pinched my nose and looked away from the headless body.

Cooper crouched down next to Whilzig, a look of mild confusion on his face before looking out into the wasteland. One of his coughing fits started as he took his pack off of his shoulder and put it on the ground, rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for quickly, a metal tin with a couple of vials of Jet inside. Despite being angry with him, I looked down at him, concern evident on my face. Almost like he could sense it, he looked up at me as he put the vial into his inhaler. His eyes closed and a look of relief washed over his face as he breathed it in. He let out one more soft wheeze as he collected himself.

"Cooper?" I asked softly.

"Yeah, Darlin'?" He replied while getting up from the ground.

"I'm sorry." I started. "I am sorry for huggin' you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

His eyes bore into me while he contemplated his response. "You're okay Darlin'." He said quietly. "I am just an ill-tempered old man."

I let out a small giggle. "I would've said cranky, but ill-tempered is a nicer way to put it."

He let out a loud bark of a laugh in response. "Come on let's go find the rest of im'." He said as he patted my shoulder.

As we started to walk away from the body, Cooper let out a clicking noise, getting the dog's attention. The dog barked in response as he chased after us.

"How old are you anyway?" I ask curiously.

He hummed in response, "Old."

I decided not to press it further, his short response suggesting it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. This time, our silent march was much more pleasant. The tension from earlier was gone. I was exceeding grateful for this change. As the sun started to set, I felt relieved. The heat didn't feel quite as terrible as the sun started to fade behind the horizon.

"Good a spot as any," Cooper said as he peaked inside a half-crumbled building.

I sighed in relief. "God my feet are killing me. I think I've done more walkin' with you than I have in my entire life."

He let out a breathy laugh, "And you are gonna do a lot more, sugar."

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep in the sand curled up next to Whilzig's dog.

I slowly peeled my eyes open as I felt someone gently shaking me. My bleary eyes peered up to see the face of my traveling companion.

"Mornin' Darlin'." He smirked at my dazed and exhausted face. "Sleep well?"

I just grumbled in response. I slowly raised to my feet, wincing as the pressure on them began to build. I felt his eyes on me as he raised his bag to his shoulder. I sighed as I reached down to pick up my bag as well.

"When we get this bounty, I am gonna sleep for a week." I say with a soft groan.

"Gimme that." He said as he ripped my bag from my hands and threw it over his empty shoulder. He chuckled at the surprised look on my face. "Can't have your pretty ass slowin' me down."

I stood there for a moment and replayed our exchange in my head before finally running after him. "He keeps calling me pretty." I think to myself while a blush creeps over my cheeks.

"You know," I started, feeling bold. "I think we are a great team."

He glanced over at me, an amused look on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I hummed happily. "I am really glad I met you."

An unrecognizable look washed over his face. Hesitation? Confusion? Fear? It looked like all of those emotions, all at once.

I gave him a weary smile, "Even if you won't let me hug you." I admit.

He hesitated, almost looking like he was going to say something before he stopped himself.

"Hey, Dog Meat!" He yelled up at the dog, "Don't go far."

"Dog Meat?" I mused, "Really?"

"That's what he is, ain't he?" he replied, smirking.

I knew he was trying to change the subject. He was uncomfortable again. So, I decided to let him as I let out a small giggle. "Sure, Cooper."

We continued along, getting closer and closer to the derelict city. The silence was only interrupted by the occasional bark from Dog Meat. We happened upon an oasis, the water inviting, almost trying to trick me into taking a dip. I knew better than that. We could hear a commotion in front of us as we started to slow down, quieting our footsteps. Cooper turned to me and put a finger to his lips, silently shushing me. Someone else was there. The bounty?

No, it was the vaultie. I stayed behind as Cooper snuck up behind her. She only noticed his presence once she heard the cock of his gun.

"Hello again." She said, her eyes filled with fear.

He greeted her by hitting her over the head with the butt of his gun. I grimaced as she fell to the ground.

"Where is it?" He snarled. "The head."

She whimpered on the ground quietly while Cooper picked up her bag and emptied the contents into the dirt.

Cooper got angry as he realized the head wasn't there. He cocked his gun again, ready to shoot her.

"Okay, okay, I don't know where it is. Okay? I lost it." The vaultie begged. "I lost it."

Cooper let out a soft hum as he looked around, it seemed like he already knew what he was looking for when he put his boot in a pile of dung. I made a disgusted face.

"Did you seriously have to do that?" I mumbled. This brought the vaultie's attention to me. She was so caught up in her fear of Cooper she didn't even realize I was there.

"A gulper got it, huh?" He said as he turned back to the vaultie before grabbing her by the hair.

She cried as she begged for mercy as he dragged her to the dock. Once there, he tied a rope with an anchor on the end around her body as well as bound her feet. I just watched from afar, feeling slightly bad for the girl. Dog Meat was barking so loudly I could hardly hear them.

"Stop! Please!" She begged as she wiggled, trying to break free. "My dad, he's an overseer. He got taken by Raiders and I need that head to get him back. If you help me find him, he'll do whatever you want!"

Instead of responding, Cooper just pushed her into the water. The rope she was bound with was connected to a piece of metal I did not recognize, but it kept her from sinking to the bottom. She splashed around as she panicked.

"Stop! Stop! Torture is wrong!" She cried out when he brought her back up out of the water.

Cooper let out a scoff. "You know, they used to do these things called studies. Why, you couldn't open a newspaper without reading about one study or another. Anyways, one particular study came out and it said torturing a person, don't do shit." He replied as he dropped her back into the water briefly before bringing her up again. "It made sense. I mean a man hurts me? I wouldn't want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marches on, I've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." He continued as he picked off a small creature from her back and fed it to Dog Meat.

"Sir, please. I need the head. It's the only way I can get my father back." The vaultie begged again. I admired her spirit. I debated asking Cooper to stop, but I bit my tongue instead.

"My point is," Cooper replied, ignoring her pleas. "If you ask me, them studies, they were right. Torturing a person don't do shit."

"Then why are you doing this?" She asked, exasperated.

"Well, I ain't torturing you, sweetheart. I'm using you as bait." He explained before dunking her in the water again. I hated to admit it, but I felt a tiny bit of jealousy in my chest at the nickname. I knew I shouldn't be jealous, he obviously held little love for her.

Cooper started to whistle as he got closer to the edge of the dock like he was beckoning something near. It was at this point that I realized I had been slowly inching closer to them this whole time as my feet finally met the dock.

"What is a gulper?" I asked Cooper curiously.

"A monster, darlin'. Careful." He said, realizing how close I was getting to the water. He grabbed his knife off the wooden box he put it on earlier and tied a rope around it. He clearly had a plan.

The vaultie started crying out in the water and flailing around even more than usual. This caused Cooper to try and lift her out of the water again, but the machine he was using was stuck.

"Cooper!" I cried out, realizing she was going to drown.

He sprang into action as he grabbed a hook, moving the entire machine to pull her out. As she was pulled onto the dock, a giant pink creature followed her. He was right. That was a monster. I ran up to the vaultie and grabbed her shoulders as I tried to pull her away, but the anchor tied around her was stuck in the gulper's mouth. She kicked at the creature violently as Cooper stuck it with his knife. The gulper got ahold of her leg and swung her around, pushing me into the water. I thrashed around as I tried to find something to hold onto.

"Cooper!" I yelled before I finally was able to grasp ahold of the dock. I could hear the tussle above me and the gulper finally cry out and fall back into the water.

I could hear Cooper gasping for air as he crawled over to me. "Give me your hand, sugar."

I quickly did as I was told. He pulled me out of the water and onto the dock with ease. He got up and looked out into the water, wincing as he realized the head was gone once again.

"Cooper," I said softly. "Your bag."

He moved swiftly, going straight for his tin of Jet. At the realization that it was completely crushed he pointed his gun back at the vaultie.

"Motherfucker!" He shouted angrily.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should've just let you use me as bait in a poison river!" The vaultie yelled back.

Cooper lowered his gun before turning back around to the water. "Fuck!" He screamed.

I finally stood up and waddled my way over to him. My clothes were soaked, uncomfortably sticking to my skin. This caught his attention, he put his hand on my cheek as he briefly scanned my body, looking for injuries. "I am fine." I hummed, my heart squeezing in my chest at his show of affection. It wasn't much, but it showed how much he cared.

"You can't treat people like this!" The vaultie interrupted.

"Yeah, why's that?" Cooper asked, his mind obviously elsewhere.

"Because of the golden rule." She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do unto others as you would have done unto you."

I gave her an amused look as I let out a small laugh. "The golden rule, huh? I don't think he follows that."

"Those gulpers digest real slow. You got time." Cooper said to himself.

I put the hand on his shoulder reassuringly, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked at me for a second before hurrying over to pick up our bags. "We gotta go." He pulled out his lasso and made his way to the vaultie.

"No. no, no, no, no." She begged as he put it around her neck. "Where are we going? What about the head? I need the head to get my dad back."

"Yeah, well, the wasteland's got its own golden rule," Cooper replied, dragging her along.

"Yeah, what's that?" She asked.

"Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time." Cooper sighed.

"What about the dog?" I asked, scurrying after him.

"He ain't ours." He responded curtly.

I frowned at him. I had gotten attached to Dog Meat, but the determined expression on Cooper's face kept me quiet. Wherever we were going, it was important.

Tag list: @msrawog @valdemarismynonbinarylove @topiramateagreeable @whizbang-cap @sitkafay @lightan117 @eykismyfav @ajeff855 @madelinealexandra @justme12200 @sihlaryn @raviolisenpai @ellabellabunny123 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @leviathanleva @v3lv3tf0x @judgementdays-girl

#cooper howard #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard x reader #fallout tv series #the ghoul x reader #fallout

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lemonlover1110 · 8 months

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𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 4] Car Ride

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Talks of Abortion

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji tries to hand you the bouquet of flowers, but you don’t take them from his hands. Your eyes linger on them, and while it’s a beautiful arrangement, you don’t want to take them. For some reason, you feel that if you take them, he’ll believe you’re accepting to try and work things out which you aren’t willing to do. Even though maybe you should.

You turn your head when you see Shiu drive off, and you roll your eyes. Toji clears his throat and he assures you, “I’ll drive you home.”

“I have to buy a mattress.” You inform him, and he slowly nods his head. He doesn’t mind, you guess. You still can’t help but ask the question, “What about your job?”

“I can leave early, it doesn’t matter.” He responds, and you sigh. Suddenly he can leave early but when you begged to have a date night, he was always busy. He’s putting in so much effort now, effort that he should’ve put in before you decided you were going to leave. “Do you wanna go do that now? We can talk while we go shopping for that.”

“I guess…” You search around to see if you find Shiu’s car in the distance. You don’t really want to talk to Toji, but you also have no other way to go home other than by walking or taxi. Plus you need his help right now. You look around to find his car, and you find it a long way down the road.

You begin to walk to his car, and he follows behind, running so he can open the door for you. You don’t thank him when he does, you just get in the passenger seat, and you side eye him when he doesn’t shut the door. He throws the flowers on your lap and when he shuts the door, you toss them to the backseat. When he gets into the driver’s seat he asks, “Why don’t you want the flowers?”

“What’s the point of them? Aren’t we getting divorced?” You respond, and he tries to take a deep breath. He turns on the car and pulls out of his parking spot, driving somewhere. You know this route, and it’s not where he’s supposed to take you. You don’t speak about it, it’s your own fault. You weren’t seriously expecting Toji of all people to be cooperative, were you?

“Shiu told me you got a nice little apartment…” He speaks up when he stops at a red light. You hum in response, not really trying to engage in a conversation. You lean your head back, resting it and shutting your eyes. You just want this to be over. Never in your life did you expect to dread being in a car next to Toji. The love of your life sits next to you, and you can’t wait to get out. To run and never have to see him again.

You open your eyes and see that you’re not driving back to Toji’s apartment. He’s taking a detour. At least you won’t have to take a taxi. Your eyes shift to him, his eyes are focused on the road. His hands clench the steering wheel while he bites down on his lip. His eyes finally glance at you, and you avert your gaze to the road that’s in front of you. “So um… What do you do?”

“Nothing cool.” You answer. You hear him exhale. Maybe he’ll stop asking dumb questions to fill up the silence. You’ve gotten accustomed to a quiet car ride, every time that you tried to speak up you’d be shot down. You don’t understand why he’s trying to change now– He already signed the papers.

“Will you still show up for Megumi?” He asks, and you take a moment to think about it. Should you really? Toji constantly reminded you that you weren’t Megumi’s mother in any way, why should you try? But even then, you and Megumi grew close and formed a bond. Megumi shouldn’t have to pay for his father’s mistakes. You don’t give him a definitive answer though, simply an,

“I’ll try.”

“Why are you like this? Can’t you see that I’m trying?” He finally snaps, making you scoff. You cross your arms, debating if this is even worth engaging. He just wants a reaction out of you. Something that is longer than two words. “I’m just thinking that you wanted a divorce because you’re seeing someone else. If you actually loved me, you would at least try to work this out.”

He succeeds. He gets the reaction that he wants. You’re seething with his words and you yell, “I’ve been the only one trying this entire marriage, Toji! Not even these past two years, our entire relationship! Do you think I just came to this decision overnight? Do you think just a couple days of you trying will make up for five years of your neglect? It’s funny that you’re the one talking about cheating when you–”

“Here you go again with the same fucking shit! That happened years ago and you don’t let me forget. You should’ve just left me then!” He raises his voice as well, frustrated with this whole situation.

“Then why the fuck are you so upset that I’m leaving you now? Tell me, Toji. Like this you won’t have to hear me complain about it!” You respond, and he has to pull over into a plaza to park. It’s best if you get out here and call a taxi. You’ll order a mattress online, and sleep on the floor for the time being. When he puts the car in park and the doors unlock, and just as you’re about to open the car door, he locks them. You hate his car because his side is the only one that has controls to lock and unlock the car.

“That was years ago… I’m trying to become a better man, please. Give me a chance.” He sounds vulnerable, and part of you wants to comfort him. You love him more than anything and anyone, you’re willing to work it out. But for your sake… And for your baby’s sake, you have to leave Toji. He claims that he’ll be better but he won’t.

“How long will it take for you to go back to being him? The same man that couldn’t even care to share how his day was when I asked him. You claimed that you’d change a couple times, Toji. You did change for a couple of days, but you always went back to your cold demeanor.” Your voice is breaking, and you can’t afford to start crying in front of him. You won’t let him see you so weak again, “I’ve seen the way you looked at her, and I want someone to look at me the same way. I deserve that. I know that you can’t be that same man for me, and I’ve come to respect that. The same way I want you to respect me leaving. I don’t want you to reach out to me just for the sole purpose of getting back together. We need time apart.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to think of what he’s going to say next. He won’t admit that he’s at fault for all of this. Toji shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He tries to be rational– To be the mature adult that he’s supposed to be. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “I’m going to unlock the doors. If you get out of the car, I won’t talk to you ever again. All I can say is good luck in your life.”

“That’s not possible.” You mutter, but he hears it loud and clear. Are you insinuating that he’s a weak man? That’s what he’s hearing at the very least, and Toji hates it.

“What are you trying to say? Are you saying that I’ll come crawling back to you? That you’re irreplaceable or something like that, because I have some news for you–” He raises his voice and you feel the tears well up in your eyes. You swallow the lump that comes to your throat before you yell,

“I’m pregnant, Toji! That’s what I’m trying to say, I’m pregnant.” You watch him as his eyes go wide, his breath getting caught up. You’re waiting for him to say the worst, knowing that he doesn’t want this. “I don’t need your help though. I’ll be fine. If you don’t want a part in any of this, then when I exit the car, you’ll be dead to me the same way I’ll be dead to you.”

A smile comes to his face, and you feel sick. You know he isn’t happy that he’s having a baby. You want to fool yourself into thinking that he is, but you know he’s not. He doesn’t care about that. He’s just thinking about– He grabs your hands and brings them up to his lips, kissing them gently before he puts them around his face. “Please stay. For our baby.”

He’s thinking about trapping you. Like this you won’t leave his side. He’s not thinking about all the what ifs and the struggles that come with pregnancy and a child. He doesn’t want this for the right reasons, and you hate it. His face inches closer to yours, and he’s about to kiss you but you pull away.

“Open the car door.” You tell him, your voice stern. His brows furrow.

“We have to talk about this.” He says, and you shake your head. You have to take a deep breath so he doesn’t hear your voice. You don’t want him to hear you on the verge of tears even though your watery eyes are the dead give away.

“No, you think that I’m going to stay with you because I’m pregnant. But I’m not. I don’t have to rely on you.” You respond.

“Why don’t you just get an abortion then?” He asks, and that’s when the tears that are in your eyes fall. He bites his tongue, quickly regretting the words that just left his lips. “I mean… If you’re so set on being alone, do you really want to have my baby? You know that means we’re stuck together in a sense.”

“No it doesn’t.” You wipe away the tears that managed to escape. You try to reach over to unlock the car door, and when you manage to unlock it, he doesn’t waste a second to lock it back up. He pushes your hand away. “Just forget that I told you anything. You don’t want another kid, and I’m not forcing you to be a father. I can be a mother by myself.”

“For how long have you known?” He questions, and you take a deep breath.

“I just found out.” You confess.

“And you decided that you’re going to be a single mother? Do you know how fucking hard it is to raise a child by yourself? You haven’t even thought about it for a day.” He points out. You bite down on your lip and think about what you’ll say next.

“I mean… I handled all of Megumi’s issues myself even when I wasn’t supposed to be a parent. And I got used to the idea that if I ended up pregnant, you’d end up leaving. So I don’t really need to think about it more.” You share, and he scoffs.

“You really think I would just leave you?” He questions and you stay silent. That’s his response. “I would’ve never done that to you.”

“I don’t know Toji, you made it clear that the idea of having kids with me was a nightmare and that you only had money and time for Megumi.” You remind him, and Toji finds himself speechless. You sigh. You really hate this. “I’m telling you because it’s my duty. If you want to come around, great. If you don’t, also great. Me and my baby will do just fine.”

“It’s my baby too.” He says. “I guess… You should do whatever you think it’s best. But if we’re not getting back together, you should get an abortion.”

“I’m not doing that, Toji. I’ve always wanted a baby, and this is my chance.” You respond, even though part of you agrees with him. “Just… Let me out.”

“I’m getting you that mattress and then taking you home.” He replies. You take a deep breath watching as he switches the gear to drive. “Then we’re going to talk about this.”

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

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vanity-bonbons · 2 months

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YANDERE VOX X MOTH! READER [Taster to see if it's worth it]

Chapter 0: The beginning

Note: You're comedic if you think I'm going through this to make sure everything is spelt right lol

How did you end up in this state? Here, you are locked in the most luxurious penthouse you have ever seen in both your life and after life. The glass windows locked shut with the walls lined with huge tvs that look to cost grands.

You were just an ordinary sinner like no other. You lived an ok life for the most part, despite being ended so short. The only thing you really did "wrong" is not believe in a higher being. God.

You were a silk moth demon with big fluffy antennas, thin fragile wings, and a huge fluff or fur around your neck. You remember a huge fall, hitting the ground and a chuckle. Vox. That was his name. You landed in front of another sinner with the peculiar shaped head of a TV.

He was quick to introduce himself as Vox, the tech overlord and owner, to the largest tech company in all of the pride rings.

"I see you're new.." he chuckled, "as it seems you can't use your wings...also the fall. "

It took you a while to come to terms with the whole hell thing a long with the fact you're talking to a sentient TV.

"What is your name? Do you have anywhere to go?" He asked, not really giving you any chance to respond before moving questions.

All this was very overwhelming to you. Your wings begin to flutter nervous before tears start to brim your eyes.

"Hey..hey..calm down," he says in his classic businessman persona voice, "come on darlin'." He slowly leads a weeping you into the V tower he was standing in front of.

It had been an hour since you had met him, and you were already in his tower, hugging him as he comforted you softly. You can't help him he just smells so nice.. and he looks so nice..his eyes... look so...entrancing...

He softly rubs your head as you sniffle into his chest. Then he pulls out his classic line.

"You could always work for my company," He says with a huge toothy smile, " I mean...I would pay you handsomely, and you need a place to stay...."

A contract appears in front of you. He tells you not to worry, and this is just for legal purposes to make sure you're as happy as possible. And stupidly, you agree without reading through the contract. Being new to hell, you didn't even know you had a soul anymore or that people use them to deal. You sign the contract with a small smile. This man seems so nice. You were confused whether this was really hell.

You belong to him now and you still had no idea. Vox told you to follow him into your very own room. But it wasn't your room. It was his.

"Get a good night's rest darlin' you have a long day tomorrow, and don't worry... you'll fit right in here at VoxTech!"

You sit down on the bed and doze off for half an hour before waking up, needing the bathroom desperately. Not seeing the walk-in bathroom, you run to the door trying to open it to find a toilet. But the door was locked. You rattled the door more and more, but no... it wasn't just stuck... it was locked. You were stuck.

A huge zapping noise can be heard before a cough as you quickly turn around to Vox, who grabbed your wrist harshly. He pulled you into his chest and stroked one of your antennas, curling it around with his finger before whispering. "Yeah.. I think you're gonna fit right in..." he sniffs your hair as he continues to play with your antenna.

All you could do was stand there. What was happening. What did you do?

#vox #hazbin hotel #vox x reader #yandere vox #moth reader #x reader #velvette #valentino #hazbin hotel valentino x reader #hazbin hotel vox #the vees #yandere valentino #alastor #lucifer #vaggie #hazbin lute #hazbin adam

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licorice-tea · 3 months

Text

Could I Be Loved By You? Pt. 2

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x reader, Usopp x reader, Nami x reader (separate)

Content: some suggestive jokes in usopp’s part, just general silliness besides that!

Word Count: 0.9k (total)

A/N: first time writing for all three of these characters- say whatttt! usopp’s part is my fave, but i love all of them!!! also if you check my master list for more content or anything, just know that im working on making it looks more aesthetically pleasing (it’s a mess right now😓) anyway thanks for reading and enjoy <3

Part 1

What happens when you ask them; “Do you think we’re together in every universe?”

Nami - 0.2k

With a singsongy voice, you announce your presence to Nami. “Babe!”

“Y/n!” She responds in a similar cadence. However, she doesn’t look up from drawing her map.

You round her desk so that you’re standing behind it, and she finishes off a line before setting down her pen. “What’s up?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Mhm…?”

“Ok. Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t laugh at you, babe.” Well, she might, but only out of endearment.

“So… Um, do you think that we would be together in every universe?”

Her lips, once pressed together in a resting expression, curve upwards. The shake of her shoulders is an unmistakable sign of held back laughter, which is only solidified by her hand covering her mouth.

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t laugh!” But in all fairness, you’re smiling too. It’s a silly sort of question.

“I’m not, I’m not!” She defends herself through giggles, then clears her throat.

“So, do you think so or not?”

Nami taps her chin with a smirk. “Yes. Yes I do.” The faintest blush colors her cheeks, though she’s much too proud to ever admit to being flustered by the idea. To think; you want to be with her just as badly as she does you, in any every lifetime or world where the two of you coexist. It’s enough to make even her swoon.

“Awww, so you do love me!” You tease. Your next course of action is to run out the door before she can (lovingly) hurl a book at you.

Monkey D. Luffy - 0.3k

You and Luffy are the last crewmates left at the table. Neither of you were late to dinner, nor were you ever. No, you had arrived to the dining room on time (even a little early), but he is still on his 3rd main course. Meanwhile, you are a slow eater. It’s no bother, though; you’d take almost any opportunity to spend time alone with Luffy.

With a soft smile, you tilt your head as you watch your boyfriend and captain stuff his face.

He pauses, noticing your staring. “What? Something on my face?” He licks his lips.

You shake your head. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh, ‘bout what?”

“Do you think we’re like this in every universe?”

“Like what? Still hungry? I know I am!”

“No,” you giggle, “I mean like… in love. A couple.”

This time, Luffy is the one to giggle at your curiosity. “What a weird question, y/n.” He cracks his blinding grin at you. “Of course we are.”

Luffy proceeds to stretch one arm around the back of your chair and pulls it closer to his. The proximity allows you to lay your head on his shoulder, and now everything feels right with the world…

Still, the “what if” scenario runs rampant in your imagination. “But if there is a world where we aren’t-“

“Just means we haven’t met yet.”

“… Hm. I guess you’re right.”

“Yeah, and I found you this time, right? So, I always will.” He says it all like it’s some simple, known truth. As if there are no doubts in his mind- nor should there be in yours- that you’re meant to be together. It’s not surprising though, given Luffy’s view on his own destiny. Naturally, yours is part of his, and vice versa.

With a simper, you swipe your thumb over the corner of his lips to brush away a crumb. “Or maybe I’ll find you.”

Usopp - 0.4k

You and Usopp like to play this sort of game where you ask each other questions. Sometimes they’re deep and introspective, others silly and random. It’s not really a game, per say, but… Well, it’s a fun little thing for when you’ve exhausted other topics of conversation or both of you are bored of other, cleverer topics.

“Ok, favorite temperature?”

“Favorite temperature? That's so specific!”

He chuckles. “Thats the point, baby.”

You hum in agreement before responding. “True… 74 degrees.”

“Celsius, or fahrenheit?”

“…Usopp.” You deadpan. “74 degree celsius would be, like…”

“Around 165 degrees fahrenheit.” He grins proudly. How some people, such as your boyfriend, are such naturals at mental math, you would never understand.

“Hmph… if you say so. But, yeah, why would I say my favorite temperature is 165 degrees fahrenheit?”

Usopp shrugs, “I wouldn’t put it past you; I know you like things hot.”

You’re too caught up in the way he leans toward you teasingly to notice his arms snaking around your waist. Without warning, he pulls you close to his chest. You shriek as Usopp spins you around, but your arms remain looped around his shoulders even after he sets you down.

“That was a dirty trick.”

“I think you enjoyed it.”

And you did, so you just smile and accept defeat. It’s your turn to ask a question now. “Do you think we’d be together in every universe?”

His smile falters. “I… Well, I don’t know.”

“…Oh.”

“I want to be, of course, I just…”

“Just what?”

“You have so many choices, y/n. Who’s to say you’d always choose me? I definitely wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, in this hypothetical alternate-“

Your lips stop his from moving with a forceful kiss. They linger there, just for a few moments, before you pull back less than an inch away. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t apologize. I’d always choose you, Usopp, no matter what.”

His confidence grows back, along with his smile. “Then yes,” Usopp places another small peck to your lips and pulls away to gauge your reaction, “I think we would be together in every universe.”

Your eyes seem to shine with some emotion that could only be described as love. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #nami x reader #cat burglar nami #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #straw hat luffy #usopp x reader #god usopp #straw hats #straw hat pirates #straw hats x reader #fluff

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atimeofyourlife · 4 months

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Come one, come all to this tragic affair

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: hurt/comfort (heavy on the hurt) | rated: m | wc: 1000 | cw: minor character death, car accidents, death of parents | tags: established steddie, emt steve, death of steve's parents This was the worst shift Steve had faced since starting his emt training. Facing down a car accident that included his parents' car. title from The End by MCR

Steve still felt a little out of place sitting in the passenger seat of the ambulance as it sped down the highway with the lights and sirens blaring. He was still in training, and every emergency seemed new. He knew this would be bad from the little he'd heard over the radio, a major car accident that sounded incredibly serious with multiple casualties.

He couldn't help swearing loudly as the ambulance slowed to a stop at the scene, instantly recognizing one of the cars.

"Most people save that until they know the status of everything." His mentor, John, responded as he moved to get out.

"No, it's just. The Mercedes. That's my parents' car." Steve replied hesitantly, unlatching his seat belt and reaching for the door.

"Stay in the truck for a minute." John said, climbing out and slamming the door, Steve watched as he made his way over to the police and other ambulances on scene.

Steve waited anxiously for John to return, watching as he spoke to another paramedic. He tried to get a gauge on what was being said, but their faces didn't give much away. He was terrified of what the outcome could be. When John returned to the ambulance, Steve could see from his face that it wasn't going to be good news.

"Harrington. I'm relieving you from duty."

"What-" Steve started to ask, but the words got stuck in his throat.

"It, it's not good news, kid. For the Mercedes, there's a male driver that's DOA. And a female passenger in critical condition. You should be with your mom, not worrying about duty. I'll walk you over, then I'll radio base to let them know what's going on."

"Oh." Steve felt numb as he climbed out of the cab. There were people scattered everywhere, working on the people that had been in the other cars. Near the crumpled shell of the Mercedes, a body was covered by a sheet and Steve knew that it was his father. A few feet away, laid his mother, covered in blood. "Mom." He gasped, hurrying to her side.

"Stevie?" She whispered, opening her eyes for barely a second.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm here." He rested his hand gently on her shoulder, keeping out the way of the paramedics as the worked on her.

Once his mom was stable enough to be moved, she was being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

"Harrington." John came jogging over. "I've spoken to base, you're signed off duty for at least a couple of weeks. Go with your mom, someone will catch up with you later."

Steve just nodded, before climbing into the back of the ambulance with his mom, taking her hand for comfort as the doors slammed.

At the hospital, Steve was directed into a side room to wait for updates as his mom was rushed into surgery. He knew it wasn't looking good. The paramedics that brought them in offered Steve their condolences before they had to leave to get back out. He knew he should phone Eddie, but he didn't know if he could find the words, at least until he knew.

After a couple of hours, Hopper walked into the room. Steve vaguely recalled noticing him at the scene, but his focus had been elsewhere.

"Any updates?" He asked, taking the seat next to Steve. Steve just shook his head, not wanting to talk.

It was only a few minutes later that a doctor walked in. Steve got to his feet, wanting to be ready for anything.

"I'm sorry, Mr Harrington. We tried everything we could, but your mother's injuries were too severe. We were unable to save her."

"Oh, I." Steve could feel himself crumbling, tears running down his face and his knees buckling. The only thing preventing him hitting the floor was Hopper darting forward to grab his shoulders.

"I've got you." Hopper wrapped him in a tight hug. "I've got you."

The rest of the day passed in a blur, Steve just moving on instinct following whatever Hopper or any of the hospital staff told him. It felt like he could blink and he would be in a different place, with different people. He'd never had a great relationship with either of his parents, but he just couldn't process that he'd lost them both in just a few hours. He felt like he was just seeing snapshots through someone else's eyes. He came back to himself when Hopper shook his shoulder, somehow he'd lost getting into the car and the drive home.

"Let's get you inside. D'you want me to explain it to Munson?" Hopper asked gently.

Steve just nodded as he got out and walked up to the small house he was renting with Eddie.

"Steve, is that you?" Eddie called as the door shut, stopping short when he saw Hopper. "What's going on?"

"We should probably sit down for this." Hopper replied.

Steve followed Eddie into the living room, curling into his side as they sat on the sofa, not caring about his bloody uniform or the fact he hadn't bothered to take off his boots.

"He responded to a major car accident. His parents were in one of the cars. Neither of them survived."

"Oh, Stevie." Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Steve, feeling the tears start to soak into his shirt. "I've got you baby. I've got you."

"If you need anything, just let me know. And I'll check in everyday." Hopper said as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, thanks Hopper." Eddie replied, still holding Steve close.

"You need anything Stevie?" Eddie asked after Hopper left.

Steve shook his head. "Do I even get to be sad? I don't- I've barely seen or spoken to them for months. Why should I be allowed to be sad?"

"You can feel however you want. They were your parents and you loved them, you're allowed to grieve." Eddie murmured, running his fingers through Steve's hair. "And I'll be here through it all."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie hurt/comfort #jim hopper #steddieholidaydrabbles #emt steve harrington #established steddie #minor character death #atimeofyourwrites

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 22

An explosion in the QZ throws everything into chaos. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-21 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Depictions of injuries. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 3.6k

“Stay here.”

Andrew’s hands were on your shoulders, holding you in a chair in the break room. You were having a hard time making your eyes focus.

“We need to clean up the exam room,” you tried to stand up but he held you down.

“I’ll do that,” he said. “You don’t need to do that, you stay here, I can stay at yours or you can stay at mine tonight but just stay here for now, OK? Just stay put, don’t do anything crazy…”

He kept looking back at you as he left the room, like he was waiting for you to do something unhinged. But you stayed put.

It was deafeningly silent, too far away from the exam rooms to hear the bustle of the work being done. The drone of the florescent lights ate at you. You could hear it mixing with your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the drone of life and light making your skin crawl.

Every time you blinked you saw the echo of McCarthy’s broken body behind your eyes. There was so much blood, so much damage…

Oh God, that much damage.

You were moving before you even really thought about it. It wasn’t something you really considered, you just went to grab an emergency trauma kit and went to the front.

Marta was at the desk. She said something to you but it didn’t register.

“Tell Andrew I’ll see him later.”

Your voice sounded oddly dead and far away, like you were underwater. You didn’t wait for her to respond.

Once you were on the street, you started running. You usually avoided running in the QZ. For the last few years, running had been viewed as a sign that you were doing something wrong and grounds enough to be taken into custody and questioned but you were past the point of caring.

You reached Joel’s apartment in record time.

***

Joel wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Tommy was out on a date.

He didn’t want to answer any questions and he knew he’d ask them. He didn’t want to say anything to anyone. But being alone felt almost dangerous. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drown the images in his mind or live in them. You’d suffered them, it felt like he should, too. If he hadn’t left you, it never would have happened…

There was a quiet knock at the door. He frowned.

“Fuck off, Tess,” he said, just loud enough that he knew she’d hear. Part of him knew he should feel bad for saying it but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d deal with it later.

“Not Tess,” your voice was soft. “Let me in, Joel.”

He threw back the rest of the shitty whiskey he was drinking. You were about the only thing that was going to make him move. He opened the door.

Your eyes were rimmed in red and there were spots of blood on your skin.

“What do you want?” He asked. He’d meant it to sound sharp but it hadn’t.

“I have a suture kit and wraps,” you said.

“Don’t know what…” he began but you cut him off.

“Yes you do,” you said quietly. “Let me in, Joel.”

He knew he should say no but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to leave. He stepped aside and you came in. You were standing so close to him, gently taking his hand in yours as he closed the door. You turned it over in your fingers, frowning as you did.

“Have to clean you up first,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Any… defensive wounds I should know about?”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Hands are it,” he said.

You nodded, leading him to the kitchen. You silently started the water, warming it up as you opened your bag, pulling out the tools you would need. You washed your hands first before leading his under the water. He winced as you gently cleaned his wounds, skin split open to the bone over his knuckles. Once you were satisfied with the water, you opened a small bottle of alcohol.

“This is going to sting,” you warned, glancing up at him. He just nodded. You dabbed it on with gauze and he clenched his teeth to stay silent. You led him to the table after that, sitting him down where the light was best before pulling up a chair close to him. Your legs were between his own as you delicately looked over his mangled skin. He was reminded, for a moment, of the night he’d picked you up from your bad date, more than a decade ago, back in Austin. How he’d held your injured wrist in his hand, taught you how to throw a punch to help keep yourself safe, how you’d fallen asleep against him in your sundress with cherries on it. Your toenails were red and there was a ribbon in your hair. You smelled like lavender.

“You need stitches,” you said, not looking up from his hand. You held his palm, your hands enclosing his own. “Open and close your fingers for me?” He obeyed, wincing. You nodded. “You have a boxer’s fracture, too.”

You went through the bag and pulled out packs of what you would need. You put on clean gloves before gently rubbing a cream into his injured skin. He tried not to wince.

“Don’t have local anesthetic with me,” you glanced up at him. “But this will help with the stitches.”

You swabbed some orange shit over his skin and got out the needle and thread. You looked up at him again.

“Try to hold still for me, OK?” You didn’t wait for a response, just starting in on his hand. He hissed as the needle pierced his skin but he didn’t move.

“How did you know?” He asked after a few moments of watching you work.

“He was’t quite dead yet,” you sounded distracted. Joel winced. “They brought him to the clinic. I tried to save him but…”

“I’m sorry,” Joel said quietly. “You shouldn’t have seen that. Thought I’d finished him.”

You sewed again for a moment.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Joel,” you said. Your voice cracked.

“He hurt you,” he watched you.

You took a deep breath.

“Yes.”

“I should have done it 12 years ago,” he said. “But I wasn’t there. Just took care of unfinished business.”

You were nearing the end of the sutures.

“You never told me,” he said.

“Never told anybody,” you replied, tying off the last stitch. You looked over his hand for a moment.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked quietly. You looked up at him, his hand still gently clasped in yours.

“No,” you said. “Not mad. Just worried. You’ll need to lay low for a bit with these injuries, they’re going to be looking for whoever did this…”

“Plenty of people with beat up knuckles in the QZ,” he said.

“Yeah but yours are the only ones I’m really worried about,” you replied, pulling wrap and tape out of your bag.

You wrapped his hand, securing it in specific places.

“That should help with the fracture,” you said, sitting back in the chair. “You’ll need to keep it wrapped for at least two weeks.”

He took his hand back, testing it before he looked at you. It was the first time that he’d looked at you since he’d come to the QZ and thought you looked anywhere close to your age. Maybe it was because you weren’t as bright as you normally were. You weren’t smiling. Instead, you looked worn. But your face was still soft instead of hard, your eyes still warm instead of cold.

“Why did you come here?” He asked.

“I needed to see if you were OK,” you fidgeted with the end of your braid. “I saw… He was in bad shape. Even if it wasn’t a fight, I knew you’d be hurt too and I wanted to make sure you were alright. And I…” you turned your eyes down toward the table. “Wanted to be with you.”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” he said eventually.

“I know,” you nodded slowly.

He watched you for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. You frowned. “For what he did to you. That I wasn’t there to stop him. I should’ve been there, I should’ve…”

“It’s OK, Joel,” you said quietly. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his. It took me a long time to know that but it’s true.”

You looked at the clock on the wall over Joel’s shoulder.

“I should go,” you said. “It’s close to curfew…”

“Stay,” he said quickly. “If you want. I just… Would like to be close to you. For tonight. If you’ll let me.”

You considered him for a moment.

“OK.”

He gave you a t-shirt and you showered before you climbed into bed with him. You were wearing his clothes, in his arms, undoubtably leaving your hair in his shower. He ran his injured fingers over your skin, from your temple to your chin. Your hand rested on his chest. It was the closest he’d been to you in years. It was the closest he’d felt to another person in even longer.

“Why did you do it?” You asked quietly.

He could barely make out the shape of your face in the dark.

“He would have hurt you again,” he said. “Failed you once with him. Couldn’t let it happen again.”

“You didn’t fail me, Joel,” you said. Your voice was soft, like if he ran his fingers over it he’d want to be wrapped in it, held in it.

You curled your legs into yourself and he pulled you closer, so your body was tucked into his legs and torso. He trailed his broken hand through your damp hair. Being this close to you again was disconcerting. It was comforting, feeling you breathe against him, your warmth so close. But the proximity hurt, like someone had cracked him open. He was raw and vulnerable and it made his stomach twist. It made him think of things he didn’t want to think about.

Before he could decide better of it, he spoke.

“Do you ever think about them?” His voice was quiet. He could tell by your breathing that you weren’t asleep yet but he almost wished he was wrong.

“I try not to during the day,” you said after a moment. He could feel your breath on his skin. “But at night, I can’t help it. Sarah’s easier. I know what she looked like and sounded like. I can hear her joking about things sometimes. The other is harder… but they always look more like you than me. Your hair, your eyes. Sometimes your dimple or your nose. I can never really see them past maybe toddler age, though. I can’t see them become their own person, I have no idea what that would be.”

“Seems like the harder I try not to think of her the more I do,” he said quietly. “It’s… harder, when you’re close. You and her…”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I just keep thinking, what if it were different,” he said. “If I…”

“We don’t know what would have happened,” you cut him off. “It may not have made a difference. It may have been worse. I think you’re imagining the best case scenario, that if you’d just had control, it all would have been OK. But so many people died or were turned… we just can’t know. Maybe we’d all be dead now. Maybe Andrew and Tommy, too, because they were trying to live without our help. Maybe this was the best outcome we could get. You can’t go through life blaming yourself for not doing something that could have just been impossible. You deserve better than that.”

He didn’t say anything. He just held you as your breathing shifted into the comfortable, familiar cadence of sleep. He let himself hurt, the ache in his broken hand barely registering in comparison. He let himself feel. He let himself fall into your closeness until it all blended together and he couldn’t disentangle it until he fell asleep beside you, too.

***

Wednesday, June 17, 2015 - Two Months Later

You hadn’t seen Joel since the morning you’d woken up beside him, so seeing him when making a pickup at a FEDRA building shocked you. You just weren’t expecting him.

Joel was already awake when you drifted back into consciousness that morning. You’d slept well. Far better than you’d expected. The night before had been nothing but nightmares from the outbreak, shocking awake every few hours not entirely able to remember what had you so terrified, only that you heard Jessica’s voice or had counted pinecones over your head. But sleeping next to Joel, you knew you were safe. You could rest.

His body was stiff beside yours, though. You were in his arms, like he didn’t want to let you go, but it was like he was trying to harden himself against you, make it so you couldn’t really touch him.

“It’s going to go back to how it was, isn’t it?” You said quietly.

“I can’t…” it almost sounded like he was in pain.

“It’s OK Joel,” you said, voice soft. “I don’t want to be something that hurts you.”

He held onto you for another few minutes. His fingers ran through your hair, you breathed him in. It felt like the end of something, more this time than it had the others. When he took his hand back, you got up and got dressed in the darkness of his room, slipping out without saying another word.

You hadn’t seen him since. Until that moment. He was with Tess, headed somewhere as you were leaving the FEDRA office. Some lab equipment had come in for you from Atlanta and you’d just gone to grab it after school before heading to the clinic for the evening. Joel’s eyes met yours and you lifted your hand, giving him a small wave. He responded with a nod of acknowledgement and you half smiled. It wasn’t much but it was progress. You’d take progress.

You saw Joel’s reaction before you heard or felt it. His eyes went wide and he was reaching and suddenly you couldn’t hear anything and your feet weren’t on land anymore.

The next thing you knew, you were on the ground. There was smoke, you couldn’t see much or breathe well. There was dust on the air, heat behind you and a high pitched ringing in your ears that drowned out the sound of almost everything else.

Hands were on you then, pulling you up. It took you a moment to orient yourself, realize that it was Joel who was dragging you up. You saw his face - frantic, pained - saw that he was talking but you couldn’t hear any of it.

He pulled you up to standing and tucked you against his side. You looked back over your shoulder. The building you’d just been in was half gone, part of it was burning, there was debris everywhere. You tried to pull yourself away from Joel but he held you tight.

“We have to move!” You could hear him again. It was sudden. There was still a whine in your ears but it wasn’t blotting everything out anymore. You looked up at him.

“There are people in there!” Your voice didn’t seem as loud as you were trying to make it. “I have to help them…”

You stumbled over some debris and Joel’s grip loosened enough for you to pull yourself free. You ran back toward the building, just hearing him scream your name behind you as you did, jumping over piles of concrete and rebar and trying to plot a way inside that would keep you away from the fires that were spreading. There was a path inside and you took it, the heat oppressive.

“Hello!” You yelled. “Anyone alive in here?”

“Over here!” Someone called. Your ears were still ringing but you clambered over the twisted remains of walls and windows to where you thought the sound was coming from. You spotted them, a woman not much older than you on her back and bleeding from her head, her blonde hair matted with it. She was panting for breath. You made your way to her.

“Hi,” you smiled a little. “I’m a doctor, I’m going to see if I can get you out of here, OK?”

“OK,” she nodded quickly.

“Try not to move your neck for me,” you said, looking her over. Part of her leg was below a chunk of the building. “What’s your name?”

“Kathy,” she said quickly. “My leg…”

“I know, Kathy,” you said. “Real quick, tell me the date and where you are.”

“It’s Wednesday,” she said, voice shaky. “I don’t remember the date but it’s June? In 2015? I’m in the QZ in Boston…”

“Already passing with flying colors here,” you said, ducking low to look at the leg below the concrete. There was a sizable gash along her thigh, one that may have hit the femoral artery. If it did, she’d bleed out once you started trying to move the concrete - if you even could move the concrete. “Can you feel your legs, Kathy?”

“Yeah,” she nodded quickly. “Yeah, the right one really fucking hurts…”

“Better it hurt than not, trust me,” you smiled. “OK I don’t have a kit or anything with me but I need to put a tourniquet on your right leg, otherwise you might lose a lot of blood once we try to get you out from under this concrete and that’s not good…”

You sat up on your knees and looked around. There was a man not far away who you hadn’t noticed before. He looked dead. You gave Kathy a small smile and quickly made your way over to him. You checked his pulse. Nothing. His eyes were open, staring into nothing, glassy and empty. But he had on a belt.

“Sorry,” you closed his eyes gently and unbuckled the belt, pulling it free as delicately as you could before going back to Kathy.

“You and I are going to get to know each other real well for a second here, OK?” You said, reaching between her legs and threading the belt through. “This is going to be pretty uncomfortable but just keep thinking ‘it’s better than blood loss’ for me.”

You tightened the belt as much as you could, Kathy hissing in pain as you did. Satisfied, you moved onto the concrete.

“OK, I’m going to try to lift this but I probably won’t be able to get very far,” you said. “So when I do, try to move your leg out, OK?”

“OK,” she said quickly, still panting for breath.

You gripped the hunk of concrete, the material rough against your fingers. You took a deep breath.

“One, two, three,” you pressed up, trying to stand as you did. The rock shifted a little but was too heavy for you to move it much more. “Try to move, go!”

She groaned and dragged her leg. You clung to the concrete, muscles straining, panting for breath through the dust and the smoke.

“I’m out!” She said and you dropped the rock, your arms already aching in relief. You moved quickly, wrapping an arm below her and helping her up, tucking her underarm into your shoulder.

“Alright Kathy,” you said. “Ready?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she said.

Navigating back through the rubble and the fire was harder with a second person and outside the building was chaos. Guards were swarming, people were screaming. You got Kathy to the edge of the chaos, a guard leveling a gun at you.

“I’m a doctor!” You said quickly. “She’s injured…”

He lowered the gun, looking to her leg.

“Come on,” he said, stepping to the side so you could come through. You got Kathy to another building and set her down against it, looking around until you found a guard who didn’t look like he was doing much. You grabbed him.

“Has medical shown up yet?” You asked.

“Don’t know,” he said. “Scene is a mess…”

“Stay with her until they do,” you said. “Tell them she’s evaluated at orange, understand?”

You didn’t give him a chance to argue, just running back toward the line of guards between the burning building and everything else. Joel’s hand closed over your arm before you had a chance to make it that far, yanking you back against him.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” He demanded, holding you tight.

“There are people alive in there!” You tried to pull yourself from his grip but he held firm. “I have to help them…”

“Joel,” Tess appeared on the other side of him. “We have to get out of here before they start arresting people, we have to go!”

“Then go!” He snapped at her before turning back to you. “Not going to just let you get yourself fucking killed…”

“People are dying!” You yelled.

“And you don’t get to be one of them!” He yelled back, dragging you along behind him. But his grip on you loosened when he stumbled on debris and you broke free, running back for the line of guards, ducking below one who tried to stop you. Joel was screaming for you.

“Doc!” You heard a vaguely familiar voice. “We haven’t cut the gas…”

You heard the explosion as you felt it this time, heat and force throwing you back as the roar of it overtook you.

The last thing you saw was clear blue sky before your head hit the ground.

A/N: The Fireflies are acting up and it’s causing problems! We can’t let things be calm for a bit, gotta be thrown stuff at these folks all the time.

I do have a taglist that I update every time I post! If you'd like to be added, please comment below :) For some reason, some people's handles won't let me tag them? If that's the case for you, I'M SO SORRY Tumblr hates me.

There will probably be a second chapter posted today as I damn near fell asleep writing this one last night and I have a lot more I want to get down today so just keep a eye out for that.

Thank you for reading and for all your feedback! It’s lovely knowing how people are connecting with my work. Love you!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

191 notes · View notes

vanfleeter · 1 year

Text

Rules // JTK

Pairing: Jake x reader Warning: Smut (minors look away), fluff, slight cursing, penetrative sex, fingering, broken nose, name calling, let me know if I missed anything. Author's Note: Thoughts, just thoughts.

Summary: Nerf war turns dirty.

Jake had never been so relieved to leave work, especially so early. He’s usually stuck in the studio with the guys for hours and they never get out until late. Today is different. They only had a few meetings and interviews and by the time they finished it’s only six.

Not wasting any time, Jake packed up his guitar and rushed out to the car. The sooner he gets home, the sooner he can make love to you. That’s all he was thinking about the whole day.

“Why are you in such a rush?” Josh asks as he unlocks his car.

“I just want to get home.” Jake responds as he pulls open his car door and jumps into the seat. “No one text, no one call. I won’t answer.” He slams the car door shut and turns the car on before pulling out of the space and driving off.

Pulling up in the driveway, he quickly gathers her things and rushes up to the front door. He pauses at the door with his hand on the knob when he sees a note taped to the door.

‘Inside you will find a nerf gun. First one shot loses. Good luck!’

Pulling the note off of the door, he pushes the door open and steps inside. Just like the note says, he finds the nerf gun resting on the entry table with several rounds of styrofoam bullets placed beside it. Setting his guitar down on the ground, he picks up the nerf gun and stuffs the bullets inside of it. He gets ready and looks around his surroundings.

He knows she’s hiding. The only question is, where?

The house itself is huge. She could be inside or outside but she never specified the rules on the note.

Slowly walking towards the stairs, he finds a note taped to the wall. He pulls it off the wall to read it.

‘If you win, I’ll do anything you want me to. If I win, you have to do whatever I tell you to do..’

“What are we, twelve?” He grumbles.

A bullet whizzes past his head making him jump. “Oh fuck, I missed.” He hears you groan. Lifting his head towards the second floor landing, he sees you standing there with the gun poised in front of you.

“Give me a chance, will you?”

You shake your head. “Follow the rules.”

“What rules?” He says. “You didn’t set any rules.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Oops..” You say before running away.

“Oh you’re so in for it now!” He calls after you as he runs up the stairs.

He hears you giggling from the bathroom but when he steps inside he finds it empty with the door open leading into the bedroom. Stepping through the door into the bedroom he dodged a bullet as it whizzed by his head again.

“You have a really bad aim.” He says as he pulls the trigger sending one towards you. It sails past your hip as you dip to the side and run out of the room.

He chases after you down the hallway and back down the stairs. “So if you win, what would I have to do?” He calls behind you. “Huh?” He peers into the guest bedroom only to find it empty. “Do you want me to sit pretty for you? Hmm? Naked and whining, I know you like being in charge.”

He steps into the other bathroom and throws open the curtain. No sign of you. You couldn’t have gotten away that quickly.

“Not necessarily.” You say behind him.

He spins around and easily dodges your next shot. You quickly run from the bathroom with Jake hot on your heels.

“Then what would you rather have me do?”

“Are you willing to lose to find out?” You say turning around to face him.

“Hell no I’m not losing.” He says. “Would you just stand still for one second?”

“That’s not in the rules!” You exclaim as you turn back around and run down the stairs.

“There are no rules!” Jake shouts.

“Oh there’s rules, Jacob, there’s always rules.”

“Then do you care to explain these rules?” He says stopping on the last step on the staircase.

You lean against the entry table and twirl the nerf gun around your index finger. “Okay. Rule number one. No touching. Unfair advantage. Rule number two. Avoid the face. Anything shoulders and down is fair game but never shoot the face.” Jake nods his head with each new rule that you state. “Three. If you run out of ammo, you automatically lose. So be wise about when you shoot.”

“Oh that’s not fair.” Jake says. “You know I have a horrible aim.”

You widely grin at him and nod your head.

“You bitch..”

“Ah ah..” You say, shaking your head. “Rule number 4. No name calling.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Real mature.”

“Hey I’m not the one name calling, I’m just stating the rules.” You push off the table. “Feel satisfied with the rules?”

“So I can’t touch you and I can’t call you names?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“I hate when you’re in charge.”

You wink at him before raising your gun. “Shall we resume?”

Jake sighs. “I guess so.”

“Good.” You take off into the living room and dive behind the couch, Jake’s bullets sailing over your head and bouncing off the wall. “Be careful! You’re gonna lose all of your bullets.”

“Just stand still then.”

“And lose? I don’t think so.” You say taking aim at Jake.

He dodges the bullet before shooting another one at you. You gracefully dodge it and run out of the living room.

“Come back here!” Jake shouts.

Running through the hallway you head for the back door and slam it closed behind you. You hear a thud and you turn around to see Jake stumbling backwards and holding his face.

“Oh! Jake!” You rush back to the door and pull it open.

“Oh god, that hurt..” He groans. “That really hurt.”

“Shit, Jake–I’m sorry.” You say. “Do you need ice?”

Jake nods his head. “Please.. Less swelling..”

Going over to the freezer, you pull open the door and grab an ice pack. As you turn around you feel a styrofoam bullet hit your chest. You look up at Jake who’s still holding his nose with one hand and pointing his nerf gun at you with the other.

“You cheater.”

He chuckles. “It’s not in the rules. Neither of us called a time out.” You huff. “Gonna be a sore loser?”

“Get your own ice..” You say tossing the ice pack onto the counter and storming out of the room.

“Oh.. Babe!” Jake calls after you. “Come on, don't be like that! Babe!” He grabs the ice pack and presses it to his nose. He follows you upstairs to the bedroom where you crawl onto the bed and cross your arms over your chest. He chuckles and lowers the ice pack. “No one called a time out. I thought it was fair game.”

“Common sense, Jake.”

He smacks his lips and shakes his head. Walking over to the bed, he crawls over to the duvet to sit in front of you. He pulls you onto his lap and kisses you cheek.

“How about we both be winners?” He says. “Fair enough?” You nod your head making him laugh. “Now.. What did you have in mind for me if I lost?”

You take a deep breath. “It was something for both of us.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod your head and shift your body to straddle his waist. “It’s been a while since we’ve been… Intimate.” You whisper in his ear.

“Mmm, I agree.” He says. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“You have?”

He nods his head. “You have no idea how difficult it is trying to arrange tour dates when all I can think of is being buried so deep inside of you and hearing you screaming my name.”

Gently turning you over so you’re on your back, he presses gentle kisses to your neck and along your collarbone. You moan in content and chew on your bottom lip. He sits you up and pulls off your shirt before laying you back.

“My beautiful wife..” He whispers, his breath blowing by your ear and sending a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips against yours eliciting another moan. “Yeah, my baby likes that, hmm?”

You nod your head. “Mmhmm..” You hum. He chuckles and grinds his hips again.

“You want me to fuck you?” He says rolling his hips into you.

“Yes, please..”

He leans back and reaches for the button of your jeans and undoes them before pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. He chuckles when he sees your soaked underwear.

“I’ve barely touched you.” He says.

“Seeing you with a gun is enough.”

“A nerf gun?” He says, his eyebrows raising in intrigue. “Seeing me with a nerf gun made you this wet?” You nod your head. “Damn, I should've thought of that sooner.” He grabs hold of your legs and pulls you roughly against his hips. He moves a hand between your bodies and walks his fingers along the cloth of your underwear. He sighs, hanging his head back as his eyes flutter closed. “Oh baby, I’ve missed this.” Hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, he pulls them down and tosses them to God knows where in the room.

“Jakey, please..” You whine.

“So impatient..” He tsk’s as he shakes his head. “I want this just as bad as you do, baby–but you know the rules.”

“What rules, Jake?” You say.

“Oh I know it’s been a little while, but did you already forget?” He brings his index and middle fingers to his mouth and wets them with his tongue before bringing them to your center and slowly inserting them inside of you. You throw your head back against the mattress as you moan.

“Rule number one.” He says removing his fingers. “You call me ‘Sir’. You know how I like it when you call me that.”

You claw for his hand to bring it back but he pulls it completely away and holds it in the air.

“Rule number two. No touching.” He says winking at you.

“You bastard.”

“Ah ah,” He shakes his head. “Rule number three. No name calling.” He says pulling from your rules from earlier. “Only I will do that.”

“But-”

“Nope, I’m in charge now.” He brings his fingers back down and reinserts them a little more rougher than the first time. You hiss and grab hold of the sheets. “And the fifth and final rule. My favorite rule.” He slowly begins to pump his fingers in and out of you. “I want to hear you scream my name. No biting your lip or burying your face. I want to hear you scream until you lose your voice.”

“Mmmm,” You moan. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” He pauses his movements.

“Okay, sir.” You repeat.

“Good girl.” He says as he resumes.

Feeling you clench around his fingers, your tell that you’re close, he withdraws his fingers causing you to whine again.

“Jake–Sir, please.”

He licks his fingers clean of your arousal before removing your legs from his hips. He climbs off the bed and slowly strips his clothes teasing.

“Jacob, you son of a-”

“Ah ah ah,” He stops pushing down his pants, allowing them to hang from his thighs. His cock, hard and throbbing behind his briefs, rests on the zipper of his open pants. “Rule number three.”

You groan and throw your head back. “Jake please..”

“Who? I’m not quite sure who that person is.” You glare at him, making him laugh.

Discarding his pants he pulls down his briefs to allow his cock to spring free from its confines.

“Baby, do something for me.” He says as he wraps his hand around his length and gives it a couple strokes. “Touch yourself.”

“Of course, sir..” You reach down to your folds and begin to pleasure yourself.

“That’s my girl,” Jake says as he continues to stroke himself. “You’re so beautiful when you touch yourself. Does it feel good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I bet it doesn’t feel as good as my cock, rubbing against your walls and touching all of your sweet spots.”

A moan escapes you as you throw your head back. Jake chuckles and moves towards the bed.

“That’s what I thought.” He leans in between your legs and grabs your hand. He raises it to your lips. “Taste it.” You open your mouth and wrap your lips around your fingers. “Yeah, you taste that sweetness?”

“Yeah..”

“You taste so good, baby.”

Pushing you up the bed to rest in the pillows, he adjusts himself between your legs. Lining himself up with your entrance, he slowly enters you. Though it isn’t the first time, he still wants to be gentle with it being a few weeks since you two have been close like this. You both relax into each other.

“This is the last time we ever go this long with each other.” He says. “God I’ve missed this..”

Slowly he pulls out before shoving himself back in. It doesn’t take him long before he finds his rhythm and eventually picks up his pace.

“Oh, Jake..” You moan. “Just like that baby.”

“You always take me so well.”

He lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist as he digs in deeper. “Oh fuck, Jake!” You cry out.

Digging your fingers into his back, you drag them across his skin leaving red marks in their wake. As he continues thrusting into you, he brings one hand down and uses his thumb to run circles into your clit.

“Fuck, Jake!” You moan. “Jake, please please don’t stop.”

“You like that, don’t you, my little slut?”

“Yes, sir, very much.” You say digging your fingers deeper into his back. “Oh god.. Jake.. I’m.. I’m-”

“Fuck baby, you’re doing so good.” He says. “Let go baby, I’ve got you.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close. You can feel the burning feeling in your core. How it feels so wonderful to be feeling that again. Just like always, as you allow your orgasm to flow through you, Jake holds you tightly as he fucks you through it. It isn’t long until he reaches his climax and releases inside of you.

“Oh fuck.” He cries. “I love you baby.. I love you so much.” He presses his lips to yours. He can still taste some of your arousal on your lips.

Removing himself from you, he lays his head on your chest as he works to relax his body. As the two of you come down for your highs, you run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“I need more ice..” He says.

You laugh at the random thought. “We can get you more ice. Just lay here for a second, please.”

“Of course baby.” He says snuggling into your body.

–Next Day–

Jake steps into the studio and drops his guitar in the sound room before meeting up with the others in the conference room. “Sorry I’m late.” He says as he falls into the chair. When he lifts his head he finds the three staring at him. Their eyebrows raised. “What?”

Sam slowly points to his own nose. “Your..nose..”

“What did you do?” Danny asks.

“It’s so swollen..” Josh says as he gently pokes it.

Jake smacks his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch it.”

“Well what’d you do?” Josh reiterates for Danny.

“(Y/N) got into a game of nerf guns and I ran into the back door.” Jake explains.

Sam snorts, earning a glare from Jake. “Sorry, but.. How-”

“She shut the door on me and I couldn’t stop.” He groans and hangs his head. “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

“No, no!” The three of them say as they shake their heads.

“Really?”

“Ehh..” Josh shrugs his shoulders. “You look like you have a clown nose.”

Jake groans and slides down in the chair as he covers his nose. “No more games.. No more.”

Josh chuckles. “Let’s get started on our tour itinerary.”

O fim

#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fanfic #smut #jake kiszka smut

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football-and-fanfics · 1 month

Text

The Medic #8 - Alisson Becker

About the series: The Medic will be an anthology-like series about the reader working for the medical team of the club. Each chapter will feature a different setting/scenario and a different player.

Who: Alisson Becker Prompt: knocked out Requested by: anonymous Notes with request: Alisson gets knocked out during training because maybe he got kneed in the head when making a one v one save. Word count: 844 Warnings: contains descriptions of being knocked out, concussion unconsciousness and some blood. Mentions of hospital.

You were always on standby during training sessions in case something happened that required your medical care. Mostly it meant you could watch training unbothered, clasping a cup of tea in your hands, but not today.

The moment the collision between Virgil and Alisson happened, you knew you needed to spring into action. The Dutchman's knee and the Brazilian's head connected with a nasty thud as both of them went for the ball, and it was clear that at least one of them wasn't going to walk this off.

You jumped up from where you were seated somewhere to the side of the training pitch. The fact that Alisson lay motionless after that nasty collision was worrisome to say the least.

"Don't move him!" You warned as you skidded to a halt where Alisson lay on his goalline. He lay on his side, exactly as he had fallen, and unresponsive. Several concerned teammates surrounded him, including Virgil. There already were a lump and a bruise visible on the Dutchman's knee, confirming to you how hard of a contact this had been. And the fact that Virgil didn't pay the least attention to his own injury, showed how concerned he was for his goalkeeper.

"Please, one of you, run inside and ask for further medical assistance." You turned to the team as you knelt down by Alisson. "I'll do it," Joe announced, and sprinted away.

You fully focused on Alisson now. "Ali?" You rested a hand on his side, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his ribs in sync with his breathing. He didn't respond, although you hadn't really expected him to. You pressed your fingers against his neck to feel a strong and steady heartbeat.

Given the circumstances, you were satisfied with Alisson's condition for now. It made you could have a quick first look at where Virgil's knee had struck Alisson in the head. The lump on his forehead, just above his right brow, betrayed the exact spot. His eyebrow had torn slightly from the impact, but was bleeding quite a bit.

You took a piece of gauze from your kit, and gently held it to Alisson's brow to stem the bleeding and keep the blood from getting into his eyes. Alisson groaned softly at the contact. There were the first signs that he was coming to.

"Ali?" You tried again. "Ali, if you can hear me, I need you to squeeze my hand." You moved one of your hands to rest in the palm of his still gloved hands. It took a few seconds, but finally his fingers unmistakably closed around your hand.

This was a good sign at least. "I need you to remain still," you continued calmly, "you had a nasty collision. Do you remember any of it?" "No..." Alisson took his time to answer you. "My-- head." "You took a knock to your head," you explained, "can you tell me what you feel?" Alisson groaned painfully again. He was awake, but surely not completely lucid, and on the verge of passing out again.

"Dizzy..." Alisson finally answered. "...Headache... bit nauseous." You recognized the signs of concussion and knew a trip to the hospital was inevitable now. "Any neck pain?" You gently pressed and felt his neck, to rule out that the collision had done more damage. "No pain or tenderness when I press here?" "No," Alisson mumbled back. "Good." You shook off your jacket and draped it over him to assure he would stay warm. "We need to wait for further assistance. If you start to feel worse, tell me immediately, please." Alisson didn't reply, but you knew he had heard and understood your words.

For several minutes you sat with Alisson, holding one of his hands and keeping the gauze pressed gently to his torn brow with your other hand. Joe had returned with two of your colleagues by now, who had immediately started preparations to get Alisson transported to the hospital.

All this time, Alisson barely moved. He lay quietly and calmly, surrendering to your care. He had opened his eyes just a sliver, but the world swam around him. His head ached, and the bright daylight didn't do that any good either.

"Still doing alright?" You checked in on him. "Yeah." Alisson's voice sounded slurred and weak, but at least he was responsive. "What's going to happen now?" "We're getting things ready to get you to the hospital," you explained patiently, "the ambulance is on the way. I'm fairly certain you have a concussion, but they'll probably do some scans and more tests at the hospital." Alisson groaned softly. "Will you be coming with me to the hospital?" "Would you want me to?" You asked. "Please." Alisson sounded almost frightened. "I don't want to go alone."

You swallowed hard. This big, strong, confident man you knew, now looked so vulnerable. "Of course," you soothed, "I'll be staying with you for as long as you need me to." "Thank you." Alisson gave your hand another soft squeeze, and you knew you were doing the right thing.

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @hbstre, @sarah10r-blog, @mountsgirlsblog, @bobbybecker-21

Add me to the tags list Alisson Becker masterlist | Full writing masterlist

#alisson becker #alisson becker imagine #alisson becker blurb #alisson becker fanfic #alisson becker fanfiction #football imagine #football blurb #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction #footballandfanficsthemedic

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imdoingmybest0 · 10 months

Text

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader 18+; Minors DNI

Just a fun little idea I had about Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Anything for the team Prt.1

Running up the beach, I grab my towel to work the sand off my body. The teams last play in dog-fight football had ended with me diving to catch the ball, resulting in a cheer from your team. It also ended with earning me a mouth full of sand, but anything for the team.

Phoenix, Bob, and Halo soon joined me, opting out of what looked now to be tackle football. Bob grabbed three beers out of the small cooler he had packed and a water for himself. Always responsible. Phoenix nudged me with her shoulder, “Good catch back there, really took one for the team.” I feel a grin spread across my face at the compliment. “That’s what this beach trip if for right? Team-bonding”, I respond, “plus I wouldn’t have had any chance if Halo had thrown me that perfect spiral.” We all three tapped out bottles together and turned back to the ocean in contented silence. I was really starting to love this team. I hadn’t been so sure that any part of this mission was going to be possible after seeing everyone at the HardDeck the first night, even the first day of training had been worrisome.

Sighing contentedly and sipping the beer, that Bob ever the gentlemen, had popped open before handing to you. The sun was setting the beach on fire, it was almost hard to see the others continuing their game on the sand with the sun throwing hot rays back into my face. My eyes slide shut and a small smile fall across my lips once more.

“Drinks tonight?”, questions Halo, taking another sip. Phoenix lazily nods with a amusing quirk down of her lips and Bob mutters something about being willing to drive everyone home.

“I’ll have to catch a quick shower,” turning towards her, “I’ve got sand in places I don’t wanna talk about.”, a light-hearted laugh falling from my mouth. Halo laughs, “I might have to do the same, I love living near the ocean, but sand is a bitch.”

A voice from farther down the beach chimes in, “Well Halo, just let me know if you need any assistance, can’t have our pilots chaffing in those cockpits.” It’s Bagman, of course it’s him, making slightly suggestive comments to his coworkers. Halo scoffs at him. He’s making his way over to the cooler and after he’s shut it Phoenix playfully tosses a small handful of sand at him, which he dodges most of. I look down towards at the group on the beach, the rest of them are slowly making their way up to where the five of us are, looking exhausted but each with a smile that looked like a kid on Christmas.

Rooster jogged up ahead of the group and stood blocking the sun, “Hard Deck?”, he asks unprompted. I smile up at him, “Any other bar you know around here that will let you unplug their jukebox to play the piano, when you’ve had a few?”

Rooster chuckles, “Call that a ‘Penny Privilege’” he says with a mischievous grin. I roll my eyes and take the hand he extends to pull myself up.

I glance over at Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman to my right, but look on Hangman’s face makes me do a double take. His jaw is tight and he’s giving Rooster a truly intimidating glare. His eyes flit down to where Roosters palm rests against mine, but the second I release him our eyes meet. He clenched his jaw slightly, before his features smooth over into his classic flirtatious grin. “Is everyone going?”, he questions keeping his eyes locked on mine and smile firmly on his lips.

I feel my neck and face heat up just a tad and hope the heat from the day covers it up. “Yea, I’m gonna go wash up first and I’ll meet y’all there after a while”, speaking at first to Hangman and then down to Phoenix.

I offer her a hand up, just as Roster had done to me and I see that same clenching jaw from Hangman in response. Somethings up with him. The group gathers their towels and coolers, various sunscreens and sunglasses where thrown into whatever bags, to be sorted through later. An obvious sign everyone was craving a quick shower and cold drinks. I take my time packing my things into my bag, telling everyone else I’ll walk back before it gets dark but that I want to watch the sun sink a little further into the ocean. I lay out in the sun with a soft sigh, the air is hot and humid. I'd pulled off my gym shorts, that had sat over my bathing suit as we'd dove through the sand.

While packing them into my bag Rooster had given a low, teasing wolf-whistle resulting in a Pheonix smacking him in the chest with the back of her hand. This made me happen to catch a glance of Hangman's tongue darting across his lower lip as his eyes subtly slid up my legs. Lingering over on my thighs and hips. I half expected him to meet my eye, give me a wink, and say, 'where you been hiding those this whole time?', in an exaggerated drawl, but he hadn't.

Instead, he had slung an arm around Coyote and turned towards the boardwalk. But as he turned, I couldn't tell if he was blushing or if he had gotten too much sun.

I almost want to roll my eyes at the thought, I doubt there was anything that could make Hangman blush.

..............................................................................................................................

I stretch out a little farther in the sand letting the setting sun throw its rays over my skin. The sand sticks to my feet and arms but I don't mind. The waves crashing further down the beach is relaxing and my tired body is grateful for the rest. I'm content, after a wonderful day spending time with my crewmates and looking forward to a night of drinks and music with the same group. I smile at the thought of a few rounds of pool, Hangman showing off at darts, and Rooster on the piano stirring the whole bar into a frenzy.

I sit up and finish off my beer, tucking my towel into my bag after shaking it out. As I'm making my way towards the boardwalk, I spot a small public shower.

It's a wooden three walled structure, in the shape of a rectangle set just on the edge of the beach. I take a moment to consider, rinsing the sand off now would make it easier to clean up when I got back to the barracks. It may even allow me enough time catch a ride with Bob and Pheonix.

As I get closer to the showers, I hear the water hitting concrete and I know someone else is already in them. I step into the entrance to see a small area with hooks along the walls for bags, as well as signs about keeping swimming suits on at all times in the showers and how there is no lifeguard on duty.

I place my bag on a hook closer to the entrance of the shower area. The water is still running and I'm hoping for Halo or Pheonix or even Bob so I can gossip with them about how Hangman gave me a full look over. I undo my hair and walk around the corner, but my steps stutter as I see a tall, blond man facing me. His head is ducked under the shower head otherwise I'm sure he would have had a snark comment locked and loaded. This time I'm the one who gets to surprise him.

"Well sailor, who are you getting cleaned up for?" I say with a smile as his jerked out of the spray and he swiped the water of his eyes to see who had joined him. A smile slid across his lips, but I couldn't help but notice his cheeks didn't look as pink as they had as I thought earlier. "Well, hey there lady." His accent was thick and purposeful.

I roll my eyes and pick a shower on the opposite end of the room from Hangman. The open top of the shower let the red sunset in to warm my shoulders and head against the cold water being pumped through the pipes. I shiver anyhow, ducking under the spray. I wipe the water from my face and glance over at Hangman, who has stopped moving to watch me rinse my hair. My heart skips a beat when I see him watching me, but I scoff out the oldest line in the book, "Hey, take a picture it will last longer."

"Could I?" he responds, he almost sounded serious.

I laugh and roll my eyes, "Has anyone ever told you what a flirt you are? I never know if to be flattered or offended." He smiled and looked at me "I'd much rather you be flattered, but I know I don't really get to pick do I?" he smiled. He ran his hands over his arms and shoulders, knocking loose sand that was stuck there. My eyes couldn't help but follow their movements.

"I honestly don't mind." I respond copying his motions, "Flirting with friends is always good practice." I lean down to swipe the sand off my legs in doing so I miss the other showerhead being shut off. I stand straight only to be met with Hangman standing a few steps from me. I let out a small gasp at the sudden proximity. His features are stern with one eyebrow slightly risen, "What if I don't want to be friends?"

Instinctively I take a half step backwards, "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

Jake takes a step forward.

"Honey," he speaks slowly "when I flirt with you, I'm not doing it as your friend. I'm doing it as a man." He takes another step in, closing me in as the water sprays my back. If I move back any further the water will wash over my head and obscure the man in front of me. Jake reaches a hand out slowly, I inhale as his arm brushes past me and tuns the knob to off. He smirks, "Do I make ya, nervous doll? I don't mean to." I take a deep breath and glance down, his arm is still against mine, hand still gently wrapped around the handle.

"I'm not nervous." I meet Jakes eyes and he's smiling at me. His arm glides over mine until his hand reaches the back of my neck to toy with the stings holding my bathing suit together. He gives one of the long stings a small tug and I feel my top loosen the slightest bit. He makes one more smooth motion and he closes the distance between us, so we are nearly chest to chest.

"Are ya gonna join in at the HardDeck?" he asks, voice husky, only breaking eye contact to skim down the lines of my face, pausing just a second longer on my lips.

"That was my plan." I respond softly, at that he smiles and drops the string of my bathing suit back against my neck. "

Well then," he starts, "Guess I'll buy you a drink." He leans in and kisses my cheek before I have time to process what he's said. He steps back and starts to saunter out of the shower area, I could swear he was almost skipping.

He turns the corner disappearing before his head re-rounds the corner, one hand grabbing the edge of the planks, "Ya know, darlin there are quicker ways to get into the shower with me."

I place a doubtful hand on one hip, "Oh, how would I have done that?"

His smile is devious, "Ask." and then he's gone.

..............................................................................................................................

I take time to scrub myself down, making sure to exfoliate and apply lotion. I try to keep myself focused on the task at hand, but my mind keeps wandering to Hangman's words. What did he mean by not flirting as a friends', I thought that's what the Dagger squad did. Rooster's wolf-whistles anytime someone removes so much as a jacket. Pheonix's winks after she sinks a ball in pool, especially when we have a bet. Bob's shy but effective way of leaning into your space to make dirty jokes that he only ever makes quietly. As polite as that boy is, his jokes are as dirty as Hangman's.

Thats must be what this is, a joke. Hangman saw an opportunity to flirt with me and make me blush, and he did.

But is that why I'm taking time to pick out an outfit that shows off my legs, Jake had been looking at them. Possibly blushing as he did. The thought makes me a little warm and my throat dry. I bite my lip and grab my bag and slip on my shoes, making my way towards the main gate. I'm taking my time walking, enjoying the salty night air and laughing to myself at all the young sailors piled into cars driving past and blaring everything from country to rave music. As I walk, I hear a strangely familiar rumble behind me, when a clean as a whistle truck pulls up next to me. I glance over, expecting to see some leering dickhead but instead I find Hangman leaning with one arm out of the window. "Well, hey pretty lady, need a ride?"

I laugh at him and walk over to rest my forearms on the edge of the window leaning in slightly, admittedly, giving the Texan a chance to glance at my chest. "I didn't think you'd be getting outta port this late, Seresin" I say to him with a genuine smile.

"Thought I 'otta hang back to offer you a ride, gives me a chance to brag about my baby." he grins, giving an affection pat on the door. He quickly pops the door open causing me to shuffle step back in surprise.

"I can walk around Seresin." I say with a huff.

"Nah, all these kids driving like madmen. I can get out or you can climb over." Jake extends a hand to me and my heart leaps into my throat. I slide my palm into his, and place one foot on the side of the truck and one between his knees. He holds me steady while I pull my other leg into the truck, sliding onto the bench seat with ease. I settled into the seat, I'd ended up sat halfway between Jake and the passenger door, knee next to the gear shift set in the floor.

Jake pulled his door closed and clicked his seatbelt, "Here you go Doll." he holds up the buckle end of a seatbelt, close to his hip. I turn and look for the belt end but find nothing.

"Where's the other half?" I question.

"Oh shit," Jake glances past my hips, "sometimes it gets stuck between the seats. Pardon my reach." He proceeded to lean over me and run a hand between the seats with suggestive expertise. His arm gently brushed along my chest once or twice as he searched for the belt. I felt a familiar heat creeping along my neck and cheeks. Hangman finally fishes the belt from the black hole between the seats, but instead of handing over the belt to me, he adjusts it slightly and buckles it over me. The small gesture makes my teeth ache with how sweet it is. Jake smiles up at me before reaching to change gears, the back of his hand brushes my knee and I feel a little giddy from such a tiny touch. I take a deep breath to settle myself, before glancing around the truck. The dashboard was dust free and sporting a scuffed cowboy hat. I could see a that there were a few photos tucked into the passenger's visor and a handful of trinkets dangling on the rearview mirror.

I smile, "I thought you were gonna brag about your 'baby'." I say adding air-quotes to the word baby.

"Of course! I'm always excited talk about her, I just got a little distracted with something prettier." he glances at me out of the side of his eye and smirks. "This was the same one my momma drove in high school. She got hit by some jackass running a red light. Nothing unfixable, but too much to get her back on the road. My granddad had it shoved back in a barn, we pulled it out when I was around 13 and I helped him fix it up. He surprised me with it when I graduated from basic." Jake laughs a little, then continues, "That old man had even taken it to a real shop to get it repainted, he never spends money like that on cars."

I run my hand along the smooth leather of the seat, it's a little scuffed but well-worn making the leather soft and comfortable. I knew Jake drove a truck, but I didn't know how much it meant to him.

"Actually, my momma told me that when they took her to the hospital to check her, that's when she found out she was pregnant with me." Jake smiled at the road a little lost in thought. I look over at him, his features were soft as he wondered through his memories. His smile was soft and his eyes where fixed on the road. He was dressed in a cream, linen button up with the sleeves cuffed. His top two buttons where undone showing off his tan chest. Wide-leg jeans hugged his thighs, and a pair of aviator sunglasses were hooked in the V his shirt made. A pair of worn tecovas adorned his feet and a silver watch sat on his left wrist. He looked gorgeous in the glow of the streetlights as the two of you pulled into the HardDeck parking lot.

I run my hand along the dashboards various scars and smile, "I think she's beautiful, Jake." He pulls the truck into a spot and shifts to park before turning towards me, arm sliding across the top of the seat behind my shoulders.

He meets my gaze and gives a warm but crooked smile, "She's not the only one, sweet thing." He unclips my seatbelt before undoing his own and once again popping open the door, holding my gaze like I was hypnotized. Jake slides out of the truck before offering me a hand like earlier, I reach out and take it, my heartbeat speeding up for the umpteenth time tonight. As soon as Jake has my hand in his, he uses it to pull me across the seat towards him. His face suddenly went from sweet, to mischievous, it seems that was the case every time he got into my proximity. Jakes rested a hand softly on my knee, then he applied a bit of pressure. "Ready to go in?" he asks in a low voice that leaves me a little breathless. He continues to hold my hand to help me out of his truck then pulls me in close to his chest.

My heart stutters a bit as my palm comes to rest on his sternum. I inhale sharply and feel his arm stretch out and I hear the truck door close behind me. Hangman looks down at where I rest against him and grins. "They're waitin' for us Doll."

I turn in a bit of a daze towards the HardDeck and walk up the steps. I start to reach for the door, but Hangman moves faster and grabs the handle before me. he opens the door and as I pass the threshold, I feel a warm, calloused hand on my hip making me pause. Jake leans slightly into my back, and I feel his warm breath on my neck, just below my ear, "Are you gonna let me buy you that drink tonight?" he questions, and I swear I can feel his nose brush against my ear as he whispers. I swallow and gently nod my head. "Good," he says, voice deep "keep in mind that I'm not flirting as practice tonight. Make no mistake. Every drink, every wink, and every word are to get you back in my truck at the end of tonight."

I stand there dumbfounded as Jake pulls away and gives me a gentle push towards the pool tables where the rest of the Dagger team stands. He brushes behind me, hand not leaving my waist until it had to, and makes his way towards the bar.

............................................................................................................................

Hangman hardly leaves my sight the rest of the evening. He’s always across the pool table from me, talking to Coyote a few feet away, or making a show of taking drink orders before walking to the bar. But it’s more than that.

Occasionally he will make a dirty joke and wink at me after, or gently pull me out of someones way with a gentle hand on the small of my back, or after making his general drink call to group he’d approach me and ask if I wanted a refill. I waved him off at first, but after a few hours it just got worse.

His jokes got dirtier, his small touches came more frequently, and lingered longer. My face was warm and my heartbeat each time he turned his head, hoping he’s attention would fix on me again. I usually did, especially after he noticed me keeping my eyes trained on him.

He smiled at me from across the pool table. His eyes had a devious glint to them and his lips tilted. He leaned down and sunk his final billiard ball into one of the pockets, I don’t know which one, I had my eyes transfixed on Hangman. The muscles lacing over back and arms tensed and flexed as he stood up and immediately looked back up at me. I felt like I was standing under a heat lamp, my entire face felt hot. I blinked rapidly and looked out of the window to where Phoenix and Bob stood on the deck, chatting with some of the new sailors who just got to port. I feel like it’s finally safe enough to risk another glance at Jake.

I look over, trying to appear casual. My eyes immediately meet his, I don’t think he’s moved an inch. One of his eyebrows twitched up and he set his cue down on the table and started to make his way around towards me. My heart started to race and in a panic I almost slammed my drink onto the table and stood. Quickly without sparing him a glance I rush towards that bathrooms, a small dimly lit hallway lead me to the single stalled room where I shut the door behind me and locked it. I took a second to breath and then think about what I’d just done.

I ran from the man who’d given me a ride her, bought me every drink I’d had tonight, and if he made good on his promise was going to be giving me a ride home tonight. All for what? Be cause he made me blush, he made my heart race, or because he was teasing me and it worked.

I ran a paper towel under the cold water and and gently pressed it to each of my cheeks in turn, then to my forehead and neck. I tossed the damp napkin and gave myself a hard look in mirror.

Did I want to go home with Jake tonight? Did he want to actually take me home or just want to get me riled up? I couldn’t, tell but rest of me knew exactly what it wanted.

I wanted to walk out of here, saunter up to the pilot, pull his ear to my lips and tell him to take me to bed.

I took another deep breath and made my way back into the dim hallway.

“That was quite the exit babydoll.” A voice with a twang said behind me. My efforts to cool myself off in the bathroom where suddenly all for not. I turn and see Jake leaned against the wall in front of a giant vintage poster asking me to ‘Join the Navy’.

“Seresin.” I say, a little breathless.

“I love when you call me that baby.” His smile is hungry, teeth shining in the dark. He pushes off the wall and stalks towards me slowly. He steps in close, as close as we had been earlier in the shower. That felt like years ago now. He touches a stray hair that has fallen over my forehead and smiles down at me.

“Having fun?”he questions. I nod, throat to fry to speak. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Use your words sugar.”

I swallow the lump in my throat before I respond, “Yes, thank you again for,” I make a motion, vaguely indicating the bar “ya know, everything tonight.”

“Oh?”he says, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Anything in particular you’re enjoying’?” He shifts us so that when he takes his next step forward, and I take my inevitable one back I’m nearly touching the wall next to the bathroom door. Now I know my nerves are visible on my face, my breaths are short and my heart is beating so loud I swear he could hear it.

He hums softly, eyes fixed on my face. Then he moves in closer, placing one foot between mine, and I feel my shoulders make gentle contact with the wall. Jake leans in impossibly closer, our breaths intermingling.

His cologne smells like whiskey and smoke, I want to press my nose into his shirt and inhale it deep into my lungs. He sees my eyes flitting between his eyes and his collar, and his mouth slides into a grin.

"Talk to me doll." Hangman whispers.

I meet his gaze, "You've been very attentive tonight, for not wanting to be my friend." He laughs, making his chest rumble.

"Is there any other way to treat a lady like you?" he asks.

He's been teasing me all night, and I'm done with it. It's my turn.

"There is." I say, then I smirk at him, "But we can't do that here."

The shock on his face is worth it, his mouth hangs open for a moment and his eyes widen. Then in one movement he presses his lips to mine and presses me into the wall. I feel his upper thigh press between my legs, and I gasp allowing him to pull my bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting at it. I moan softly at the contact, the sound only audible enough to reach our ears. This seems to spur him on even further, his tongue testing it's welcome into my mouth.

I push my chest into him and kiss him deep. One of his hands finds my hips and presses back, so that practically caged in. His other hand finds the wall above my head.

His thigh moves slowly between my legs trying to earn another response from me, I refuse. Hangman will have to try harder than that to get anything else from me.

Jake finally pulls away and I find myself leaning in still not wanting the kiss to end. As proof, a small whine comes from the back of my throat. "Am I really that good? I was worried I might be a bit rusty." grins Jake, he's panting, and his breath makes me shiver. "How's about I go pay off my tab and you and I disappear for the night?" I nod in agreement, and he steps back finally giving me room to take in a fresh breath of air. "We'll go say our goodbyes and then you and I can head out darlin'," Jake says as he takes my hand to guide me back through the crowded bar. As the pool tables come into view, I realize Jake still hasn't let go of my hand. I squeeze his hand and he glances back at me, confused. "I- I just don't want them to know yet." I say with a shy smile, "I don't need the embarrassment of getting 'taken down by the Hangman' if this doesn't work out." Jake turns to me fully and gently grabs my shoulders, "I understand, but this is going to work out. We can tell them when you're ready.", with that he kisses my forehead and waves an arm past himself, indicating for him to walk in front instead of being dragged behind. I walk towards Pheonix and Bob to tell them that I was going to catch a ride back to Port with Hangman. Pheonix tilts her head a bit, "I thought you usually walked, if you need a ride that bad, I can take you." she says. "No. No, it's alright, we are both heading home anyway." I respond with what I hope is a convincing smile. She still gives me a curious look but doesn't press, opting for another sip of beer. She glances over at Hangman saying his Goodbyes to Coyote and Rooster as I bid farewell to Bob. All of a sudden Pheonix half shouts, "Yo Bagman," Jake looks up at her in mild surprise, "you make sure to get her home in one piece, I don't want you fucking this team over with your shitty driving." A wide smile splits her face and Jake mimics her. "Of course, Phenni," Jake trains his eyes on me, "Anything for the team."

……………………………………...................................................................................

AN; Hey look now it's my first fanfic :D hey, look chapter one! (Prt.2 is already posted and has the good stuff)

- okay, bye, thanks for reading, luv u <3

#top gun maverick #jake seresin #hangman seresin x reader #hangman fanfiction #top gun fandom #top gun x reader #beach episode #jakeseresinissouthern #18+ fic #minors fuck off #first fanfic

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anubisandco · 10 months

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Ghost and Rabbit.

Hey! here is my newest and first fic ever, Rabbit is an oc but doesnt have an actual name yet so yk, also not beta'd bc who gives af anyway Enjoy!!

“ Run Rabbit, run.” The voice was thick and deep as it cut through the static and gunshots around her, the accent was smooth calming almost. To anyone else, he sounded like he always did, casual, yet still ordering people around, even in the middle of a battle.

To her, he was worried, maybe even scared. For her. He had no idea where she was right now. SHE had no idea where she was right now, their plane had been shot down before they reached the drop zone, scattering their forces as far as anyone knew she was miles away from anyone on her team, most of them having met up someplace in the rubble city.

More gunshots, more explosions. More bloodshed. Her knives would mean little to no defense, she wasn’t afraid though, she knew what she could do with her bare hands. Could being the keyword. Though Rabbit was built, designed for war, for killing, She had stepped off the field in that way years ago.

Her medical skills were her much-preferred way to help out, though she much preferred it when she had a team to patch up and not a bunch of potential hostels around every corner. She darted through the rubbled streets as quickly as she could, heading further and further into the battle. She recognized no one so far, dead or alive.

The stark white scarf she wore around her neck fluttered as she ran, she wore it up over her nose, covering the bottom of her face. More of a style choice than anything else, something she used to do during basic training and the few years that followed. She carried it over to her medic days as some sort of salute, or nod to the past Rabbit.

She could hear her teammates yelling over the coms, talking to each other checking in, and making sure they were all alive. Rabbit had checked in a few moments ago, it had calmed him a little bit, but the fact that he hadn’t put eyes on her in hours set him on edge.

They had been through a lot together. Hell, they started their careers fighting each other to be the best, battling for first. It took years to get where they were today, the kind of bond no one else really understood because it was just for them.

Ghost and Rabbit.

Two call signs anyone in their line of work would recognize.

They were the best of the best, they worked almost too well side by side, something everyone on their team had to get used to, well new team. When she left, He followed close behind. It's how it always was, she goes he goes. He goes she goes.

Ghost and Rabbit.

He was waiting for her now, in some crumbling building, weapon at the ready just in case. His fingers itched where they rested on the trigger, his worry getting to him. Ghost would never say any of this to anyone, not even Rabbit. His fear for her life plagued his mind every mission, every gunshot he heard right now he was picturing her on the receiving end.

Ghost knew she was better than that, she wouldn't get caught, she wasn't called Rabbit for nothing, but the thought, no matter how impossible made him want to hunt her down.

“ Eta Rabbit.” He spoke as slowly as possible, He leaned around the corner checking the streets around him. Soap and the rest of the team were crawling the streets somewhere close, picking off whatever hostels they could find, working toward the end of the mission. And he was waiting.

“ Depends.” Her voice was crackled and quiet, but sweet non the less.

“ Elaborate.”

“ Well, considering how much shit I have to climb over it’s gonna add about two minutes.” She answered and all he could do is shake his head. Their bickering on missions never ended, it was one sarcastic comment and then another.

“ Hurry it up will ya?” He ordered more than asked. She didn’t respond, a few blocks away He could hear an explosion go off loud static took over the coms channel and Ghost froze. His grip tightened on his gun, he stood waiting a few moments of silence passed.

The sound of some building crumbling filled his ears but it was like he didn't even register it. He’d go find her, in just a second, he’d give Rabbit just a second longer. Simon waited for her, shifting on his feet slightly.

What felt like hours passed.

“ I think I fucked up my knee.” Her voice spoke from somewhere to his right, the opposite end from where she was supposed to come from.

Ghost shook his head, clearing away whatever thoughts that were tangled there.

“Bloody hell Rabbit, took you long enough.” He sling his gun over his shoulder and helped her down the pile of possible wall. She laughed a lighthearted sound, something that didn’t belong where they were.

“Sorry ‘bout that Ghosty.”

Now all that stood between the team and their evac point was a few blocks and more hostiles, but at least they were all somewhat together now.

Ghost and Rabbit picked their way slowly together, his pace was usually a fast cutthroat run through the battlefield, killing at Mach ten. He had slowed down this much for her, Rabbit limped behind him just a step or two. She knew she was holding him up but she didn’t even try and apologize, he’d yell at her more for saying sorry than for slowing him down.

She checked her med kits and pockets to make sure she had almost everything she fell with, it would be no surprise if Soap needed a stitch or two when they made it out of there. It was almost like an after-mission tradition for them.

Rabbit would ask who needed her first and usually, it’d be Soap who’d raise his hand, sometimes barely with enough strength.

Obviously, he was a good soldier, great even. One of the best, but he was a little reckless with himself out on the field, so it was no surprise when he’d land in one of her beds in the med bay with a bullet hole or cut on him. She’d ask for the story and listen intently as she stitched him up. She’d once asked if it was on purpose just to see her more. Soap laughed and shook his head, leaving with the parting words that Ghost would kill him if he ever did that.

“ Ghost large group of hostiles heading your way, right block.” Gaz’s voice rang out over coms, Rabbit stopped immediately. She’d be more help if she stayed put, her hand pulled a knife out from one of the many holsters and She scanned the area.

Ghost watched her from the corner of his eye as he moved forward a few feet, closer to them. His gun was back in his hands, he pressed up against the nearest building and waited for them. This is what he was used to. Waiting to kill, to rip and tear.

He looked over at her, and she couldn’t help but smile, her scarf had fallen off her face by now, and she didn’t bother to fix it. Ghost nodded such a simple gesture, but she knew it meant a lot more than he wanted it to.

Ghost and Rabbit. Rabbit and Ghost.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod price #soap modern warfare #soap x you #price x you #ocs #könig cod #first fic #fanfiction #fanfic #idk man

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just-here-for-the-moment · 1 year

Note

Hiya! Unable to add a gif but if you want to and there’s not too many others with him, it’s my man Javier Peña with “you’re my regret” OR “get out of here! NOW!” Thank you! 🧡🧡

Oooh! I like this! 💕💕💕

“You’re my regret…” under the cut! (830 words)

Everything I write is for grown folks. If you're under 18 GTFO, do not click below, shoo, get out!

The late Friday sun slanted through the blinds, striping your paperwork gold and warming the skin on your arms. You sighed and looked at the pad of paper next to your typewriter… just a few more pages to go. What you wouldn’t give for a back rub and a cold drink right about now, but there wasn’t anyone who could do that for you, not since Peña had run off.

Lord only knows what had scared him off. It’s not like you had pushed him for commitment, or gave him the big moony eyes whenever he was around. You had been available but not clingy. Businesslike but not cold. You thought you had struck the perfect balance between being casual and being warm, but Javier had given you six weeks of fun, and then he was gone. He hit the field for a big operation that lasted over a week, and when he came back, he suddenly wouldn’t look at you. You had spent the past four months trying to figure it out.

Today, though, you had no patience for that puzzle. You had work to finish and laundry to do, errands to run and books to read. The space that you had available in your heart and your mind for the mystery of Agent Peña had shrunk, and your patience was worn thinner than the government-issue toilet paper in the DEA restrooms.

Maybe this weekend you could hit up the bar in your neighborhood that was popular with the DEA newbies and the graduate students from the university. Maybe there would be a cute little distraction, like a grad student studying poetry who had liquid eyes and a lilting tongue, or a freshly-buzzed baby-faced MILSEC guy who wouldn’t mind giving you a roll in the hay… maybe.

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and it suddenly hit you how late it was, and how the measured steps echoed against the silence of the nearly empty building. You wondered who could possibly be coming back to this office suite so late-

Javier froze when he saw you. You wanted to twitch a smile at the way he was obviously taken aback, the way he clearly hadn’t anticipated running into you alone, this late, in this corner of the building. He tapped the file folder he was holding into his palm, two, three, four times. He composed his face and wiped any trace of unease from it.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know anyone was back here… isn’t your office on the other end of the hall?”

“It was.” You enjoyed his discomfort perhaps more than you should have. “I moved over here two weeks ago.”

You held your hand out for the file, crisp, no time to waste on this man. He approached you gingerly, as though you might bite.

You glanced at the file and then tucked it into your drawer for your boss to sign on Monday. A glance at your watch showed the time well past quitting, and you decided to close up shop and leave the rest of the typing for Monday as well.

You stood and began to put things away, placing the plastic cover over your typewriter, retrieving your purse from its drawer, putting papers away and locking up your desk. You made a show of ignoring Peña, and when you were done, you raised one eyebrow at him.

“Will there be anything else, Agent?”

He just stared at you, and you made no bones about letting the irritation you felt seep through to the surface. You made your way past him to leave, feeling good about giving him your back, resisting the urge to look back over your shoulder to see if he was watching you.

His baritone voice stopped the world.

“Do you have any regrets?”

You halted mid-stride, not sure of how to respond. Was he asking about your relationship in particular? Life in general?

You turned and fixed him with a steely eye.

“Yes. I regret not leaving on time today, otherwise we could have skipped this little charade, Agent Peña. Would you like to explain why you’ve been avoiding me instead of simply treating me like a grown-up and just saying that you wanted to end things?”

He looked at his shoes, and as he opened his mouth, you cut him off.

“It’s too late, I’m not interested any more. So unless you have a sincere apology for me, you can write an interoffice memo.”

His brown eyes met yours, and his voice was so soft you weren’t sure you heard him at first.

“You’re my regret.”

Your next snarky remark was wiped from your brain, and you hoped against hope that he meant it.

You stepped closer to Peña, watching his eyes for any sign of trickery, but all you saw was pain.

You closed the distance, breathless and wanting and completely forgiving the past few months altogether, and you hoped this wasn’t a mistake. You stepped into his arms and kissed him.

#javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character #pedrostories

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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

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Darling Death

A collaboration with @sufferingstarlight

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

Warnings: toxic male behavior, talks and mentions of death and dying, cemetery, not proof read

Chapter 5 - Day 5

"So, grim reapers can cook too? Let me add that to the list of random abilities you seem to possess," I said as I took in the array of food on the dining room table. Bacon, eggs, oatmeal. "You made pancakes too?"

"Actually, they're crepes." He seemed proud of himself, but also the slightest bit timid, like he wanted to make sure everything was to my liking. He stood in the entry way as I took a seat. I filled my plate with three glorious pieces of bacon, a hearty scoop of eggs and two of the crepes-not-pancakes.

"I gotta say," I said, as I shoveled a fork full of the stuff into my mouth. "Pancakes are better." I looked up, my cheeks stuffed with food. Timothee stood there, staring at me, a hint of a smile plastered on his face and I realized he looked more like he was lost in thought...and maybe admiring me. He quickly realized I noticed shook his head, as if erasing the expression from ever existing.

"Are you not gonna eat?" I asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the amount of food I had on my plate.

"I don't really need to eat," Timothee said, shrugging. "But I'll sit with you."

I watched him as he walked effortlessly to the table, if I didn't hear the slightest clack of his shoes on my hardwood floor, I would have assumed he was floating. He pulled out a chair and took a seat.

"Lemme guess, grim reapers feed off of a portion of the dead's souls, giving them sustenance until the next victim they reap passes?"

"Yes, actually."

My eyes snapped up, meeting his. There was a mixture of seriousness and amusement in them, and it was a mixture that made my stomach flip in a way that I wasn't expecting. This time I shook my head and scooped up the rest of my food with my fork.

"You're fucking weird, man. Speaking of, I've got work today and a date tomorrow, so would you mind keeping the gloomy stalker show to a minimum? I can't have another outburst like I did the other day. Josie is already sick of my shit as it is."

When he didn't respond I looked back over at him. His hands were in white knuckled fists on the table, if he were holding a glass, I'm sure it would have shattered into a million pieces. His dark hair curled over his eyes, so this time I couldn't make out their demeanor, though if it matched his fists, it wasn't a good sign.

"A date? Really Y/n?" Timothee finally said.

"Uhm, yeah? Why is there some rule that bars me from going on a date before I die?"

"No, but maybe I should make one," he said under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked, hearing every word he'd said. Was he jealous? All he was supposed to be here for was collecting my soul.

"Nothing. Is this date with a boyfriend?"

"Not that it's any of your business," I said even though the thought of Tristan and I being more than just friends almost made my breakfast come back up. "He's an old friend that's liked me for at least a decade. Last week, before you showed up, I agreed to give him a chance over dinner and a movie."

"So, there's no boyfriend?"

"Why do you care?" I pretended to be annoyed.

He smirked at my tone, and even though the fact that he seemed so interested in my love life, or lack thereof, should have bothered me, it did the exact opposite.

"I don't. It's just that sometimes the goodbyes are messy when there's a lover involved, so you might not want to make him any promises on this 'date'." He put the last word in finger quotes.

The rest of that day went by shockingly quick and uneventful, though Timothee couldn't resist a casual jump scare or two. He'd walk behind me, unknown to anyone else and run a finger across the back of my neck or blow into my ear. Each tease made me want him to push me against a wall again, run his nose against my neck and breath my 'underworldly' scent in. And weirdly enough, I started to like the sound of that.

Darling, you smell like the underworld.

Day 5

I slid on my strappy black dress, the one I pretty much reserved for dates, disappointed that Timothee wasn't around to see it on me. I hadn't seen much of him, which was weird considering I couldn't get rid of him lately. I tried to push away that feeling. The feeling of missing someone you have no right to. The empty chest feeling that is only cured by one person's presence.

The only thing I didn't like about that dress was how much it showed. It wasn't as revealing as it could be, but it still showed the one part of me I always tried to cover. My collar bones. It wasn't that they were bad, they were actually quite nice. It was the dark, swirling birthmark staining my skin on my left collar bone. I'd tried everything from makeup and concealers, that eventually just melted off of it. To removal that even lasers couldn't touch. It was just...a part of me. Every time I wore this dress, I watched as my date's eyes travel down to it. Normally, I'd wear a cardigan to cover it up, but with mine and Tristan's fifteen years of friendship, he saw it before.

I made my way to the semi-fancy Italian restaurant, already limping in the heels I shouldn't have worn. It wasn't until I walked inside and met Tristan at the table, he already reserved for us, that Timothee took a seat. Right next to Tristan. I wasn't unaware to Timothee's eyes sweeping over my body. The last few days he'd only seen me in casual clothes, nothing this fancy. Then I saw it. His eyes locked on my birthmark.

I shot him a look, the irritation evident in my eyes and face. Tristan looked in the direction of Timothee, a confused look on his face, but, of course, couldn't see him. Tritan looked around the room, wondering who I could be giving this look of disdain to. Little did he know he was sitting right next to him.

"Thanks for giving me this chance," Tristain said.

I hid my cringe. Why did he make it seem like he was interviewing for a job.

"We've been friends forever, Tris, why wouldn't I give you a chance."

Beside Tristan, Timothee rolled his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, watching me in amusement.

Tristan perked up at my answer, hope filling his eyes. Timothee pushed out his bottom lip into a pout shook his head in mock sadness. Then I remembered what he said the day before. Don't make any promises. So instead, I just smiled at him.

We placed our orders and drank our drinks awkwardly while we waited. I hated how strange this felt, even if Timothee wasn't sitting in between us, Tristan and I had dinner together many times, why did he have to make something as causal as eating food together feel so different this time.

"So, y/n," Tristan said, breaking my train of thought. "I've been thinking and, I really think you should open up a bit."

Timothee made a face of mock shock and put an index finger to his mouth in thought.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, not able to hide the slight attitude brewing inside of me.

"It means I know you like me. And for some reason you won't let me in. So, I think tonight is the night that that happens."

"Let you in? Wha the fu-"

Sensing the mood, the waiter approached with our plates and politely placed them in front of us and walked away without asking any questions.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I finished my sentence.

"It means that this is the way the rest of tonight is going to go: we're going to eat this food, and I'm going to pay for it. Then we're going to go to the movie you picked out at 8, which I am also paying for, then you're going to take me to your house and we're going to do what I say from that point on."

I was shocked into silence, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. I'd known Tristan for fifteen years and he'd never once acted this way. I looked over at Timothee and I almost wished I hadn't. His face was almost dark with rage. His eyes normally a greenish-blue color was now completely black. His furrowed and close to his eyes and he worked his jaw in a way that I'd only seen people do before a fight. Then, he stood up, the chair behind him fell to the ground causing Tristan and a few people in the surrounding area to gasp. Our waiter came over and picked up the chair and whispered a polite and confused "I'm sorry." Timothee made his way to the front of the restaurant and slid out of the door once a busboy held it open for a older couple to come in. And suddenly, I felt a lot less safe without him sitting at the table with me. This new side of Tristan seemed sinister.

Tristan shoveled a ravioli into his mouth, glaring at me. "Are you not going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," I said through my teeth.

The door opened again, and I heard the sound of a familiar voice. I turned around and there he was, Timothee. My grim reaper. I didn't hide the smile on my face, I couldn't help it. This time it was clear everyone in the room could see him. I watched as he spoke in a whisper to the busboy at the door. Timothee glanced in my direction and winked. Then the busboy looked over at us and nodded. Instant relief flooded my entire being.

I wasn't sure how he was able to change so quickly, but he was now wearing a very expensive looking suit, all black with small accents of red and a pin attached to the collar that was none other than a scythe. The entire restaurant quieted and watched as he walked, in seemingly slow motion, to our table. All eyes, including mine and including Tristan's were on him. The busboy followed behind and quickly pulled out the chair that Timothee was sitting in moments before.

"Y/n," Timothee greeted me, pulling my hand into his and kissing the top of it. Already, I felt my core turn molten. His lips felt like fire and ice on my skin.

"Who is this man?" Tristain said, disgusted.

"You must be Tristain," Timothee said extending a hand. When Tristain didn't take it, he elegantly curled his fingers into a first. "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but it's unfortunately the exact opposite. Tell me, does it bring you pleasure to try and take advantage of women, or do you do it because your dick is small?"

I snorted and spat out some of my drink. I could see Timothe's smirk forming along his profile.

"Excuse you?"

"What do they call that these days? Small dick energy?"

I covered my mouth with my palm, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a...close friend of y/n's." Timothee said, putting an emphasis on the word close that made me bite my lip.

"Wow, I've waited all this time for you to give me a chance y/n and you just take in some twink off the street?"

"Tristain!"

Timothee shrugged, "I've been called worse." Then he leaned in closer, luckily the rest of the restaurant went back to their food and conversations. "Allow me to tell you how the rest of tonight is going to go..." Timothee's gaze hardened and instantly Tristan's eyes glossed over, his mouth hung open, and he was transfixed on Timothee, as if he was being hypnotized. "You're going to get up from here and you're going to leave."

"I was just about to leave, yeah," Tristan said calmly.

"And when you leave, you will not contact y/n again."

"Who?"

"Good, good," Timothee praised and selfishly I wished it was me he was praising instead. Then, he took a fistful of Tristans shirt and pulled him closer, "and if you do," Timothee spoke so softly I could barely hear what he said. "I will kill you myself. And trust me, you don't want to see what kind of death a reaper is capable of."

Tristan nodded and stood up and waved. "Enjoy your meal," he said as he made his way to the door. I watched until he left, waited a few minutes to be sure he wouldn't reappear and turned back around. Timothee was already sitting in his seat.

"Will he be, okay?" I asked.

"You still care about that?"

"I mean I don't want him to die on the way home. He seemed out of it."

"Unfortunately, he'll be fine."

The waiter stopped by and took away Tristan's plate. Timothee nodded politely and focused back on me.

"You don't own me you know," I said, in a voice that should have sounded headstrong but was anything but. As time went on it seemed more and more to me like that's exactly what I wanted. "You're just here to collect my soul."

"Technically, I do. I am sent here to watch you, look over you until your time is up. I am meant to protect you. Though, this situation is unlike one I have ever encountered."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"You should eat," Timothee said, changing the subject. "Eat your dinner, and I'll take you to that movie."

"Okay, but you have to keep talking."

Timothee nodded. Only resuming the conversation once I scooped a bite of lasagna into my mouth.

"Most of the souls, at least everyone I've collected have not been able to see me. I wasn't expecting it to have this type of effect on me."

I swallowed my lasagna hard as he said the words.

"I don't own you. No," he started, then reached out and brushed my hair away from my collar bone. He let his finger graze my birthmark. I shudderd at the touch. "But I'd like to. Very much."

Fuck.

He scooted up, his chest flush against his side of the table and one of knees made their way in between my legs. He dropped a long arm beneath the table and slid his palm up my leg. I dropped my fork. "I wish I could be the blood that traveled through your veins, the air that you breath into your lungs." His index finger grazed my core through my panties and I jumped, hypersensitive to the touch. My plate clanging against the table, my glass tipping over.

"Can we go?" I pleaded.

"Eat your food. All of it."

I started to protest.

"Or do I need to feed it to you?"

I shoveled in the rest of my lasagna and downed my entire diet coke. My skin tingling as Timothee gave me small touches under the table. We walked out moments later, my knees weak. Timothee laced an arm around my waist, holding my up and against him. His temperature freezing against my hot skin. We began walking in the direction of the movie theater, but somehow between soft touches and him pressing his nose into my hair we strayed off the path.

"Look!" I said, pointing to a cemetery. "Let's go in there."

"What about your movie," Timothee called after me.

"It's already 8:35, it's already started."

"I loathe cemeteries," Timothee groaned.

"What!?" I pulled his cold hand into mine and drug him into the foggy gates of the local cemetery. "A grim reaper scared of a graveyard!? This is where the bodies of all those souls you take go!"

"I didn't say I was scared. I just don't like them."

"Why?" I teased. It was getting dark, the cemetery would close soon, but for some reason I felt compelled to go in there. Like I needed to be there. "If you're scared say you're scared." I climbed upon a stone bench next to a large oak tree. Timothee stood in front of me and for the first time I was eye level with him. Then it hit me. "I've got eight days to live." I said it out lout without even meaning to. "Eight days to live and...I've not even gotten the chance to live."

Timothee looked at me and maybe it was because we were eye level for the first time, but it seemed like he really saw me. "If it makes you feel any better," he said, taking my arms and draping them over his shoulders. He circled his around my waist, pulling my closer into him. He ducked his head slightly, running his nose along my chest, stopping at my birth mark. He kissed it lightly causing my back to arch. His touch there felt like dark magic and sin. "I wish it was anyone other than you."

"Why?"

"Because now that I know you exist, I don't want you to cease to."

And before his lips found mine, they hovered there, his cold breath swirling and mixing with my warm breath, becoming too intoxicating for me to pretend I didn't need him now. His lips skated across mine effortlessly, like a dance we'd practiced for eternity. My hands slid into his dark, curly hair. I wrapped my legs around his waist, earning a soft groan from him. He turned us around and sat on the bench. He kissed me like it was the first and last kiss he'd ever have. Like sadness and hope mixed together to form a melancholy war between life and death.

A kiss can change a human life. And that one did.

This has been a Sufferingsouls production

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