#i'm happy that i'm no longer in a fucking slump

[auteurdelabre]

VAMPIRE ROOMMATE - PART I: DRAINED - Max!Philips x f!reader

Words: 2.0k

Rating: M for future chapters

a/n: Your girl was a Dracula loving doofus in highschool alrite?! So enjoy this campy little mini-series I made starring everyone's favorite douchebag vampire, Max Philips. See if you can spot all the Dracula Easter eggs!

I thank @intheorangebedroom for getting me to finish the first chapter. Love you hon! 🧡

dividers by the impossibly talented @saradika-graphics

P A R T I : D R A I N E D

The Demeter is crowded, as it always is on a Thursday during happy hour. Drunken idiots bump into you, spilling beer onto your shoes and across the ancient pub floor but you don't even notice, you just make a beeline for the booth near the back where two young women sit, smiling at your approach. 

"I cannot afford this fucking city." 

You moan this loudly, throwing your purse into the booth your co-workers have snagged before slumping next to a bemused looking Lucy. She tilts back, curving her full mouth into a smirk as she watches your face scrunch.

"Nice to see you too."

"This city sucks the life from you," you go on, ignoring her amusement. "Drains you!" 

Your two co-workers (and let's face it, only friends since you moved to this city for this job) give you gentle pats on the shoulder as you groan. 

The three of you are the youngest staff at Seward Plastic Surgery. You'd started around the same time and banded together to face the stress of working at the office amongst high end clientele, hostile co-workers and a bustling schedule. 

The three of you had all been running away from something. Mina: her oppressive religious parents back in Utah, Lucy: her obsessive ex fiance back in Sacramento and you-

Well, you'd rather not think about it right now.  

"I take it the roommate search isn't going well?" Lucy asks, half distracted by her phone. You see she's swiping through some Tindr matches.

Being that she's a goddess with flowing red hair and the best body you've ever seen, she's won't have trouble finding a date. You've already clocked three guys in the nearby vicinity who can't keep their eyes off of her. 

"This latest girl asked if it was cool if she brought her four ferrets with her. Four." You throw up your hands in disbelief. "And the one before that asked if it was cool if she did some filming in the apartment."

Mina tilts her head to the side. "What kind of filming?" 

"For her Only Fans." You shoot them a glare when your friends giggle behind their hands. 

"She said if I wanted to join in she'd split the profits with me."

At this Mina and Lucy break out into loud laughter, even managing to draw a small smirk from you before you feel that same familiar desperation clawing at you. 

You fold your arms on the table, letting your head fall into the crook of your elbow. 

"It's humiliating you guys," you mutter, "I can't believe I'm thirty and looking for a fucking roommate. And that there's no one normal in the entirety of New York!" 

You make decent money, but New York is just... So expensive. And big and stressful. It's supposed to be the land of opportunity but all its afforded you is a shitty apartment that you can't furnish and roommates that never stick around. 

"Hey, don't get like that," Mina says with a gentle hand over yours. "You'll find someone soon."

Mina is always gentle and kind and annoyingly optimistic. It's why she does the customer service stuff at the office, because no one can look at her big dark blue eyes and get angry. 

"Hey, my favorite customers."

Mina and Lucy smile up at the handsome young man who approaches the table, his eyes on Mina lingering a moment longer than the rest. 

"Hi Johnny," Lucy coos coquettishly. You don't miss how she leans forward to show off her considerable assets in her dress, but Johnny is oblivious. 

"Hi Mina," he offers gently. 

"Hi," Mina replies, a light blush to her cheeks. She gives a shy glance up at Johnny. 

"We need alcohol," you moan from where your head rests in your arms on the table. "Lots of it!"

"Day going that well, huh?" Johnny laughs, sliding a few cardboard coasters over the glossy tabletop. "I'll get you the usual."

Johnny's been your server since the three of you started coming here about six months ago and it's obvious to you that he's besotted by Mina. 

"She's having a hard time finding a roommate," Mina explains helpfully. Johnny raises a confused brow in your direction.

"What happened to Quinn?"

"Moved out in the middle of the day while I was at work and took the fucking TV," you say miserably, finally raising your head from the table. "And her last rent check bounced."

"Who the fuck takes checks anymore?" Lucy asks in quiet horror. She holds up her hands in surrender when you shoot her a dark look. 

Johnny leaves and comes by with your drinks, and you eagerly drink yours down. There's music trivia this evening and the three of you do fairly well, but you're in too low spirits to enjoy or focus. 

"You'll a new roommate," Lucy says over the pub's music, trying to raise your spirits. 

"The best!" Mina agrees drunkenly. "I just know your luck is going to turn around!"  

The rest of the night is passed in a tipsy blur before the three of you stumble to the subway hugging and pressing beer-flavored kisses to each other's cheeks. 

You finally arrive back at the apartment around midnight, yawning so wide your jaw cracks. You're fumbling with your key when the stench of salami and cigarettes washes over you. 

In anxious habit your hand flies to your neck, fingers playing absently with the locket that's always hanging there. 

"Hello Mister Morris," you say, trying to hide the slur from your voice as you turn to face your landlord; a balding man of seventy who you're fairly certain hates you. 

"It's the sixteenth," the man says, arms crossed tightly over his narrow chest. He wears a loose grey t-shirt stained with his dinner, or hell, maybe even his lunch too. 

"I know."

"I've only got half the rent from you."

Your half because Quinn picked up and fucked off without paying her half, leaving you high and dry. 

You want to mention to Mister Morris that he still hasn't fixed your leaking sink or the clicking noise that sounds out every time you use your microwave, but now doesn't feel like the right time.

"It's coming, I promise."

"You said that last week," he frowns and his thick blonde moustache twitches like a broom as he frowns.  

"I know, it's just that Quinn -"

"I don't care what the excuse is," he cuts you off. "Get me my money by Monday or you're evicted."

Before you can say anything he's hobbling away back down the creaking steps of the high rise. You feel angry tears start at your lash line as you push yourself into the apartment. 

You're about to crawl into bed when your phone beeps. You look blurrily at the glowing screen. 

[Unknown number] Hey, I got your number from Johnny at the Dementor. Are you still looking for a roommate? I need somewhere soon and can pay you first and last month right away. I have great references. Lemme know - M 

You let out a small huff of disbelief. Johnny gave your number to some strange, random girl from the pub? 

Before your irritation can grow, Mister Morris' miserable face floats into your mind. Eviction. It makes you push past your hesitation and type quickly.

[You] Do you have pets? 

[Unknown number] No. 

[You] Do you make online content? 

[Unknown number] Uh, no. 

[You] Do you have a real job? 

[Unknown number] Yes. I work at a marketing company in the city. 

If you were sober you likely never would have replied to the initial message, much less given your address to a stranger. But as it is you're floaty from the booze and the threat of eviction compels you to reply. 

[You] Can you come by the place tomorrow? 

The response is almost immediate. 

[Unknown Number] Sure. Name the time and place. 

[You] I get off work at 5. 5:30 work? 

[Unknown number] Any chance 8 works? I'm slammed at work tomorrow.

You'd picked 5:30 because there would still be a bit of daylight left in the encroaching fall weather. Eight pm meant that it would be full dark, not an ideal situation. 

But nothing about your situation is ideal. If you don't get your entire rent check to Mister Morris you can kiss this apartment and your entire new life goodbye. 

[You] Address is 18-97 Whitbey St. Bring your references please. 

[Unknown Number] See you then. 

[Unknown Number] Sweet dreams. 

You smile a bit at that last message, amused at the woman's sense of humor. Maybe Mina was right. 

Maybe your luck is turning around after all.

You don't know why but you assumed that M was a woman. So when you open your door the next evening to a man who looks straight out of the douche bag finance district you can't help but wrinkle your nose in displeasure. 

He's taller than you with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. You take in his lightly tousled brown locks and notice wearing a navy suit, impeccably tailored. The shoes look expensive.

Why does this guy need a roommate?

He's turned away from you, scanning the hallway. You think he must be thinking this is a mistake. This apartment complex is simple and old. It doesn't seem like something this guy would be into. 

He turns around and for some reason your eyes can't meet his. They stay stuck on his chest and drift slowly up to his mouth.  

"Hi there," he says with a grin that feels practiced as he takes in your expression. "You're Johnny's friend, right?"

You don't know why but something about him has the hair on your body standing on end. 

"Yep," you say feeling hesitant. 

He smells good, like something familiar you can't place. He's clean shaven, his mouth full and pouty. He's handsome, you can't deny that. Not your kind of handsome - you're more drawn to the rugged and quietly confident. 

This guy is smooth, polished and reminds you of all the asshole frat boys you went to school with. You don’t like the way his grin is slightly crooked, like he’s secretly mocking you without saying a word. 

"I'm Max," the man says, hand stretching in your direction. "Max Phillips." 

He gives another one of those practiced grins and you realize you're still standing behind the door, only your head and hand peeking out. You just stare at his outstretched fingers, the length of them, the width of his large palm. 

Your fingers creep up your neckline to fiddle with the clasp of your locket, your heart hammering. 

Max waits a beat before his hands dive back in his pockets. He doesn't seem offended at your lack of contact, if anything he seems amused. 

"So," Max says stretching out the word, his full mouth curling into an exaggerated "o". "Are you gonna invite me in?" 

His tone is playful and your gaze finally flicks to his eyes, surprised to find his gaze holding yours intensely. 

His eyes are a warm, dark brown that appear rather sorrowful. You let yourself stare into them a moment, letting yourself linger. 

Let me in. 

You step back a fraction, pushing the door open with your fingertips so that he can enter. 

"C'mon in." 

He walks into the main living area like he owns the place. It sets you on edge and you follow him at a distance, like a terrified puppy. 

You watch him glance around the small space, anxious that he'll turn right around. He's too fancy to be in this apartment with a pitiful view of the skyline and murky windows. 

It's not a terrible place, just smaller than you'd want. A cramped kitchen, a communal TV space with your old couch, a bathroom with clawfoot tub and leaking showerhead. Nothing fancy. 

Max walks around the space, taking in the exposed brick walls, the dripping faucet, the faded couch. His eyes are drawn to the small pot of yellow blooms sitting on the windowsill. 

"Caltha Palustris," Max murmurs. 

"Uh, yeah," you say stepping towards him in curiosity. "How did you know that? It's a specialized bloom from-"

"Romania," Max finishes for you, fingertips tracing along the petals a moment. "I did a bit of backpacking there." 

"Oh." You nod. "I like taking care of plants. Reminds me of home." 

Max waits for you to share more but when you don't he continues his walk over the parquet flooring, his shoes clicking over the wood. He stops before the wall over the un-usable fireplace. 

"No TV?"

You can't tell him the real reason, that your last roommate ditched you midweek. 

"Uh, I like to read," you lie. 

"Mhm." Max smirks, obviously not believing you. His eyes bore into yours and you force them to the floor. It's strange, when you stare at him you feel sort of floaty. 

He saunters towards the far door, pointing. "This your bedroom?"

"No, that would be yours if... You know," you offer awkwardly. Max nods, pulling it open and peeking inside. 

It's a small room, technically a refurbished closet. Enough to fit in a bed and a desk. 

If it wasn't New York no one would be in the market for it. As it is, with people desperate to live in the big city you have a line of people wanting to rent it. The only issue is none of them are normal. 

"I know it's small," you say almost apologetically to his back. "And I know there's technically no window-"

"I don't need much room," Max says with a shrug, closing the door again with a snick. "And I need it dark to sleep." 

You're gob smacked by this. You'd been expecting him to turn around and leave the second he saw the place. 

"There's one other thing," you say, swallowing. "Uh, I'm not really allowed to have a roommate. This is technically a one bedroom and all... So if you see the landlord just tell him your my cousin or something. He doesn't really come around unless the rent check is late so odds are you'll never run into him. But, you know, just in case." 

"Subterfuge," Max tuts with a wink that has your cheeks prickling with heat. "I like it." 

He stands out so much in your humble apartment. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would want to stay in a shoebox. You imagine him in more of a high rise with floor to ceiling windows and sleek countertops. 

"I work nights," Max tells you as you drift out of focus. "So I'd be out of your hair for the most part except for the odd weekend."

"Oh," you say, a bit taken aback. 

That actually sounds great, exactly what you were hoping for. It sounds too good to be true. 

"And I can pay cash for first and last," he adds as if he can feel you softening to the idea. "Whenever you give the okay." 

Most people were desperate for a place in New York, so desperate they didn't mind the shitty apartment with bad plumbing. But Max doesn't seem desperate, he seems like a man with lots of options. 

"You seem hesitant," Max observes with that same unflappable charisma. 

"It's just... Why do you need a roommate?" You blurt, totally at a loss. "You dress expensive, sounds like you have a good job. Why would you want to have a roommate in a shitty apartment in Brooklyn?" 

You don't miss the amusement in Max's eyes. He lets them travel languidly along your body, lingering on your neck a fraction before darting back to your face. 

"I have another apartment in the city," Max explains with a charming grin. "But it's under renovations for the next six months. I need something in the meantime and I need it quick. My job keeps me very busy and I really just want to settle down so I can get all my focus back on it."

Six months is a decent enough time. It's not a year like you'd prefer, but you're desperate right now. 

"You'd need to sign a half a year lease," you tell him. 

"Seems fair."

"And pay a damage deposit."

"Naturally." 

You falter, licking your lips nervously. You don't miss how Max's eyes follow the damp trail along your lower lip. 

"You still seem hesitant," Max says, hands back in his pockets. "May I ask why?" 

"It's just... I've never had a male roommate before," you explain. "And..."

"You don't know if I'm a creep or not," Max finishes for you with a grin. "I get it." 

You shoot him a relieved smile. "Yeah."

"You're worried I'm a potential serial killer," he chuckles, moving from foot to foot. 

"Who knows, maybe I'm the serial killer," you offer with a crooked grin. "You don't know me after all."

"But I do know Johnny," Max argues toothlessly. "If he says you're good, I trust him." 

This makes your insides grow warm. 

"Well, how about I leave you my references and you go ahead and call them. If you're still uncomfortable after that, we can just forget about it," he offers with a shrug. 

"Okay, yeah. That works."

"But I will say I really wanna get settled as soon as possible and I think this place would be a great fit. That is, as long as you don't murder me in my sleep." 

You both chuckle politely and before he can overstay his welcome, Max hands you the paper with his references' names and contact information.

"I hope to hear from you soon."

He doesn't attempt to shake your hand again and then he's gone, sailing out of the apartment on his long legs, closing the door gently behind him. 

It's late, but after a beat you call his references anyway. When you're satisfied with their positive responses you collapse onto your lumpy couch. You finger the yellow flowers next to you, mind strangely foggy. 

After another moment of hesitation you pull out your phone and begin to type.  

[You] Can you move in this weekend? 

#max phillips #max philips x f!reader #vampire #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

[killerandhealerqueen]

I am very happy with how this new fic is turning out...I even have 4 chapters written so far.  Do I know where it’s going?  Eh...not really.  It’s not as planned out as my two other chaptered fics (I mean, I know the contents of certain chapters) but other than that...we’re just going off of vibes.  But I’m so happy with it because it’s like...a combination of every mafia fic I’ve ever written plus like...one of my favorite BL mangas plus one of my favorite tv dramas, The Cleaning Lady.  So like...I’m in my fucking element while writing this and I am having fun

(Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my other fics, especially the Killer and Healer rewrite.  I’m hoping to get maybe another couple of chapters written for that fic so y’all won’t have to wait so long for updates)

#sass talks #sass talks about her writing #i'm happy that i'm no longer in a fucking slump #and that i don't hate every word that i'm typing #i think y'all will like this #it's indulgent (like every other fic of mine XD)

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, dubcon, yandere, bully/mean Gojo

gn reader - fem clothing

“Summer did you good, didn’t it?”

Your ears grate at the familiar voice. So smug you can feel the smirk before turning around to see it in all its pearly glory. 

“Leave me alone, Gojo.” You sigh, taking your drink before trying to slide passed him.

But he stands close – too close, still in the intimate club – so close his thigh brushes yours where you sit on the bar stool. “I’ll leave you alone… if you make it worth my while~”

Your nose scrunches. “Gross. I’d sooner fuck a curse.”

His smile doesn’t drop despite your insult. “I’ve got six eyes, you know…  You think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Your eyes narrow, biting out a “What?” and his smile becomes a chuckle. 

“Short skirts and tight tops. Sitting here all alone.” His black shades dip when he looks down his nose at you, a knowing look in his loud blues. “You’re fishing- and lucky you got me hooked.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smack your teeth. “And now I'm throwing you back out to sea.”

You try again to hop off your seat, but he leans a hand against the bar and traps you there.

“Who’re you dressin’ up for then, hm?” He continues, getting in closer, bearing down until his lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering, “You know~  all guys are pigs. I guess you’re happy being slop in a trough.”

You put a hand on his chest, but it doesn’t budge him – and when he leans back again on his own, he flashes an even wider grin at you.

“I mean, hell- If I knew you were such a needy slut, I’d mercy-fuck you sooner- shoulda just said so-”

“Shut up.” You snap.

He tilts his head, feeling undeterred – actually, the opposite, offering another snicker. “Oh? Grown some balls under that skirt, too, hm?”

You make another grimace at his crudeness, deliberating throwing your drink in his face.

“What? A couple of compliments and free drinks, and suddenly, you think you’re too good for me?”

You’re reminded of the gap in your rank – why you should hold your tongue.

You sigh – defeatedly now. “Just leave me alone, Gojo-”

But he’s not done having his fun. 

“You’re nothing.” He flicks his tongue off his smile. “You’re a curseless loser- and you don’t have to have six eyes to see it.”

Hints of hurt flicker through the anger on your face, and your scowl wavers – turning into a pout while you look up at him, trying to hold it together. His grin spreads when he sees it, and his words grow colder, cutting deeper.

“Don’t kid yourself- only reason anyone’s lookin’ at yah twice s’cause it’s real hilarious watching your pathetic ass think you’re anything but a-”

“I get it.” You cut him off, voice weak. “You’ve made your point…”

You slide off your stool, squeezing past him with your head bowed to hide the tears welling in the corner of your eyes – threatening to slip if you waited a second longer.

But before you’re able to disappear into the crowd, you’re stopped once again by a hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Before you go, just know… if you ever decide to dress up like a little slut again- I’ll take it as an invitation.”

The tears slip while you look up at him. 

He takes a second to admire it before letting go. Watching you rush out.

You stand outside in the cold and catch your breath. Wiping your cheeks with hitched cries before a jacket is slumped over your shoulders.

“I don’t think I wanna roleplay this anymore, Toru- It’s too much-” You sniffle, curling yourself against his chest with tiny fists balled in his shirt.

“I know-” He coos, wrapping his arms around you while resting his chin off the top of your head, swaddling you. “But it makes me so fucking hard. Feel-” He groans, rubbing his fattened groin into your stomach.

“I’m not in the mood anymore-” You whine in return, trying to nudge him and his boner off.

But he keeps you in his arms, hugging you tight, a whine escaping his own lips. “No- please don’t. Don’t leave me all blue-balled, angel. Please~”

“You’re so selfish.” You pout, allowing it.

“Yeah~ I’m the worst~” He agrees with a snicker, releasing you – holding your hand as he begins leading you to the car, a hurried spring in his step. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You’re not even listening.” You argue, getting dragged along.

He places you against the door. “Please, I need you. I’ll beg if that’s what you want.” He moans hotly while kissing up your neck – fiddling for the keys in his pocket before unlocking and popping open the back seat. 

You don’t fight him, getting overwhelmed when he lays you down – his kisses never-ending and hunting for all those soft spots he knows make you weak. 

“Can’t believe people dare look at you-” He breathes, almost in a growl, lifting your thighs up around his torso while nestling between them. Rocking his bump against the thin lace of your panties. Voice growing more and more rowdy. “I oughta go back in and level ‘em all.”

He sucks a hickey into your neck, then a small ring of teeth on your collar. You whine at the bruising but don’t do anything to make him stop. Instead, your small hands reach out to his belt – unbuckling it and unbuttoning him, tugging his pants down until they bunch around where he’s knelt.

He makes the last liberties and finds his place between your thighs with a sigh.

“Buncha small-fries… everybody knows you’re mine.”

You sit in his lap when you’re done. Naked with your dress bunched around your midriff. Nips stiff and perky – too cute to ignore, so every now and again, he bows his head to give them a kiss or two. It never fails to make you squeal.

“You think you can fit into your old school uniform?” He mouths against you, licking kisses from your chest up to your neck – sucking your cheek before placing a chaste peck on the corner of your mouth. “I wanna poor milk on yah like I used to~

He’s always so clingy after cumming. You try and wrench away from the neediness, but it’s obvious you don’t give it much effort – mostly just scrunching your face. “You’re such a jerk.”

He hums in agreeance, and you feel his smirk through his kisses and then in his laugh. “Don’t cry, it’s not the type of milk you’re thinking of.”

You blush at the comment, ushering out a curt “Pervert.”

But he only pushes, moaning out a “Please~” while kneading your hip and rubbing your thigh – pressing his face into your neck, nuzzling you with eyes closed and mouth open.

So clingy, you feel embarrassed and ticklish under all the attention. Shaking your head. “It won't fit- it’s years ago-”

He pouts with a grumble. But it doesn’t take long before the smirk returns, inching back onto his lips. “I bet you’d fit in mine, though~”

You grow even more shy at the suggestion. “You’re so weird.”

He only laughs. “And you’re so in love with me~ which means you’re even weirder. Hah, loser?”

You frown at the nickname, again making an effort to twist away from the myriad of kisses and lovebites. “You’re insane.”

But he catches your face in his hand. Squishing your cheeks and turning your head to look back at him. “Damn right, I am.” He agrees, then turns it into a playful threat. “So you’d better never leave me. ‘You think I was a bully in school? Just imagine what a nightmare I’d be now. I’m a god; I’d get away with anything.”

You giggle at his silly dramatics. 

“You laugh, but I’m not joking.” He continues, still with your face in his hands. His big round eyes peeled. “I wouldn’t just stalk and terrorize you. I’d destroy your life if you ever left me. I’d make you lose your job, your apartment, your friends, your clan- I’d make sure you had no one left to turn to, nowhere left to run but right back to me.”

Your giggles die down, leaving a small smile playing on your lips before you press them softly against his. 

“And here I was thinking you’d just settle for sending creepy letters…”

He chuckles under his breath, “Childsplay.” Then kisses you again – this time a little longer. Giving your cheeks a squeeze before releasing you softly. Resting his forehead against yours with your noses touching.

His voice is a little more solemn now, genuinely serious this time. 

“But you would never leave me, right?”

The wet traces of his kisses cool in the absence of his lips while his thumbs feather your flesh so delicately. Holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the entire world.

You tilt your head and kiss him again – chastely and sweet.

“Never.”

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere satoru gojo #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen headcanons #gojo headcanons

[asimpforthe80s]

You're getting railed when we come home..

Starring: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, use of vibrating dildo, Eddie being angry

- - - - - - - - - ♡

- - - - - - - - - ♡

You're in the passenger seat of Eddies car, casually scrolling through your phone when Eddie snatches it away from you and throws it in the backseat. Your eyes widen in shock. "What the hell?!" You ask him. "Don't 'what the hell' me." He spat, giving you a swift glance then refocused on the road. "What was that?" He asked. "What? You say. "At the restaurant." He snapped. "I saw the way you two looked at each other, I'm not an idiot, okay? That's Steve, for fucks sake." You slump in your seat, uninterested in the conversation.

Your boyfriend was way too overprotective. "Y/N, I'll flip this fucking car upside down and kill us both, sit up properly." He demanded. "No." You spat, crossing your arms. Without hesitation, Eddie increased the speed on the highway. You watch as he races other drivers. He was a reckless driver. "Slow down." You request. "Sit up." He answered. You curse beneath your breath, swallow your pride, and sit up properly. "Happy?" You said. Slowly, he drives back to the normal speed limit. "You're getting railed when we get home." He muttered.

-

As Eddie parks the car, you run up to the doorway, unlock the door, and run up to your room, locking the door. Relieved, you sit on the edge of your bed when you hear the doorknob rattle and unlock. Eddie enters the room and pins you to your bed. "Awww~ don't think that I forgot my promise, princess." You look away, and he forces you to look back at him. His face is inches away from yours.

He picks you up and throws you onto the bed. "Don't move," he says. "Or what?" You reply. "I'm pretty sure you know damn well what would happen." Embarrassed, your face turns into a burning red. "Now, don't move," Eddie says. You obey and don't move as Eddie rummaged around the house for some 'tools'. He comes back with some rope and a vibrating dildo. He tells you to get changed and hands you a bag from Victoria's secret. When you come back, Eddie ties your ankles and wrists so you can't move, and shoves the dildo into your weeping cunt. "If you make a single sound, I'll make this much worse." He threatens. He grabs the remote and turns the vibrating part of the dildo on max speed. Tears sting in the corner of your eyes as you try not to make a sound. But you can't go any longer as your voice let's out a small whimper.

Eddie hears your whimper and turns off the vibrator, roughly taking the dildo out of your pussy. "Aww, princess~ looks like I have to punish you now." You shake your head and let out a whimpers of protest, but he covers your mouth and unties your wrists and ankles. He undresses himself and pins you to the bed once more. Nervous, you look away. Eddie chuckles and shoves his fat cock into your cunt with a squelch. You begin to moan, making Eddie speed up his thrusts. As he goes faster your moans get louder. He pulls out as he remembers that this is supposed to be a punishment and you say, "please, baby~ keep going.."

Eddie replies, "My name isn't baby or Eddie. Try again."

"My love?" You try.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

With a reddened face, you answer, "daddy..?"

He smirks, "Good job, baby." He replies seductivley. "Pick a number from one to ten." He says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Uhn.. five..?" You say, sounding uncertain. "Ohoh, you're in for a treat, darling." He chuckles and shoves five fingers into your waiting cunt. You tried to squirm away as he swirled them around. He took his fingers out, wiping them off on your clit. Almost immediately, you cum. Embarrassed, you whisper, "da- daddy, I'm cumming~" Eddie smirks once more and replies. "Perfect. Get on your hands and knees, darling." He went over to the bedside drawer as you got into position.

He grabs a pair of handcuffs and cuffs you. He started licking your cum off of your thighs, slowly working himself up to your cunt. Starting to moan uncontrollably, you warn him that you're gonna cum again. His thumb finds your clit as his tongue starts thrusting in and out of your entrance. As you got down from your high, he orders you to sir in front of your desk chair as he sits down. You obey and position yourself in between his thighs. Eddie cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his cock and you immediately start sucking him off. Eddie grabs a small chunk of your hair, stilling your motions as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, soon pushing as deep down as he can, cumming in long, white ropes. Exhausted, you swallow his cum, and he gently guides you back to your bed, taking off the handcuffs. You lie down and hug the pillow close. Eddie sighs and gets in with you, making you let go of the pillow and snuggle up to him instead.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson please fuck me #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson thots #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie+munson #eddiemunson #eddie smut #dildoplay #dildosextoys #dild0 #finger my pussy #high vibration #unprotected sex #stranger things blurb

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Ex-O-Ex-O

GN!MC x Yandere Ex! Solomon

TW: Dub-con, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Manipulation, Bondage

Solomon

You always knew he had an mean streak - especially when it came to anyone who threatened your safety. He only let you around the brothers because they seemed to make you happy.

But the day you came home with an injured arm and an apologetic pair of twins - he was internally livid. With a mysterious turn of events the same two brothers fell in a freak accident and fractured the same arm as yours. And of course you weren't allowed to tend to them, not while you were still hurt.

Lucifer screamed at you for wanting to go home early, and ended up with a cursed bottle of demonus that rendered him mute for a week. When they made you overwork, Diavolo got swamped with literally endless paperwork and Barbatos ended up with rats in his room. Harmless jokes that turned extreme soon enough.

He was usually soft and slow in bed - teasing and smirking and chuckling through it all. You loved that about him. But tonight there was a meaness and urgency about it - the way he made you beg for him and the way his desperation for your validation seeped through the cracks.

"Ah MC, you're this turned on already...have I been teasing you too much?"

"Sol-Solomon please...please need you...inside me..." You panted into his shoulder and he listened.

"I'm so sorry, MC...could you tell me a little more clearly?" He said hugging you tighter. You whined and pleaded.

"Please fuck me, Solomon...Need you so bad...."

He kissed you deeply, slowly starting to thrust into you. But in that brief moment of calm, you were sure you heard muffled noises in the room. Like someone else screaming, calling your name. You looked around you in panic.

"Solomon... what's that noise?"

Something sinister ghosted over his eyes. "What noise, my love? All I hear is you and me." His thrusts gained speed. Now you could hear nothing over your bodies colliding, his hot and needy groans and praises against your ear.

He fucked you till you could no longer think straight. But he was sure to make you so comfortable and cozy in his arms that you promptly fell asleep, wrapped up in his bedsheets.

"Mmph...mhhhpppphh....MPPPHHHHCCC!"

"Hush now. Don't you dare disturb my dear apprentice with your ruckus."

"MPHHHHHCCC...MMMHHH-"

"I said...QUIET. Honestly even after I let you see it for yourselves... exactly who MC really belongs to."

"Mmmmhhccc... *sobs*"

"Ugh. What a miserable bunch. This is simply your punishment for trying to sneak into MC's room...and you want more?"

You thought you were dreaming - none of it made sense afterall. Well nothing except Solomon's voice. You rubbed your eyes, forcing yourself awake.

What you saw through the moonlit darkness was nothing less than horrifying. Mammon, Levi and Asmo slumped over halfway between the closet and floor, gagged and bound tightly by glowing purple chains.

And in front of them, Solomon stood menancingly. You could feel his rage even with his back turned towards you, several of his pact marks glowing in the dark. You gathered the sheets together, hiding your bare body.

"S-solomon?"

He looked back with eyes widened in shock. The three demon brothers started screaming your name through the gags again.

"MC... you're awake." He sighed and muttered under his breath. "I knew I should have just cast a sleep spell..."

"What are you doing to them? What's going on...?"

Solomon let out a loud laugh, almost sinister and he looked around as if suprised. "Oh MC, you sure have the wildest dreams don't you?"

"...a dream?" Your mind was still buzzing, half-asleep and tired. "You're in my dream?"

"Yes, my little apprentice." He walked over to you, his bare body glimmering in the moonlight. "I didn't know you were secretly so kinky...you wanted me to claim you in front of them?"

With blurry eyes you watched the three brothers shake their heads and let out more muffled screams. But all you could register was his warm hand sliding between your thighs again, his lips ghosting over your neck as he made you lie down again.

"Mhhmm Solomon..." You were still so sensitive, even the lightest touch was driving you crazy. He repositioned you so your head was towards the brothers and your hips were connected with his.

"You are so irresistible when you call my name like that..." He kissed you deeply, tongue lashing inside. "Won't you say it again?"

You were always weak to his praises. Giggling slightly into the kiss, you called his name over and over again. "Solomon...that tickles ahah...ahh not there Solomon!"

He was so overwhelmed with joy and so ready for you, his length pulsing against your already abused hole. "Shh shh, it's okay, MC. Look how good you're making me feel...in fact, them too..."

Solomon hoisted you onto his lap, piercing you with his length as you watched the brothers while holding onto his shoulders. In the dim light, you could still see their faces bright red, pained and arousals restrained in their pants.

"How pretty you are, making everyone around wild with desire. Especially your own master. My perfect little apprentice." He kissed and nibbled on your eyes, gripping your hips and bouncing you on himself.

"Come to your senses, MC! This ain't a fucking dream!" Mammon's voice was sharp like static. He seemed to have bitten through the gag.

"Wha...what?" You barely register his words.

"You came here to break up with him-- he's tricking you again-- it's a bonding curse--"

"Everytime he fucks you-- he's spilling his essence into you--- the curse gets stronger--" Asmo whined in sobs.

"You keep forgetting-- he's done this so many times before--" Levi's gargled voice followed.

"What noisy demons. MC, let's practice some spell-casting shall we?" Only Solomon's voice was clear enough to comprehend. So that's the only one you followed.

"What... ahhh...spell.... mhhmm" He had increased his pace again, you were so close. He smirked into your shoulder.

"Make them leave. All three at once. And then we both can finish." He slowed down almost to a halt. Your body ached for release - tears welling in your eyes.

"But I can't...can't focus like this..."

"Of course you can. You're my talented little apprentice, you can anything." He kissed your chest, right on top of your beating heart. He always knew just what to say.

"Denizens of darkness, hear me, I, the Sorceror, MC call upon the demons..." You cast your spell as carefully as you could with his length still throbbing inside you. But thankfully it worked. "They're gone now, Master..." You flirted back.

He pushed you down and thrust into like an animal in heat. He came inside you again, flooding you with warmth and a sleepy feeling. "You're simply too perfect, MC...how could I ever let you go?"

#obey me smut #obey me solomon #obey me #yandere solomon #obey me solomon smut #obey me dark

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, happy new year! Love your Elijah fics. Maybe you could do one where he turns off his humanity and the reader gets him to turn it back on again. :)

Cold Truth

{Masterlist}

You and Klaus are on a mission to turn Elijah's humanity switch back on. The only problem is that you are the reason he turned it off in the first place.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 - this one hurt! ♡♡~

4.3k words - Warnings: no smut, but so much angst, dramatic as fuck, violence, kidnapping, Klaus being Klaus, slightly spicy right at the end.

The air was thick with tension as you struggled in your restraints, glancing at Klaus as he drove down an empty street. He was humming to himself, looking very relaxed despite the fact that he was holding you hostage.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," you muttered, tugging on the cuffs that were binding your hands together. "We broke up, it's not a big deal," you added.

"Well, it seems to be a big deal to him," Klaus said, shooting you a knowing smirk. "And it's been affecting my life, so now it's a big deal to me."

You sighed and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur as you moved through the town. You didn't want to tell Klaus the details of your break up with Elijah, it was all too painful. But here you were, getting kidnapped by him, on your way to see Elijah, probably about to get murdered by the man you still loved. Great. 

"It won't work you know," you said, staring blankly out the windshield, feeling that little bit of hope in your chest die out. 

"I get that he doesn't have emotions anymore," you continued, "so he definitely doesn't care about you. Whatever little plan you have going, won't work." You sounded desperate to even your own ears, and you hated it, but at least Elijah's lack of feelings gave you an excuse not to be a complete mess when you were in his presence again. He wouldn't care, he was devoid of compassion and guilt. The thought filled your heart with an emptiness that spread to the rest of your body. You let the feeling encompass you, numbing yourself against the pain, because once this ordeal was over, you would be forced to finally accept that Elijah was really, truly, lost forever.

Klaus laughed and turned, shooting you a smirk. "I've done my fair share of terrible things," he began.

"But," he sighed and stopped laughing, "even I can see what a complete shit show this is. You broke up with him a week ago, and he flipped the switch immediately. This whole thing has been dramatic, even for my tastes."

"Oh please," you sneered, turning to glare at him. "You live for drama," you said, rolling your eyes.

Klaus snickered, shaking his head as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Yes, well, as fun as this has been, there's only so much of it I can take."

You huffed and sighed, slumping in your seat as the light turned green. You turned away from him and tried not to let your anxiety show.

"Look," Klaus began, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm going to be straight with you, love. Your break up with Elijah has been, inconvenient, to put it simply. He no longer cares about my well-being or the things I do. All he wants to do is feed, kill, drink and maim. I thought I would enjoy this side of him, but it turns out, the guy's a bloody asshole. And since you might have the ability to bring him out of this mess, it's in my best interest to try and help you."

You turned your head slowly, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "You sure do have a way of showing it. Kidnapping is pretty terrible Klaus. Do you have any idea how scared I am right now? Not only have you kidnapped me, you are forcing me to confront my ex-boyfriend after I dumped him."

"I've done plenty to upset Elijah, but he's never flipped the switch over it. What exactly did you do to him?" Klaus demanded. He leaned closer to you, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he parked the car. "I'd suggest you start talking, sweetheart," he drawled, giving you a pointed look.

You bit your lip nervously, breaking under his intense gaze. Your shoulders dropped in defeat and you looked at your lap, chewing the inside of your cheek. You told him the truth, finally letting someone in on the secret you had kept from everyone.

"I told him that I didn't love him anymore, okay? I don't know," you trailed off, tears threatening to escape your eyes. "Look, I just, I needed to tell him something and that seemed easier than telling him the truth."

"So what's the truth?" Klaus asked gently. You couldn't bear to look him in the eye, so you stayed still and stayed quiet, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you fought the urge to cry. After a few seconds, Klaus said your name softly, and when you looked up at him, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to get ahold of yourself before you fell apart completely. "I want children, Klaus," you admitted. "And he can't give them to me. But it's okay, we broke up, and I'm fine." You were most definitely not fine, but that was beside the point. You finally confessed the truth, and felt a small bit of relief.

"Oh," he said. "Do you not want to adopt? Wouldn't surrogacy be an option? I can make a phone call and have a baby delivered to your door by tomorrow," he offered. You laughed, appreciating his attempts to make you feel better.

"No, Klaus. I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying, really I do," you said, giving him a sincere smile. "I want to have his child, and that is... well... impossible," you sighed.

There was a moment of silence, and you wondered what he was thinking. Klaus could be a lot of things, but you could tell he truly loved his siblings, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. His devotion was almost as intense as Elijah's and fear bubbled up in your stomach, knowing you were now in the crossfire of his affections for his older brother.

"You aren't still in love with him, are you?" Klaus asked. You felt your insides tremble at the mere mention of Elijah, but it wasn't enough to make your heart skip a beat or your head swirl. All you could feel was sorrow, because you knew how painful it would be to see him again. To be near him, but unable to touch him.

Klaus tilted his head, waiting for your answer. When he didn't get one, he asked again. "Answer the question, love," he said.

"Of course I still love him," you mumbled. "How could I not? I will always love him." You chuckled sadly, shaking your head and shrugging. 

"Good, that will make this easier," Klaus said cheerfully, not sure how to react as he began fiddling with the radio station.

"He's going to kill me Klaus," you said, your voice flat and emotionless. "You're dragging me to him, and he's going to torture me or compel me into doing something bad and then when he's finished, he's going to kill me."

"Yes, possibly," Klaus agreed. "However, you could also bring him back and thus make my life a bit easier."

"We can only hope," you sighed. Klaus started driving towards the docks and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control the terror building within you.

"Klaus, where are we going?" you asked warily, looking around.

"Well, my dear brother isn't answering his phone, so I'm tracking it instead," he said, gritting his teeth as he continued driving.

"Can we please just leave him alone?" you begged, but he didn't seem to hear you.

"Please," you added. "I'm begging you, Klaus. Don't torture me like this, I'm not strong enough to lose him twice."

"I really don't care how you feel about this, darling," he said, reaching a hand up and patting your head, before returning it to the steering wheel. "But don't worry, I promise I won't let him kill you."

You would have responded, but Klaus took the last turn and parked in front of one of the ships on the docks. He removed the handcuffs, his eyes darting about your surroundings in paranoia as he grabbed your wrists and dragged you out of the car. You didn't put up a fight and let him pull you along, too frightened and confused to even think about struggling. This wasn't what you had been expecting when Klaus took you, and now you didn't know what to say, so you remained silent and obedient. Klaus released his grip and took a step back, heading up the ramp to the ship.

You took a shaky breath and followed him, shivering a bit as you stepped on board. There was music playing, and while the exterior of the boat looked fairly plain, the inside was quite posh and immaculately decorated. You hesitated, glancing at Klaus, but he nodded his head and you followed him into a room. You could sense that Elijah was close. You slowly breathed in and your nose twitched when you caught the strong scent of bourbon.

"I see you have already begun celebrating, brother," Klaus drawled, glancing around the room.

"That depends on how you define celebration," came a quiet response, and you shuddered at the sound of his voice. It was Elijah, your Elijah, his words ringing with a lack of inflection that wasn't entirely evident in his tone. It had a falsely polite, and strangely charming touch, like the cold indifference and arrogance that comes from experiencing and achieving total freedom.

You watched as he poured himself another glass, sitting back in a chair. He stared straight ahead, not meeting your eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the alcohol, tipping it slightly, and watching it roll around, before putting it down again, not even having taken a sip. You sniffed, doing your best to control your emotions and expression as you watched him, but your mask was slipping, and you couldn't hide the raw pain in your voice when you spoke.

"Are you okay?" you asked, sounding raspy and hoarse, even to your own ears. Normally, it would have made him feel guilty to hear you like this. Maybe he would have replied in his usual soft, intimate tone, grabbing your chin and kissing your lips gently, holding you close. But your Elijah was dead, and there was nothing left but the monster the switch had transformed him into. You glanced at his face and looked away immediately, the coldness in his dark eyes sinking into your soul. They were beautiful, and deadly, gazing at you in cold assessment, and his expression did not change as he gave you a humorless smile.

"I have never been better," he replied, not moving from his relaxed position on the chair, though you noticed a slight tightening in his jaw when you opened your mouth to speak again. You quickly snapped it shut and watched as he tapped the glass with his finger, gazing around the room and sighing. You didn't know if his admission was a good or a bad thing, but the way he carried himself, all arrogant grace and calculated casualness, had alarm bells ringing in your head, telling you that you were in great danger.

It was worse than you had expected. The man you loved, the one who had treated you with such gentleness and tenderness, the man whose heart was filled with love, loyalty and affection for you, was not present at all.

"We shouldn't have come here," you blurted out, your throat constricting at the sudden fear gripping you. His eyes flicked up to look at you, his brow furrowed as he stared. You cleared your throat, casting a worried glance at Klaus, who was standing by the bar, sipping his own drink and watching the whole scene play out.

"Why? What is the problem?" Elijah asked, and you couldn't tell if he was acting cavalier or genuinely didn't care. "You said you wanted to break up, and I obliged you. So tell me," he said, his dark eyes meeting yours, "why are you here?"

"Because," you began, but quickly lost your train of thought, shaking your head and trying to shake the overwhelming urge to cry. You sucked in a deep breath, tilting your chin up as you spoke. "Because we still have stuff we need to talk about, and we can't when you are like this."

"Like what?" he asked, sounding bored. Your jaw clenched as he casually poured himself more alcohol, draining the contents of his glass quickly and sighing.

"Well," Klaus interrupted, walking over and leaning forward on his knees, "You could start by being a tad less cocky, and try actually listening."

Elijah smirked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Niklaus, I suggest you shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out."

"That would be amusing," Klaus shot back, rolling his eyes. "I'd like to see you try, or have you forgotten I am stronger than you? You can't hurt me."

"Hmm," Elijah hummed thoughtfully, staring intently at his younger brother. "Let's test that."

Before either of you could react, Elijah reached out and grabbed the back of Klaus' head, yanking him forward and bringing his face inches from his own. He glared at him, snarling as Klaus groaned in pain.

"Don't be ridiculous," Klaus growled, his fingers flexing. Klaus easily pried his hands off of him and forced him to release him. He shoved Elijah back into the chair, a vicious smirk on his face as he crossed his arms.

"Eli," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You moved to touch his arm, but he snatched it out of your reach and pushed it back, baring his fangs at you, his eyes completely black.

"Do not call me that," he responded coldly, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't have brought her," Elijah said to his brother, and you felt the sadness you had been suppressing all day come rushing back full force. You would not be strong enough to get through this.

"Oh don't blame me, dear brother," Klaus retorted, clasping his hands together and glaring at him in frustration. "It's very much her fault that you turned your humanity off, so I brought her here to fix her mistake."

"A mistake I care not to rectify," Elijah said, lifting his chin up haughtily.

"Oh," Klaus scoffed, fixing him with a nasty glare, "I bet you don't."

"Shut up," you mumbled, blinking furiously. Your legs were shaking, your knees about to give out as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Klaus stepped closer to you and you leaned against him, trembling, clinging to his shirt.

"Get a grip," Klaus hissed, glaring down at you in annoyance. He wrapped a hand around your throat and turned you around to face Elijah. His grip tightened, and you gasped in surprise and pain, your eyes wide as they met Elijah's intense gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, something within him stirred at the sight of your fear, but it was buried beneath the ice of his indifference. Elijah narrowed his eyes as he stood up, smoothing down his tie as he approached.

"Niklaus, you are so painfully transparent," he began, an edge of amusement coloring his tone, "I do not care if you hurt her," he added, and his words cut deeper than any physical blow could.

"Eli," you pleaded, a soft whisper of pure agony coming from your lips, "How could you possibly say that? You swore you would always take care of me, protect me." He lowered his eyes, studying your features carefully. He looked down at you, stroking his chin.

"Hmm, you know, now that you say that, I'm feeling a little thirsty," he said, chuckling and stepping closer.

You shut your eyes, stifling a sob and trying to hide the fact that his words had broken your heart, shattering it into pieces. You couldn't bear his mockery, it was almost worse than not having him at all. It made the excruciating pain much more unbearable. Elijah stared at you, leaning closer and brushing a stray hair off of your cheek.

His lips hovered over yours for a split second, causing your lips to part in surprise and confusion, wanting his mouth to capture yours, knowing that the press of his lips was something you would always miss. Even when he was a monster, you felt yourself reacting to him instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But the kiss did not come, and he pulled away before you could rise to meet him.

"Do you think she knows how many ways she can die?" Elijah asked his brother, and Klaus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I mean, with enough patience and creativity, even the simplest forms of death, can be quite extraordinary," he drawled.

Klaus pulled you back from Elijah, his grip on you tightening, you weren't sure who you feared more in that moment. "Elijah, I made a promise that I would not let you kill her," Klaus said, and Elijah rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

"That promise can easily be broken," he said, as if talking about the weather.

"Actually, I thought I would take a page out of your book, find a loophole in the promise I made," Klaus said, his voice taunting as he smiled cruelly. You stopped breathing at his words, your body going rigid, Klaus was going to kill you.

"Elijah?" you whispered desperately, praying that he would protect you from Klaus. You were so cold, and you couldn't move, rooted in place with fear. He turned around abruptly, shrugging his shoulders as he walked across the room to make a new drink.

"You can go ahead and drain her if you so wish. It makes no difference to me," he said.

"Sorry love, I have to call his bluff," Klaus said, patting your head and then running a hand through your hair as his fangs grazed your neck. His voice was dark and malicious. "Say your goodbyes," he smirked.

"Klaus, please," you cried, panic coursing through you, but before he could do anything more, Elijah lunged at him, tearing him away from you. Your back hit the floor hard, your head snapping against the wood, causing you to see stars. You cradled your head, tasting blood in your mouth as you rolled on the floor. Elijah tackled Klaus, growling and snarling viciously, his fingers clenched around his brother's neck as he pinned him to the ground.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her," Elijah warned, but Klaus only smirked, using all his strength to shove Elijah off of him. Elijah's back connected with a pillar, falling to the floor as he clutched his head. He just sat there, head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, taking quick, shuddering breaths, attempting to regain some sort of composure. You crawled your way over to him, too dazed to stand up.

"Eli," you gasped, lifting his face up and forcing him to look at you. He didn't try to pull away, letting you caress his jaw. You slowly stroked his hair, shushing him gently as your fingers trailed over his cheekbones.

"Get away from me," he groaned, grabbing your wrist to keep you from touching him. His mind was reeling from the violent overload of emotions coursing through him. Having you here, so close to him, wanting him, loving him, it overwhelmed him, bringing back every single moment he had spent with you, every beautiful, painful, joyous moment of his entire existence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, reaching out to touch him. He wasn't pushing you away, he was just sitting there, hunched over, breathing heavily. Your mind was too foggy to think about the consequences of your actions. There was an excruciating ache in your chest, and you needed Elijah to hold you.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to the back of his neck, nuzzling him and letting tears stream down your face. He stilled, not fighting you, but not holding you.

"I lied to you Elijah, I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you hugged him tighter. "I love you, I never stopped. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He didn't move, keeping his expression guarded as he put an arm around you, turning his body slightly to pull you in closer. He tilted his chin down and pressed his lips to the side of your head in a gentle kiss. His eyes were closed, your scent invading his nose, your hair tickling his neck. He sighed, your words, your presence, it was like a spark lighting up a flame of emotions in his chest as the switch in his head turned back on.

"I could never stop loving you," he murmured, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit, keeping you close to him.

"Well, looks like my work is done. Do give her a ride home when you are done, Elijah," Klaus drawled, smirking in triumph as he stood watching you, before swiftly making his way out of the room.

Elijah gripped your chin gently and forced you to turn to face him. You were horrified by the sadness in his dark eyes, but the relief you felt at seeing the love there tore you apart, and you burst into tears, gripping his face and pulling him towards you, kissing his lips, his jaw, his forehead, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

"Darling," he sighed, looking down at your tear stained face. He gently ran his thumb over your cheekbone, bringing your forehead to his as he just held you.

"Forgive me, I-I-was so scared," you managed to get out, but he hushed you, your breathing synchronizing as he hugged you tightly, running a hand through your hair.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, pulling away and stroking your neck, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.

"I was afraid," you replied, sniffing and wiping your tears. "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought it would be easier to let you go if I pushed you away instead."

"What were you afraid of?" he questioned, guiding your face up, needing to see your beautiful, tear filled eyes.

"I was terrified at the prospect of getting old, growing old, and putting you through that. You'd have to watch as you lived a lifetime with me, and eventually I would be gone and you would be left alone," you gasped out, the words flowing out unbidden, unable to control yourself now that the gates had been opened. "and.. I want children of my own, and a family, I can't have all of that with you. This past week I've been so torn, I thought leaving you was the best thing to do, because I knew my choice would hurt you, and you didn't deserve that, and I didn't know how else to do this."

Elijah smiled sadly, shaking his head and cupping your cheeks. "None of that matters, my darling, and it never will. Don't you understand that? You are worth the heartache, the pain, the loss. You are worth being human for."

He kissed you gently, brushing your hair out of your face, causing more tears to slip down your cheeks as you fisted your hands in his shirt, allowing him to pour all of his love and heartache into the kiss. You were left breathless, staring into his eyes, seeing the sadness there that matched yours.

"As for children, I know a few witches that could help us solve that issue," he said. You blinked rapidly, stunned that his answer was so easy, simple. The corners of his lips quirked up, and you felt your heart thundering in your chest, desperate to have him, keep him forever.

"Do you want that? To have children with me?" you asked, your hands in his, hoping, praying, that he truly understood what he was getting himself into.

"With you, yes, anything you wish for, I will give you," he replied, resting his head on your shoulder, and nuzzling your neck. You drew in a deep breath, so relieved and overcome with a surge of emotions that you grabbed his head and planted another firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that had you smiling despite all the tears you were shedding. Your fingers were clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer to you as you continued to kiss him, memorizing everything, his taste, the curves of his lips, the way his tongue felt against yours. He put his arm around your waist, and shifted, scooping you up into his lap, and into his arms.

"When was the last time we made love?" he whispered against your lips, pulling away and looking into your eyes, his gaze caressing your features softly.

"Three months," you whispered, stroking his stubbled jaw, running your fingers over his lips, marveling at the feel of his warm, soft skin, thinking that you almost never had the chance to be with him again.

"That's much too long," he murmured, sliding his hands up your thighs and grinning seductively. You chuckled, feeling a heated blush creep up your neck and spread across your cheeks. His fingers traced the edge of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I love you, Elijah Mikaelson," you said, grinning broadly as your fingers threaded through his hair, savoring the feel of it. He just sat, staring at you with warmth and adoration, unspoken love shining in his deep brown eyes.

"For eternity, I will love you, my y/n," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against yours, and you melted into him, gripping the back of his neck as you felt a piece of your soul slide back into place, wrapped tightly around his heart.

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #klelijah

[victoryverse]

hey love!! can i PLEASE have reader under the desk giving simon head while hes in a meeting????? PLUS DEGRADING ☹️🫶

You couldn't resist the temptation any longer. As you sat under the desk, your heart was racing in anticipation. You knew Simon was in a meeting at home and you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to give him a blowjob while he was trying to conduct business. The thought alone was enough to make you wet.

You took a deep breath and slowly unzipped Simon's pants, your hand trembling with excitement. As his hard cock sprang out, you couldn't help but let out a small moan. It was just as big and thick as you remembered, and you couldn't wait to feel it in your mouth.

You ran your hand up and down his length, feeling it pulse under your touch. Simon's voice could be heard from above, but you were too focused on the task at hand to pay attention. You licked your lips and leaned in, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth.

'Mmm, that's it baby,' Simon groaned, his hand reaching down to tangle in your hair. 'Suck it good.'

You obliged, taking more and more of him into your mouth. You used your tongue to swirl around his shaft, making him moan even louder. The thrill of being under the desk, giving your boyfriend a blowjob while he was in a meeting, was almost too much to handle.

'You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?' Simon taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

You could only nod in response, the dirty words making you even more aroused. You picked up the pace, bobbing your head faster and sucking harder, wanting to please Simon as much as possible.

'You love being my little cock whore, don't you?' he continued, his words becoming more and more degrading.

You couldn't help but moan at the dirty talk, your pussy throbbing with need. You wanted Simon to fuck your mouth, to use you however he pleased. And it seemed like he was more than happy to oblige.

'Take it all, you filthy bitch,' Simon grunted, thrusting his hips up and making you take him deeper.

You gagged a little, but you loved every second of it. Simon's moans and curses filled the air, and you knew he was close to the edge. You used your hand to rub his balls, adding to his pleasure.

'Fuck, I'm gonna come,' Simon growled, his hips bucking wildly.

You kept sucking, not wanting to miss a single drop of his hot release. And when he finally came, you eagerly swallowed every last bit, your own orgasm hitting you at the same time.

Simon slumped back in his chair, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. You crawled out from under the desk, a satisfied smile on your face.

'That was amazing,' Simon said, still trying to catch his breath.

'Always happy to please you, sir,' you replied with a wink.

Simon chuckled and pulled you into his lap, kissing you deeply. 'I think we'll have to schedule more meetings at home from now on.'

You grinned, already looking forward to the next one.

#call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #ghost fanfiction #call of duty #ghost cod #cod smut #cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader

[suuuupernovaaa]

kxeyey

kxeyey [ˈk’ɛ.jɛj] n. error, mistake

Anonymous Request: Could you maybe write one neteyam × omaticaya reader where she makes a mistake and he gets super angry and gives her the silent treatment for a long time. She apologises many times and then he finally forgives her. Please make it super angsty with a happy ending.

During a fun day out, you make a mistake that gets Tuk hurt, and Neteyam is furious with you.

1,545 words

For weeks, maybe even longer, Tuk had been begging me to take her riding with me. She loved it, and almost never got to do it, as her family really babied her - but of course, she was the baby of the family.

Neteyam was maybe the most guilty of this, and even though he loved and trusted me, he had banned me from taking his youngest sister on a ride.

I’d said no over, and over, and over again... but it was really impossible to resist Tuk. I was a competent rider, and really didn't see what harm it could do, especially if we just took a short ride.

She was elated when I agreed, and we snuck away under the guise of fishing. I was sure Neteyam would be suspicious, with Tuk practically vibrating in excitement, but he trusted me.

It did make me feel kind of bad... but at some point, they needed to let Tuk have some real experiences. She was nearly fourteen, and should have been choosing her own Ikran soon, but they wouldn't even let her ride along with them.

She climbed the mountain swiftly just behind me, as I called to Min, my Ikran. She landed before us quickly, and Tuk clapped her hands in excitement. I mounted, making the connection, and pulled Tuk to sit in front of me. I was still quite a bit taller than her, and could tuck her safely there.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yes!"

We took off, shooting straight down at first, and Tuk let out a peal of delighted laughter. It warmed my heart, to hear her enjoying herself so much. Her life was full of such rules and protection - she needed to let loose, just every once in a while.

Every turn and twist delighted her. It was the most fun either of us had experienced in a while - until it wasn't.

The other Ikran came out of nowhere, aggressive, which was unusual. We were near the mountain side, and before I could get control, Min turned, smashing us into the rocks at a high speed.

"Fuck!" I screamed as my shoulder bashed into the rocks. Tuk screamed, and I wrapped my arm around her. There was blood, but I couldn't tell whose it was. "Min, up!" I screamed, and she pulled away from the mountains and straight up, then back down towards the forest. Tuk slumped against me, and I held her tightly there as we flew.

Min landed in the trees, and I dismounted, pulling Tuk down with me.

Her eyes were open, but there was blood all over her face from a large gash in her head, to match the one on my arm. I examined her, and didn't see any other wounds.

"Come, we must see Mo'at," I said, pulling her along, wrapping my arm around her waist.

"I'm okay, Y/N," she said, but her voice was shaking - she was scared. Now, she would never fly her own Ikran, and the Sullys would never speak to me again.

--

Mo'at had her cleaned up and her wound almost sewn together when Neytiri and Neteyam arrived.

Neytiri, full of motherly concern, went right to Mo'at and Tuk, comforting her daughter and assessing the situation.

Neteyam was mad. Furious. He pulled me gruffly by my arm out of the hut.

"What were you thinking?" he chastised, spitting out his words under his breath. "You could have killed my sister, and you lied to me!"

"I-"

"No!" he said, his voice rising, turning heads our direction. "I don't even want to hear you speak. I don't want to talk to you or see you. You risked her life today. That is unforgivable."

My mouth fell open, and then closed into a hard, thin line.

"I am sorry, Neteyam."

He raised his hand and looked away, clearly dismissing me. So I went.

--

For days, I stayed away. I tried to apologize every time I saw him, but he would not so much as turn his head in my direction.

I apologized to the entire Sully family. Everyone was eager to forgive - even Jake, who admitted the injury wasn't that bad and Tuk was more eager than ever to hop on an Ikran of her own - but Neteyam acted as if I had never existed.

It was devastating the first few days. Neteyam and I had never gone so long without talking, and I didn't know what to do with myself. The guilt and sadness were eating me alive; I could barely sleep, or eat, or talk to anyone else.

If I was being honest with myself, I did not feel bad for taking Tuk on that ride. I was sorry she got hurt, but I was not sorry we had gone.

I was sorry for having lied. It was wrong, to lie to the man who would be my mate, and I had to face the fact that my lie might have cost me the most important person to me.

After eight days, I gave up trying to apologize. He had turned me away over a dozen times, and it made me sick to my stomach to think of trying again. So, I avoided the entire Sully family, and then, I began avoiding everyone.

I spent almost every waking hour hunting, or fishing, or riding, or doing any other solitary activity I could think of that would keep my mind off of how I had ruined my life.

Fourteen days had passed, six since I had spoken to anyone besides Min, three since I had consumed anything besides water. I was beginning to wonder how long I could go on like this.

I would have to do it forever, if Neteyam did not forgive me.

Crouching by the river, I cleaned my knives after my latest kill, which was packed up to be returned to our clan. I would drop it off, and turn right back around after grabbing some dried fruits and meats, and return to the forest alone.

A rustling in the leaves behind me set me on edge, and I turned slowly, a wet knife in each hand, while remaining in a crouching position.

Neteyam stood at the forest's edge, his hands up in a surrender.

I was surprised by how angry I felt when I saw him. Sometime in my solitude, my regret and anguish had turned to anger that he could punish me so long for a mistake.

Turning away, I put my knives back in the water to give them a final rinse, and then tucked them away in their holsters across my chest.

"Y/N," Neteyam said.

I picked up the freshly wrapped kill, stood up, and turned to him. Though I had dreamed of nothing but him speaking to me for the last fourteen days, I didn't have anything to say now. I had apologized more times than I could count, and I did not want to do it again.

My punishment did not fit the crime.

"Neteyam. I must bring this to our people."

I moved to walk past him, but he reached out and put his arm across my chest, stopping me where I stood.

When I turned to face him, our noses nearly touched.

"Let me go."

He looked me over, from head to toe, and pursed his lips. "You look ill."

I pushed his arm away. "Yes."

Once again, I tried to make my exit, but he grabbed my arm more forcefully, causing me to drop my kill to the ground.

"Bah!" I exclaimed, my eyesight becoming blurred by the tears gathered in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Neteyam said, still gripping my arm too tightly. "I'm... unbelievably sorry."

The tension I carried in my body for the last two weeks snapped, and I crumbled to the ground, feeling exhausted, dirty, and hungry.

Neteyam sank down with me, and pulled me into his arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered over and over, while rocking me back and forth like a small child.

"I'm sorry too. I should not have lied."

He leaned back, and grabbed my right arm, examining the freshly healed wound there. It was long, and jagged, and would leave quite a scar.

"I never... I didn't even notice, Y/N," he said quietly, tears gathering in his eyes. "I have not proven to you that I would be a good, faithful mate."

"Neither have I."

He took my face into his hands. "What you did gave Tuk the courage to claim her Ikran, and showed my family that we were holding her back. She has had been with her new sister, He'li, the past seven days."

My heart swelled with joy. "That's wonderful."

Neteyam pressed a kiss to each of my cheeks, under my eyes, tasting my salty tears.

"I will never hurt you like this again, Yawntutsyìp," Neteyam told me, his voice breaking. "Never." I pressed my forehead to his, taking in deep, calming breaths. "Forgive me, Y/N."

"Of course I forgive you. I love you, Neteyam. I will always love you."

He kissed me then, and the pain of too many days spent apart was in that desperate kiss.

I knew neither of us would make this mistake again.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar 2 #avatar twow #neteyam fic

[stop-talking]

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 4)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.4k words + 300 word epilogue

Tags: 18+, mike x fem reader, no use of y/n, exes, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, pet names, banter, angst, fluff, comfort, happy ending.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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Mike sits at his kitchen table, trying not to nod off into his cereal. Today is a quiet day. A lazy day. His one day off.

Except, not really. There's always work to be done. He just has to figure out what today's work would be. He's caught up on laundry and dishes, the house isn't too much of a mess... Hm. Maybe he should finally fix the dripping pipe in the bathroom. Or the living room window that's been stuck for years. Or one of the million other things wrong with his house.

He sighs and goes to take a bite of his cereal, only to realize he forgot the milk. Damn it. When he opens the fridge, he stands face to face with a little blue dolphin stuffed animal. Right... Abby's still testing him. He leaves it alone, she'll see it when she gets home from school and assume her "spell" still works. Pfft.

Mike nearly drops the milk mid-pour when he hears the phone ring.

*click.*

"Hello?" He mumbles groggily, a little annoyed to have his morning brooding interrupted.

"Hey, Mike? You free at all today?"

He immediately perks up at the sound of your voice. It's been two days since he last saw you, and he honestly wasn't sure if you'd ever speak to him again.

"Yeah, uh... It's my day off, actually."

"Good. I'm using that 2nd favor."

Mike's heart races. If this favor is going to be anything like the last one, he was definitely up for it.

"Oh? Missing me already, sweetheart?"

"As if. I need you to build me a shelf."

A shelf? Well, that was unexpected. Hm. Better than nothing.

"What, like build it from scratch? Are you expecting me to buy the boards, or-"

"No. I have all the pieces. It just needs to be assembled."

"You can't assemble a shelf?" Mike scoffs, but secretly he's pleased. Sounds like you just want an excuse to have him over.

"Mike. You know I'm no good with tools."

No, he didn't know that actually. Liar. You definitely just wanted to see him again. God, he felt giddy.

"Mhm. Sure."

"Just get your ass over here, Schmidt."

"Woah, what's with the attitude, Princess? I'm here to help." He can't help but let some smugness seep into his tone. Okay, more than some. He's a cocky bastard and he knows it.

"I've been working on the damn thing all morning. Almost three hours now. Not in the mood, jackass."

Shit. You sounded sincere. And really pissed off. Then again, what kind of a shelf took three hours to assemble? The fuck was it? A jigsaw puzzle?

"Alright, alright. I'll be over soon. See ya."

Mike slumps against the counter as you grumble something incoherent and slam the phone down. Damn, what is he getting himself into this time?

Only one way to find out.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike finally arrives at your apartment half an hour later, he feels a bit silly. He put on a nice shirt and trousers to come see you, and here you are in sweats and a baggy t-shirt. Figures.

"Call for a handyman?" He greets you with a teasing smile, holding up his old rusted toolbox as he makes his way inside.

"Pfft. Someone's happy to see me."

Mike can't really say anything to that, so he doesn't try. He is happy to see you, even if you have attitude problems and dress like a bum.

"So, I bought the damn thing from a friend-of-a-friend, who got it at a garage sale. I swear, it has to be missing some parts or something, because-"

He nods as you rattle on and lead him to your bedroom, but he's only half-listening. He looks around your apartment, taking it all in. It's been at least six months since he last came over, probably longer. It doesn't look to have changed much. He likes your apartment. It's cozy.

"Anyways... can you fix it?"

Mike pauses in the doorway of your bedroom as you give him a sheepish smile and gesture to something in the corner.

Holy hell. Is that supposed to be a shelf? Mike can't help but think that the hideous agglomeration of boards and screws would only be good as a fire-starter. It looks more like a pile than a shelf.

"Uhh..." He bites his cheek, desperately trying not to burst into a fit of laughter. Maybe you really weren't lying about the whole "no good with tools" thing.

He finally loses it when you groan and flop down on the bed, hiding your face in a pillow.

"Ughh... Laugh at me, whatever. Just fix it."

"Jesus Christ. This has to be the sorriest excuse for a shelf I've ever seen. Sure you don't want me to haul it to the junkyard instead?" He snorts, sitting down on the edge of your bed and looking with disdain at the half-assedly assembled shelf.

Mike immediately shuts his mouth when you glare at him. Oops, right, you're in a bad mood.

"I mean, uh... you tried?" He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. He still can't believe you're actually this inept when it comes to assembly.

"Get to work, Schmidt."

Mike yelps as you kick him off the bed, but doesn't bother retaliating. He just grabs his toolbox and sits on the floor, examining the so-called "shelf".

"Well, the first step is going to be un-doing everything you did."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You lie on your stomach in bed, chin propped up on your hands as you kick your feet in the air and ponder the sight before you. Mike's back is turned to you as he quietly works away taking apart the monstrosity you assembled.

"How long is this gonna take?"

"Well, If it wasn't so..." He trails off, glancing at you and choosing his words more carefully.

"...sturdy, it'd be a lot easier to take apart."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

He gives you an incredulous look and gestures to a series of nails in a corner where two boards meet. It does look pretty ridiculous, the sharp ends pointing out the other side. Not your best work.

"You put nails in it, sweetheart." He scoffs.

"How else was I supposed to keep it together?" You give him your best pout, and gloat internally when he has to turn away. He's absolutely infatuated with you. Even the back of his neck is pink.

"It comes with screws for a reason, ya know."

"There's a difference?"

He turns and gives you a flat look, and you laugh. Damn. You can play dumb with him, but maybe not that dumb. Noted.

Still, it's a little boring just laying there and watching him grumble and pull nails from wood. You can't really mess with him too much either, because you really do what him to fix the stupid shelf.

"You want something to drink?" You finally break the silence, under the guise of trying to be a good hostess.

"Pfft. Need some whiskey to deal with this bullshit." He snorts, pulling yet another nail free. He'd almost gotten one board off. One. This was gonna take a while.

"I was thinking more along the lines of soda or tea."

"Jack and Coke, then?"

"Mike. It's hardly past noon."

"So?" He scoffs. "For me, this is like... evening, or something. I dunno. Sleep schedule's fucked with this new job."

That answer makes you pause.

"What is it you do now, anyway?"

He groans, finally prying one of the boards free of the clusterfuck.

"Night guard. Told you already, remember?" He tries to shrug the question off, but you're nosy.

"Where?"

"Uhh... Freddy Fazbear's Pizza..."

"Speak up."

"Ugh. It's this stupid rundown hellhole pizzeria. Honestly dunno why anyone would wanna break in there anyways. It's a dump."

"What kind of a pizzeria needs a night guard? Or any guard?"

"The haunted kind."

You decide not to ask about that, simply shaking your head as you walk to the door. He's truly a loon. A loveable loon, unfortunately.

"Just tell me what you want to drink, Mikey, or I'm getting you water."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Mike sits on the floor of your bedroom sipping his glass of water and wondering how he got here. If you'd told him a week ago he'd be building his witch of an ex-girlfriend a shelf, he would've gagged. Now...? Well, he just wants to go join you on that bed.

"So are you really just gonna sit there and look pretty while I do all the work?"

"Aww, you think I'm pretty, Mikey? You smile, lying on the bed with your feet kicking in the air, giving him a look of pure adoration. It wasn't hard to do.

"Pretty annoying, yeah." He turns away with a scoff, returning to his work. If only he could get this stupid nail untangled from the other two... why would anyone use this many nails?

"You know, I think I liked you better gagged."

"Oh I know, sweetheart. I could see it in those evil eyes of yours." He can't help but smirk a bit at the comment, though. Sometimes he liked himself better gagged, too. He shakes the thought away and keeps working.

"Why can't you just get on hands and knees and beg me to take you back already?" You huff dramatically and roll over onto your back, letting your head fall over the edge of the bed. He looks silly from this angle. Upside-down.

That question nearly makes Mike drop his tools. Were you serious?

"Why? So you can laugh me off again?"

Ouch. It was true you'd turned him down the last time he'd tried it, but that was six months ago.

"Maybe if you used those big brown puppy eyes of yours on me."

That only earns you a grunt, so you verbally prod him again.

"Besides, why can't I do both? Laugh at you, then take you back? Sounds fun."

"Pfft. Fun? To toy with me? You'd probably break up with me all over again just for shits and giggles." He responds bitterly, still refusing to turn around.

"Mikey. Look at me." You roll back over onto your stomach and rest your chin in your hands as he slowly meets your gaze.

"I didn't break up with you just for shits and giggles. You know that. I'm not letting you sit there and wallow in self-pity."

Mike goes stiff from your words, but your tone is soft, and your eyes even softer. You're still giving him that adoring look. Damn it.

"Well maybe I'd rather wallow in self pity than admit you were right all along."

"You've had six months to wallow. Grow a pair and come kiss me."

He can't say no to that. Not when you look at him that way. He shuffles over, kneeling by the side of your bed. On his knees for you again, damnit.

You kiss him. It's different from the lustful, sloppy kiss you shared last time. This one makes you feel warm. You kiss him again. And again.

Mike really doesn't want this to end, but the knot in his stomach forces him to pull away. He has to ask.

"Why? Why are you doing this, I mean? Do you really want... to take me back?" He sputters, looking down at the floor.

"I'm not completely sure yet." You answer honestly, shifting and lying back on the bed.

Damn. That's not the answer he wanted to hear.

"Are you-"

"Come here."

When you pat the spot next to you in bed, Mike melts. He's a wreck right now, but still wants nothing more than to be with you, in every sense of the word. He silently complies.

"It's not about right and wrong, you know. As much as I love being told I'm right." You give him a soft smile, breaking the silence and placing your hand on top of his as you both lie on your sides.

Damn it. He'd done this with you before, this and so much more. Why was such a small touch turning him to goo?

"What isn't?"

"The breakup. It's about growing as a person. As people. Both of us." You lace your fingers with his, and can't help but laugh as his face reaches a level of pink you've never seen before.

"And what exactly am I supposed to be growing out of?"

"Pfft. I don't know, the emotional unavailability? The way you never made time for me? Constant irritability?" You start to dramatically list off his flaws, using your free hand to count on your fingers.

"Okay, okay. I get it." He huffs, and grabs your hand before you can make fun of him more. Instead, he guides it to his side, pulling you in a little closer.

"And you're miss perfect?"

"No. 'Course not. I have flaws too." You give him a sly smile, and start listing your own "faults".

"Too hot and sexy, too intelligent, too kind, amazing, sweet and caring..."

That's as far as you get before Mike scoots closer, burying his face in your neck and giving you a playful nip.

"Too arrogant." He adds with a laugh, wrapping his arm around you and letting himself melt further into you.

"My arrogance is one of my best qualities, thank you." You reply haughtily, sliding your hand up his back and into his hair.

Mike couldn't speak, even if he could somehow find the right words to say. Everything in this moment felt so right. His arm around you. Your fingers in his hair. He lets out a soft groan instead.

You aren't exactly eager to let go of this moment either, and just hold him for a few minutes. It feels nice to play with his soft brown curls.

"I'll do better. Please." He finally mumbles something to you, not bothering to move his face from where it's buried in the crook of your neck.

"Please what, Mikey?"

"Take me back."

He finally pulls back, just enough to give you a glimpse of those puppy eyes of his. Damn it. How could you even think of saying no?

"Yeah. Okay."

You both lean in for another round of soft passionate kisses, and Mike feels himself relax completely. His stomach unknots and his mind goes numb. For the first time in months, he feels completely safe.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"So does this mean you'll babysit for me again?"

"Go finish the shelf, Schmidt."

"Yes, Princess."

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

♡ Epilogue ♡

Over the past few weeks, you and Mike had fallen into a sort of rhythm.

He never did end up finding a new babysitter, and besides, you're the only one who could ever get Abby to finish her dinner. You had to graduate her from daily witching lessons to weekly ones, though, convincing her she needed to study for the more advanced spells. Secretly, Mike was just losing track of which objects in his house were supposedly invisible. It was quite amusing to watch.

Mike's favorite part of the day was coming home to you already asleep in his bed, and waking you up with a kiss. He'd then either lie down in bed while you shower, or hop in there with you, depending on how you felt. Either way, he loved the view.

The conflicting schedules made things complicated, but you were able to work around it. Mike slept better with you holding him, and consequentially, was a lot more agreeable. He did his best to make more time for both you and Abby.

He even started to open up to you for once, letting you take on some of his burdens. This man sure had a lot of guilt. You were certain he hadn't yet told you everything, but he told you enough. At least you finally knew what the fucking NEBRASKA poster on the ceiling was for. Now you kind of felt bad for all the times you teased him about it the first time you dated.

As for the damn shelf... well, he finished it. It was still hideous, but it was functional. There were holes in it from the nails, and the wood had even started to splinter in a few spots. You couldn't bring yourself to get rid of it, though. Not after how much work you both put into it. Even if most of Mike's work revolved around un-doing yours.

It definitely wasn't a perfect relationship, not by far. But Mike never promised to be the perfect boyfriend. He just promised to be better.

And he was, bit by bit, every day. Better. ♡

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note:

Thank you all for the love!! This was my first time writing a fanfic of any kind so I'm really happy so many of you enjoyed it. Feels good to bring the story to an end.

Feel free to send me a request, I'd love to write more fics about Mike. Or any other J-hutch character for that matter, Mikey is just my favorite <3

#fnaf movie #fnafmovie #jhutch #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mikeschmidt #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike x reader #no use of y/n #x fem reader #josh hutcherson x you #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with comfort #angst with fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fnaf fic #i can fix him

[spectres-n-soap]

Let's Sit and Watch the Clouds - Soap x reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Pregnancy, pregnant body, afab reader, throwing up, angst and Ghosts backstory

Ghost pulls up to your flat building. Rain pitter pattered on the roof of his truck, the sun was unable to shine through the clouds despite it being early afternoon. Not unusual for the UK but seeing this dingy flat building in the rain made his gut twist. He knew that you were capable of defending yourself. There was a reason you were on the task force. He took a deep breath and let go of the steering.

Ghost knocks on your door only once before it swings open. You look ready to throw a punch for a second until you relax slightly when you see it's him. "Oh. It's you."

"Don't sound so happy." Ghost comments dryly.

You weren't sure why you had given into Ghost. You certainly weren't sure why you had let him in. Ghost walks around the flat again, taking in the changes that had happened since he left yesterday evening after you had kicked him out. You had begun to clean out the second bedroom. Now you both sat at your table. The silence was unbearable.

You got up from your chair, the need to keep cleaning making you antsy. He watches you as you move into the nursery, sits a second longer until following you. The entire room looked different. The bed frame was taken apart, the desk moved probably to your room. You push the spare mattress against the wall, breathing heavy. Ghost takes a step forward then steps back. You turn to him, a thin layer of sweat on your forehead already. Ghost can't help but take you in completely. Your maternity shirt hardly fit you, your breasts were heavy with milk. He meets your eyes, pushing away the urge to look at your body more. To take in the changes pregnancy has given you.

"Are you just going to stand there looking stupid or help?" You grumble and that forces him from his head.

"What do you need?"

You point to the mattress and the bed frame, "These need to be taken out to the trash. The crib will be arriving in a few hours." Your tone of voice automatically went to soldier mode. Which works fine for him apparently. He spends the next few hours moving stuff around. Including times of stopping you from trying to move the couch yourself.

"I'm not weak." You snap at him as he tries to stop you from hauling in the box with the parts for the crib.

"Never said you were." He says, "Just saying you should let me-"

"Fuck off Ghost. I'll do what I damn please - oh fuck !" You curse, doubling over and tears blur your vision.

Ghost rushes over, your name falling from his lips in a panic. You try to breathe through the pain. You're a trained soldier , you think, Braxton Hicks are nothing ! But that didn't stop the tears from falling.

" Breathe. " Ghost whispers, his hands grabbing your shoulders gently as he kneels down to look at you, "Like me." He breathes in a pattern and you try to do the same. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you do your best to follow his lead. You can't stop thinking about Soap. Your heart hurts as you think about him. The pain slowly eases and you slump against the box. You look up at Ghost, worry clear in his hazel eyes.

"Just Braxton Hicks." You mutter, tiredly swatting Ghost away.

Ghost purses his lips but doesn't open his mouth as he watches you waddle to the kitchen sink. You cup your hands under the cold water and splash it against your face. Ghost remembers Beth and her pregnancy with Joseph. He grimaces at the stab of grief at his heart. Beth had been stubborn as a bull too, although not nearly as often or as much as you.

Tommy had worried over Beth constantly, so much so that their mother had to take him aside to talk to him. Ghost could still clearly hear her voice.

"She's nesting dear." She had said, "Your worrying isn't going to stop her." She took one of Tommy's hands into her own, "Help when she asks and when she's not looking." She had said the last part with a breathy laugh and a wink.

Ghost clenches his fists shut and tries to look unbothered. Tries not to see Beth when he looks at you still hunched over the sink. Then he turns and moves the box into the nursery "Have you gone paint shopping?" He asks you when you toddle into the room with a look of indignity in your eyes.

You narrow your eyes at him, "No, not yet."

Ghost walks past you, "Well c'mon then. Let's go get some paint."

Ghost has never, ever , been so grateful for the patience being a sniper taught him. You look between two different cards that are just a few shades different from each other. Watching you hem and haw over these two colors has definitely put him to the test. Now he understood why Tommy came back from the paint shop looking like he had returned from war. "What do you think?" You ask, holding up one of the cards.

"Looks good." He rumbles. You throw a paint brush at him, which he catches. "What?"

"What?" You mock him, "Don't just say it 'looks good.'" You do little air quotes when you speak those two words. "What do you think?"

"I think we've been staring at colors for the last two hours." 

You scoff and put the two colors away, an acidic glare in your eyes as you grab a yellow shade. "You're jokin'." He grumbles.

"No I am not." You say with a devilish grin that reminds him of Soap as you walk off towards an employee standing near by. He swears under his breath and quickly follows.

"C'mon LT." Soap said, his voice clear through his mic. "What's yer favourite colour?"

"Its black." You deadpanned as you crawled through the sewer system. Your mood had been thoroughly soured when Price revealed you were the only one small enough to fit into the sewer.

"Yer no fun lass and I don't recall ye bein' promoted to Lieutenant."

"I'll be promoted before you." You grumbled.

"Its blue actually." Ghost said.

You turn your mic on, "Its blue actually." You said with a high pitched, annoying nerd know-it-all voice with a snort to top it off. You pushed a few strands of hair from your face before grimacing when you realized your hands were wet.

"Hilarious sergeant. That'll be 20 push ups."

"You can make me do 20 push ups when you're the one crawling through a sewer." 

"Whats yer least favourite LT?"

"Yellow."

"Get out of my flat Ghost." You grumble as he holds your hair away from your face as you lean over the toilet.

"Not the nicest thing to say to the person holdin' your hair from your face."

"Shut-" You are cut off as more bile rushes from your stomach. You cough and hack, tears in your eyes from how many times you've thrown up.

"Are you still sure that your little combination isn't doin' this?"

"Have you ever been pregnant Ghost?" You ask, leaning back away from the toilet bowl and flush it. He narrows his eyes at you, "No? Then shut up."

Today was meant to be dedicated to painting the nursery and setting up the crib. That was what the two of you had discussed when Ghost had shown up earlier that morning. Turns out your stomach had other ideas as you had spent the last twenty minutes throwing up everything you had eaten from that morning and the night before.

"Get out of my flat." You repeat and Ghost shakes his head.

"I said I was gonna take care of you. This is part of it." You groan loudly and dramatically.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #john soap mctavish x you #mw3 spoilers #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader

[ageofwagner]

Road Trip

pairing: Danny Wagner x fem!reader

summary: Y/n needs a distraction during a long road trip, Danny is more than happy to help.

warnings: mentions of slight motion sickness and claustrophobia, oral m!receiving, fingering, Danny being hot as fuck, hand kink???, bad grammar.

word count: 2970

masterlist

You had always loved road trips but hated being confined to the car for hours on end, while you only shared the small space with your boyfriend, Danny, the feeling of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched the world race by through the passenger side window.

Your restless mind matched the rhythm of your leg as it bounced anxiously, "How much longer?" you asked, focusing on Danny's side profile as he drove, attempting to distract yourself from the building motion sickness. He turned to look at you noticing your discomfort, resting his left arm on top of the steering wheel so he could place his right hand on your bare thigh, rubbing soft circles to comfort you.

He shot you a sympathetic look, briefly turning to keep an eye on the road as he answered, "Still a couple more hours, just over two I think." You slumped back in your seat, you hadn't been optimistic in your destination being closer, but had held out hope regardless.

Danny looked at you again, concern evident on his face, "Do you need me to pull over so we can take a break for a bit?" you contemplated the offer for a moment, weighing your options; on one hand, you wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, but on the other hand, you wanted desperately to ground yourself and suppress the nauseous feeling. You nodded in agreement, "Yeah I think that would help"

He squeezed your thigh softly before putting his signal on and pulling onto the shoulder of the highway. You shot out of the car as soon as it was safe, making it around the car to open the trunk and pulling two waters out of the cooler you had packed that morning.

Just as you had closed the cooler, Danny wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his nose into your neck and placing gentle kisses there. You turn to face him and he straightens, wrapping his arms around you properly and resting his cheek on the top of your head as you rest it on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart and instantly feeling better.

"How are you doing?" he asks, gently pulling you from his embrace, a hand on either shoulder, examining your face. You smile at his genuine concern, "I'm feeling better already"

You held out a bottle to him and opened yours, taking a large sip before continuing, "It's worse when I don't have anything to distract me from the motion sickness"

Danny tucked your hair behind your ear, resting his hand on the side of your face, "anything I can do to help?" you nuzzle your face into his hand, looking up at him, "This. This is what I needed" you turn your head slightly, pressing a kiss into his palm.

He shoots you a crooked smile, "C'mere" You step further into him, his hands resting on your hips and pulling you flush against him. He smiles as he leans down and captures your lips in a kiss, your hands instinctively shooting up to cup his face, one reaching around to grab his curls as you sigh into the kiss.

Momentarily forgetting you're on the side of the road, Danny walks you backward until your back hits the side of the car. A startled moan escapes your lips, as he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. You pull away, lifting a hand to touch the spot he had bitten, looking up through hooded eyes, "okay I think I'm ready to go" you smirk, "you've given me some good motivation to get through the rest of the drive"

Danny laughs, kissing your lips before giving you a playful slap on the ass, "Happy to help" he smirks, walking you to your door and opening it for you, "always the gentleman" you tease lovingly, he winks in response, rounding the front of the car and getting in, resuming the journey.

~

You decided to close your eyes, avoiding the nauseous feeling of the racing images, when you become hyper-aware of Danny's touch on your skin; the sensation of his rough fingertips tracing shapes into the meat of your thigh.

You find your mind wandering to the man seated beside you, remembering the feeling of his big, rough hands, gripping your hips, caressing your body, using his fingers to coax pleasure from within you. The vivid memories flash behind your eyelids causing you to clench your thighs absentmindedly, lost in thought.

You only snap out of your fantasy when you feel Danny tighten his grip, squeezing your thigh. Opening your eyes you turn to look at him, a smirk plastered on his face as he pointedly looks down at your lap. You follow his eyes and see that you managed to cross your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the building tension you felt, and had effectively trapped Danny's hand within your grip. You feel your face flush in embarrassment, quickly uncrossing your legs and freeing his hand.

"If you wanted me to keep my hand between your legs all you had to do was ask" he teases through a laugh, "what were you thinking about just now?" he questions

"I was trying to find a good distraction"

"And?" he urges

You study his face for a moment, considering a bold move before responding cheekily, "I suppose I could show you?"

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, turning to look at you once again, "Do we need to pull over again? he asks, enthusiastically. A devilish smirk crosses your face as you undo your seatbelt, "that won't be necessary"

A puzzled expression takes over his features and you laugh in response, moving to your knees on your seat, you lean over the center console and reach for his lap, unbuttoning his shorts. Danny lets out a quiet groan in realization, lifting his right arm to rest on your lower back, reaching over to grab your ass as you fumble with his zipper. Danny lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to lower his shorts enough, pulling his hardening cock from its confines.

You arch your back, shifting closer as you lean your head in his lap, tilting your head to the side and licking a bold stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue as you look up at him, his eyes flickering between your obscene actions and the road ahead.

Danny lets out a low moan, a string of curses falling from his lips as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, sucking gently while using your tongue to collect his precum. You pull away with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting you to him, spitting onto his length you work your hand over him, letting out a moan as you feel his large hand grabbing your ass before coming down harshly, a loud slap ringing throughout the car.

"You just couldn't wait huh? You needed me so bad you're gonna suck me off while I drive?"

You hum in agreement, hollowing out your cheeks as feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. The size of him combined with the feeling of the world around you moving causing you to gag. You pull back, looking at him with a lustful gaze in your eyes as you shift away from him, maneuvering to take off your shorts, leaving you nearly bare, save for the thin silk black thong you had chosen to wear. Discarding the shorts to the floor you eagerly lean into Danny's lap stroking him a few times before taking him down your throat once again, bobbing your head enthusiastically over his length.

Danny tightened his grip on the steering wheel, desperate to keep his composure and enough clarity to keep driving safely. Moving his right hand from its firm place on your lap, to the back of your head, wrapping your tied up hair around his fist as he pushes your head down, groaning at the feeling of you gagging around him.

"You love choking on my cock, hm?" he taunted as he held your head down on him, releasing at the tap of your hand on his thigh, signaling you needed to come up for air. He looks at you, an expression of concern visible on his face, even in his dominant state, he always ensured you were okay. You answered his silent question with a smile, sticking out your tongue and letting a string of saliva drip down his cock.

He grabbed your hair once again, grunting "Fuck baby I'm gonna cum" You began pumping him faster, focusing on the tip, alternating between sucking harshly and swirling your tongue around his leaking tip. Using his grip on your hair, he used your mouth to get himself off, "gonna be a good little slut and swallow my cum?" he asked breathily. You nodded your head in response, his cock lodged down your throat as you swallowed around him, coaxing a loud moan from deep in his throat.

You felt his hips twitch upwards, grip tightening as he held your head in place, burying himself deep inside you, feeling the warmth of his release coating your throat. Danny groaned at the feeling of you swallowing around him, his grasp loosening as he slowly pulled you off of him. You held yourself up on his thighs, sticking out your tongue, showing him you swallowed, as he huffs an adoring laugh, "that's my good girl"

He tucks himself back in his pants as you settle back in your seat, shorts long forgotten by your feet, a contented smile across your face. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a couple minutes while Danny comes down from the high of his orgasm. He returns his hand to its position on your upper thigh, turning to find you already staring at him, admiring him.

A smirk takes over his face as he turns to face the road again, he slowly inches his fingers up your thigh, grabbing a firm hold and yanking your left thigh, spreading your legs to expose your barely covered pussy to him.

"Take off your panties and drape your leg over the console" Danny demanded in a firm tone. You lift your hips and quickly tear off your panties, tossing them in the backseat as you turn towards him, draping your leg across the console as he instructed, baring yourself to him.

Trying to find a comfortable position, you shift your hips to face him, propping your right leg up on the dashboard. Eager to find some release, you swirl tight circles over your sensitive bud, letting out a breathless whine as you do. Danny’s eyes snap to look at you, briefly admiring the way your head is thrown back, chest heaving slightly as you capture your bottom lip between your teeth, a weak attempt to conceal the sweet sounds you make. He tuts under his breath, “seems you have it all taken care of, huh? don’t need my help?”

Your eyes snap open to meet his, a smug look on his face causing you to instantly still your movements, lowering your hand to rest on your hip. Danny laughs as you open and close your mouth, unable to translate your thoughts to him, instead slightly pouting with a pleading look in your eyes. He turns his attention back to the road, concealing a smile as he hears you huff.

You attempt to close your legs, but his hand catches your thigh, roughly squeezing as he spreads them for better access. Wordlessly he trails his long fingers through your wetness, "oh" you gasp in contented surprise, hooded eyes focused on the side of his face as he fights to keep his eyes on the road ahead, noting the smug smirk on his face.

The building release was ripped away all too soon as you felt Danny pull his fingers away. You bit back a groan of frustration, causing you to choke as you watched him place his fingers, coated in your wetness, in his mouth, lewdly swirling his tongue around them, savouring the taste of you he loves so desperately.

Deciding to challenge him, you swipe your fingers through your slick, swirling slow circles around your neglected clit as you watch him pull his fingers out, "patience baby, I just needed a taste" he quips as his eyes shift briefly down to your actions before moving them forward once again.

"Need some help? Want me to make that needy pussy feel good baby?" he asks casually, though his voice comes out raspy, giving away the attempt he's making to contain his arousal.

"Please," you manage to squeak, he steals a glance, quirking a brow at you, urging you to ask him properly; you huff in impatience, "Please, Danny" your voice borderline begging as you continue your ministrations.

"'Please Danny' what? Use your words. Tell me what you need" he urged

"Your fingers, please" You widened your legs for him, "please make me cum"

Danny smiled at you, "See that wasn't so hard?" noticing your glare he laughed under his breath, "anything for my girl"

You watched his every move as he returned the same two fingers into his mouth once again before lowering them to your core. Feeling his rough, calloused fingers running gently through your folds, you let out a breath of relief you hadn't noticed you'd been holding as he swiftly knocked your hand out of the way, continuing your motions, rubbing tight circles on your throbbing clit, increasing pressure as your hips jut towards him.

His voice was thick with lust as he instructed you to take over, you instantly did as you were told, watching as he ran his fingers teasingly through your folds until slowly sinking two into your heat. A breathy moan escapes you as Danny curses under his breath, loving the way you suck him in and squeeze his fingers. He sets out a slow pace, matching your movements as he eases you into the stretch of his fingers.

Stealing glances every chance he can get he increases his pace, the only thing that could be heard was your breathy moans calling out his name and the lewd sounds of him fucking you with his fingers. Danny could feel his cock swell at the combination of the two.

"Fuck," he quickened his pace, the wet sounds of your slick getting louder, "listen to that, baby. You're soaked for me"

All you could do was moan in response, the force of his thrusts had you teetering over the edge; feeling you clench around his fingers he catches your eyes, "You gonna cum for me?"

"Please I'm so cl-" your words got caught in your throat as he leaned over slightly, his arm flexing deliciously as he began fucking you harder with his fingers, your own moving in tandem over your clit as you leaned your head back, "just like that! don-don't stop" you rushed out breathlessly.

"Come on baby, soak my fingers" he encouraged, his voice almost as breathless as your own.

"Fuck, Danny" his eyes met your own as you clenched around him, "I'm gonna cum"

Danny couldn't find it in himself to look away as you fell apart on his fingers; his grip on the steering wheel almost painful as he took in your flushed cheeks, slowing his pace as you rode out your high, only allowing himself to look away, briefly, after you had come down and smiled at him.

You couldn't help the bright smile on your face as you watched him pull his fingers from you and put him in his mouth once again, winking at you as he did so. You attempted to shift your hips out of the uncomfortable position, wincing slightly at the discomfort from having your legs spread over the center console.

Completely forgoing putting on the underwear that was discarded somewhere in the backseat, you put your shorts back on, making a face at how it felt against the wetness between your legs.

"You feeling okay?" Danny questioned, noting the slight discomfort you seemed to be in.

"I feel like a mess but other than that...pretty amazing" You smiled at him to which he returned, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on the back of it, resting them on the middle console.

~

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the music from the radio humming quietly as you sat lost in thought. You are only snapped out of your thoughts when you notice Danny preparing to take an exit. Your face scrunches in confusion as you look around, "Dan, babe, we're going the wrong way"

Danny looks at you briefly, a devilish smile on his face, as he makes the turn. Releasing his hand from your hold and sliding it up your thigh as he squeezes it teasingly, "We're gonna have to make a pit stop" he winks as he turns to face ahead. You chuckle, squeezing his hand still resting on your thigh, a smile plastered on your face as anticipation fills you for what's to come.

When you finally reach your destination, Danny pulls off to the side of a quiet street and parks, getting out of the car and coming around to open the door for you, offering his hand. You smile, taking his hand as he opens the back door and ushers you inside.

Danny wastes no time, cupping your face and bringing you in for a searing kiss, peppering kisses along your jaw up until he's just below your ear, he whispers, "Now, I believe I have a mess to clean up"

Thanks for reading <3

#danny wagner #danny wagner fic #danny gvf #danny gvf imagine #danny wagner smut #gvf fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #danny wagner fluff #greta van smut #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #jake gvf #josh gvf #sam gvf #gvf #fic recs #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner x y/n #drw #daniel wagner #gvf imagine #gvf angst #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction

[visceravalentines]

the driver

it turns out I am chewing on them every moment of every day. I'm sure this fic will permanently satisfy the hunger of course ✨🌷🙃

2.3k words. character study happy ending post-credits type beat where everyone lives and drives off into the sunset together. pre-slash but Randy is so down bad he doesn't know how to cope. nobody do the math on mileage or drive time I made it all up Minnesota isn't even real

They’re about 50 miles over the Missouri border when Benson asks him. 

“You think you could drive, man?” 

Randy looks at him sharply, not sure he heard him right. He must not have heard him right. 

Benson glances over and his eyes are bloodshot beyond belief, the skin beneath them dark and hollow. His crow’s feet have multiplied. “I gotta sleep, Randy, or we’re gonna end up in a ditch.” 

After a beat of careful consideration, Randy nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I could–I can drive.” 

The car lurches to the right as Benson pulls over immediately, puts it in park and slumps in his seat. His head falls back against the headrest and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.” 

Randy watches him with an intent he can feel but can’t parse, hasn’t been able to parse all day and the night before and the day before that. He stopped being scared, really scared, a while ago. Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.

He’s no longer afraid Benson might kill him. He’s afraid he might decide he doesn’t need him anymore. And those are different things. 

Benson’s big hands drop into his lap. He stares blankly through the windshield at the half-set sun, exhausted.

Randy has the urge to touch him. To clap a hand on his shoulder, give it a little shake. He plays it out in his head. Yeah, man. I’ll drive for a while. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest.

His hands stay clasped between his thighs. 

“Don’t really know where we’re goin’, so I guess you can just pick a direction,” Benson says. “Anywhere but back that way.” He shoots Randy a pointed look, but the point is dull and bleary. 

Randy nods. “North. I got it.” You can trust me. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s not.

Benson pours out of the car like his bones are dissolving. He stretches mightily, arches his back and groans loudly, and Randy flinches and doesn’t know why. 

He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different. He gazes down the highway, tracks it all the way to where it disappears beyond a sun-washed hill. He’s never been this far north before, never been out of Louisiana except for a family reunion in Florida one time. 

He wonders, for a second, if maybe they could see them all. All fifty states. Benson’s car might not make it that many miles. But it would be something. It would be cool. 

“You sure you’re good?” 

Randy turns, squints into the sun. Benson is lit from behind, face in shadow, but Randy can feel his eyes, the way they probe like fingers at his mouth, his neck. 

“I’m good.” 

Benson taps his fist against the roof of the car. “Super.” 

They trade sides, cross paths in front of the bumper. Randy slides into the seat and it’s still warm from Benson’s body. He feels like he's sitting in his shadow. He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket. He presses his spine against the backrest and folds his arms around himself without thinking about it. 

Benson yanks open the door and snaps him out of it. He sits forward and feels under the seat for the lever to slide it up a few inches, touches something sticky, makes a face. Benson’s got longer legs than he does, even though they're about the same height. Benson is big in Randy's mind. Or maybe Randy is small. Does Benson think he's small?

Like he can read his mind, or thinks he can, Benson shoves his seat way back. “Jesus, Randy, you’re allowed to take up space,” he mutters as he pushes the backrest almost horizontal. 

No one’s ever told him that before. Does Benson know no one’s told him that before? 

“Don’t wreck my fucking car.” 

“I won’t.” 

“And don’t get pulled over.” 

“I won’t.” 

Benson nods once like a punctuation mark. “Good boy.” 

Randy exhales heavily. 

He buckles up, hesitates as he sets his hands on the wheel. Ten and two. He slides them together to meet at twelve, where Benson always grips the wheel with half a hand, pointing at things, eyes anywhere but the road, talking with his whole body. Then he slides them back to ten and two, at least for now. One thing at a time.

He signals before he pulls back onto the road even though there’s not another car in sight. He presses the gas gently, like he’s wiping a smudge off someone’s cheek. And just like that, they're back on their way.

Benson’s car is old as shit and runs like it’s doing him a favor. It takes Randy a minute to get used to it, the resistance of the pedals and the way the wheel is about as sensitive as the bottom of a work boot. He’s careful with it, not because it’s old or unreliable, but because it’s his. Because he’s trusting him with it. 

He’s the driver now. 

Benson moves in his periphery, fast and sudden like he does, and without meaning to Randy jerks, jerks the wheel. Benson gives him a look, reaching around for something in the backseat. “Sorry,” Randy mumbles. 

“Just be cool,” Benson says with his jacket in his hands. He balls it up to use as a pillow, shifts around, settles in and shuts his eyes. 

Be cool, Randy repeats to himself. Be cool, be cool. 

“Are you…going to buckle your seatbelt?” he asks. He’s been waiting to ask. Now seems like the last opportune moment. 

Benson opens his eyes and looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What are you, a fuckin’ cop?” 

Randy feels his face flush. He looks away. “Sorry. Do whatever you want.” 

“You know if you slam on the brakes and I’m layin’ down like this I’m goin’ through the windshield, seatbelt or no.” 

“Do whatever you want,” Randy says again. “I’m just…trying to be safe.” 

Benson grabs the seatbelt, yanks it across his chest, clicks it into place with attitude. “Happy?” 

Randy glances at him and away, almost smiles in spite of himself. Yeah. “Yeah.” For once, he thinks he might really mean it. 

Benson grumbles and closes his eyes. He fidgets for a while, bullies the jacket into a different shape, but soon he falls still and quiet. Randy figures he has nothing left in the tank after the events of the last thirty-six hours, nothing more to give to Randy or anybody else.

He drives like the backseat is full of fine china, nice and easy, until Benson starts to snore. It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.

He’s never seen him look so at peace. There's a tension missing from his face, a furrow between his brows that Randy only registers in its absence. He wonders if he has nightmares like Randy has nightmares. Probably. Probably worse. But there’s no sign of them now; he’s too wiped out. 

Now that he’s not waving a gun around and yelling, he resembles the old Benson. The guy who greeted him at the start of each shift with a casual wave and nothing to say. The man who moved like he was in a dream, seemed checked out completely until you caught his eye and realized he hadn't missed a second of what was going on around him. Not even the little things. Not even Randy.

As the miles wear on, he wonders which Benson is more real, the quiet one or the loud one. Maybe they’re two sides of the same coin. Maybe everyone has someone else inside of them, raw and bright, harder to swallow. Randy always figured he was the only one slumming around with that particular burden–the monster of his guilt, his anger, feelings too big to unbottle lest they rip him in half–but maybe he was wrong. He's been wrong a lot the last couple days. 

It doesn’t probably matter which is more real because he likes them both:  the Benson who once followed him out the back door under the guise of a smoke break to make sure he was okay after a particularly egregious run-in with Chris, and the Benson who beat the shit out of his own personal boogeyman in the parking lot of an elementary school until his hands bled. Randy understands both of them. Feels a connection to both of them. Knows he can count on both of them when it matters. 

Randy leans back and feels it then, feels it all, the world shrinking behind them, the past pinned to it like a poster on a corkboard, the dying sun to his left and the man on his right and Benson’s fingerprints worn into the leather of the steering wheel. And it's exhilarating, it's amazing. It's freedom and possibility. Hope, even.

And he desperately, deep in his bones, wants to be someone Benson can count on. When it matters or doesn't. He knows he isn’t a fighter or a talker, but he cares. He cares so fucking much sometimes he wants to bite through his own tongue. Maybe that could be worth something. For the first time, sitting in the driver's seat on the run from the law, he thinks maybe that might be enough. He might be enough. 

He has Benson to thank for that, too.

He hasn't felt like this since he was a kid. Maybe ever. Light. Free. The way the highway unfolds in front of him forever makes him feel like maybe he could fly. He kind of wishes it would rain and he can't say why. Only that he wants the air to smell like wet asphalt, like dirt. 

And he wants to thank Benson. He doesn’t think he can, like, he can’t just say it. Thanks for killing all those people. It really opened my eyes. Thanks for scaring me shitless, I needed that. No way. He’s gotta be cool. Find some other way.

He reads the names of towns he’s never heard of on the highway sign. They’ll have to stop somewhere eventually, right? Get a motel room or something. Benson deserves to sleep in a real bed. Randy would love to sleep in a real bed. Probably they’ve got to lay low a little while longer. Probably two states north isn’t far enough. 

Benson drives like a grandma. Randy hasn’t said anything, but he figures they could be at least to the border of Iowa by now if Benson wasn’t so hung up on driving three miles under the speed limit and calling it “flying under the radar,” even as cars peeled by them on all sides. 

But he’s the driver now. 

He realizes this is something he can do. A way to repay him, just a little bit. Randy didn’t get them into this mess, not exactly, but he can get them far, far away from it. Safety, serenity. A place where no one knows their faces. He can find that for Benson. He can take him there. He can make sure he wakes up somewhere better than the shithole behind them.

He eases his foot down on the gas, coaxes the needle on the speedometer up and over 80. The car huffs a protest, but it obeys. 

Good boy, he thinks, and he smiles. 

Benson stirs just after they leave Iowa. It’s still dark out, but the horizon is starting to bleed pink. He sits up slowly, stretches, nearly elbows Randy in the face. “Fuck,” he groans, “what time is it?” 

“Breakfast time, almost,” Randy says. “Just looking for somewhere to stop.” 

Benson blinks around the sleep in his eyes, peers through the window into the dark rushing by. “Where are we?” 

“Wisconsin. Or maybe Minnesota. I’m not…a hundred percent sure.” 

Benson furrows his brow. “Jesus Christ, Randy. You break the fuckin' sound barrier?”

“No,” Randy says calmly. “Everyone speeds on the interstate. You just keep an eye on it, it's fine.”

Benson gives him a long look and for a second, Randy thinks he might be mad. But then he breaks into a grin, chuckles, shakes his head and stretches again. His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek. 

“Speed Demon Bradley. Who’d’ve thought.” Benson yanks the backrest up, sits back and looks out with fresh eyes on new scenery. “You got a destination in mind, captain?”

Randy does. Has for the last few hundred miles. “Yeah. I was thinking…maybe Lake Superior?”

“What's so superior about it?”

“I don't know, it's…really big. Like…huge. I just thought…it would probably be pretty. I’d–I’d like to see it.” With you. I'd like you to be there too.

He glances over and Benson is staring at him with an odd look on his face. 

“...what?” Randy says. 

Benson starts nodding, frowning thoughtfully, then reaches over and thumps Randy on the chest. “Then let's go see it.”

The impact echoes through his heart and lungs. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. Randy makin’ decisions.” Benson claps his hands once, loud. “I like it. You wanna go see some big fuckin’ lake? I'm all for it.”

Randy fights a grin and doesn't know why, so he stops, lets it come, feels the stretch of it across his face. “Cool.”

Randy looks over and thinks he’s beautiful. Bloody knuckles, bad attitude, and all. He lets that thought linger for one, two, three seconds before it blows out the window like a wayward receipt.

“Cool.”

Benson rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog. The air whipping into the car smells nothing like home. His hair blows back and he squints into the wind, the early sun kissing his cheeks pink. 

“I can take over,” Benson offers over his shoulder. “I’m guessin' you need a break.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Randy squeezes his hands on the wheel at ten and two. “I got it. I'm good.”

And he really means it.

#the passenger #the passenger 2023 #randy bradley #benson the passenger #the passenger 2023 fanfiction

[heartfullofleeches]

Ok this is a little self insert but i couldn't stop thinking about this all week, C.C with a reader who thinks they're undeserving of stuff even tho they work hard ( you can see I'm going through it )

Let me explain, like they'll walk through the mall and see something that they like and would phisically have to turn away cause they think they don't deserve it and everytime they do this they look like they're in pain and stuff cause they are , emotionally.

Another thing they don't let C.C buy them stuff even if he offered with the excuse ,, but what are you going to buy me on my birthday" cause their birthday Is the only day that they cant say no

( sorry if it was a little but long )

It's his fifth run of the week. The incubus complained about forgetting to by a belt to match the new skirt he bought when he probably had a dozen in his horde to go with it. Exploring the mall, you stuck to your boyfriend's- not that he'd let you go far; complimenting every impulse buy and keeping your eyes on him to avoid gazing at shop windows. Still, you couldn't help but look at look around as you waited for him to exit the dressing room. You immediately regret the decision as you catch sight of a jacket that'd go great in your imaginary wardrobe. It's just take up space in your real one, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

"Hey babe, star buckle or heart?... Hm?" C.C marches over to see what's for you in a trance, bending with his hands to his knees as he whispers - "so - what are we staring at?"

You snap back to reality- eyes pointed down at his skirt. " Oh - uh, looks great, C."

He frowns. "This is the one I came in here with."

"..Still looks good on you."

He bounces to his feet with a sigh. "True - but this skirt just doesn't agree...." He trails off as he catches sight of something over your shoulder - sprinting of towards the mannequin wearing the same jacket you had noticed and tearing it off it's arms.

"Oh my gosh, isn't this just the cutest??? I was needing a new coat too so it's perfect timing. Think it'll look good on me, baby?"

Your shoulder slump. "Yeah....I'm sure it will."

C.C pays for his items and skips merrily out the mall with his task complete; bags in one hand and your hand in the other. He walks over to a bench and takes out his new coat, tearing off the tags and placing them and the receipt in the cigarette tray above the trashcan. He whips out his lighter and sets both ablaze as he faces you.

"Now I can't return this.... Alright, you little shit - how much longer are we going to play this game?"

"What are you talking about?"

C.C stomps over to you, shoving the jacket into your chest. "You want this fuckin' thing and don't try to deny it. It's true it would look amazing on me, but it would look even better on my boo. You are mine, right?."

"I-I guess, but-

"But nothing. You deserve every fucking thing your beautiful heart desires and it's my job as your man to give it to you." He pulls the jacket away, walking over to a puddle by the road. " - but if you really don't want it, you should have no problem with me throwing it away."

"Don't!" You run over to stop him - his fingers losing hold only when you're in range to grab the coat as it falls. The demon sports a grin as you discover the jacket is in your exact size. He pulls you in with an arm around your waist, nuzzling and placing a kiss to your cheek.

"Don't feel bad about wanting things, Y/n. Life is meant to be lived to the fullest and material objects are just another part of it. If it'll make you happy then let it. Plus, it's sorta my job to lead you down the path of temptation as a demon and all - but I'm your boyfriend first and more importantly.

You shut an eye as he kisses near your lids. "Thank, C.C..."

"Don't mention it. Now c'mon - we gotta get back before the deliveries get there."

"You order more things when we we're literally still at the mall?"

"Pfft - you think I'm blind? Baby, I watch you literally every second we're in that place because if I don't some little tramp might try to snatch you up. Guess you'll be sitting pretty on my lap tonight cuz it's Christmas time for you~"

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere incubus #soft yandere #yandere fluff #C.C my oc #yandere demon

[marblemoovt]

Bake A Wish - John Price/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Fluff with a smidge of angst

Summary:

You bump into a man and his daughter at the grocery store. The kid is really insistent you join them for dinner.

------

She’s been on a tangent about her father, who you assume she’s hiding from, for ten minutes now. From what you’re able to gather, he works in the military. 

Unwilling to dampen her excitement, you crouch down and listen to every word. “Is that so, little one?” you say, propping your chin up with your hand. 

She nods, brown strands flying everywhere. “Mhmm. And he’s super handsome, too! A lady called him a dill, but Daddy’s not a pickle! She was so silly.” Your eyes widen, and you slap a hand over your mouth to barricade the gurgle in your throat. A fucking DILL.

Note:

This has been sitting in my wips for over a month but it's finally done!! I apologize if the quality feels sporadic throughout the fic. Writing consistently is just something I can't seem to do and my motivation/inspiration has been in a slump lately. The amount of fluff fics I've written that involve baking is ridiculous, I didn't realize that's the activity I default to lol.

I've never written for John before, so I'm still trying to get a feel for his character.

Anyways, thank you @yeyinde for introducing John Price to me. I was debating on not tagging you but I can't be a coward forever.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

John holds the hand of his six-year-old daughter, Rose. The little munchkin is a ball of energy, and he fears the consequences if he were to let her run wild. “Don’t let go of my hand, ok Rosy?” Rose grins with more mischief than a little child should have. She attempts to run away, and John scoops her in his arms.

“I’m too big to be carried, Daddy!” she squeals, arms flinging around his neck to stabilize herself. The scent of her strawberry shampoo tickles his nose.

“You have to promise me you’re not going to do that again,” he says. Rose holds out her pinky, and he accepts her promise. Her finger looks tiny and frail compared to his. He sets her down and ruffles her hair despite her whinging. “Do you remember what we came here to buy?” he asks.

She claps her hands with glee and exclaims, “Cookies for Santa!!! Because Daddy can’t bake, so we have to buy cookies from the store!” John smiles, but he can’t help but feel the sting of her bluntness. Kids are way too honest.

“What kind of cookies do you want to get?” he asks.

“Not chocolate chip. Everyone uses chocolate chip.” She strokes her chin, imitating the gesture she’s seen her father do whenever he has to think hard about something. “Candy cane cookies!” She ponders over it for another minute before nodding her head. “I bet Santa’s never gotten candy cane cookies before.”

“I don’t think they sell those, rosebud,” he says, and she frowns.

“I guess they’re too special to sell in a store,” she laments, her enthusiasm wilting a little.

John crouches down to Rose’s eye level. “Why don’t we look at all the cookies they have and pick one afterwards?” he suggests.

“Ok,” she sighs, holding her hand out for him to grab. Large, calloused fingers swallow her hand whole, and John wonders how much longer it will stay like this. Her brown locks are a few inches longer than last time, but the beaming smile on her face when she sees him remains constant. He blinks the heat away from his eyes and leads Rose to the snack aisle. 

There’s an entire shelf dedicated to cookies, some of them themed for the holidays. But the snowflake shortbread cookies further deflate Rose. She droops when they come across sugar cookies in the shape of Christmas trees. John silently curses the corporate companies for manufacturing every winter holiday cookie except for a candy cane. He squeezes her hand, and his heart aches when he catches Rose biting her lip. Tears are on the verge of spilling, but she will not cry. He actually can’t remember the last time he’s seen her cry. The thought bothers him more than he wants.

John spots a box of rainbow cookies on the top shelf. He releases her hand to grab them, “What about these?” When he turns around, Rose is gone. The box tumbles to the ground. “Rose?” His eyes sweep the shelves. Rows of cookies and other snacks, but no sign of her. “Rosy?!” He begins jogging through the store, checking every aisle before moving on to the next. Icy claws grip his chest, and all of his senses are on high alert. He fidgets with the dog tags around his neck and has to remind himself that he’s not on duty.

Sharp laughter slices through the pounding in his eardrums; a high-pitched fit dissolves into familiar giggles. Rose. He flexes his clenched fists to relieve the stinging in his palms. He pinpoints the sound to the baking section and sprints like a madman. Sliding to a stop, he spots her at the other end of the aisle. His body sags against a shelf, and the air enters his lungs with ease once more.

“My Daddy’s amazing! He can shoot bad guys from reeeeally far away,” Rose brags to a stranger crouched in front of her. That stranger is you.

A faint giggle grabbed your attention. Twinkling lights accompanied by the pounding of tiled flooring. A little girl beelined straight toward you, veering to the side to hide behind a display of chocolate bars. She covered her shoes with her hands to dull the blinking, peering around for someone. She spotted you holding a bag of flour and asked if you bake. Her eyes lit up when you confirmed that you do. 

She’s been on a tangent about her father, who you assume she’s hiding from, for ten minutes now. From what you’re able to gather, he works in the military. 

Unwilling to dampen her excitement, you crouch down and listen to every word. “Is that so, little one?” you say, propping your chin up with your hand. 

She nods, brown strands flying everywhere. “Mhmm. And he’s super handsome, too! A lady called him a dill, but Daddy’s not a pickle! She was so silly.”

Your eyes widen, and you slap a hand over your mouth to barricade the gurgle in your throat. A fucking DILL. You don’t have the heart to correct her. Correction: You’re too busy trying not to collapse on the floor in a fit of laughter. The misunderstanding is best left alone, but your curiosity is piqued. What does this man look like?

“Rose!” A voice booms from the other end of the aisle, and the child hides behind you. You stand up and shield her with your body, eying the stranger with a frown. Brown hair with silver streaks, and his eyes—fuck, you wish the sky would be that blue instead of grey. He approaches you two, and when Rose makes no further movements, you stick your arm out to block him.

“Who are you?” you ask. He must be at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders, and built like he could beat you into a bloody pulp if he wanted. 

He mirrors your frown, eyes flickering to the brown hair peeking behind your figure. “I should be asking you that. Who are you, and what are you doing with my daughter?”

You narrow your eyes. “How do I know you’re not some pervert who kidnaps children?”

He chuckles; the low rumble sends the butterflies rampaging against your stomach walls. “Sweetheart, I could say the same about you,” and he crosses his arms—his thick and muscular arms. The way his biceps bulge underneath his sweater…. You bite your lip. The metallic tang in your mouth grounds you. You swipe a tongue across the fresh wound, and the sting helps you regain a few brain cells. 

Turning to Rose, you ask, “Is this your dad?” and squeeze her hands. “You can tell me if it isn’t, and we’ll find a nice employee to help you.” You talk slowly, enunciating each word with care. Rose glances at the man behind you before settling on your face. 

She cups her hands around her mouth, and you lean in, her warm breath tickling your ear. “Yeah, that’s my dad. What do you think? Super handsome, right?” she whispers. You glance at him and huff. A fucking dill, indeed. 

“Rosy, stop bothering the nice stranger,” her father says, gesturing for her to come to him. She skips over and fails to dodge his hand. Rose groans and buries her face into her father’s stomach as he ruffles her hair. You avert your eyes and ignore the heat that prickles the back of your neck. Wringing your hands, you stare at the floor as their laughter echoes in the aisle. You hardly know these people. Plus his wife must be somewhere in the store, ready to pop out at any second. 

“The ‘stranger’ has a name,” you speak up, introducing yourself. You keep your eyes trained on the shelf of sprinkles above his right shoulder as if the plastic bottles of sugar will stop you from falling.

He holds out a hand for you to shake. “John, John Price.” Firm warmth envelopes your skin and dissipates far too quickly for your liking. Sparks of electricity fizzle before they get a chance to light your nerves on fire—and you want to burn.

“Heh, P as in Pickle,” you snicker, making the mistake of meeting his gaze. Your arm drops to your side, and your bones turn to lead. The sky must be grey because all the blue was stolen and contained in his eyes. There’s no coldness, no ice, only calm ripples of water. The gentle drag of the ocean as the waves lap against the shore, inviting you into its depths.

John raises a brow. “An odd observation, but yes.” He smooths Rose’s hair to no avail. Baby hairs and cowlicks in all different directions are a continuous reminder that he’s been meaning to learn how to style hair. 

Rose beams at him with her toothy grin. “Cause Daddy’s a dill!” she adds.

John’s confused expression quickly morphs into one of horror. “Where did you hear that?!” He narrows his eyes at you. 

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me. This is the first time we’ve met.”

Rose tugs on his shirt and says, “That lady who used to babysit me. She also called you a fox, but I told her you’re a man.” Your eyes widen, and your shoulders tremble. John runs a hand through his graying hair, and you rip your gaze away because witnessing that felt illegal. Every time you look at him you notice another thing that attracts you.

John sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about her. I love Rose, but she can be a handful at times,” he says, whispering the second half. His head tilts forward, and now all you can focus on is how his moustache frames his mouth. Plump and pink.

Your lips crook upwards in a slant. “It’s not a problem. She’s an entertaining conversationalist.” You find yourself drawing nearer to his face, wandering from the shore and deeper into the ocean—oblivious to the current that will pull you under.

Rose tugs on your shirt and asks, “Why don’t you join us for dinner?” You pull away with a sharp inhale, processing how John’s eyes flicker to your lips. The little girl gazes at you with a hopeful smile, but you look to her father for confirmation. 

“Rose, you can’t invite people you barely know to your home,” he reprimands, and her smile flatlines. It’s probably for the best. At the current pace, it’s like you’re in a sappy romance novel! John shoots you an apologetic smile, but you wave your hand and shake your head in understanding. 

Rose pouts and stares at her shoes. She shuffles her feet, and the lights twinkle with each tap. “But then there’ll be someone who can bake cookies,” she says, looking up at him with puppy eyes. John winces.

You notice him wracking his brain for a response and decide to help him. “They sell rolls of sugar cookie dough; next to the puff pastry,” and you jerk a thumb behind you. Sometimes you buy a roll or two when you feel particularly lazy but crave cookies. 

John mouths a “Thank you” and holds Rose’s hand. “C’mon, rosebud. Let’s buy some, and you can make your candy cane cookies.” 

Rose perks up at the mention of cookies, her shoes now fighting to match the brightness of her eyes. “Wow! They sell everything here!” She drags him to the pre-made dough section. Well, she tries to drag him. Rose is less than half her father’s size. It reminds you of those cartoon characters that try to move a comically large boulder. Blue eyes meet your gaze one last time and wink at you. 

Did. Did he just?

You stand there, unblinking, staring at the corner they disappeared behind. 

Holy fucking shit. He did. 

You don’t register going through the checkout and packing your things in the car. With a blink, you’re in front of the steering wheel, key in hand. Where were you...? Home. You were on your way home. Slotting the key in the ignition, you start the engine and begin the drive home. For once, the clouds have gone, and the world mocks you with its clear skies. You don’t think you can stand to look at the colour blue for a while. It’s a good thing you’re sitting right now. 

The drive itself is unremarkable. You go through the same streets, pass the same buildings, pull into the same parking lot, and park in your usual spot next to a truck. You admire the muscular arm resting on said truck window. Funny. Guess that sweater is popular around here. Large hands run through brown hair flecked with grey—John.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

You creep out of your car and circle around to the apartment building, abandoning your groceries.

Just a few feet. Just a few feet, and you’ll make it to the door. Conscious of your steps, you slink across the pavement and concrete. You wrap your hand around the handle, and the tension bleeds from your shoulders. 

“Are you playing hide and seek, too?” a voice from below asks. You jerk and pull the door instead of pushing. A loud rattle echoes in the vicinity. Who decided it was a good idea to make doors out of glass? A sadist who likes to watch people open doors incorrectly, that’s who. You glance down. Long lashes frame blue eyes that stare into your soul. Your fingers itch to adjust the cowlick in the disarray of her hair. You spot a few leaves clinging to her locks. Was she hiding by that bush beside you?

“Are you hiding from your dad?” you ask Rose, scooting behind the potted plant when she beckons you closer.

Rose shrugs and peeks around you. “Daddy was taking too long. I’m waiting to see when he’ll notice I left.” 

Your brows pinch together. “That’s not safe, Rose. You should stick close to him. What if something bad happens to you?”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot of uncles, and they taught me how to beat up baddies!” She punches the air a few times. Her face pulls tight in concentration before loosening into a grin. She shrinks behind the bush and brings a finger to her lips.“Now shhh, we have to be quiet.”

Boots thud against the pavement, the strides between each step growing shorter. “Rosy! Where did you run off to this time?” There’s a divet to his tone beneath the loudness, like the warning tremors of an avalanche. “I need to put that girl on a leash.” There’s a smile in his tone, but it stretches taut like a rubber band, ready to snap and whiplash you with his increasing agitation. He runs a hand down his face and sighs, eyes darting across the rows of cars. 

You can’t watch this any longer. You move to reveal yourself, but Rose beats you to it. She tiptoes behind her father, giving up halfway and slamming herself into him. 

“Boo!” Rose screams, voice muffled by his shirt. 

John stares at Rose and shouts half a second later. “Ah!” Half a second too late.

Rose pulls away with a sullen frown. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

John crouches down and pets her hair. “No, no, rosebud. Was so afraid I forgot how to talk,” he insists. 

Rose gives him a scrutinizing look. “Liar,” she pouts. John leans in and whispers something into her ear, scratching her smooth cheek with his beard. She giggles and squirms, pushing his face away with both her hands. He deliberately rubs their cheeks together, and it causes her to laugh harder. 

Once again, you’re watching the two of them from afar. Heat pricks your skin, and your gaze steers toward the door. You should be able to slip unnoticed if you’re quiet. Standing up, you wince as your joints pop. You might as well hang a giant neon sign to denote your presence. 

John’s voice glues your feet to the ground. “Let’s bring everything inside, then you can bake your cookies,” he says. You press your back against the wall and exhale through your nose. No big deal. You just need to wait until they head inside first. Your palms dig into the stony material of the building. As if with enough force, you’ll be able to reorganize your atoms and disappear into the walls to escape dying from embarrassment. 

“I have a surprise for you, Daddy!” Rose’s voice draws nearer.

You are a wall. A silent, still, and formidable wall.

“Did you find another pretty stone?” John asks, tone laced with amusement. 

You close your eyes, but the ocean will not leave you alone. The waves lap at your feet on the shore, and you shrink away. Stone presses hard into your back.

They won’t find you. They’ll walk past you and go inside. Your erratic heartbeat fragments your thoughts into mismatched puzzle pieces. You can’t think with all this drumming and adrenaline.

“It’s pretty, but it’s not a stone.” Rose runs up to you and tugs you from your hiding spot. “A special guest for dinner!” she presents you like a prized animal. You stumble, and your eyes snap open in fear of hitting the ground. Strong arms rush forward to steady you. You lift your head, and your mouth dries.

Cerulean eyes pull you into their depths, crinkles forming at their edges. John’s accent caresses your ears, and you tamp down the unintelligible noise that threatens to destroy your last shred of dignity. “I didn’t know you lived here too,” and the corners of his lips twitch.

You force your tongue to articulate, the words scraping like sandpaper up your throat. “Neither did I—that you also lived here! Cause I know that I live here because I live here!” A shaky laugh warbles out of you. “I wasn’t following you because that would be creepy—and I’m going to shut up now.” You seal your lips together before you can dig a deeper hole for yourself. His hands are still on you, fingers wrapped around your arms. Your blood sings at the contact. 

“Do you think Daddy’s handsome?” Rose blurts out. Flames lick your skin, and your mouth becomes reminiscent of a goldfish. 

John’s fingers dig into your arms, and it’s not until you flinch that his hands drop to his sides. “That’s not a polite question, Rose,” he rumbles. It’s low, a warning. But when you’re a kid, you’re not afraid of anything.

Rose places her hands on her hips. “But you were like this in the car on the way home too! And when I asked you what was wrong, you told me I was too young to understand. I’m not stupid, Daddy. I’m six.” She stomps on ‘six.’ And you watch as this little girl brings this burly man to his knees. 

John sighs, “Not here, Rose. Please.” 

But Rose refuses to yield. “Why not? You both like each other, so why can’t we have dinner together?” she asks.

John rubs the back of his neck, the muscles in his arms flexing. “Would you like to join us tonight?” he asks, eyes flickering between your face and the parking lot behind you. 

“I’m afraid Rose will kidnap me if I don’t say yes,” you joke. 

Rose grumbles, “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud.” She grabs your hand and tugs you to the entrance. “Daddy can bring the groceries inside. I want to show you my toys!”

You dig your heels into the ground and say, “I need to bring my things inside as well. It’ll only take a few minutes.” Rose’s smile falters, and she reluctantly lets you go.

“Don’t worry, Love. I can take care of that for ya,” John offers

You fidget with the keys in your pocket. “Are you sure?” You’re not worried about him stealing your car. He can’t exactly hide if you two live in the same building. Besides, you want to believe that the kindness in his eyes is genuine. 

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he reaffirms. 

“Ok,” and you hand him your car keys. His fingertips graze your palm, and you shiver. God, you’re pathetic. Rose tugs on your arm, and you trail after her. She leads you up a few flights of stairs before stopping on the third floor, where you also live. Except she walks to the opposite end of the hallway, away from your apartment. She pulls a key out of her pocket and unlocks the door.

Rose drops your hand and runs inside, returning with a stuffed animal in her arms. “This is Mr. Bear. Daddy got him for me!” Mr. Bear is wearing tactical gear and a bucket hat. Frayed threads stick out of his body along the seams, and small patches of fur have fallen out. She cradles the stuffed animal close to her chest and rests her chin atop his head. 

You nearly melt on the spot. “That’s very sweet of him,” you say.

“Sometimes, when I miss him, I just need to squeeze Mr. Bear tight.” She gives you a demonstration.

A familiar warm timbre greets your ears.“I love you, rosebud.” 

You grin and say, “Your dad reminds me of a bear.”

“Yeah! He’s big and cuddly. But his face turned red when I told him,” Rose mumbles the last part. She straightens up and tugs on your arm. “Oh! And these are my action figures!” 

You walk into what you assume is her bedroom. It’s not as chaotic as you thought it would be. Her bed is in one corner of the room, with a collection of stuffies sitting along one side. There’s a shelf with knickknacks and picture frames. Your eyes land on a photo of John holding a small bundle in his arms. It looks like the picture was taken without him knowing. His eyes are wide, staring at the tiny hand wrapped around his thumb. 

There’s something that’s been bothering you, but you don’t think it’s your place to ask. Rose startles you when she starts barking out, “Hold your fire! We can’t alert the enemy of our whereabouts!” You whip around to see her sitting on the ground with a mini soldier in each hand. The large tub behind her is open, the lid propped neatly against its side. You sit next to her and watch the ‘mission’ play out. She hands you a soldier and assigns you the special position of super spy. Now a successful job rests on your shoulders.

Thanks to Captain Rose, your team retrieves the files, returning without a single casualty. Although you had a close encounter with the enemy’s Captain Pickles, which began some sort of enemies-to-lovers arc. You don’t know. She’s six. She reasoned that the power of love triumphs over all. Rose begins cleaning up, setting the toys neatly in the bin before snapping the lid shut.

“Did you learn all that from your dad?” you ask.

Rose shrugs and picks up Mr. Bear. “Daddy never tells me anything about work. It’s classified. Sometimes I watch TV. There’s a show where one of the characters looks just like him, but Nana doesn’t let me watch much 'cause it’s not for kids.” Dear lord. Could you imagine being sandwiched between two Johns?? 

“Rosy? Want to bake your cookies now?” John shouts from the corridor, snapping you out of your fantasy.

“Yes, please!” Rose replies. She grabs your hand and gives you a toothy grin. “You can be my assistant. Daddy’s hopeless at baking.” She leads you to the kitchen, where some bowls and a tray are on the table. Rose lets go and skips to a seat, plopping herself down. Mr. Bear is seated on the chair next to her.

You sit at her other side and ask, “What kind of cookies are we making?” There are no cookie cutters in sight to give you a clue. 

Rose clasps her hands together. Her feet swing beneath the table. “Candy Canes! Santa will be so impressed that he’ll grant my wish for sure,” she answers.

You don’t know what a six-year-old would ask from Santa, but you sincerely hope it’s fulfilled. Perusing the items on the table, you notice a vital ingredient missing. “Do you have food dye?” you ask. 

Rose strokes her chin. She hops off her chair and walks up to John. “Daddy, do we have any food dye?”

John’s head peeks out from behind the fridge door. “Sorry, Rosy. I don’t remember,” and there’s a sheepish grin on his face. 

Rose hums and grabs a stool, tottering to the drawers. “I forgot. You went away for a while. I think Nana left some the last time we baked.” Your eyes snap to the fridge when you hear a thud. An apple rolls across the floor and stops near your feet. You pick up the fruit, thumb brushing over the bruise blooming underneath its skin. “I found red!” Rose waves a small bottle in her hand and dashes to show you. 

You set the apple on the table and praise Rose. Her chest puffs up, and the smile she gives you is dazzling. She hops onto her seat, clutching the bottle to her chest. 

John walks up to you two. “Here’s the dough,” and he holds out the cylindrical tube but changes his mind and leaves it on the table. The only seats left are the ones across. He picks the spot in front of you. 

“Thanks.” You snap the tube open and remove the packaging. “Alright, Rose. We split the dough in half, and you’ll colour one part red.”

Rose cocks her head to the side. “We don’t paint the cookies?”

You shake your head and say, “There’s an easier way to make them look like candy canes.” You hand Rose a wooden spoon and tell her to mix the dough while you add the dye. Once half the dough is red, you take equal parts from both bowls and roll them into noodles. Putting them together, you twist them to form a cane. You curve one end, and the result is a near-perfect replica of a candy cane. Rose marvels at the sight, face inches from the table’s surface. 

There’s a streak of food colouring on her face, and you grab a tissue for her. She’s engrossed in the cookie, picking it up and turning it over. Out of impulse, you wipe the stain on her cheek and her laughter tinkles throughout the room. She complains about being ticklish between her giggles. A low sigh draws your attention. You look over to John, who’s watching you with his head propped up with his hand. “What? Do I have something on my face?” you ask.

There’s a softness to John’s features. He looks at you like you’re holding his heart in your hands, squeezing the pulsating organ with every cookie you form. “Do good looks count?” It’s barely audible, but you hear it. His elbow slips from the table, and he clears his throat. “Just been a while since I’ve seen her so happy.” He folds his arms across the table, a wall of muscle to create a false sense of distance. 

You gesture your head at Rose. “Make a cookie with her; have fun together.”

John stares at the table, stroking his chin in a familiar fashion, but remains silent otherwise. You chew on the inside of your cheek and resume forming the cookies. The squeal of wood scraping against wood pricks your ears. John squeezes himself into the space between you and Rose. His shoulders brush against you, and he is radiating heat. “What have you got there, Rosy?” he asks.

Rose looks at him with furrowed brows. “A candy cane, silly. Here, I’ll show you how to make it,” she answers. Rose does a quick demonstration, but John still struggles. Somehow he’s managed to mix the parts to create pink. Rose shakes her head, lips tugging into a frown. “My hands are too small; can you help him?” She turns to you. Long lashes frame her doe eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to say no.

You glance at John to find he’s staring at you. Shifting in your seat, you say, “If you don’t mind…?”

John maintains eye contact. “I’m all yours,” and the smile he gives you is bashful. You fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks, but it’s like trying to douse a flame with gasoline. The heat intensifies, and you grab a tissue to wipe your clammy hands, muttering an excuse about the dye staining your skin. 

You focus on the table, resisting the temptation to turn your head and meet the gaze burning into your face. “You take equal parts of each dough and roll them into logs.” You pause to make sure he’s following along. “Once they’re the same size, you can twist them together to form a cane.” John is about to mush his cookie as children tend to do with playdough; always mixing the colours. You grab his hands to stop him. His fingers twitch against your palms, but he doesn’t recoil. “Like this,” and you twist your cookie, rolling it some more to flatten the cane.  

“You make it sound so easy,” John huffs.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not too bad once you get the hang of it.”

John shakes his head. “Give me a pistol, and I can field strip and reassemble in a few minutes.” He holds up a warped cookie. “This, this I can’t do.”

You bump your shoulders together. “I’ll have you baking like a pro.”

John grins; it’s boyish and charming—it pulls you in like a flower reaching for a ray of sunlight. “Is that a promise?” he asks, lashes framing an expanse of blue. And once again, you are hopelessly lost at sea. 

“Only if you’ll invite me over again,” you quip.

“Is this flirting?” Rose asks. Her head pops up behind John’s shoulder. “If Daddy won’t invite you, I will.”

You smile as John buries his face in his hands. “Thank you, Rose,” you say.

She returns the gesture with a wide grin. “You’re very welcome.”

You continue making the cookies in silence, gaslighting yourself into thinking that the numerous brushes against your hand are accidental. 7/10 times you’re grabbing something, John also happens to be reaching for the same item. The cookie under your palm flattens into a pancake when his body leans ever-so-slightly into yours. Thankfully this is the last cookie, and you place it on the baking tray with the rest.

Rose insists on putting the tray into the oven herself, and John watches her like a hawk, hovering behind her in case he needs to step in.

Once John’s certain the apartment won’t burst into flames, he rolls up his sleeves. You eye the veins along his arms as subtly as you can, wincing like a child caught in the act of misbehaving when John speaks. “Can you please help Rose clean up? I need to get started on dinner,” he asks.

“Yes, Chef,” and you give a mock salute. “Alright, Rose. I’ll wash all the dishes in the sink. Can you wipe the counter?” you ask her.

Rose straightens her back and nods. “Affirmative,” she replies, marching to grab a towel. 

You begin collecting the bowls and utensils, plugging the drain afterwards to fill up the sink. A few drops of soap and a mountain of suds form. With a sponge, you begin scrubbing away at bits of dried-up dough and red dye. In the corner of your eye, Rose is reprimanding Mr. Bear on how he needs to pull his weight too and that it doesn’t matter if he’s not heavy because he’s full of stuffing. 

“You’ve got an adorable soldier,” you say, turning your head to John, who’s heating a pan on the stove.

John watches Rose with deep affection. Those are the eyes of a man staring at the purpose of his existence. “She’s a trooper, alright,” and the smile on his face is lax.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” you ask, adding more soap to your sponge. The remaining traces of dye are giving you grief.

“Fish and chips; one of Rosy’s favourites,” John answers.

“Daddy makes the best!” Rose pipes up.

John shakes his head, and the base of his neck flushes. “She’s exaggerating,” he says.

You smirk, “I’ll be the judge of that.” The chuckle your words elicit from John fills you with a pleasant buzz.

“I have to warn you. I aim to please,” and the lilt in John’s voice encourages you further.

“Yes, you certainly look the type,” you say, eyes trailing up and down his figure. John’s body trembles under your gaze. “Is it just you and Rose here?” You don’t know if he’s divorced, but you don’t recall seeing a ring on his finger.

“She’s dead,” John says. Concise and well-practiced. The plate in your hand slips and splashes into the sink with a thud, shattering the silence. You look over at John, but his back is to you. Shoulders hunched and head low. “Died during childbirth,” he adds, and the slight wobble churns your stomach. You should have known. Should have guessed from how the pictures on the walls only contain two subjects. Rose only ever talks about her father and grandparents. How could you be so fucking blind?

You crush the sponge in your hands, and bubbles seep out between your fingers. An apology is on the tip of your tongue, straining under the weight of your rapid thoughts. Day one, and you’ve already stepped on a mine. A phantom pain aches in your chest, grieving the loss of a love you never had in the first place. John says nothing. Continues to fry the fish in silence. Pops of oil like the rounds of a machine gun, but not loud enough to drown out the hammering of your heart.

Rose breaks the silent war. “I cleaned the counter. Can I check on the cookies?” she asks.

The apology dies on your tongue, and you tear your eyes away from John’s back, missing how the tension bleeds from his body. “Of course,” you say, placing the last dish on the drying rack. “Do you know how?”

“Nana showed me the buttons because I accidentally turned off the oven before,” Rose replies. She hands you her towel, and you lump it in the sink with yours. Rose walks up to the oven, and John moves to the side. You hang back, grappling with the temptation to steal a glance. You’re not sure what’s worse: John catching you staring or the disappointment of him not staring back. In the end, you decide to focus on Rose. She awes at the cookies and beckons you closer. You shuffle towards her, sticking close to the opposite side.“We should leave extra for the reindeer and elves who want some too!” 

You smile and pat her head. “Next time you can buy peppermint extract so they’ll taste like candy canes too!” you suggest. Rose’s eyes widen. She looks at you like you have the biggest brain in the world. Your confidence skyrockets, but a quick peek at John sends you plummeting back to Earth. You can’t read the expression on his face, and it worries you.

“They look so good! Santa will definitely grant my wish!” Rose’s comment piques your interest.

“What’s your wish?” you ask, crouching down to her level.

Rose glances at her father before lowering her voice. “I can’t tell you with Daddy around; it might make him sad.” Your jaw slackens. What could a child wish for that would make their parents unhappy?

Dinner is served, and the seating arrangement remains unchanged. True to John’s words, Rose devours her dinner. She even asks for seconds. “I’m a growing girl,” is all she responds with when she notices your amused expression.

The conversation consists of small talk. You learn they moved into the complex two years after you did. It’s honestly amazing how you didn’t run into them earlier. John doesn’t talk about his job, but he asks you plenty of questions about yours. You’re happy to answer. Glad to have something to talk about that won’t prod old wounds. Before you know it, you’re cracking jokes, and John is struggling to breathe. His laughter is intoxicating, and like an addict, you crave another dose. Rose watches the entire interaction with a broad smile, nibbling on her food as her eyes ping pong across the table.

John leans forward and hangs off your every word. Every ounce of his attention focused solely on you. You pause mid-story, caught up in the softness of his features. Before he can ask you what’s wrong, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull out the device to see it’s a text notification. The time on the screen reads 9:30 pm. It’s getting late, and from the way Rose slumps in her chair, she should be in bed soon.

“I should go. Rose looks like she’s about to pass out,” you say.

“M’not sleepy,” Rose argues, rubbing her eyes.

John rises from his seat. “I’ll clean up. Rosy, why don’t you say goodbye to our guest?”

Rose gets out of her chair with Mr. Bear and holds your hand, leading you to the entrance. John steps forward but stops himself. He turns to collect the dishes, and you walk away, feeling the heat of his gaze lingering on your back. 

As you’re slipping on your shoes, you ask Rose, “Now that it’s just us, do you want to tell me your wish?” She glances behind her. The faint sounds of porcelain clattering against metal travel along the corridor. 

“You can’t tell Daddy, but I don’t want him to be lonely. He doesn’t cry at night anymore when he thinks I’m sleeping, but he still looks like a raccoon in the morning,” Rose says, pinching an invisible zipper between her fingers and dragging it across her lips. You copy the gesture and even go as far as to mime turning a key and tossing it over your shoulder. You have a sneaking suspicion, but you don’t want to get your hopes up. 

Unlocking the door, you reach for the doorknob. “Wait,” John shouts, stopping you in your tracks. He jogs up to you and holds out a reusable takeout container and your bag of groceries. “I made too much. Take some leftovers with you.” You peer inside, and there’s a generous portion. How much did he cook?

“I’m tired. I’m getting ready for bed,” Rose suddenly announces.

John chuckles, “I thought you weren’t tired earlier?”

“That was earlier. I’m tired now.” Rose walks off to her room, mumbling to Mr. Bear. The only snippet you catch is something about ‘having a moment.’ You take the container and bag from John, fingertips touching. He doesn’t let go, and you’re left standing there awkwardly.

“Don’t feel bad about what happened earlier,” John says, withdrawing his hands and shoving them into his pockets. 

Earli—oh. Your cheeks tingle with warmth. You clear your throat and bring the container close to your chest. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just wanted….” You pause.

“Wanted what?” John asks, and his eyes are wide and pleading. He waits and doesn’t push. Watches as you chew on the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze.

When you finally gather the courage to look at his face, tender eyes observe you. Does he feel the same? A wave of confidence washes over you, and you decide to take the risk. “To know if I have a fighting chance,” you say.

The corners of John’s lips boomerang up and then back down. His eyebrows draw together, and he almost looks… scared. “Love, I work in the military. I’m a single father. I don’t have much to offer,” John rasps, the words constricting his chest like a vine of thorns. His throat bobs, and he closes his eyes, steeling his body. Because bracing for impact is a natural human response in an attempt to lessen the damage of an imminent crash.

You smile softly. “And if I said I didn’t mind? That I’ll wait for you to come back and become Rose’s favourite while you’re gone?” John’s eyes snap open wide. He stares at you like you’re some sort of mythical creature; a being that can’t possibly exist in this world. Here is a man with his own baggage, who carries a burden on his shoulders that you will never comprehend. And you want to learn how to love him anyway. His expression softens, and he gravitates toward you.

“When I saw how you handle Rose, I didn’t think I could like you more than I already do,” John says.

Your ears perk. “You like me?” you ask. You didn’t think the attraction went both ways.

John rubs the back of his neck, and his cheeks flush. “Might have seen you use the elevator a few times… regularly,” he confesses. “I’ve liked you for a while.”

“And you never tried to say hello?” you tease him, placing a hand on your hip. The pain that flashes across his face is brief, but it stops you from continuing. You decide to change the topic. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” Your face engulfs in flames. “On the cheek, I mean!”

The pink dusting John’s face darkens. “Only if I get to kiss you—on the forehead,” he clarifies.

“Deal.” You place a quick peck on John’s cheek, his skin an inferno against your lips. He cups your face and leans in. It’s soft and leaves you tingling from head to toe. A laugh bubbles in your chest. You slap a hand to cover the dopey grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. I'm just really happy.”

John’s thumb caresses your cheeks. His blue eyes are sparkling. “So am I, Darling. Goodnight,” he says, leaning forward to plant another kiss. You close your eyes and make a content hum, basking in his warmth. 

John opens the door for you and leans against the doorframe after you step out. The hallway is relatively dark, and the lights from the apartment bathe him in an ethereal glow. A smile graces his features, and the current that threatened to pull you under has settled into gentle ripples. “Night, John,” you reply, waving goodbye. 

A smug grin stretches his smile, and he winks at you. “See ya later, Love.” 

You skip to your apartment. The door behind you doesn’t click shut until you disappear from sight. You head to the fridge first to store the leftovers. You find a note when you put away your groceries. Fishing out the paper, it reads: ‘Rose’s bedtime is 10 pm.’

The clock on your stovetop tells you it’s 9:50. 

Where did you put that expensive bottle of whiskey you bought years ago?

Bonus Scene:

John tucks his daughter into bed, pulling the blanket to her chin. “What else did you wish for, Rosy?” he asks. It’s become a tradition to figure out her Christmas present. He makes sure to ask her right before bed when he’s certain she won’t remember the conversation in the morning.

Rose snuggles into her pillow, hugging the stuffed bear close to her chest. Her voice is muffled and thick with sleepiness, but he hears it crystal clear. “A little sister.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

Happy early Valentine's Day! I can't wait to consume the Valentine-themed content for all the fandoms I'm in. Not related, but I saw a cowboy ghost render on IG and I think I'm going to have to go back to writing something for him ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

Time to drop off the face of the Earth for a month or two again.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price #captain john price #cod x reader #cod mwii #single dad price #gender neutral reader #no y/n #And they were apartmentmates! #I will update the tags with something funnier once my brain isn't mush

[heyhihellosworld]

𝗛𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁! 𝐈𝐈

Pt 1 Pt 3

Mason Mount x reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: This is part 2 of 'He is not!'

Warnings: Smut x2 🫢, angst, fluff, slight argument

Notes: This may not make too much sense because it's jumping a lot. Also I got a bit carried away eheh. Always struggling with pt 2 of stories but loved writing pt 1 so I gave it a shot! And thank you for all the love on part 1, really thankful! xx

You were sat on the couch once again, but this time it was so much worse than this very morning.

Jack was yet again rambling but now you had done something, in his eyes very wrong and you couldn't really defend yourself. You'd tried but it wasn't very popular with your brother when your argument was that Mason was hot.

You swore you could see his eyes darken when you tried to reason with him that he was a good fuck and after that you'd just kept quite knowing it would be for the best.

"You promised!" he close to shouted, pacing back and forth in front of the couch you had slumped down into after he'd ushered you home from the club. You could still feel the remainants of alcohol in your blood even though you began to sober up and had been for the past couple of hours.

"Well I didn't fucking know he was in England! I was just happy I'd found a hottie who wasn't in City" you mumbled quietly

"Y/n" Jack whined, running his hands over his face.

He was done rambling now, never being able to keep angry at you for too long but sadly enough disappointment seemed to take longer to vanish. "Couldn't you've asked him?" he sighed out, sitting down in the love seat opposite you.

"What was I supposed to ask huh? Like hi i'm y/n you're really hot and I want to fuck you but firstly, are you possibly teammate with my brother?"

"That's one idea" he muttered, knowing it wasn't something you naturally asked someone but you still broke your promise and he would keep you to that for a long long time.

"It's not jack! I'm really sorry okay, I didn't mean to break my promise" you sighed, leaning your head back. You where really tired, it was late as hell, you'd been up early, you'd watched a very shaking game, you'd dranken a lil too much plus a good fuck on that, exhausting was a light word.

Jack sighed, looking at you with his deep brown eyes and a serious expression "Okay, okay just promise me that you wont do it again"

You closed your eyes, not wanting to promise that.

"Y/n" Jack glared at you in warning "no Jack, please"

"What, no no no. Never again" he argued, standing up again looking pissed.

"I'm not gonna promise that" you said lowly, refusing to meet his eyes. "What y/n! It was just a one-night stand, right?"

Your eyes fleeted around the floor trying to look at anything but him. "Yeah?" Realization dawned upon him and his eyes narrowed "He's already contacted you hasn't he?" he spoke darkly making you wince "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Show me!" he barked making you jump, snatching your phone tight in your hand. "Not a chance!"

"Y/N!"

"NO! He just said... that he... that he had a good time and wondered if I wanted to see him again sometime"

"And you of course said no"

"Uh... no?" you winced again, his look killing you.

"You've already said yes" he deadpanned, throwing his head back in absolute annoyance.

"Yeah" "Ah fuck you! And fuck Mason!" he grunted out, gesturing with his hand in the air.

"Come on Jack, it's already happened so the promise is already broken" you sighed "What's once or twice more?" He didn't answer your question but sighed instead, resting his eyes heavily on you

"Y/n If you see him again you're gonna make me really disappointed" he said lowly before gathering his stuff and walking out the door, probably going back to the club to find a shag. You heard him shut the door harshly behind him, leaving you groaning on the couch.

A week had gone and Jack had been in a little better mood since that day but he was still not as regular with you. It was strained and you hated yourself for betraying him like he felt you did.

Today you'd followed him to his England training, he was really reluctant to let you but when Mason mentioned he couldn't train with the squad because of a sore ankle he had said okay.

What he didn't know was that Mason still would be there, smirking at you as you walked past. He had been texting you all week, even calling a few times to just chat. Obsessing over you. (In a good way, not a perv/stalker way, just had to clear that up)

The training was a couple of hours but you loved watching them. They had a lot of fun and it was a good change from watching the serious games when it was die or survive.

You had only sat in the stand for about half an hour when Mason texted you.

You grinned at your phone before sneaking off, sending a text to Jack just in case he would see you not there to let him know you had gone to greet the staff and get something to eat. But in reality you where hurrying into the building and around the corner.

Mason stood with a huge grin on his face, leaning against the wall waiting for you.

He didn't even say hi before gripping your arm and pulling you into some type of closet or equipment room.

He immediately towered over you with a soft grin, his hand resting on your chin.

"We really shouldn't" you sighed, tilting your head up to look at him. he was standing so close you could kiss him if you wanted to but you restrained yourself, Jack's voice repeating in the back of your mind.

"I really couldn't care less about Jack right now" he breathed, his breath fanning your face, eyes literally boring into yours. It was impossible to resist him, to resist his gorgeous eyes and inviting lips. Something just dragged you towards him. "I should care... but I don't right now" you sighed before closing the space between your lips, attacking his with yours in a heated and desperate kiss. He met you with the same hunger, lips bruising as your tongues fought for dominance.

He pushed you against the door of the small room. A moan escaping your lips before you could stop it.

Both of your clothes were gripped, desperate hands grasping the items of fabric off, desperate to feel what was underneath. Your shirt was pulled up over your breasts, your bra pulled down enough so he could grasp at them without any fabric in the way.

Your jeans were gone just as his shirt, his jeans undone showing his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. His fingers were over your panties, rubbing your clit the best he could through the material. The touch made you whine, the lacy material causing even more friction against your sensitive nub sending your mind into mush.

"You like that huh? Can feel you soaking through" he whispered huskily against the shell of your ear causing a shiver through your body.

Your teeth chewed through your lip, trying to keep sane as he pushed his hand inside your panties.

He properly teased you, flicking one finger in and out of you, his thumb rubbing over your clit and back up over your thigh and stomach, creating a pattern to drive you crazy.

"Okay, okay" you breathed, reaching for his hand to stop his movements. He got what you signaled and stopped his fingers instead lifting you up by your thighs, pushing your back against the door further so that you were in the same height. Your arms tangled around his neck for support as he quickly swiped your underwear to the side and pushed his hips forward, teasing your slit with his tip. Anticipation coursed through your body, making you needy for him to just fuck you but Mason was a tease, and it obviously didn't matter if it was in a public restroom, an open cupboard or a bed.

Finally, finally you felt him slowly push into you, your eyes fell close as deep breaths escaped from your mouth. Your neck craned itself, resting against the door as he bottomed out inside of you.

You wanted to look at him so badly but it was hard as he began to move, instead you marveled in the small sounds he let out. Small huffs of air and small breathy moans left his lips whenever you pushed back onto him or clenched around him.

His hands were gripping you hard, nailing into your flesh as he pounded into you. It felt so much better sober, you could feel his every movement and ravel in it with a clear head. Your back hurt with every thrust as you were slammed up and into the door but it only made the whole thing better. His mouth was leaving sloppy kisses up your neck, nipping and licking over your exposed skin.

"Fuck" he mumbled into your neck as you squeezed around him again, "I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that" he breathed out.

You forced your eyes open only to see him looking at you. His lips where slightly parted and eyes shiny. He looked proper fucked and it made you grin, your hand coming up to his cheek to stroke over his scruff as he continued to pound into you. "Do it, cum for me" you whispered against his mouth. You loved the way his eyes closed momentarily, a deep breath coming out of his mouth before he started to move even harder against you, letting himself go and search for his release.

You reached down to rub your clit as you sensed he was close. Mason loved when you did that, his eyes moving back and forth from your eyes to where you were connected, watching your face contort in pleasure and your fingers brushing over yourself.

He couldn't hold himself back any longer, groaning as he came inside of you, letting himself ride out his high before slowly pulling out.

You were breathing hard, looking into his brown eyes as he kissed you slowly, sensually, intertwining his tongue with yours. We was still holding you up against the door with determination.

He searched your eyes but you weren't sure for what as he slapped your hand away that was still absentmindedly rubbing circles over your clit, replacing it with his own fingers.

You gasped at the contact, his fingers being much rougher and picking up the speed immediately, feeling much better than your own.

"Mason" you breathed out, eyes closing again "it's okay, you don't have to" you tried but he huffed out a 'no'

"If you don't want me to, tell me to stop but if not i'm not gonna let you go without making you cum."

You moaned at his words feeling the high almost snapping already. It was not like you had been far from coming before and now you where tethering over that delicious edge.

"I-I'm gonna" you tried to warn him but he already knew, watching your face and hearing your whining sounds. "I know, I know, It's okay, cum" he murmured against your jaw loving the look on your face as you let go, squirming in his hold.

Once you'd come down from your high he helped you down on your feet, both of you cleaning up as much as possible before zipping up and straightening clothing.

Masons lips were on you all the time, not wanting to let go, desperate to feel the taste and softness of your lips.

"I have to get back" you said lowly, brushing away the hair in his eyes. "Do you really?" he asked with a whine making you chuckle "I do Mason"

"Can I see you again?" he asked desperately, eyes staring into yours with need.

And just like that Jack popped into your head, a tinge of guilt settling in your stomach as you nodded slowly. "I guess" you murmured, not convinced but Mason seemed to be satisfied with that answer, kissing your lips once more "I will text you" he smiled before leaving the small room.

The guilt only grew as you slipped into the bathroom to clean up properly before grabbing something from the cafeteria and settling in the stands again. Meeting Jack's worried look turn into recognition as you waved the coffee and sandwich at him, feeling like crying at his smile.

"Bro"

Jack ignored his shout, looking the other way while walking onto the pitch, already in a sucky mood after ignoring you that morning, hating to argue and not be close.

"Bro come on can we at least talk about it?" Mason tried, jogging to catch up with his long strides.

"No Mason, don't talk to me" Jack gruffed, speeding up even more but Mason had no problems catching up while running.

"Please"

"Mason just fuck off!" he grunted out, making heads turn as they where close to the others by now.

"No I want to talk to you about this" Mason huffed stubbornly, not expecting Jack to fly around, aggressively bumping into him with force.

"I said fuck off" he grumbled warningly.

"Hey hey hey, what's going on?" John stepped in, holding a hand on each of their shoulders to separate them.

Either of them answering, Mason looked down while Jack stared daggers at him.

"What is going on?" John repeated, not asking this time.

"What is going on is that Mason here is fucking my little sister!" Jack close to shouted, all heads turning to them now.

"y/n?" John asked in confusion, Jack only getting more annoyed "Yes y/n!"

"Bro what the fuck" Kyle stepped in, looking at Mason. "You fucked y/n?"

"I didn't even know he had a sister called y/n!" Mason defended, he unlike John and Kyle didn't share the club with Jack meaning they didn't meet that often and he didn't know him as good.

"I didn't even know who she was" Mason sighed, tired of it.

"When was this?"

"At the club after the City/Chelsea game, she was there. I met her first at the stadium then again at the club and we fu-hooked up in the bathroom. I just knew her name, I didn't know she was Jack's sister" he sighed dropping his head. Kyle nodded, understanding the situation. "Jack, listen to him. He didn't know" "I don't give a fuck, if he hadn't been with her again maybe I could have thought about it but now no" "You slept with her again?" Kyle sighed, John just stood quite beside them, letting Kyle sort it out, he was better at it.

"Uh-yeah"

"Man what the fuck" Kyle groaned "Why would you do that, I get you didn't know who she was the first time but surely you must've the second time"

"He did, I saw them both after the first time" Jack grumbled, glaring murderer still.

"I did"

"So why again? You know the rule bro"

"I-I don't know, She-I" Mason stuttered, not knowing how to phrase it for Jack's ears. "She is just really intriguing okay?! I needed to check in on her after or... hookup and then we just kept on texting"

"When was the second time?" Jack groaned, not liking to hear about it at all. "When she came for training" Mason mumbled, looking down on the ground. "Fucking shit" Jack grunted "You fucked her in a fucking closet or something?"

Mason winced, giving the answer away. "Fucking shit" Jack repeated, glaring hard.

"Bro" Kyle sighed, closing his eyes like if he was dealing with two fighting children. "I get you okay, I do I would be pissed too if he slept with my sister but you gotta keep it civil at training" Kyle stated calmly.

"Ah fuck of Kyle" Jack scoffed, moving away from the group to continue with their training instead, fed up by Mason and the whole situation.

Mason felt defeated, he didn't know what he could do or say to make Jack talk to him.

You where sneaking.

You'd never sneaked with something in front of Jack before but you convinced yourself that you would hurt him more if you told him straight to his face that you were sleeping with Mason. Deep down you knew you hurt him even more by sneaking around and risking he found out about it but you couldn't stand to see the pain you would have to cause him face to face.

"Where are you going?" Jack huffed from the couch making you stop dead in your track, your brain racking for some excuse but nothing came to mind.

"y/n?"

"Uh-I'm going out..."

He raised his eyes from the tv to look at you with furrowed eyes "What's the matter with you?" he chuckled, studying your nervous stance.

You could see the exact second the penny dropped, his smile disappearing and eyes narrowing

"no"

"I'm sorry okay!?" you exclaimed, not being able to take the disappointment in his eyes as he rested his heavy look on you. "Why, just why. You know I don't want you to be with my teammates because it will stir things around in the team. How could I go there and act like nothing happened when I know he's been fucking my little sister." "I understand you, I do but just... why is it such a big deal?"

"Because!" Jack almost shouted out, frustration tearing on his every part of being.

"Because I know how he is! I know how they all are! Searching around for quick fucks, arseholes! All of them ar arseholes!"

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your mouth at his outburst.

"I know that Jack. Come on, I know you and you are just like them but I am an adult, I promise I can care for myself. That first time I was just searching for a quick fuck and forget but then he reached out to see me again." "Don't trust him y/n, it doesn't matter if he texted you to see you again that's probably just because you were a good fuck.... oh my gosh I can't believe I just said that about my baby sister" Jack cried, rubbing his face with his hands.

You couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled out from your mouth at his dramatics, patting his leg in a try to reassure him. "I can take care of myself Jack, I'm sorry that I fucked your teammate... twice but I can take care of myself. It's not like I'm in love with the bloke"

"I don't know y/n..." he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child making you sigh at him, rolling your eyes which made him sigh too, giving up this argument. "Okay okay, you do you but please, I'm warning you now and I'm not about to pick up the pieces when he does what he always does"

"It's not gonna happen Jack"

"we'll see" he huffed, standing up and striding to his room. You collapsed back on the couch, you hated arguing with him, hated making him disappointed. You felt your heart drop as you heard his door slam shut and the lock turn, he only locked when he was seriously mad.

"I'm sorry Jack" you sighed for yourself before grabbing your wallet and exiting the house.

It wasn't long to Mason's hotel, maybe it was a little too close you thought as you stepped into the elevator up to his room floor.

You were excited to see him again but you couldn't shake off Jack's disappointed look and his pleas for you to not see him anymore. But as previously all those thoughts flew away as Mason swung the door open, meeting you with his charismatic smile as he gestured you into the room.

"I didn't think you would show up" "I'm sorry, I got into this whole thing with Jack" You sighed, slumping down on the couch with a grimace. "Oh, sorry" he mumbled, looking almost timid by the way he watched you.

You waved it off observing him as he walked closer to you "Don't worry bout it he is just dramatic" you smiled a small pang of guilt settling in your chest as you uttered the words. You knew how he felt about this yet here you were, in the middle of the night in Mason's hotel room for a booty call.

"He is really not okay with this huh?" You sighed, looking into his eyes "No, not really"

He looked down on the floor, guilt settling in him too. Jack was a good friend and it was well known that relatives was off market but he hadn't known who you where that first day and then he was hooked, obsessed with the way you felt, not having it in hm to stop whatever this was.

"But let's not think about him now huh?" You smiled at him, reaching out for him as he stopped right in front of you with a soft smile playing on his lips.

"No? So what do you want to think about?"

"Hmm" you teased, feigning thinking over the question.

Your fingers tangled together behind his neck, bringing his mouth down to yours. You let your lips faintly brush over his in a teasing manner, locking eyes with his. "Your dick?"

Mason groaned quietly at your answer, a smirk taking over your face. His lips melted into you fully this time, taking control and dominating the kiss despite your tries to put up a fight.

You were pretty desperate to get to the point, wanting to forget all rational thoughts and just get lost in pleasure but Mason stopped you before you could unbutton his pants.

"No way we are doing this in the couch when we for the first time have the chance to do it for real, in a comfortable bed"

You giggled at him, pushing him off of you and standing up. "Okay then"

You sprinted to the bed, Mason close behind you before jumping into it in a fit of giggles.

Mason quickly moved over you, hovering over your face with a foolish grin, hand coming to wipe your hair away from your eyes before meeting your lips hungrily, desperate to have you for real this time. Be able to take his sweet time and love your body for real, not just fucking you quickly and messily in a club bathroom or a closet at the training ground.

"You are so so beautiful" he whispered, mouth ghosting over your lips and down your neck, your body craning back to give him more access. His lips ghosted over your ear and down to your mouth again.

"I know you said you wanted to take your time but is that really necessary?" You whined, bucking your body upwards to get in contact with him.

Mason chuckled at you, pursing his lips "It is"

You couldn't help but whine, feeling the need to get some type of relief. "It's fine" he chuckled, sliding his hands up under your shirt to grasp at your boobs. Softly squeezing them over the material.

"Just fucking take it off" you grunted annoyed, pushing him up so you could sit before ripping the shirt of your body prompting him to do the same.

You almost salivated at his naked torso, flipping him around whilst he was focusing on tossing his shirt away, catching him off guard. If he was gonna take his time you would at least be in charge, not be the one getting teased but being the one teasing.

You moved down slightly, straddling his thighs as you slowly licked a stripe up his torso over his chest. His breathing caught in his throat, eyes closing as you littered small sensual kisses all over his chest, teasingly going lower before abandoning and working upwards again.

When you teasingly licked a stripe from the edge of his jeans up his navel he grunted, painfully hard at your ministrations.

"Okay stop it now, I get your point" he breathed, trying to reach for you.

You giggled against his skin, kissing up his body until your lips met his again.

"It was you who wanted us to take our time so that's what i'm doing love"

"Okay okay but I was wrong, let's just get to it" he rushed out, a light bubble of laughter escaping your mouth. "Aww"

You grinned before moving down again. Licking teasingly over his navel and down his small happy trail whilst you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Helping him out of them.

A sigh of relief left his mouth as he was freed from his jeans but he was still straining in his boxers as you teasingly trailed your fingers under his boxer band.

"Stop fucking teasing!" he grunted, sitting up and taking off his jeans and boxers as you chuckled at his impatience.

You leant down, looking up at him teasingly through your lashes as you licked a stripe up his dick. You slowly and teasingly licked his tip, kissing down the base before licking your way up again.

He could almost not contain himself, his erection only getting harder and harder at your teasing movements.

"I'm gonna cum if you keep going" he gruffed out between his teeth his hips moving on their own accord. You finally took pity on him, taking him in your mouth for real, bobbing your head and sucking at his tip.

"Y/n y/n, stop stop" he panted out, clawing at your hair to get you off his dick.

You grinned at him as you released him with a pop, kissing up his chest before meeting his mouth in a needy kiss.

Mason huffed as you moved back from his lips, moving you around in a swift movement, hovering over your face.

He mirrored your previous teasing, kissing down your body, stopping at your breasts to lick and suck over them. Your eyes struggled to stay open, you teeth desperately trying to keep your soft sounds in.

Soon your jeans and underwear where discarded and he was teasing one finger through your folds, teasing your hole before softly dragging them over your clit.

"Just fuck me Mase" you whined, bucking your hips up to prove your point further, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest as he moved up to your face again.

"Hm that's what you want?

"Yes Mase" you said lowly, rubbing your thumb over his scruff. He looked at you patiently, waiting for something more and you knew exactly what. Your eyes rolled as you clicked your tongue

"Please Mase" you muttered, slight sarcasm to your voice but Mason didn't care just narrowed his eyes at you before directing his tip to your entrance.

He didn't do anything else though, just teasing his tip at your entrance, rubbing it over your clit. His hands came to your hips as you tried to buck up to him, holding you still.

"Mason" you groaned, looking at him with a glare but that only got him to chuckle at you.

Instead of giving you what you wanted he started to tease you with his fingers again but this time he actually did something. Slowly pushing your walls apart he slid two of his fingers inside of you. Slowly moving them among your walls before hooking them to press on that perfect spot against your wall. Your eyes rolled back as your lips parted

"Yes Mase, keep doing that, keep going" you murmured, ignoring his smirk as he made you feel good.

He didn't do what you said though, stopping only a few moments later to your annoyance but this time he was done teasing, again running his dick against your sex but only for a few seconds before he slowly pushed into you.

The stretch was delicious, making your eyes shut close and breathing get heavier.

"Fuck" Mason grunted as he bottomed out "you just feel better every fucking time we do this"

You snickered at his comment, rubbing his chin lovingly as he slowly started to move, loving the way you pushed back against him every time.

He stuck to his words, taking his time. There were no desperate pounding, no messily sloppily quick fuck. He was slow in his movements, savoring the moment and you didn't mind it. Meeting his slow kisses and slow thrusts, bashing in the feeling of him. His strokes were firm, determined but slow, meeting your hips with an obscene sound.

His hands and mouth were everywhere, teasing your clit, twisting your nipple, stroking your hips, he was everywhere at the same time, overwhelming you with pleasure.

You lost track of time as you rocked together, both so into your own little bubble to think of anything else. Pleasure slowly building until it snapped, slowly dissipating before you came back to reality, your eyes opening to meet his.

-

You didn't wanna stay for long, a tinge of awkwardness settling as you sipped on your coffee, looking at him over your cup.

"I really should go" you said softly, his nod of recognition was pretty cynical as you stood up, placing the mug at the sink before grabbing your things.

"I'll text you" he said lowly, barely looking at you as you moved towards the door. You couldn't help the way your eyes rolled at his behavior, like he just a few hours ago hadn't cuddled up to you and told you how amazing you were.

"Bye Mason" you muttered, the whole thing really feeling like goodbye.

"Jack" you tried but he was relentless, pacing with such fury and determination you almost didn't dare look at him.

"How could he?!" he shouted angrily, his hands gesturing like they always did when he was angry.

"It's nothing" you tried but Jack was not giving in.

"What do you mean it's nothing y/n! It's all over the internet"

You sighed, looking down. Things haven't been going that great since you spent the night at his hotel. He had texted you to say sorry for his behavior the morning after and you'd started texting just like before. But then only a few days later there had been tabloids everywhere of him with some girl.

"Have you seen the pictures?" he asked, his voice lowering as he saw your face. It wasn't like you'd fallen head over heels for him but it still stung, it really stung.

"No"

"Ugh" he groaned "I said this was gonna happen, didn't I?" he sighed, sitting down next to you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his shoulder whilst his rested on yours.

"You did" you said lowly

"But you also said you wouldn't be here when it did"

"I know" he sighed, kissing the top of your head. "But I lied, I will always be here, regardless of what I say" he said softly, making you smile.

"Thank you"

#footballer imagine #footballer fanfiction #footballer fanfic #england nt #mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount fanfiction #jack grealish #jack grealish fluff #jack grealish imagine #mason mount angst #manchester city #chelsea #he is not!

[aechii]

can you write something about like trent fucking up real bad and hes like groveling real hard but shes hesitant to take him back but he’ll do anything

₍⁠₍ SECOND CHANCE ₎⁠₎

A/N ?! this has been rotting in my inbox for weeks, to the anon who requested this, i am very sorry. enjoy this iggggg

trent might as well be faceless, a blurred, black rubbed-out face, standing in front of [y/n] with potent regret. it makes the air stink, the girl can barely stand being in his presence, but he had begged her to let them talk it out, settle any misunderstandings that they 'both definitely have'. [y/n] had wanted to snap back, say that she understood him loud and clear, and what she had seen was displayed right before her like she was meant to see it, but she instead, wants to see what bullshit he comes up with now.

he stands there, slumped and looking as if he was the one that was the victim, and all [y/n] can do is glare, expectant for whatever ignorant explanation was going to come.

"so?"

he drags a hand down his face, looks at her with his eyebrows slanted downwards and eyes pleading, and it amplifies the ever-growing detest that festers in her flesh. she looks away, and trent immediately protests.

"[y/n], baby, look at me."

"are you gonna fucking speak or what, trent?" she sees how her tone, acrid and completely seething, strikes him like a baseball bat to the head, but she remains flippant to it. what she feels is unparalleled.

"okay- look, it's not what it looks like?"

"bullshit. that's what you lot always fucking say. what is then? you didn't invite her to your game, and people didn't take pictures of you hugging her like she's your girl?"

trent doesn't say anything, he can't because he knows there's no discrepancy to what [y/n] saw.

"right. says a lot about you, doesn't it? telling me you love me but the second we have an argument, you storm out and take a random chick to a home game." it sickens her to say it, both know that matches based on their home ground is a sentiment for them, surrounded by their people, on their grass. the cherry to the cake was that they had won the match, exceedingly.

"i'm sorry, [y/n], i really am. i just- i panicked, alright-"

"you fucking panicked?" the cackle that stabs the hostile bedroom startles trent, and he flinches as he watches her agitatedly.

"you're bullshitting out of your ass trent. i don't even know why i'm standing here listening to you." she needs to leave, can't stand the man trying to make her see eye to eye as if he what he did was justified. she makes her way to the door, but a hand pulls her back and she immediately slaps it away. his touch burns, and not in the way it used to.

"[y/n], i said i'm sorry. please, forgive me, i'm begging you."

"don't tell me what to do," her voice is hard, rooted in so much anger that she's surprised she can let even a word out.

trent, forever persistent, begs more, "let us talk things out like adults, alright? i can't lose you like this. i'll do anything, i promise."

nothing but disbelief strikes her dumb. she can't process the fact that trent is no longer recognisable, so stupid and so incompetent to realise that his own actions had pushed her away.

she gives him one glance over, then gives him a plastic smile, "do one thing for me then, trent."

the way hope shines in his eyes is, quite frankly, pathetic, and it only fuels her to burn it more. he doesn't deserve happiness after this, she thinks, and he especially doesn't deserve anything from her.

"leave me the fuck alone. you're dead to me."

#work de aechii 🫧 #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander x you #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold x you