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r6s6r · 4 months

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constellations

cole walter x reader

warnings : angst, 18+, swearing, kinda long, mentions of anxiety and anxiety attacks.

i have been obsessing over MLWTWB recently so i am currently trying to make myself chill out so i am making this

——————————————————————

y/n had met alex at school and they instantly became bestfriends. they bonded over their love of video games and books

it went on like that for years. they were attached at the hip and she became like a part of the family

she was always around that they never even questions when she doesn’t go home some nights

of course they made sure she slept in a different room, which she always curled up on the recliner in the living room so danny could make his way down to watch his movies, careful not to wake her up. even if he did, she didn’t mind. she would be lulled back to sleep by the sound of the tv.

that was until jackie came to live with the walters

she didn’t mind jackie, she actually liked having a girl around but all of a sudden alex was in a trance over the olive skinned girl.

she felt pushed to the side.

forgotten.

———

she stood against the counter while alex stared at jackie, her heart broke a little bit.

she didn’t feel jealous, she hadn’t seen alex that way whatsoever. he was her bestfriend but he was distracted and that made y/ns mind spiral.

she had always had a problem with that. her mind never ending and always telling her she would be forgotten. she wasn’t good enough. she’s replaceable.

her mind then spiraled and she felt lightheaded. she needed air right then or she would burst into flames

she pushed herself from the counter and started towards the front door

“hey! you okay?” jackie smiled at her

“ye-yeah i’m okay, jackie. i’m just gonna go take a walk.” the tears were coming and she knew it

“do you want me to come with?” jackie offered warmly, almost like she knew the look on y/ns features

“oh no, jacks that’s okay”

“okay…” she looked at y/n to analyze her, jackie looked over to alex and saw him with his book to his face and then looked at y/n who was already out of the door and sighed.

y/n made her way down the steps as fast as she could.

her heart was pounding so loud she couldn’t hear anything going on around her. she just kept walking

she couldn’t think of anything else to do, her feet taking her to god knows where

until she ran right into him.

cole walter.

her coley poley.

she grabbed his arm and pushed herself up to keep upright, her whole body was shaking. she prayed he hadn’t noticed but cole knowing her like the back of his hand

he knew something was very wrong

“hey, doll. what’s going on?” he grabbed onto her to keep her steady.

“c-cole. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to run into you. i’m sorry. i just needed some air. i’m sorry” the apologies just kept coming and the tears were on the brink of spilling

she could barely hear her own words over her speeding heart.

“hey. hey, it’s okay. talk to me, y/n/n” she looked at him, seeing his eyes for the first time since running into him

they looked helpless

she saw pain and sadness behind them

but the way the sun hit them just right, she saw hope. she saw a little cole running through the fields of the ranch with her, she saw life in his green orbs

they reminded her of the fields here in spring. the different patterns that swirled in the color of his eyes.

she took a deep breath and tried to tell him

but she choked and started to panic again.

he grabbed her face in his hands “look at me y/n/n” and she did

he talked to her slowly but nothing made it to her conscious brain. she just focused on the way he was taking breaths and the golden color his eyes had become

she tried to mimic his breaths, slow and deep.

“will you walk with me, coley poley?” she basically begged and he smiled and nodded at her.

so they did, they walked for what felt like forever before she finally calmed down enough to discuss why she had panicked.

“i just feel replaceable. since jackie got here alex has been, well, distant and we haven’t been hanging out as much. i’ve just been wandering around the house and the ranch with no real place to be anymore. without alex, where is my place here? is he gonna forget about me?” she looked at cole and his expression softened

“well, truly you are unforgettable. none of us would have you anywhere else. we all love you, you know that right, y/n/n? plus, she’s without. if you were my best friend, i would make sure you knew that.” he sighed looking off in the distance then back at her

“you would?” “i would”

“cmon, i wanna show you something” he stood up and offered his hand to her which she took and he brought her up with ease.

he turned his back to her “get on”

“what?” she questioned

“a princess does not get to walk to a secret location” he smiled at her over his shoulder and with a sighed she hoisted herself onto his back.

“giddy up cowboy.” she smiled at him

“yes ma’am.” he winked with a fake southern accent

and he began to make his way towards their destination.

when they made it, her eyes lit up. their destination was at the pond that had hundreds of flowers growing around it, it was truly beautiful around this time of year.

she jumped down and raced towards the pond, to a group of flowers and she laid right down. she closed her eyes and took in the scent of the air around her

cole made his way to her and smiled down at her.

“lay down with me coley poley”

“you gotta stop calling me that. the girls will never let me get close to them if you don’t”

“oh like you need anymore girls flocking your way. you basically have all of them worshipping the ground you walk on” she rolled her eyes and elbowed him as he sat down with a strained face

she knew it was hard for him since the incident with his leg.

she could never imagine how hard it must really be

“not all of them” he mumbled looking right at her

she made eye contact with him once again, his green eyes staring hard into her e/c ones.

she started counting the light freckles on his face and she began to speak “well i can’t be taken down by the cole effect. i am too strong” she smiled and flex her arms like she was the worlds strongest man

he laughed at her “i swear i’ll never hear the end of ‘the cole effect’ i don’t get it”

she scoffed at this “you don’t get it? okay let me try it on you. give you a little bit of the ‘y/n effect’ i would like to call it”

“okay give it to me y/l/n”

she peered out to the water where the sun was shining and leaned towards cole real close, close enough to smell her strawberry scented perfume and lotion.

she pointed to the water and gently touched his back “you see how the sun just shines on the water, coley poley?” she started, keeping her voice low and smooth

she rubbed a circle on his back which made cole shiver but she ignored it

“it shines right into your eyes, you know? makes them look so,”

he looked at her

“so green and gold. they sparkle, i could just look at them all day. they remind me of a meadow right as the sun is about to set”

her hand continued to rub his back

he looked like he had never been told this before

almost like it wasn’t the truth, y/n had just made it more seductive and sensual.

“it’s just like that, huh?” he whispered

“it’s just like that.” y/n pulled away but he grabbed her wrist quickly

“y/n”

“coley poley”

“y/n.”

“cole”

“did you mean it?” he leaned closer to her

“every word.” she smiled at him and leaned with him

“y/n!” she heard alex’s voice and the gallops of feet. her and coke scrambled up quickly and saw alex and jackie riding together

jackie must have said something to alex and he immediately came to find me, not noticing something was off until of course jackie said something.

jackie must of been good at reading people, y/n hated that. she hated being seen through like glass.

cole was standing behind her, pulling the leaves out of her hair and brushing off the back of her shirt.

alex looked at cole with a hard look. knowing what happened between them was rough but they were all still like family.

“what are you guys doing out here?” alex questioned them

“i just needed a walk and cole tagged along. i needed the company” y/n sneered back.

he was acting like she did something wrong

their problems weren’t hers, she needed someone by her side and alex obviously wasn’t gonna be there drooling over jackie.

“why didn’t you ask me?” his eyebrows furrowed when asking

“because you were busy, alex. come on, cole.”she answered perplexed, as if he didn’t know why.

she put her hand out towards cole and he took it. they started walking back to the ranch and whatever alex and jackie did wasn’t on her mind.

they made it back to the ranch

“thank you, coley poley. i really needed that” she smiled facing him

he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “of course, doll. anytime you need me, i’m only a shout away.”

y/n made her way into the house to see isaac and lee playing mortal kombat on the couch so she plopped herself in between them and called the next round

————

y/n had fallen asleep in the recliner but woke up to the house of the front door closing. she adjusted her nightgown and threw on a jacket by the front door and made her way outside. she saw the lights on in the barn where cole worked on his truck

she knew it had to have been him. she stood outside and enjoyed the breeze for a moment before walking out to the doors. her hand reached for the handle and she took a deep breath before opening it.

“coley poley?” she questioned as she closed the doors, she heard light music in the back.

she never pegged cole to listen to this type of music

lights are turned off

music is on

minds are unlocked

this feeling is amazing

“hey doll. did i wake you?”

“kind of but that’s okay. you weren’t loud, i’m just a light sleeper.”

he looked around the hood and started to lower it down before closing it completely

he was wearing a white tank top and his hair was messy around his forehead

she walked over to him and smiled at her “no scary monsters that need scaring away, right princess?”

“why no, of course not my knight. only you” she snickered at him

he feigned hurt “i could never hurt my princess. even if i am a monster”

“you’re no monster, cole walter.” she stepped closer to him

“what if i am? would you run?” he stepped even closer to her

“never.” she whispered, face to face with him.

when i hit the spot you know i hit it perfectly

and you taste so sweet

leave me wanting more soon

as we get out the sheets

he reached up and cupped her cheek his hand hands

he caressed her cheek with his thumb and she leaned more into it

she reached her hand up to his and held on to it, scared it would disappear if she didn’t.

she closed her eyes and sighed at the warmth of him.

he then pulled her to him and closed the gap between them.

he swayed them back and forth with the music.

lights are turned off

music is on

minds are unlocked

this feeling is amazing

hands on your waist

liquor is all that we taste

your freckles lead the way

i trace your constellations

she looked up at him and he was already looking at her big e/c eyes.

his eyes were that beautiful gold that they got at certain points when looking at her

all he could think was how ethereal she looked.

the dim light shining on her face, making her eyes sparkle and shine.

she lips plump and pink and her lashes looked long and wispy

she embodied natural beauty.

he didn’t feel himself leaning into her

but she was leaning in too.

he stopped himself thinking about how alex would really feel about this.

cole questioned himself for a second before y/n cupped his face to look at her and the look in her eyes threw every thought of doubt out of the window.

he grabbed her face and their lips finally met.

sparks had never been a thing for cole, he just did it to make other girls happy but this was different for him

it was for her too

now isaac had been her first kiss when they were young and of course Dylan, coles friend taking her virginity at a party after they had both had too much to drink. she never told anyone and she was sure he didn’t either, cole would’ve killed him.

this was different like it was what was missing from her life.

like she was waiting for the perfect moment and this was it.

cole knew this was different.

they pulled away and looked at each other for a split second before he started backing her against the front bumper of his truck

“cole..”

“y/n” he whispered, putting his forehead against hers.

before their lips met once again. more urgency behind this one

her wraps wrapped in the hair at the base of his neck and his hands made her way to her neck

her skin felt like it was on fire

he lifted her to wrap around his waist making her gasp as his lips trailed down her neck and to her collarbone.

she pulled at his hair to bring his lips back to hers and he groaned at the tug of his hair.

alex is gonna be so mad if he ever finds out what happened in the barn that night

i trace your constellations

#Spotify #cole walter #cole walter x reader #my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb #alex walter #the walters #isaac walter #nathan walter #oneshot #constellations #my music #gif

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stargirlrchive · 4 months

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— BSF BIKER!SIMON

cw: simon riley x female reader, biker!simon, v slight smut at the very end but not fully, simon is possessive and jealous (meow) ((i will eat him)), also the way reader yearns for him is so real, likes she’s me — inspo post

NSFW ✩ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

GENERAL MASTERLIST

You heard Simon before you saw him, well you heard his bike. The loud revving of the engine, growing louder and more frequent the longer it took for you to come out of the restaurant. Your heels clacked loudly behind you, your steps quickening as you sent your date another apologetic smile.

Fifteen minutes prior, Simon had texted you, telling you he needed you. You had been unable to text back, not wanting to seem rude, but your date sent you an understanding smile as you picked up your phone after the constant buzzing.

Your eyes quickly skimming the messages and anxiety embedded into your stomach the more frantic Simon’s messages got.

You’re out right now?

Who are you with?

I need to see you.

I’m going to get you.

I’m on my way.

You felt your heart lurch in your throat as you checked his location. He was only about four minutes out and your fingers prickled with nerves.

The soft voice of the man across the table from you brought you out of your spiral. “Everything alright?”

You forced a smile onto your face, nodding, “A friend of mine-”

The loud roar of the motorcycle had you tensing, standing up quickly as you looked towards the entrance of the nice restaurant, “I-I’ll be right back, I’m sorry-”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, bolting towards the door.

You nearly tripped over your heels as you tried to get to Simon faster, the words leaving you in an exasperated breath, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You couldn't get the words out fast enough, your brows pinching as you looked over him, looking for anything that looked wrong but everything seemed fine.

Your brows furrowing together further as he barked out a laugh, even with his visor on you could feel the way his eyes were skimming over your body. “Why d’nt you ever wear anything like this when we go out?”

“Simon-”

“Get on.”

“What?”

His thick fingers reached out to gently cup your elbow, pulling you closer to him as his fingers softly rubbed across your exposed skin, distracting you. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m on a date.”

His fingers stilled on your arm, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was frowning. You felt the nerves wrapping around your throat at his silence. That silly part of you that longed for him wanted to soothe him, and you inched closer.

His fingers dropped from your elbow and you instantly missed the warmth, your fingers moved and popped his visor open.

His eyes were darker than normal, upset, and warmth licked at your belly. You hated that he could do this to you, that he could warrant such reactions from you with just one look.

“Get on.” This time, his tone was anything but playful. Just a thick growl as he handed you the helmet that was reserved just for you.

“I can’t!”

“I will go in there myself and tell him you’re gonna be busy for the rest of the night.”

You suppressed the whimper that wanted to fall from your mouth, arousal pooling between your thighs as you tried so desperately not to cave.

But his eyes softened, his gloved fingers inching closer and tangling with yours as he pulled you into him, “C’mon, love. I got a view I’ve been wanting to show you.”

You barely registered that you had agreed, only when he was helping you into your helmet and then your thighs were spread wide to cage around his legs. Your palms flat against his abdomen as you held on close.

And you should’ve felt guilty when he revved his bike again, as if showing off, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when his gloved fingers gently squeezed your knee and he was off before you could think too much about what you were doing to that poor man that was waiting for you at the restaurant.

The two of you drove for what felt like hours, the cold nip of the wind on your skin felt surprisingly mild with your body pressed flush against his.

He smelled so good, like cedar and musk, and cigarettes. So incredibly Simon, and you inched even closer to him. Your fingers gently rubbed against his stomach as he drove faster and faster.

When you finally arrived at the view, Simon helped you off the bike, laughing quietly as you huffed about how your heels were gonna get ruined. Both of your helmets came off and you tried to fix your hair as best you could.

A soft noise of surprise left your mouth as he scooped you up, sitting you back firmly against the seat of his bike.

“No ruined heels on my account.”

The air around the two of you felt different, as if the two of you were just silently orbiting around the other until one decided to veer off course and crash.

His fingers didn’t move from your hips as he towered over you, “What are you doing, Simon?”

Rough fingers gently dipped into your waistband, softly gliding against the lacy material against your hip. “Jus’ wanna be close to you.”

Your breath hitched staring up at him, his lashes kissing his cheeks as he stared down at your lips. Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, your body feeling alight with desire and warmth.

The two of you had always toed on something that was more than friendship, but it had never felt like this. It had never been so glaringly obvious. His head dipped down and his lips ghosted over your own. Barely touching. Waiting.

When you didn’t back away, his lips were on yours the next instant. They were plump and softer than you could've ever imagined. His fingers digging into your hips as his mouth pressed firmly to yours. His tongue prying your lips open and familiarizing the feel with his tongue.

Your hands were everywhere, you didn't know where to touch him. They were first fisting at his shirt, then gripping the taut muscles on his arms, then tugging at his hair. He brought your hips towards the edge of his bike and pressed himself flush against you. Slowly grinding as his mouth moved down to your neck, nipping and kissing. Licking down the column of your throat as he pulled out desperate noises from your swollen lips.

His finger made its way into the waistband of your skirt, bunching up the material at your hips. His eyes focused on the pretty black lace that covered you from him, a deep growl ripping from his throat as his thumb pushed against your clit, “Hate that you wore this for him.”

Your hips bucked, and the shake of the bike under you reminded you of where you were. A soft laugh that mingled with a moan escaped you, “It’s not like you were asking to see them.”

He gave a soft pinch to your clit and you gasped, glaring up at him softly, “Thought it was pretty obvious.”

You whined as he slipped his fingers away from your cunt, his lips pressing against yours again as he mumbled, “As much as I want to take my time with you, anyone can show up.”

You felt dizzy as he turned you over, bending you over the seat of his bike. Your back arched as much as it could, feeling his hardened cock press against the swell of your ass.

“Next time.”

He pulled away and you could hear the sound of his zipper being drawn, his thick fingers pushing your panties to the side to run his cock against your messy folds.

He gave three taps to your clit before dragging the tip through your folds.

Your breath hitched as he gently pushed forward. His thick cock spearing into you. The excitement evident in his voice, “Yeah, next time.”

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

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inuyashaluver · 5 months

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can you do one where reader has bad anxiety/panic attack and lessi comforts her? love you!!

i need alessia - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which some talk with your national teammates has you spiralling, when you have a panic attack, all you can ask for is alessia

warnings: way more suggestive than i intended lmao, mentions of a panic attack

a/n: hiya lovely, thanks for the request!! love you, enjoyyyy❤️ LOVE YOU

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, alessia got called up for the world cup squad 5 minutes apart. you were both so excited for each other, honestly focusing on one another rather than yourselves.

you were both sitting in your shared living room, your legs resting on hers as you sat in complete silence. you were gripping alessia’s arm, gently running your nails up and down it in attempts to calm her down. alessia knew you were calming yourself down as well as her, she rests her head on yours, the both of you talking about random topics, both of your minds elsewhere. your phones sat next to each other on the coffee table in front of you.

every couple of seconds, you would lean closer to alessia, honestly sitting on top of her at this point but she didn’t mind, she loved this side of you. she could tell you were growing angsty, you kept sighing and gently squeezing her arm. “do you want me to distract you, baby?” she says with a cheeky smile, you smirk at her, “and how will you do that, lessi baby?” you mock

she grabs the back of your head and an arm on your waist, gently lowering you down on the couch and hovering over you. she looks at you suggestively, dipping her head to place a trail of kisses on the column of your throat. she moves painfully slow, grinning into her kisses when you squirm under her, placing your hands under her shirt and grazing the skin of her back with your fingertips.

she gently sucks a hickey on your pulse point and squeezes your hip when you whine in her ear. she moves away from your neck, smiling softly at your flustered face, you couldn’t take it anymore and pull her down to kiss you. she immediately places a hand on your cheek and slips her tongue into your mouth, she places her hand under your shirt, her hand inching closer to your chest but halts when her phone rings. you perk up and quickly push her off you, “answer! answer!” you exclaim, lightly slapping her thigh, she grabs your hand and answers the phone.

“hello?” she breathes out, “i’m good, how are you?” she replies politely, you were gripping onto her hand tightly, extremely nervous. “oh i just went for a run, sorry i’m a bit puffed out” she laughs, her face going red as she grips your hand tighter. “oh! thank you so much! i’m so excited, okay yeah, i’ll see you soon!” she looks at you with a bright grin, “i’m in, baby” you scream and jump on her, she laughs brightly when you whisper words of praise in her ear, hugging you tighter after each one.

“i’m so proud of you, lessi baby” you move to place a kiss on her lips and she tries to continue what she started before, hands creeping under your shirt again. she whines desperately into your mouth as you take control this time, lightly biting her bottom lip before she takes over again by putting her tongue in your mouth.

you, sitting on her lap instinctively buck your hips, she grins and pulls you closer to her, pulling away slightly, “my pretty girl” she breathes against your lips, grinning when you surge forward again to lock lips. you slot your hands through her hair, lightly tugging the hair at the back of her neck. a groan escapes from the back of her throat, pulling you closer until this time, your phone rings.

she rips her lips away from you and quickly grabs your phone from the coffee table and shoves it in your hands, you grip her shoulder and squeeze her waist with your thighs as you hurriedly answer. “hello?” you say breathlessly, alessia holds your thighs and comfortingly runs her hands over them. “hiya! i went on a run with alessia, haha yeah! gotta stay fit!” you let out an embarrassed laugh, alessia leans forward to place her forehead on your collarbone, catching her breath.

you move to grab the back of her head as you talked on the phone. “oh my goodness! thank you so, so much! yes! i’ll speak to you soon” you throw the phone to the other side of the couch, alessia looking up at you expectantly. “baby” you start, a tear running down your cheek as you nod at her, unable to express the words. alessia quickly hoists you up on her waist, rushing to the bedroom to congratulate you officially, phones staying in the living room.

—

you were all instructed by sarina to meet at the lionesses’ training ground, wanting to start training immediately in preparation for the world cup. alessia was driving you both to the facility.

“you excited, baby?” alessia says, running her thumb over your thigh as you hold her arm, she knows this is a sense of comfort to you. you hum in reply, she knew the real answer and didn’t want to push it, so instead she squeezes your thigh playfully and looks at you when she parks. “get through this today and i’ll give you a treat when we get home” moving to kiss your flustered cheek.

she giggles at you, getting out of the car and grabbing both of your bags, holding out her arm to you, you smile at her appreciatively and take on her offer. “i love you” you say simply, giving her a kiss on her cheek, she coos at you, “aw i love you too, baby” kissing the tip of your nose, “you cutie” she lightly bumps your hip with hers, entering together and getting ready for training.

luckily, your cubbies were right next to each other, so alessia could keep an eye on you. once you were fully dressed into the training kit, you let out a shaky breath, all of it hitting you at once, you were debuting in your first world cup, with your girlfriend. you close your eyes and try to slow down your breathing. you've had panic attacks before, but only when you’re immensely stressed. alessia immediately comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you to sit down on her lap in her own cubby. you immediately calm down, leaning into your girlfriend's touch. “baby” she starts, placing gentle kisses in between your shoulder blades, “you’re okay, beautiful, i’ve got you” she says this softly in your ear, wanting you to focus on her.

you nod slowly, swallowing hard and grabbing her hand that rested on your waist. “i’m fine” you reassure her, “yeah, you’re fine in many ways” she jokes, you let out a little giggle at your girlfriend’s flirting, moving to sit sidewards on her lap. you wrap your arms around her neck, “thank you, lessi” you whisper, kissing her cheek. “anytime, baby” she whispers back, matching your energy. she lifts you up bridal style, standing up and giving you a quick kiss on your lips and places you on the ground.

—

to start, sarina wanted you guys to do light laps around the field as a warm up. you forced alessia to run with ella, wanting her to enjoy herself with her best friend. she was reluctant at first, but you gave her your best pout and puppy dog eyes and it was all over for her. giving you a loving kiss before parting from you, running in front.

meanwhile, you were running with leah, always looking up to her like a big sister as well as your teammate at arsenal. you were both chatting lightly until beth comes over, clapping you on the shoulder. “my little one! her world cup debut!” she teases, “beffy, i’m taller than you” she shoves you lightly, “don’t try me”. leah encourages you, “i’m so excited to see how amazing you’ll be, and we get to go all the way to australia!” leah slings an arm over your shoulder, walking now, “and you get to do it with your girlfriend!” she teases.

beth nods enthusiastically, “representing your country overseas is so sick (y/n/n), you should be so proud of yourself.” you let out a slightly pained smile, you knew they meant well and you’re grateful for their kind words but you were starting to freak out a little. your breathing starts to quicken and tears begin to roll down your cheeks. leah loosened her grip on you and stops you and beth completely.

“(y/n)?” she asks worriedly, your tears fall frantically, beth grabs your hand, “hey, are you okay?” you shake your head frantically and start to hyperventilate.

leah hurriedly makes you sit on the ground, “what do you need, love” leah’s heart was beating so fast, she’s never seen you like this.

you were crying, hard at this point. “i-” you choke out, “deep breaths, (y/n)” beth instructs, the two girls kneeling in front of you and shielding you from the others. “alessia-” you breathe out, “i need alessia” you let out a sob, covering your face with your hands. leah looks at beth and she sprints to get your girlfriend, alessia sprinting faster than she ever has to sit behind you and pull you to her front. leah moves back a little, keeping an eye on you from afar.

“baby” she breaths out, you immediately lean into her, breathing heavily and crying - calming down but still in a panic. “my love, you’re having a panic attack” she informs, speaking directly in your ear, you gives you a loving kiss on your cheek, grabbing both of your hands and squeezing them gently. “like we practised, okay?” you nod gently, squeezing her hands in response. “five things you can see, baby” you open your eyes, “uh- your hands… and leah and beth… and your legs” you breathe out, “good girl, baby, two more” she encourages, “the grass…-and your tattoo” you’ve started to calm down even more.

“well done baby!” she praises, giving you another kiss on your cheek. you lean into her further, she moves to rest her cheek against yours, you nuzzle into her slightly. “now give me three things you can hear, baby” , pulling you impossibly closer to her. “your heartbeat, uh birds and your breathing” she smiles at you, “good girl! follow my breathing” you match your girlfriend’s steady breathing as she litters your cheek with numerous pecks, you let out a small giggle, calming down immediately after hearing your girlfriend’s melodious giggle.

“there she is, my girl” you unwrap your arms from her and turn your body around, asking your girlfriend to sit cross-legged and taking a seat in her lap. “i’m so sorry, alessia” she frowns up at you, grabbing your face with her hands. “you have nothing to be sorry about, my love” you pull her into a tight hug, she rubs comforting circles on her back. “i love you” she whispers, “i love you more” you whisper back. you stand and pull her up, assuring the rest of the girls that you were fine. leah runs up to you to pull you into a tight hug.

you let out a laugh when she scolds you, asking you why you didn’t tell her to shut up. you hug her tightly to reassure her, a group hug occurring quickly.

—

you were lined up in the tunnel, standing in front of alessia, ready for your debut. she had her arms wrapped around you, swaying you gently side to side, kissing your cheek repeatedly.

you turn around in her hold, resting your chin on her chest and looking up at her, pursing your lips for a kiss, she happily obliged, giving you a loving kiss.

she quickly grabs your face between her hands and looks into your eyes, “you go out there, do your best, okay?” you nod at her determinedly, “you go out there and be my star girl” grinning at her cheekily. she smiles and gives you another quick kiss, flipping you around and giving your shoulders a quick squeeze.

you both walk out and do exactly that, alessia getting a goal from your assist. she runs up to you and hoists you up on her waist in celebration, giving you a quick kiss. you were both so proud of each other, you’d always be there for one another, no matter what.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

pretend it’s you, mwah (ily georgia!!!)

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,242 others

alessiarusso99: i’m proud of you in ways you can’t even imagine @/yourname, world cup debut!

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yourname: i’m so proud of my lessi baby

↳ alessiarusso99: you’re so cute

↳ yourname: no you!

↳ alessiarusso99: no you!

leahwilliamsonn: my superstars

↳ yourname: mother’s here!

↳ alessiarusso99: milf

↳ yourname: BIG milf

↳ leahwilliamsonn: stop.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader

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thalia-writes · 3 months

Text

Distractions NSFW

Captain John Price X Reader

Summary: You are being reprimanded for being distracted lately, little does John know, he's the distraction.

Word count: 3.2K

18+ only

Minors do not interact!

Warnings: Smut, P!inV!, female reader, praise kink, dom!Price, oral fem receiving, creampie if you squint.

Authors note: This is my second work ever so please any and all constructive criticism/feedback is very much appreciated!

One foot in front of the other, you keep pace with the people around you. You were training with the other recruits, running through an obstacle course. The afternoon sun warms your back, sweat gathering on your forehead. Keeping your breathing as even as possible, you focus on staying centered and pushing through the pain. You were in the zone, absolutely crushing the course. Leaping up onto the wall, you pull yourself over the edge and jump off, landing on your feet and immediately running again. Suddenly pulled out of your focus when you hear Price shouting out to the recruits behind you.

“C’mon keep it moving!! You’ll need to be faster than that to survive out in the field!”

Your gaze locks on him, the pure male dominance radiating off of him. Everything about him screams power and my god does it stir something within you. Your mind starts wandering as you take in his figure, inappropriate thoughts invading your mind. Price turns his head and locks eyes with you, at the exact moment you stumble and crash to the ground, scratching up your palms and knees.

“L/N!! My office in 2 hours at 16:00, understand?” Price yells out at you with a frown. You nod as you stand up, dusting yourself off.

“Good, now go get yourself cleaned up, you’re done for the day.”

“Yes, sir.” You reply, walking back to base, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

~2 hours later~

You’re walking to Price’s office, anxiety stirring in your gut. The closer you get to his office, the harder it is to keep putting one foot in front of the other. You nervously chew on your lip as you stop in front of the door. Taking a deep breath to try and calm your nerves, you gently knock. You hear a gruff ‘come in’ from the other side so you turn the doorknob and step inside, closing the door behind you.

“Evening, Y/N. Please, take a seat.” Price gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. You walk over and sit down, your knees threatening to buckle underneath you. Looking over at John as he finishes up some paperwork, you watch his hands as they guide the pen in his grasp. Soon your thoughts have spiraled into wondering how they would feel guiding your body, touching, caressing, teasing, and trailing across your skin. You’re ripped out of your little daydream when John waves his hand in front of your face. Snapping your eyes up to his, you’re met with a frown and concern flashing across his features.

“This is what I’m talking about! Were you even listening?” John scolds, leaning forward in his chair. Averting your gaze, you ramble out an apology.

“I apologize Sir, I wasn’t paying attention. I got, uh, lost in my thoughts for a moment”

John sighs and rubs a hand down his face before looking at you again, folding his hands together on the desk.

“You seem to be doing a lot of that as of late. What has gotten into you? Like today, one minute you’re running through the obstacle course like an old pro, and the next you’re tripping over air and getting a face full of dirt.” John states, shaking his head before continuing. “This has been going on for a while, and it’s gotten to the point where we need to have a conversation about where your head's at. What has got you so distracted?”

Your heart drops into your stomach. How the hell am I supposed to tell him that he is why I’m so god damn distracted? You think to yourself. You move your head to the side, looking at the wall, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“I- uh, It’s nothing Sir, just some personal things. I’ll get it under control.”

His intense gaze bores into you, making you shift in your chair. You don’t realize he’s moved until he’s standing right in front of you. His hand grasps your chin, turning your head towards him. You look up at him with wide eyes, catching his piercing blue eyes staring down at you. He leans forward, towering over you, so close that you can smell his intoxicating cologne.

“Something tells me that you’re not quite telling the truth, eh Love?” John scolds, his head tilting to the side as he observes your face. Lips twisting into a smirk as he continues,

“Is it a man? Is a man making you all flustered that you can’t think straight?” Your eyes widen in shock, tearing your gaze away from his, fearing that he’ll be able to see the truth in your eyes. He jerks your chin slightly.

“Tsk tsk, Y/N. Eyes on me.” He scolds. Your eyes immediately find his again, sparks shooting up your spine. Something flashes across his face, and he leans in closer, his lips inches away from yours.

“That’s a good girl, so obedient.” He muses, the smile on his face nothing short of predatory. A shaky breath escapes your lips, a flame igniting in your stomach. You can feel his breath fan across your face, his cologne completely invading your senses. When you say nothing he smirks and continues.

“So who is he? Hmm? Who is the man that’s occupying that pretty mind of yours?” He coos, leaning closer, his hand falling away from your chin. His lips so close to yours you could feel his beard tickling your skin. All you could think of was how good they would feel. You glance down at his lips before locking eyes with him once again. You’re frozen in place, brain short circuiting from the situation.

“Tell me, tell me who’s distracting you, Love.” John says softly, his nose bumping against yours slightly. His pupils dilated and chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

“You.” You whisper and the second the words leave your mouth, his lips are pressed against yours. They dance together slowly, John's hand cupping the base of your neck to pull you closer. You melt into the kiss, gasping when he gently bites your lip. He takes advantage of this and slides his tongue into your mouth, exploring and tasting you, as he deepens the kiss. You tangle your hands into his hair, softly moaning. Suddenly you’re off the chair as he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and his hands grabbing your ass. He walks you to the desk, clearing a spot off with his arm, before setting you down on top of it. John pulls away slightly, leaving your mind reeling and your chest heaving.

“Such a pretty little thing.” He coos, before bringing his lips to yours once again. His right hand grips your waist tightly. The other trailing up your side before grasping a handful of your hair and pulling your head to the side, his lips kissing, and nipping at your neck. Heat pools in your abdomen. You’re becoming more and more aroused with every second that passes, hardly able to restrain yourself from ripping his clothes off.

“Captain…” You moan, tilting your neck even further to give him better access. His lips stop their motions on your neck, releasing his grip on your hair, he raises his head to look at you.

“I’m not your captain here Darling. I’m John. Not Bravo SIx, not Captain, just John. Alright?.” He says sternly, staring at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“Okay Cap- John. Okay John.” You say, nodding your head. Desperate to feel his lips on you once again. You squirm on the desk, silently begging him to continue to touch you, your wetness seeping into your underwear.

“Fuck, my name sounds so good coming from that pretty mouth, Love.” John groans, stepping closer to you.

Dipping his head down he captures your lips with his, moving against yours languidly, pulling every coherent thought out of your head. Your hands trail to his waist and you tug at the hem. Taking the hint, he slides off his shirt and you unabashedly stare at his muscular torso. Your hand reaches up and touches his pec before tracing down across his abs, following that sinful trail of hair. Before you can continue with your exploratory touches, John grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head. Reaching behind yourself, you unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor, exposing your bare breasts to him. He lets out a low groan at the sight, his rough and calloused hands immediately cupping and kneading the soft flesh.

“Fuuck darling, such gorgeous tits.” John rasps, and dips his head down to start kissing your breasts before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and his hand playing with the other. You throw your head back as you let out a soft moan and slightly arch your back. His cock stiffening and straining against his jeans at your sounds. He licks, and nips your breasts for a while before pulling back, his hand cupping your cheek as he looks into your eyes.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Love. I want to take you to my bed and worship your body, but I can’t withhold myself from you any longer. I need to taste you, to feel your body against me, right fucking now.” John says, his voice heavy and laced with desire.

“Please, John, I want you too, so badly.” You plead. Reaching forward and hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging him closer to you. John's eyes glaze over as he feels your fingers tug at his belt. His hands find their way down your body, tracing your curves as a smile spreads across his face. Making quick work of your buttons he slides your pants down as you lift your hips to help him. Your skin burns with every graze of his fingers, his entire presence consuming your every thought. You feel yourself growing wet for him, your body craving every touch. John's hands trail up your thighs and caress your hips, taunting and teasing. You move your hips towards him, desperate to feel his hands on your dripping cunt. John lets out a dark chuckle at your movements, placing his fingers on your clothed core. Lightly pressing down and moving agonizingly slow.

“Ohh Darling, you’ve soaked through your underwear. Are you that desperate already?” John coos at you, putting more pressure onto your clit through the fabric. You let out a whine and shift your hips again, yearning for more friction.

“Please John… No teasing… I need more.” You breathe. Reaching forward, you palm the hard bulge in his pants eliciting a hiss from his lips. He swiftly slides your underwear off and immediately is on his knees looking up at you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly.

“Need to taste you Sweetheart, be a good girl and spread your legs. Let me taste your sweet pussy.” John demands in a low voice. Slowly you spread your legs further apart for him, his cock is hard and throbbing at the sight of your glistening pussy. He’s nearly drooling as he sees you all exposed and bare for him. Placing kisses along your thigh he works his way to your core, sticking his tongue out and licks a stripe up your wet pussy, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. Groaning at the taste of you, he keeps his head buried in your thighs, licking and sucking at your clit. Soft moans are falling from your lips, his tongue making the flame in your stomach erupt into an inferno. John raises his head, his lips wet with you, you let out a whine from the lack of contact.

“I promise, next time, I'll make you come on my tongue until you beg me to stop. Ya taste so sweet, but I need to be buried deep inside you. Need to get you ready for my cock okay Darling? ” John says before slowly dragging two of his fingers through your folds, gathering your slick on them before gently pushing them into you. Your back arches and you gasp at the intrusion. Two of his fingers stretch you out as he pushes them in and out as he starts to kiss and suck on your neck. Soft moans erupt from your throat, completely focused on the feeling of pleasure he is giving you. Speeding up his fingers, he starts to curl them just right to hit that spongy spot inside you. A loud moan escapes you, you slap a hand over your mouth to try and keep quiet.

John can feel his cock, painfully hard, leaking against his pants. Your sweet moans mixed with the sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy is music to his ears. He is so desperate to feel you wrapped around him, it's almost unbearable. Moving his thumb in circles against your clit, you clench around his fingers, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter.

“Come on baby, cum for me. Be a good girl and cum all over my hand.” John murmurs against your neck, he curls his fingers once more and sends you barreling over the edge. Your body tenses up as a strangled cry rips through your throat. Waves of pleasure coursing through you. John continues to move his fingers, working you through your high before slowly removing them and bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean.

Reaching forward you undo his pants and push them and his boxers down, causing his cock to spring free. Eyes widening as you take him in, his cock is long and thick, his tip flushed and leaking pre-cum. You wrap your hand around him and slowly move up and down his hard shaft, causing a low moan to escape John. You try to move off the desk and onto your knees but he grabs your waist and places you back on the desk.

“That’s going to have to wait for another time, Love. I need to be inside of you.” John groans, stepping out of his pants and kicking them to the side. He drags the tip up and down your slit, coating it with your arousal, before slowly pushing in. You moan as you feel him fill you with his big cock. John covers your mouth with his, kissing you to try and muffle the moans that are coming from both of you. Your hands grabbing his biceps to try and ground yourself. As he fills you to the hilt, he stops, allowing you to become accustomed to the size of him.

“Fuck baby, your pussy feels so good. Squeezing me so tight.” He gasps, his hands on your hips, holding you flush against him. John was consumed by the feel of you around him, gripping his cock so tight.

“Please move John, fuck me.” You plead, moving your hips as much as you can, pulling a low groan from John.

“How could I refuse when you asked so nicely.” John coos at you. Slowly he pulls almost all the way out before sliding back in. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel every thick inch of him split you apart. Soon John picks up the pace thrusting into you faster, his grip on your hips tight and near bruising. You kiss him again fervently as his cock rails into you, brushing that sweet spot deep within. You claw at his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist, to be as close to him as possible.

“Shit, John. That feels so fucking good, don’t stop!” You cry, completely lost in the pleasure already.

“That’s a good girl, taking my cock so fucking well Sweetheart.” John praises, his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. He was absolutely obsessed with the feeling of his thick cock sliding into you, the feel of your fingernails scratching his back, and the sounds of pleasure coming from you. Abruptly he pulls out, pulls you off the desk, and turns you around. A gasp escapes you as he pushes down on your back so your hands are braced on the desk and your back is arched away from him, ass on display.

“Oh this ass, look at this fucking ass,” John says, giving it a smack, “You’re gonna be the death of me Love.” He smacks your ass once more before positioning himself at your entrance and pushing in again, causing you to moan and arch your back even more. John begins a brutal pace, thrusting into you fast and hard, with his hands gripping your hips again.. His tip kisses your cervix every time he bottoms out, making you moan louder and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“That’s it baby, doing such a good job for me. Taking it so well, such a good little slut for me aren’t you?” John praises, leaning forward to grab a handful of your hair and pulling your head up. You’re completely cockdrunk, unable to form a coherent sentence, his praises making you clench around him. The knot in your stomach returns, tightening as your orgasm builds with every thrust.

“Oh you like that don’t you? Getting told you’re doing so well for me? You like hearing how you’re a good little whore?” John groans against your ear. You can only moan in response, which John doesn’t appreciate so he smacks your ass again.

“No no Darling, I want to hear how much you like it. Go on baby, use your words.” He coos against your ear.

“Yes!” You gasp out, “So good John, please don’t stop!”

“Oooh that’s my good girl.” He growls in your ear. He can feel his own orgasm growing, the feeling of your wet pussy clenched around him is driving him insane. John moves the hand on your hip down to your clit, rubbing small circles on it. You throw your head back as a choked moan escapes you, John’s name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“I’m so close, John, please let me cum, please!” You cry out, the pleasure coursing through your veins becoming almost unbearable.

“Come on baby, let go, cum all over my cock.” John groans, his own orgasm nearing its peak as he continues to thrust into you at a fast pace. As soon as the words leave his lips your orgasm washes over you, your walls clamp down on his dick as he fucks you through your high. Your fluttering walls cause his orgasm to tear through him, a loud groan erupting from his throat as he finishes and stills inside you.

The only sound in the room is the labored breaths, as the both of you come back down to earth. Your knees threaten to buckle underneath you so John pulls out and cleans the two of you up before helping you slide your pants back on and setting you down on the small couch in his office. He brings you your shirt and gets dressed himself before sitting beside you.

“I gotta go back to work, Love, but I’ll come see you tonight, if that’s what you would like?” John says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I would like that a lot.” You say softly, getting up on shaky knees and pulling him in for a kiss. You pull away and begin to walk out of his office when he grabs your waist, presses himself against your back and places his lips on the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you tonight then, Darling, but don’t think I forgot about disciplining you for your distracted behavior.” John whispers in your ear before smacking your ass as you walk out the door. You hurry back to your room before anyone can see you leaving John’s office with swollen lips, messy hair and an excited smile across your face.

(There will be a part two)

#john price #john price x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod smut #john price smut #smut #call of duty #call of duty smut #captain john price #captain jonathan price #captain John price smut

495 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 6 months

Text

part ix: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 11,700 words)

chapter warnings: the usual dynamics. child abuse history. reader in peril. violence and death. explicit sexual content.

(THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER! <3)

You move back into your father’s house after graduation. You are surrounded by all your old pains, your childhood and adolescence written into each familiar brick and tile. Your past overwhelms you at every turn. It is a fight to focus on your future.

But you are ready to fight.

The only question is how, especially when you are battling your own emotions in that house.

Your reprieves are small. You find some solace in routine and the distraction of your job. Your father gives you an internship at his company. The role is honestly superfluous, comprised of busy work and redundant tasks, but it is clear he is not ready for you to meddle in any real business affairs. You are not sure if that is because he does not trust you or because he does not trust his business people with you.

You still see Jeongin and Seungmin, less than you did but often enough. They are both pursuing higher degrees so when you meet them at that campus coffee shop, it feels like a moment back in time. But lingering on the past, even the good memories, is no greater help than lingering on the bad ones.

Because there is also Felix.

You return to silent, secret communication. He will make you feel flushed with just a glance, so much thought in his gaze that you feel it to the depths of you. It seems like he does not even need to touch you to make love to you.

But when he does touch you, it releases you from the prison of your house and your mind. You put your body in his hands for a few precious moments and he takes care of it. And in the long days in which he bears the dehumanizing commands of your father, wearing the identity of a non-person to never arouse suspicions otherwise, then he places his humanity in your hands for safe keeping. You give it back to him with your own glances and careful touches.

It takes so much effort to take care of each other, so the idea of active offense seems nearly impossible. Felix certainly thought it was impossible, the one time you asked, but that was years ago. Things have changed. You and Felix have changed.

You do not know what your father is holding over his head. You only know it is something, and you think it might be time to find out what.

You want to do this right. Felix does not have to carry his burdens alone anymore. You need him to truly understand that you want to protect him as much as he protects you. You know there is a part of him that still believes he does not deserve it.

All your plans are thrown into flux the day your father calls Felix into his office.

Usually when your father summons Felix, it is for routine updates. But this is a long meeting. It lasts at least two hours with the office door sealed shut. Your mind races with the possibility of what is being discussed.

You find yourself gravitating to that side of the house, anxiety worsening the longer that door stays shut. As the clock ticks, your nerves get the best of you. You wander closer, hoping you can hear from the corridor.

The guard at the door stares at you. His scrutinizing regard gets under your skin. Before you can stop yourself, you snap at him, “What? I’m just walking.”

“You don’t need to walk here,” he says and waves you off, dismissive as always.

A lot of the men in your father’s employ seem to get some perverted joy out of dismissing or punishing you. They have since you were a child. Their surveillant eyes played host in your nightmares for years. His smug countenance coupled with his threatening stance makes your blood boil in helpless frustration.

“Fuck you,” you say. You want to hurl it at him, but it spills out of your lips no stronger than a whimper. Your fists are balled at your side and your brain is screaming to walk away, but your body goes cold.

“Do not take a tone, bitch,” he says.

The unwarranted name-calling feels like a slap. It is him flaunting the obvious truth: your father has never taken your side and he never will. You are nothing but a problem that needs to be solved. You are still just a stupid, emotional child who needs a fist closed around her to keep her safe from the greatest danger in her life: herself.

“I said walk away, little girl,” the guard continues. “Your presence is not needed.”

“I’ll go where I want,” you say. “This is my house.”

“It’s your father’s house. Now walk away or I will escort you myself.”

“I dare you to try.”

You feel like you are outside of your body, watching this ridiculous scene unfold with no way to stop it.

He takes a menacing step forward and you stumble back. You bump into the wall and hit a small mirror, barely a nudge but enough to knock it off its hook.

It shatters at your feet. Yu step on a shard of glass and sharp pain lances through your foot. It feels like someone driving a knife straight through it. You scream, the sound ripped out of you in surprise.

The office door swings open and your father storms out. For a moment, he looks alarmed, eyes wide and brows high, but this only fuels his anger when he sees you are unharmed. Fury conquers fear in moments.

“Look!” you cry in protest. You lift your foot because you must have a massive shard of glass protruding from it.

Your father does not even look down. He marches into his office and shouts something that you are too disoriented to register. Your attention has narrowed to a pinprick of a point, centred entirely around the gash in your foot.

You only register what is happening when a familiar face enters your vision. Felix is in a black t-shirt and jeans, his hair in a short ponytail with not a strand out of place. Whatever transpired in that office was clearly not confrontational. He is completely fine.

His thick boots crunch over the glass. On your father’s order, he swoops you easily into his arms and carries you into the office.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you say. Your tears infuriate you. They are the result of physical pain but it is only exacerbating the hurricane inside you. “God, it hurts so much. How big is it—”

“A foot wound hurts more than usual cuts,” Felix says.

He puts you on the couch in your father’s office. You father is standing by his desk, drinking coffee and rolling his eyes. You want to shout at him, purely on instinct, but your coherency is shot when Felix pulls the glass out of your foot.

More tears fall, some in relief. Then you look down and see an impossibly tiny shard. You cannot believe how small it is. It truly felt like it went deeper, like it slashed right through your foot.

“Show me,” your father says.

Felix meets your gaze, his eyes apologetic. He lifts the glass for your father to see. Then another glass breaks when your father smashes his coffee mug in a fit of frustration.

“It really hurt!” you protest, feeling as pathetic as you sound.

“Ridiculous, dramatic child,” your father says. “Felix, close the door.”

Felix obeys. He cannot show any hesitation. He is the emotionless robot that your father wants.

Felix closes the door as commanded then stands against it. He folds his hands behind his back and stares ahead, not sparing you another glance. He looks every inch a waiting soldier. Someone who would sooner drive a knife through his own hand than disobey an order.

“You want to cry?” your father asks, as if you are not already hiccupping on half-aborted sobs. “Do you have any idea about the scale of work I have to accomplish this week? Do you think I play games behind these doors? For you to – to – to waltz around, acting like a child and throwing a tantrum over nothing—”

You must be dripping blood on the hardwood but he does not even care to look. He stalks to his desk where he sits.

“Felix,” your father says, his rage barely suffused in the address. He gestures to you and says no more.

You and Felix meet eyes. He conceals his alarm fairly well. You doubt anyone else would see fear and concern in the subtle crease of his brow. He makes it look contemplative, but you see it. You see him.

And you know he is making a mistake before he even says anything.

“Sir?”

Your father, who was looking at a file on his desk, lifts his head.

You and Felix have been in this office many times. He has watched your father beat you, and you have watched him take as many strikes on your behalf. Your father’s instructions are implicit in the environment, under the circumstances. He is asking Felix to deliver a beating on his behalf. Experience and common sense should be clarity enough for a soldier like Felix.

This confusion, feigned to buy himself a moment, is worthy of your father’s furious stare.

“What?” your father snaps.

Felix hesitates, then approaches.

That moment of hesitation is enough. You look at your father. Just like you can read Felix, you can read that man. You can see the calculation behind his eye. Everyone is a thing, a statistic, a number, something that be crunched and calculated, something that can be used and discarded if the calculations are unfavourable. Things are supposed to function according to his commanded algorithm.

Felix is not supposed to hesitate.

You were correct to assume your father would never suspect your affair based on romance. He does not see or recognize an exchange of true love. But he understands violence. He understands its absence. Felix could kiss you and your father would not notice, but Felix refusing to hit you is worth a second glance.

With very little time to think, you diffuse those suspicions before they take flight. When Felix is near, you do not hesitate to swipe at him. You land a mean smack on his cheek that sufficiently surprises him.

He meets your eyes. They are narrowed with righteous anger as you play the part you must. You know he sees the apology in them. You hope he sees the forgiveness.

Felix returns the smack. He does not hit you anywhere near as hard as he could – even your father would hit you harder – but it is still enough of a crack that your head turns on impact. You clutch your cheek and your whole body quivers, like it is confused by the alternating directions of pain.

“Don’t you dare touch me again,” you say, looking at Felix. “You stupid animal. I hate you.”

That you know he cannot misunderstand.

And so it is within that mute understanding you hand yourself over, as you have so often done. Felix does what he can to lighten the severity, just as he always does, but it still requires a few good hits so your father believes your weepy surrender.

You are very quiet after. You can hear your father’s pen scratching across a paper pad. He watched it all then went right back to work.

You remember when you chased the high of his attention just to linger in a pit of despondency for hours after. You do not feel that now. Pure, unadulterated rage flows through you, hot as fire and as all-consuming. You feel no other emotion in that moment.

You look at your father, unwavering.

“I despise you,” you say.

Then pen on the paper stops. For a moment, he seems struck. But then he crosses a line on the page and resumes his work, not once looking at you, your bruises, or your blood. Not acknowledging your anger, the one trait you inherited from him.

“You’ll see,” your father says, with a fair degree of poise and equanimity. Unbothered, like he is talking about ordinary things. You suppose he is. What could be more ordinary to this man than the ominous prophesizing of his self-inflicted horror? “One day,” he says. “When I am gone and you really see the world for what it is, you will understand why I did what I have done. You will be safe and you will thank me.”

I will kill you before I ever thank you, you think, and realize with a shiver you truly mean it.

“Felix, retrieve Domino,” your father says.

Domino is the guard posted at the door. When he enters, he gives you a cursory glance, his cheek dimpled, the amusement towards your situation scarcely concealed.

Your father’s money might afford him influence over this stock of men, but they are all in the business of profitable pain. Military men, ex-cops: they are a dirty and criminal ilk who are accustomed to holding authority in their own right. It is little wonder they never liked you and you never liked them.

“Sir,” Domino says, at attention.

“Take my daughter to her room and see to it she is tended. Then send someone to clean up this mess. I have work to finish here and I will not tolerate any further interruptions. None. Do you understand?”

“Sir,” is the reply, affirmative, with a sharp nod.

“Good. Felix. Sit.”

Your father gestures to the chair across his desk and Felix moves towards it. Unlike the perfect boy soldier who once sat in that chair, Felix kicks it because he is glancing back at you.

You meet his eye for a brief moment, then the world spins as Domino picks you up. It is a grappling yank, like you grab a thing, with no care for injury or a polite touch.

You are carried out of the office and back to your room. One of the crew’s medics patches your foot. You sit through it with a cold detachment, then your room is empty and you are alone, waiting in bed for Felix so you can ask what is happening and discuss what to do.

Felix never comes.

In your wildest imaginings of what transpired behind that door, a job is not what you anticipate. It is at once too strange and too mundane.

A job is not an operation; it is an errand, a sleight of hand conducted in the shadowed crevice of a greater business scheme. It is not unusual for your father to send his men out on these jobs. But in all the years Felix has been in his employ, he has never been sent out. His only occupation is to serve as your bodyguard, and he has proven time and again how he is irreplaceable in that position.

You do not know what makes this job different. You glean only a little information from the chatter of the crew, just enough that you know it is a stealth acquisition and a rare, unprovoked move against Miroh. Your father is known for his defensive tactics, seldom manoeuvring in offense, so you suppose the inclusion of his best solider on a risky venture makes sense. Felix is likely your father’s only guarantee.

But you cannot shake there is something else. Felix is more than just a soldier and Miroh is more than just a businessman. You know their past is tangled together.

You do not get a chance to ask. The next time you see Felix is through a window. You are in the upstairs corridor, staring down at the driveway as he climbs into a van with a few other agents. Then the van pulls away and it is just you in that house with your temporary replacement bodyguard team.

Even your father leaves, though you doubt he will be involved in the physical mission itself. You overhear him telling your security that he anticipates returning in a week. You count down the hours until then.

By the second day, you are sick with worry. Sitting around with your unanswered questions makes the time drag. Hours pass in dissociation, unmoving and anxious. You decide that waiting will only worsen your state. Although you are not keen to wander around town with your security entourage in tow, you cannot sit here either.

The team is made of three men including Domino. They are all as subtle as a scream with their bulk and demeanour, and every bit like all the others.

Though they will undoubtedly report even the most mundane actions, they acquiesce and take you into town. The campus café is one of your father’s approved locations.

You are not sure if you want to run into your friends. The distraction would be a welcome one, not to mention the balm that is a smile from a friendly face, but you also have no idea how you will explain the obvious security. You are exhausted with lies. You are not sure you could spin a convincing story even if you wanted, and you do not.

The café is always quiet before lunch. There are a few students scattered around so even though you feel ridiculous, no one pays you much attention.

One guard waits outside the door, one inside by a window, and Domino stays by your side as you order your drink and take a seat.

You forgot just how invasive and uncomfortable this dynamic was. If you were not so drained, you would be snapping at them just to relieve the tension drawn tight in your chest. Instead, you endure. Every breath feels more strained than the last. You cannot focus on your work any better here. The words on your screen are just meaningless letters and shapes.

You stare at your hands, at their faint, vibrating tremble.

Then you hear your name. The guards have been addressing you as girl, sometimes subject or the daughter when speaking to each other. The gentler murmur of your name momentarily stills the shaking of your fingers, steady as a hand grasping yours. You lift your head and see Jeongin, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, his dark hair a shaggy mess, and his concerned eyes flitting between you and Domino.

“Hey,” Jeongin says with that dimpled smile. “What’s up?”

“Who is this?” Domino asks. Before you can answer, he turns to Jeongin and says, “Stand back. You do not have permission to stand here.”

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping a palm to your forehead.

You are flooded with childhood memories, idiots like this intimidating everyone who tried to speak to you for longer than a minute. Whether they took the form of a guardian or masqueraded as a janitor or something else, they always made everyone sufficiently uncomfortable. Even Jisung was often disturbed by them, though he drew the wrong conclusions about their identity. He was good with weird.

Jeongin must be made of a similar mettle. He gives your guard a pinched look, lip curled like he smells something bad, but he does not move. He looks at you with a tip of the head, concern once more creasing his features.

“Do you need help?” he asks.

The poor guy must be so confused. You look like you are being held hostage in a coffee shop by a stupidly inconspicuous thug.

All you can do is sigh and shake your head. “I’m fine, Jeongin,” you say, a very unconvincing lie. “I’ll catch you around, yeah?”

“Move along,” Domino says.

Jeongin looks at him. His glance flicks up and down. Then he says, “Your fly is down.”

Domino stares at him, unblinking, as if he can vaporize Jeongin with just a glare. Jeongin stares back.

“Really, Jeongin,” you say. A genuine breath of a laugh leaves your lips. Jeongin could not even throw a punch without smacking a chair, but he is willing to stick up for you. And his annoyance tactic is the funniest defense you can imagine.

Jeongin finally leaves, but with a glance over his shoulder. You fight the urge to throw something at the guards who watch him go.

“Who was that?” Domino asks.

“I don’t know his name,” you say. “He was just a classmate a long time ago.”

You hope that is enough to make him forgettable.

You act casual, taking a sip of your coffee. Then Domino looks down into his lap, quickly checking his fly. Your snorting laughter sprays coffee everywhere.

Fortunately, this does not impact the report. You are allowed to return to the same coffee shop the next day. This time both Seungmin and Jeongin are there, books open but blathering in distracted conversation. Another young guy is sitting with them, maybe a classmate, though he has no books with him. He is sprawled in a chair, holding a coffee and grinning at whatever the boys are saying.

He notices you first, probably because you are staring. He tips his head as he looks at you, black bangs falling across his forehead. He is noticeably stocky and broad, but he smiles behind the brim of his coffee cup and it is incredibly disarming.

He is handsome but the overt flirtation brings only pain. It makes you think of Felix. You barely slept last night, tossing and turning with anxiety. Your stress only worsened when you woke in an empty bed.

You are so fraught with anxiety, your whole body feels taut like a thread about to snap.

Something is going to happen, or maybe it already has. It is bad. You know it intuitively, the way you know which hand will strike when your father is in a mood, the way you know a black car on a quiet street is an enemy, the way you have always known this life is a death sentence, a slow execution by the brutality of weathering.

You look away from the stranger’s smile. Then Jeongin sees you and his laughter fades, concern and curiosity drawing his brows together. He nudges Seungmin who looks too, tipping his head with a questioning look.

You just shrug and take a seat at a different table. There is nothing else to do.

Domino sits with you, as bored with his duty as ever. You believe your whole team is annoyed with their job. Your father would not leave weak soldiers in charge of you, but he also had to take his very best with him. These men are probably too competent for menial work and are likely offended by their assignment. They are the worst of the best.

Which is how you steal a moment to talk to Seungmin. One guard outside, one at the window, and Domino at your table. He lets you leave to get some sugar for your coffee, watching with glazed-over indifference as you fuss at the counter.

Seungmin joins you, pretending he is also grabbing sugar.

“You’re keeping some weird company,” he says in a low voice. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need help?”

You swallow an unexpected lump in your throat. Your friendship with Seungmin and Jeongin was only ever casual, so it is quite touching that the two civilians are so willing to defend you, even when standing at an obvious disadvantage against your thugs.

Your prepared lie gets tangled in that lump. You swallow it down. For a moment, your mouth is open with nothing to say. You both stir your coffee slowly. Eventually you take a breath.

“It’s complicated,” you say. “It’s just to do with my dad. Thank you, though.”

There is a beat of silence before he says, “We’re friends, okay? Just let us know if we can help.”

You have been trapped in solitude for days now. Seungmin provides the comforting reminder that your world is not all bad. Though he cannot do much to help, the sentiment in his simple offer is enough to temper the worst of your anxiety, at least for the time being.

“Thank you,” you say. “Really.” You spare a glance at Domino who is watching you intensely, just waiting for you to slip up and do something that warrants a reprimand or report. “I better get back,” you say. “Say hi to Jeongin, and say sorry from me for yesterday. You guys have fun with your friend.”

“Oh, we don’t know that guy. He just sat with us out of nowhere,” Seungmin says, laughing. “He says his name is Changbin. But he paid for our coffee so he can sit wherever he likes, haha.”

You smile at his playfulness. He smiles too, then he walks back to his table. Your eyes follow him and settle on the stranger – Changbin.

You want to keep smiling, want to imagine the stranger is just an awkward university kid making friends in a weird way. But Changbin is looking at you again, with the same intensity as Domino. Your eyes skirt his shoulders and biceps and his too-charming smile.

You want to chalk it up to paranoia, exacerbated by the extra stress of the last few days. But something is off about this stranger appearing here, suddenly, at a place you are known to frequent, the week your father is moving against Miroh, when Felix is gone and you are vulnerable. He is sitting with your friends, like he knows they are your friends, like he can trick you into trusting him by their proximity.

He is not like your father’s guards who are blatantly out of place. Changbin is so visible that he is invisible. Just a friendly college boy.

Just like Felix.

You are being ridiculous, you tell yourself. You cannot walk around assuming everyone is an enemy. But you cannot shake the feeling of wrongness, the awful premonition that something is going to happen.

You try to ignore Changbin as you drink your coffee but you are unsuccessful. Your hackles are raised and will not come down, made worse by the indifference of everyone around you. Domino is none the wiser. The other guards have not left their posts. Your friends are laughing with him like he is just some guy.

You ask yourself what Felix would do. You imagine he would not cause a scene or confront Changbin. He would quietly take your arm and usher you to safety, only fighting in retaliation if necessary. Part of his job has always been discretion, but he has never relished in violence anyway. It is always a last resort.

Your instincts have often propelled you into heated action until you freeze, always one extreme or the other. Now, you calm yourself and steady your shaking hands. You comfort yourself the way Felix would. You tell Domino you want to go home. He makes some agitated remark about you needing to make up your mind, that you only just arrived, but you do not rise to his bait. You close your laptop and pack your bag.

It takes one second. Changbin is sitting with your friends, then you look down. When you lift your head, he is gone. The boys think nothing of it. Your guards don’t notice. You want to scream but you know it won’t make a difference. These men won’t listen to you.

You leave with your guards. The large campus is practically a city unto itself, separated from the mainland by a stretch of woods. It is a scenic drive with a deer park in its centre, but all you see is rain ripping through branches and the shadows between each slash of grey daylight.

You are almost relieved when something thumps heavily onto the roof. But the relief that you were right is short-lived when all hell breaks loose.

You close your eyes, arms wrapped around yourself in the back seat. Glass shatters and the car skids to a rough stop, flying off the road and onto the forest terrain.

You open your eyes to the windshield in pieces, the driver frozen with his head thrown back. Domino and the other guard are out of their seats in seconds, making the same mistake as Miroh’s men all that time ago. You know how this fight will end.

You look through the broken windshield. Changbin flies into view and knocks Domino onto his knees. It takes one roundhouse kick for him to fall over, unconscious. The other guard tries to take a shot but Changbin disarms him with a couple sharp moves. You close your eyes when Changbin shoots.

He fights with the same fluidity as Felix. For a moment, you are back there, eighteen years old and frightened and relieved all at once. Except when the back door opens this time, you are not quick to rush out. It is not Felix waiting for you.

Changbin clears his throat and you slowly look over. He is wearing jeans and a leather jacket and does not look ruffled in the slightest. Dark hair falls over his forehead as he tips his head. He smiles, handsome and charming. As unassuming as Felix when his eyes crinkle up with delight and he laughs like he has never known pain. Like he was not raised for the purpose of violence, property of Miroh, of your father, of whoever else, acting as their hand because they won’t get their own fingers dirty.

Changbin gestures to you, curling his fingers, a mute come here.

“Hurry up,” he says. “Time to go.”

You imagine escaping out the other door, trying to make a run for it through the forest. You know you will not get far.

“Are you one of them?” you ask, impulsively. “Miroh’s?”

You already know the answer.

Changbin blinks at you, then laughs.

“It depends,” he says, then tuts like he thinks you are preciously naïve. “I personally think I’m one of a kind. But I guess we’ll find out. Now get out of the car.”

With little choice in the matter, you obey. Your legs wobble when you stand so you instinctively take the hand he offers.

You have not yet steadied yourself when he yanks you into his arms. Though Felix undoubtedly holds strength in his lithe form, he is more dexterous and athletic than outright powerful. He knows how to use his body to its best advantage. But Changbin is strong and he does not hide it, the bulge of his biceps crushing you in the hard, ungiving circle of his arms. Leather and muscle cage you in tightly, so unyielding that you cannot even squirm. Your heels dig at the ground as he hauls you away from the car. A belated scream claws its way up your throat but gets strangled in his chokehold.

Then you feel ice, so cold it burns. Your racing heart propels each freezing shard through your bloodstream.

You realize he stabbed you with a needle. It is a flickering thought, only momentarily realized, then you are plunged beneath the surface of that ice, drowned in black waters, and you think no more.

You are plunged into an oblivion so deep and so fast that you wake thinking no time passed at all.

You hear before you see. The patter of rain overhead is not unlike its tapping against the roof of the car. Groggy, you think you are still there, your arms wrapped around yourself while waiting for the worst.

Then your sense of smell creeps in, overwhelming you with damp and something metallic. A cool breeze pebbles your skin as it washes over you. It coaxes you out of your bleariness.

You blink awake, the blurry world taking gradual shape around you. It is not the world you left behind, no sign of a car or campus or coffee shop. It looks like an old warehouse or maybe a factory, but the room has been stripped to its bare bone essentials. The exposed pipes and rotting damp of the high walls account for the smell.

The breeze blows from your left where a garage door is open. You squint towards the grey light of the rainy day. You do not know how long you have been unconscious. It looks like early afternoon but your body tells you that you have been asleep for longer than a few minutes.

You try to gather your bearings. You see a harbour in the distance, past the pavement and the fence and what must be a drop to water below. Your university is not near any body of water. So you must have been unconscious long enough to transport this far. A few hours at least, but given the light maybe it has been a full day.

That is all you can deduce. You do not recognize the warehouse or the harbour.

You do recognize the man in front of you, though it takes a second. Changbin is no longer dressed like a civilian, wearing a black combat uniform and boots. His shirt covers his arms but fits like a second skin, his bulk emphasized. He is squatting on the ground a few feet from you. He holds a black mask in his hand, one that covers the lower half of his face when he swings it up. He lifts and lowers it a few times, absent-mindedly it seems. Then he realizes you are stirring and fastens it in place.

Your head is pounding. Your petulant side wants to bark a complaint, but even you know taunting this man would be beyond stupid. Changbin is not just any soldier. Miroh did not send one of his regular men. He clearly learned his lesson last time. Even without asking, you know Changbin is like Felix. He did not merely train as a soldier; he was born and moulded into it.

And, unlike Felix, he has had no reprieve from Miroh.

You come into your body, stretching your fingers. Your hands are cuffed behind your back and locked to your chair. One ankle is cuffed to the chair leg. Metal jingles as you move, testing your bonds.

You stop when Changbin approaches, your heart thumping as hot adrenaline melts the ice in your blood.

“Good morning,” Changbin says. “How did you sleep?”

Your body is still slow to respond, but you manage a decent glare. It makes him laugh.

“They told me you were funny,” he says. “That you make your father’s men look like a joke – not hard, to be fair.” He tips his head, looking at you like he is waiting. All you do is stare. “Come on,” he whines. “Say something funny.”

Your stomach turns over itself, not because Changbin is taunting you… but because you think he isn’t taunting you. He does not speak with the sarcastic intonation of your father’s men, dryly mocking your helplessness in his presence. His eyes are big and resolutely focussed, seeming to genuinely anticipate your retort. He is almost child-like with his attention.

This impression only solidifies when he sighs, morose, and crouches again.

“Do you want something?” he asks.

“Let me go?” you say.

It comes out rough but it makes him laugh behind the mask, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Aha, you are funny,” he says and slaps his knee. “Anything but that. But don’t worry your head.” You flinch from his touch, but all he does is pat your head like he is reassuring a frightened puppy. “This isn’t about you,” he says. “Well, not yet. Maybe later. First… Your father took something from us. And he won’t give it back.”

Changbin removes the mask so he can smile, one of those disarming smiles that is so at odds with the rest of him. Felix might switch demeanours depending on the circumstance, but Changbin flickers between faces from one breath to the next.

“We just need it back,” Changbin says. “Then, maybe, we’ll even the score. Maybe. Don’t worry about that yet. For now, you just need to sit. Are you thirsty?”

The distinct reverberation of gunfire comes from the front of the building. You shriek and duck your head, like that will do anything to protect you, gasping as you listen to bullets ricochet off the walls in some distant room.

When everything goes quiet, you lift your head. Your chest is heaving with each deep breath, your adrenaline bleeding out your pores so even the air around you feels like it is humming. You stare at Changbin who has not moved a muscle, still squatting and staring.

“I think we have lemonade,” he says. “You want that?”

You do not even know what to say. His sincere but stunted peculiarity reminds you so much of a teenage Felix even though Changbin looks older than both of you.

There is more gunfire. You duck your head and slam your eyes shut. Changbin does not move until it stops, his mouth open with another comment, but he silences himself when the far door opens. Then he is swift, on his feet with his mask secured. He stands at your side as he silently watches the approach of a small group of men.

You are still reeling from panic, so it takes you a second to realize what is happening.

“Felix!” the cry leaves your lips.

Five of Miroh’s men surround him, suited guards in various states of dishevelment, like they have been fighting for much longer than a few minutes. Felix is bound with his hands behind his back, a yellow bruise already forming on his chin. His own dark uniform is singed with bullet holes. His hair looks like it was slicked back, but he has sweat through some of the product, tendrils of blonde falling into his face.

Despite his state, his attention is all on you. Eyes assessing, scanning you from head to toe.

When you meet his gaze, the whole world falls away. These men, this place, none of it exists for a breath of a moment. Felix is here and that means you will survive. Everything will be fine. You have always kept each other alive. This time will be no different. You can see it in his eyes, in that oh-so subtle twinge of a smile. You can hear him without him moving his lips.

Hello, sweetheart. You’re safe.

They put him on his knees. His gaze flits to either side. You can see him calculating. Oh, he is here on purpose. He let himself be caught, you are certain, so he could find you and rescue you and—

“Target acquired,” a man says.

It takes you a moment to realize he is talking about Felix.

You look at the man then at Changbin, considering his earlier words.

Something your father took. Something they want back.

It hits you all at once. You have not been kidnapped as leverage against your father. You have been taken as bait for Felix. They don’t want you, they want him. An irreplaceable soldier your father stole from Miroh a decade ago, that he has paraded in front of him for years at galas and parties. Using him as a bodyguard for his wayward daughter and not as a soldier, not until now. Biding his time before using Felix against the house that made him.

You can see your father’s stupid machinations clicking into place. He is a perpetual child throwing a tantrum. His movements are sloppy and immature. He steals from his enemy, a weapon he does not know how to use, thinking it will keep him safe, letting it make him cocky. And now he is sitting somewhere as it all blows up in his face.

Or it would. In an ironic twist of fate, you are saving your father.

Because as far as Miroh knows, Felix is here as your bodyguard, acting on your father’s orders to retrieve you. All Miroh has to do is pluck him from the fray. And as a bonus, he has you in captivity for future leverage.

It would have been a good plan. It would have worked if Felix was an emotionless machine. If would have worked if Felix was here because of a command.

But Felix loves you.

He is here to save you.

In a quick move, Felix sweeps two men off their feet. He rolls on his back and propels himself to his feet, hands bound under him, leading with his core. He slams his head into an oncoming guard and the man stumbles back. Three out of five on the ground. Then suddenly one hand is free of the cuffs – he must have been picking at it the whole time - and he swings the dangling metal in another’s eye.

You flinch away from the violence, even while rooting for Felix. A few more thuds and you know all five men are incapacitated. You open your eyes and lift your head, watching Felix drop the handcuffs on the floor. He absently rubs his wrist, his gaze drifting from you to Changbin. His fingers freeze, his eyes narrowing as he perceives the stoic soldier at your side.

Felix stares, like he if he looks hard enough, he will see through the mask.

“You’re new,” Felix finally says.

Changbin rolls his eyes.

Changbin reels back and hurls a knife in a swift arc, right at Felix’s face. Felix is just as fast and catches the handle. He returns the throw. The knife clatters on the ground as Changbin surges forward.

These two are evenly matched. Watching them fight is terrifying and unpredictable. They dance around each other, delivering equal blows and blocking similar shots. In the end, Felix wins in one move miscalculated by his opponent. With an opening granted, Felix takes Changbin down. One, two, three hits to the head. Changbin stumbles backward, his mask falling. He is disoriented when he looks Felix, but Felix sees him with complete clarity.

You learned to read Felix a long time ago. You know all his expressions by heart, the crease of each smile memorized, the track of each tear committed to heart.

You have never seen this face, this mix of horror and bewilderment as a barely conscious Changbin slams onto the ground. Then it is Felix who missteps, tripping over his own feet as he reaches for the opponent he just threw down.

“Changbin,” he says. “You’re alive, I—”

Changbin swings at him but is too dizzy to land a hit. Felix catches the punch. He should throw one back, finish him off, but he hesitates. His brow furrows. He grabs Changbin by the neck of his shirt and yanks him close.

“Chris,” he says. “Chan. Chris. Where is he?”

Changbin laughs. It turns to choking when a dribble of blood gurgles past his mouth. He spits it at Felix then heaves a rough breath.

“Oh, fuck you, Yongbok,” he says. “’You’re new’ – didn’t even recognize me—”

“It—it’s been so long—and I thought you—”

“Yah, not all of us got to attend pretty parties these last years like you—”

“Stop it, you don’t know anything about what I’ve been doing—”

“Chris he says. First thing he says.” Changbin squirms but does not have the strength to rip away, especially with Felix gripping him so hard. He heaves another aggravated groan. “You know Chris died because of you. He’s been gone for years.”

“No,” Felix says, his voice pinched. His eyes rapidly water, his knuckles white from his death-grip.

Changbin shakes his head but slips further. Felix once more catches him when he should be ending him, sniffling hard as he gets on his knees.

“He’s not dead,” Felix says. “He can’t be dead—”

“Why don’t you ask your boss?”

As if on cue, your father’s men burst into the room. Felix looks at them in surprise even though he must have coordinated their arrival.

Changbin laughs. “I hope it was worth it, Yongbok,” he says. He uses one last burst of energy to throw himself forward, propelled away from Felix. He rolls across the ground then stumbles to his feet, running past the open garage door, into the rain, and disappearing around the corner.

Felix is too stunned to chase him. You look at Felix, on his knees and holding nothing, palms up like he expects something to appear in them. He closes his fists as your father’s men approach.

Then he slides his figurative mask in place, assuming his usual role. He kicks the literal mask discarded by Changbin, then finally looks at you.

“Get the car,” Felix says to the men. “And check the grounds for anything useful.”

The men disperse and Felix approaches you. He kneels at your side and picks at the lock of your handcuffs. You are crying before you can stop yourself, overwhelmed with everything that just transpired.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Felix whispers, looking at you with pain of his own. “It will be okay. Just a little longer.”

The handcuffs drop. He squeezes your hand in his.

“Just a little longer.”

You are several cities over, hours away from home and even further from the job your father was conducting against Miroh. Miroh was clearly trying to divert his enemy. He tried to steal Felix back while doing so.

Neither he or your father accounted for you, for Felix, for all the love between you.

You are in a small hotel room away from prying eyes and military men. You are scrubbing yourself clean in the bath and he sits on the rim of the tub, wiping your back with a cloth.

You checked in two hours ago. You spent most of that time blubbering incoherently, catching your breath even hours after freedom. You have not had a real conversation yet. Felix has been quiet, his eyes intermittently far away or so intensely focussed on you that it makes you hiccup with more tears.

You hiss when he presses his thumb to the mark on your neck, the little bite from the needle so carelessly plunged into your vein.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, smoothing with a gentle circle.

“This has been the worst week of my life,” you say. “And that’s saying something. Oh my god, and it’s only Wednesday.”

Felix laughs in spite of himself, though it is more of a breath than a sound. He drops the cloth in the water and you shiver as he caresses the bare skin of your back.

“I love you,” he says, like it is something he has always said, like it is easy to say. Like he could say it again and again.

The room feels so quiet. His voice is soft but it sounds like a shout, echoing back in this intimate space. Your breath catches. You go very still.

Then he says your name in a breathless murmur that is exhaled with more adoration than the word love itself.

“No games,” he says. “No jokes. No hidden meanings or secrets.”

“Felix,” you say. It is all you manage.

“I know,” he says weakly. “I know, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything, I just…”

His hair is wet from a quick shower, combed back neatly, more composed than the rest of him. You look up as he runs his wet fingers through it. The bruise on his jaw is darkening, a burned gold that looks incredibly painful. He shed his outer layers, is wearing a black t-shirt and black pants. He has a silver army tag, or something like it, marked with your father’s name and not his own. It’s new. Something the field agents wear. Good as a collar.

You reach out and take hold, ripping it off his neck. He looks at it dangling from your fist, as surprised as you that it broke so fast.

Maybe it really is it that easy.

His hurt jaw wobbles. He touches the bruise and looks down, away from you, head bowed as if in supplication. Worshipful. Penitent.

“I’m sorry,” he says, lighter than a whisper. “I will tell you everything. I just want to be a person for you a little longer.”

“Felix,” you say, dropping the tag on the floor. You kneel in the bath and reach for him with your wet hands. He does not lift his head when a silent sob wracks his body. His shoulders shake when you touch him. “You have always been a person to me.”

“I know,” he says, voice breaking. “I know, sweetheart. I owe you so much—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“I owe you everything.”

He looks at you then, his dark eyes wet with tears, his expression serious. He breathes a shaky exhale then leans away, grabbing a towel.

“Come here,” he says, and stands.

Moments later, you are standing on the floor, wrapped in the towel in his arms. He bundles you tightly and you rest your head on his shoulder, safe and secure with his strong hold around you.

“I love you,” he says, his wet cheek pressed to yours. “Even if you hate me, even if you don’t, even if you can never say it back, I love you and all the life you have in you.”

“I’m a mess,” you say, trying to laugh, but it comes out weak.

“You’re alive. I don’t think anyone understands better than you, what it means to have a life,” he says. “The way your life fills you, the way you hold onto it no matter how many times someone tried to take it away.”

You are hiding your face in his neck, embarrassed and amorous and teary all at once. Then he lifts you up and turns around, perching you on the counter. You wriggle your arms free, tucking the towel beneath them. You steady your breathing as he picks up a cloth to wipe the smudged vestiges of make-up off your cheek.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” he says. “I’ve always been so scared. I hide it, yeah? But it’s there. Miroh, your father, everything about them… It was like living in a nightmare. They were bigger than life. They controlled dangerous people. I couldn’t imagine anyone standing up to them.” He smiles now, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. “Then you burst into the room and started a fight with one of them. I was shocked. I thought, is this girl crazy? What have I gotten into?”

“That girl was crazy,” you say, laughing.

He laughs too, but shakes his head. “She was the only sane one,” he says. “God. You had more passion in your little finger than I had ever felt in my whole body my whole life. And I thought… I will never feel that much emotion. I knew it was too late for me. I wasn’t living for myself and I was fine with that. I couldn’t be saved.” His eyes are teary again. He takes your hand and looks down at it. “You took my hand. Even in your anger, even in your everything, you saw something… You touched me once and it was like life rushed into me. And I hated myself everyday after that because I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t what you needed. I could take your beatings but I couldn’t save you because I was a scared coward and you were stuck with me—”

“Shh, stop that,” you say. You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the pieces he rucked up.

He wipes his cheeks. He plants his hands on the counter, on either side of you. His eyes are closed when he takes a deep breath.

“Miroh couldn’t kill your grandfather,” Felix says. “He tried and he failed. Your grandfather was willing to sacrifice everything for himself. Your mother died in his place. You and me were on opposite sides of the world, both just babies. You never knew your mother. I never knew my parents. Miroh decided he needed a new generation of soldiers. There were a few of us, all over the world. When we were old enough to speak and run and fight, he recruited the best. I was one of the best. So was Changbin.”

“And Chris,” you say, remembering the exchange in the warehouse.

Felix’s face scrunches in pain. He nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “We travelled together. We trained together. We were like brothers.”

“What happened?” you ask. You lay a hand on his chest and he takes it, holding it there.

“I was stupid,” Felix says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I believed Miroh. I thought… there are bad guys out there, simple as that. If we get rid of them, then we won’t have to be scared anymore, yeah? They wouldn’t have to hurt us if we just got rid of the bad guy. But it wasn’t that easy. I killed your grandfather and it didn’t end anything. Chris was right. Because he always knew. He said it wasn’t right, what Miroh was doing. Chris could have been the best if he could let go of who he was, and just be what he was supposed to be… but he didn’t. I… I felt like I… I couldn’t afford to be that way… If I wasn’t the best, I was nothing. If I couldn’t kill, I was going to be killed. And by the time I realized he was right, it was too late.”

He finally meets your gaze, squeezing your hand in his.

“I almost died on a job and Chris saved my life. He wasn’t supposed to. In Miroh’s order, if something happens to a soldier, you leave them behind. You don’t waste resources on the weak. Chris disobeyed orders and all his training to save me. I told him I wouldn’t have done the same and he said I know, that’s not why I’m doing it. It’s just the right thing, Felix. I thought, how can someone like this even exist, after everything he’s seen and done, how does he still try to find the good? I didn’t know if he was stupid or smart. Then a commander found out what he did and they took him out of our order for re-training. I still saw him but we couldn’t talk. He had so much potential and the organization didn’t want to throw it away. They tried to break him. It wasn’t working. It broke me instead. I realized I had to get us out or die trying.”

He looks at you and says, “You get it, don’t you? The way Jisung saved you. The way he was your friend. The way he was just there. That was Chris for me, yeah?” His voice is rife with desperation, like he needs you to understand this more than anything else.

“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling that very heartache all over again. “I do. I get it, Felix.”

“Then you know,” he says, voice breaking, “how I felt when I let him down. I let everyone down. I fucked up a job, trying to undermine Miroh. I thought I could outsmart him but I didn’t. It just opened a door for your father to get in. There was a stupid skirmish over a politician in Miroh’s pocket. Your dad was trying to buy him out and it ended in a fight. Three of our best men dead. Including Changbin, I thought. Just someone else I let down. I was taken alive. I knew if I went back to Miroh, I was dead. If I ran off on my own, Chris would never escape, and they would break him eventually, or kill him trying. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t take Miroh on my own. So I made a deal with your father.”

And what I get is a life worth more than mine.

You remember those words. Felix once spoke them in an emotional moment, lost to his memories. You never knew what he meant. You realize now he meant Chris, the friend he left behind, the friend he sold himself to save.

“You gave up your life to my father,” you say, “and in return—”

“He would rescue Chris,” Felix says. “It was a win for us both, yeah. Take out Miroh, steal his assets. My friend gets his freedom. Your father gets a soldier. I was willing to give up my life. I figured I never had one. I wouldn’t miss it. All I knew was how to be a soldier. I didn’t even know how to want something else. But then you… You.”

“Felix,” you say, overwhelmed with his confession and the depth of his feeling.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I let you down.”

“What? How?” You touch his face, cupping his chin in both hands. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t save you,” he says, voice rasping and light again, speaking above a sob. “At first because I couldn’t leave, not until we rescued Chris. And there was never an opportunity. I waited years. Years. And by then I had to keep waiting, because I couldn’t have wasted all that time for nothing. I had to save him. I had to save someone. Or else I failed everyone. It had to mean something. I couldn’t—”

“Felix,” you say. “It was an impossible situation. We were kids for half of it. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“I do,” he says, barely more than a breath, a faint whisper against your skin. “I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t do enough.”

“We have no way of knowing what else could have happened,” you say. “We did our best. And now—”

You cut yourself off. And now? What happens next? You heard their conversation in that warehouse. You know why Felix looked so torn apart.

“Chris,” you say. “Is he…?” Dead. “Was Changbin telling the truth?”

“I don’t know,” Felix says.

Dead. For years. Because of Felix. Because of your father.

It does not take much to piece together the implications. Your father is a cowardly, underhanded schemer. He poisons teenagers and beats his daughter and hides in his mansion except when he’s lashing out for attention. He put Felix under contract, but the only guarantee of servitude was his honour and one stipulation. Honour would mean little to your father. But a person, that he could leverage. That he could calculate and control. So long as he could dangle Chris over Felix’s head, then Felix would be bound to him.

And the best way to guarantee he would never have to fulfill his end of the bargain, the best way to guarantee Chris would never escape, would be to kill Chris himself and never tell Felix.

You see it written all over Felix’s face, the horror of this very plausible idea. That in his effort to save Chris, he actually got him killed.

There is a long moment of quiet. It is a very empty silence. There is no way to confirm if Chris is truly dead, and so Felix cannot truly mourn him. There is also no way to prove he is alive, so he cannot take any action.

You hold his hand. It is all you can do right now. You look at where your palms touch, where your fingers lace. The caress of his skin against yours never fails to touch your heart. Even this simple touch warms you. It affects him too, because he exhales and leans in, resting his forehead against yours.

You want to comfort him but your shiver betrays you. The heat from the bath is diffusing and you are in nothing but a towel. Felix laughs and shakes his head, withdrawing.

“Sorry,” he says. “Let’s, uhh, get you dressed first.”

“Or at least under some covers.”

“Someone could come knocking,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a jut of your chin. “And?”

He stares back at you. This silence is not so empty, a heady and contemplative regard as he glances at your lips then the rest of you. Then he sweeps you into his arms and carries you into the room.

You kiss his cheek, just above his bruise. You are not sure if he winces from the pain or the affection.

The moment your head touches a pillow, you feel your eyelids drooping. Exhaustion hits you instantaneously. You groan and snuggle under the covers, quite convinced this plain hotel bed is the comfiest bed in the world.

Felix hovers at the bedside, folding your towel. You look back at him with sleepy eyes. It is early evening but he must be as tired as you, from the physical exertion if not the emotional one.

“Aren’t you sleepy, baby?” you ask.

He drops the towel and has to fold it again. It is messier the second time, then slides off the dresser into a lump on the floor. He ignores it, approaching the bed. You pull back the cover in offering.

You think he strips down to his boxers, but you are fast asleep before he even unzips. You stir a little when he climbs in the bed, but his presence is so comforting that it sends you right back to sleep. It is the most restful sleep you have had in a while. But, predictably, falling asleep in the early evening means you wake up in the dead of the night, bright-eyed.

The room is dark. The clock reads 2:17 AM, blinking in red, the only light in the room other than a blue wash of moonlight pouring through the translucent curtains.

Felix is curled up behind you, an arm under his head and the other over your hip. When you wake, he follows but slowly, shifting and grumbling. He does not usually sleep so deeply. It is a testament to the day.

You sidle up to him, your back to his front. He is in his boxers and nothing else, bare skin against yours as he hauls you up against him. You lay your hand over his, resting it on your stomach then on your breast. It is not especially flirtatious, merely intimate. He touches you and you sigh contently, too awake to lose yourself but enjoying the comfort nonetheless.

He exhales. It sounds a little ragged. You look over your shoulder, at his dishevelled bed hair and dark freckles, the bow mouth you so missed, the tenderness in those dark eyes when he gazes back at you.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Hmm? For what?” You roll onto your back to look at him better.

He scrubs a hand down his face then pushes back some unruly hair. “I think, um.” He looks up at nothing. “A part of me always thought a day would come when you would hate me for real. I’m, uhh, a little… I guess I just… was more prepared to be hated than, um, cared about, after everything.”

You lean over him, propping yourself on one arm. He meets your serious gaze, licking his lips under the intensity of your stare.

“Do you see me that way?” you ask. “That I would be that unforgiving and fickle?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Of course not. It’s not how I see you, it’s… myself.”

“Well, I don’t want you to see yourself that way either,” you say. “It offends me.” You say this was a dramatic air, making a point of shoving your nose in the air.

It makes him laugh, a real smile pulling at his lips. You swear it brightens the room.

“Does it?” he says. “I’m very sorry. I’ll have to make it up to you.” He reaches for your face, strokes his knuckles over your cheek, but you pull away.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, in the same playful tone as him.

“Oh?” he asks, chasing, stroking your other cheek.

“Yes,” you say. You catch his hand and lower it. When you speak again, it is sincerely, without any joke or artifice or double-entendre. “I don’t just care about you, Felix,” you say. “I love you. And you don’t need to thank me or pay me back. You just need to believe it.”

He blinks up at you, surprise written all over his face. You feel flushed with heat even though the admission is obvious. Saying it out loud, truly and honestly, makes your heart flutter anyway. Love and want tangle together in a knot inside you, making you feel soft and desirous at once.

His lips part with a breath as he stares at you. You chase those lips, leaning down and sealing his mouth in a kiss. It takes only a second for him to kiss you back, cupping your cheek and parting your lips with a swipe of his tongue. His bruise must not hurt too badly, or maybe he is just ignoring the pain, but you are careful with your light kisses despite his attempt at more.

You always happily concede to his more dominant guidance. This time it is a little different. You are telling him something with your kisses and you want him to hear it, without any games or distractions. So you take both his wrists and push his hands into the bed, at the same time swinging on top of him. He looks surprised a second time, looking at where you press his hands into the sheets.

He could easily buck you off, but he lets you kiss him like that. You kiss his cheek and under his jaw, avoiding the bruise, then down his neck. His hips lift under yours, rolling against you to get hard. You are already wet and naked, making him moan, a low, dark sound as you grind your softest parts against the hardening line in his boxers.

It makes you want to skip right to it, but you are determined. You kiss down his chest and he laughs when your tongue swipes his nipple, evidently a little ticklish. You smile and keep going, until your lips hover above the hard bulge in his boxers. You kiss him through the material then tug it down. He shuffles quickly, ripping them off and tossing them aside. Then his hand is on the back of your neck as you take him in your mouth.

The hotel room affords some privacy. He makes a little more noise than usual. Or maybe he truly does not care anymore.

Yes, you think, loving at him with your mouth and hands, let yourself go.

He must be getting close because he squeezes the back of your neck and lets out a groan. “Slow down,” he says. “Please. It just—”

“Feels good?” you ask, a little cheekily, but he answers earnestly, with a nod and shaky exhale. “Mmm, okay,” you say. “Tell me what you want.”

This gives him momentary pause. Then he grips your neck more possessively and guides you up.

You follow his direction, lifting your head until your pretty raw lips are hovering just inches from his.

“Get back on top me,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“Oh. Well.” He has said far dirtier things in the past, but usually in the context of your role-play, where you are the worst versions of yourselves, the real you just laughing under it. It is a little different for the real him to so blatantly state his desire.

It leaves you just as weak in the knees. It is a miracle you manage to swing a leg over him, but you get there. He helps line you up, then he holds your hips and slides you right down until he is fully inside you. It is a lot all at once, especially after time apart. You did not have many opportunities for sex before that either. But you are so wet, despite the sharp burn, it is a smooth fit, and you adjust quickly, mostly because he wastes no time rolling his hips up into you.

“Oh,” you say, hands on his shoulders and mouth falling open.

“That’s it,” he says, taking complete control even though you are on top, holding your hips, guiding you to match his rhythm. “Could – uh, yeah – could have you on your knees, begging for it, without doing anything. So easy for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you say, gasping. “Just for you.”

“Just for me,” he says. He pushes himself upright, wrapping an arm around you and pushing your face into his shoulder. He holds you there, fingers stroking the nape of your neck as he fucks you, drawing all those soft, whimpering sounds of you. “That’s it,” he says. “That’s my girl. Just for me. Hold onto me. I’m gonna come. Spread your legs, your pussy can take it. Good girl. Just like that.”

You are wrapped tightly around him, clinging to him as he comes as promised, deep and hard inside you while you tremble and sigh in his arms. Then he lifts your head to kiss you, a quick peck before he presses your foreheads together to just breathe.

“Can you…” Your voice comes softly. “Can you maybe stay inside me, just another minute.”

“Fucking… fuck,” he says, making you laugh. He smiles too. “Yes. I can do that.”

He keeps you in his arms as he lays back. You lay against him, his heart pounding against your chest. You stay like that for a while, almost drifting to sleep when he slides his hand up your spine, reawakening every sensitive nerve in your body.

He says your name, that loving murmur of a sound. You lift your head to look at him. His gaze darts to your lips then back to your eyes.

“I wouldn’t trade places with any of them,” he says. “I want to be your bodyguard. I want to set you free. I want to keep you safe until the day I die.”

“On a few conditions,” you say. “The first, that you cannot die for a very long time. The second, I will only be free when you are. And finally, you can be my bodyguard, but only if I’m your bodyguard too.”

He smiles, his eyes bright and his cheeks dimpled. His nose nudges yours.

“All right,” he says. “Consider it a promise.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

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hello, I don't want to be annoying but could you please write a Azriel angst + comfort fic? Maybe something where his mate, the reader, was in a bad mood and is very mean to Azriel, so when he leaves she thinks that he's mad and never coming back and just spirals.

Hopefully Azriel shows up later with the reader's favorite things because I can't live without a little fluff after my heart breaks into a million pieces~

Pointless Fights

Azriel x reader

A/n: hi anon! You’re not annoying at all I love hurt/comfort Az

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, and some anxiety

You had been avoiding Azriel all morning since you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Some days you were irrationally angry. It was nothing in particular, your hard days built up and you felt like you deserved to be mad sometimes.

You didn’t want to take it out on Azriel, he didn’t deserve to be the victim of your bad mood. Sitting in your little library reading was the best thing to do today. Especially since it was the perfect weather for it. A rough storm had made landfall in Velaris early this morning the thunder and lightning was so loud you jolted awake.

A knock sounded from the grand wooden door. You didn’t bother with a reply Azriel entered anyway. He came to sit next to you on the couch gently running his pointer finger along your shoulder. “Hey, I just wanted to check on you. You ok?”

You only gave him an unenthusiastic hum without looking up from your book. If you had looked up you would have seen Azriel’s concerned frown. His finger stopped and rested on your shoulder before you tilted away from his touch. Azriel wasn’t hurt by you shrugging away from his touch. He was too busy wracking his brain as to why you were in a bad mood.

Nothing happened last night at dinner. Unless he completely misinterpreted the conversation you and Nesta had as friendly. Cauldron save them if you and Nesta were fighting.

“Is it ok if I sit with you?” You nod still staring down at your book. Your eyes scanning the words but not fully comprehending them. Azriel leaned back into the couch propping his feet up on the coffee table to read over reports.

You were fine with him sitting with you for a while. Until his breathing and constant sighs were starting to grate on your brain. You kept giving him glares through your lashes that he didn’t notice. Azriel clears his throat and you hit your limit with noises.

Gripping your book tight you whip your head up making Azriel look at you. “Oh my gods! You are so loud! Can you please leave me alone, I want to be by myself please.” Azriel looked taken aback, blinking a few times. Azriel rises from the couch whispering a small ‘ok’ before leaving.

After a few minutes you hear the front door of the house shut. You jump up from the couch, rushing to see if Azriel really left the house. Looking out the window next to the front door you see Azriel’s wings flapping in the distance, carrying him toward the city.

“Fuck,” your fist lightly thumps against the glass. You didn’t mean to snap at him. There was definitely a nicer way to say you wanted to be alone. You slightly started to panic as your anxious thoughts took over. What if he never came back? What if you pushed him away this time and he stops talking to you?

You started pacing around the house biting at your nails. You needed a distraction. During your mindless wandering you found yourself in the kitchen. That’s what you’ll do! Bake his favorite cookies. That fixes everything.

In the middle of your baking frenzy you shivered. Deciding you miss the feel of Azriel you head to the bedroom and slip on your favorite hoodie of his.

Over an hour later Azriel entered the house. The scent of his favorite chocolate chip cookies penetrating his nose. Walking into the kitchen he finds you sitting at the table with the cookie plated in front of you. Your leg was bouncing rapidly under the table.

You look up at him with sad, apologetic eyes pushing the plate toward him. Azriel places the shopping bags he’s holding on the table as he sits next to you. He wraps his arm around you pulling your head to rest on his shoulder, playing with your hair. Leaving a soft kiss on your head he murmurs, “What’s wrong baby? I can tell it’s been a bad day.”

You let out a long sigh relaxing into his warmth. “I’m just in a bad mood. I just feel like being mad today. I’m sorry I yelled at you Az, I didn’t mean to.” Azriel wrapped his other arm around you to pull you into a loving embrace. “It’s ok y/n, I understand I have those days too.”

You climb into Azriel’s lap and tuck your face into the side of his neck. “I made you apology cookies.” Your voice comes out muffled. His chest shakes from laughter. “I got you some stuff to cheer you up.” You pick your head up to meet his loving gaze. “Really?”

Azriel drags the bags closer and turns you so your facing the table. As he munches on a cookie you pull out the first gift, it was the newest romance book you’d been meaning to get. You look at Azriel with a surprised face and he gestures for you to keep going. New pens, sticky tabs for taking notes, and a few bookmarks. Opening the next bag you find a new oversized pink hoodie.

“I thought you’d be comfy in that while reading. And I noticed all your pens were out of ink so I thought I’d get you the fun ones.” He smiles down at you. You stand pulling him with you and tightly wrap your arms around his middle. “Thank you Azzy. I love it.”

tags: @rigelus @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel imagine

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fourmoony · 2 months

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Hiii I hope your doing well !!! I was wondering If you could do james and reader (established relationship) where they are out together somewhere with new people and (like me) reader has a lovely thing called anxiety, I feel like he'd notice right away despite being the opposite. (I'm a sucker for james entirely i need some sweet encouragement from him) I don't know what it is but I tend to feel totally invisible and lonely in Public places, despite being with friends or ppl that i do know. For some reason ppl tend to acknowledge everyone else n leave me out, which I've struggled with for a very long time unfortunately !!

So if you can somehow incorporate that, for me and anyone else who's ever felt that way, that would be great :)) I'll leave it up to youu ♡♡ p.s. I'm obsessed with ur writing

thanks for requesting, angel! <3 1.6k f!reader modern!au

as someone with an overwhelming friend group, learning the difference between not being included and having friends who will just talk into the abyss and if you can keep up, cool, was key lmao

James' hand hasn't left your thigh since you sat down at the table, a sweet encouragement that you relish in. It's a grounding touch, encouraging squeezes here and there when you manage to involve yourself in the conversation. Even when your food had been served, James' touch didn't falter as he stabbed rather uncoordinatedly at his pasta with his left hand.

His thumb moves in small circles against the inside, a distracting touch only in that his hand is dangerously close to disappearing under your skirt. You worry someone will see, get the wrong idea, and that will just send you spiralling for weeks, the awkwardness heavy in your chest. You're an over-thinker, you analyse everything, every movement, every tick of someones jaw, the light of their eyes, the tone of their voice. It's a blessing and a curse, really, your ability to instantly sense change within someone.

You can't help but notice the way that the conversation has carried on without you. Sirius and Remus are bickering, a fire in their eyes that you know very well means they're enjoying it despite their exasperated stances. Further down the table, Lily, Mary, Dorcas, and Marlene are gossiping about someone they went to school with, yelling excited agreements about the person in question, the injustices they must have committed against the girls. Even Peter is louder than normal, caught in a heated debate with James about the upcoming Six-Nations game.

There's not a conversation happening that you feel equipped to join, nor one you've been outright included in. James has assured you multiple times, too many times, in your opinion, that his friends are just loud. You know this - knew this when you agreed to dinner. You love them all. They've always been kind, never cruel. But in the lulling moments, where you realise just how much of an outsider you are in comparison to a group of people who've known each other for over ten years. They grew up together, learned valuable lessons together, have memories that were key, intrinsic moments in their lives. They have a history that you're not a part of.

Sometimes, that feels impossible to compete with. Even when James reminds you that his friends aren't not talking to you, they're just... talking. They're the kind of people to talk to fill a silence, and if you're listening, great. James often calls it 'talking into the abyss'. None of his friends ever actually require a response when talking, they're the kind of people to just keep going until interrupted. Sometimes, even when interrupted.

The table is a loud cacophony of everyone interrupting each other and it has your palms slick and pulse beating in your neck.

The waiter has long since abandoned trying to get you all to close out, even as the dessert plates have been cleared and all that's left are the half-empty, warmed glasses of various alcohols that remain on the table. James must feel you shift in your seat, because he squeezes your thigh in acknowledgement, his eyes flicking away from Peter for half a second. When they land on you, his head turns, conversation long forgotten. Peter doesn't seem fussed, just turns to try and split up whatever row Sirius and Remus are pretending to have.

"All good?" James asks, eyes soft.

His brows are hooked in the middle where they're furrowed, body shifting to face you easier. You nod, lips rubbing against each other. You're scared to talk, scared to be betrayed by your own voice. You've held your own most of the night, you don't want James to forcibly enter you into a conversation. It's not fair on him to have to deal with you, like this.

You should know better, though. James only frowns. It doesn't suit him. Your boyfriend is bright like the summer sun, always smiling, always cheerful. He's the colour between yellow and bright, pure light. Frowning doesn't suit him. It hurts your heart.

His head dips, close to your ear, voice soft as he asks, "You wanna head home?"

"No," You shake your head, frown matching his, "No, Jamie. I'm okay."

His lips press to your cheek, soft and warm, and then he smiles. The heavy feeling in your chest eases a little, just looking at him. James often thinks he has to be proactive to help you in difficult social situations. You've never had the guts to tell him all he has to do is smile real nice at you and just a smidge of that grey cloud budges.

James groans, loud and obnoxious and makes a show of stretching. You avoid looking pointedly at the way his top pulls up his waist at the movement, heat swirling in your cheeks from the mere idea of his skin being on show. Conversations halt for the impending goodbye, and you swear you see relief on Remus' face at not having to be the first to bear the bad news marking the end of the night. He gives you a warm smile that you return, another smidge of that anxiety lifting.

"You off?" Sirius asks over his pint glass.

James nods, "Shattered, yeah."

There's a mixture of goodbye's to both you and James as you sling your coats on. James makes half-hearted plans to see everyone at some point over the next week, gives both of your cuts for dinner to Sirius in cash, squeezes your hand in delight when Lily declares that she'll text you tomorrow to see about coffee. There's a look in her eyes that says she hopes this time you'll accept. She's asked multiple times, sometimes through James, sometimes texting you, herself. She never seems put out when you politely give her some excuse or other, never asks questions as to why the idea jars you so much. You're glad, because you wouldn't have an answer as to why.

The air is cool against your flushed skin when James holds the door and ushers you outside. The sky has turned a dark, midnight blue and you silently wonder how long you actually spent inside the little restaurant. The door swings closed and James is at your side, hand immediately in yours and spreading a calm warmth all over you.

"They really love you, you know?" James speaks thoughtfully.

You should've known your boyfriend would want you to talk about it. You've never had anyone who cares enough, before. But you're trying. Same as he is.

"I love them too. You just," You sigh, shoes scuffing along the pavement as you walk towards James' flat, "You know how I get after too much social interaction."

Your boyfriend hums in acknowledgement, thumb rubbing a soothing pattern across the back of your hand. "I know, lovie. I just wanted to remind you."

"I'm sorry we had to leave."

James halts walking, tugging you back until you're facing him. A passer by mutters something under their breath at the two of you standing in the middle of the street. James doesn't pay them any mind, but your pulse thunders for a fraction of a second at the risk of conflict. James squeezes your hand, "You don't have to apologise. I'm happy you came, and I was ready to leave, anyway."

"You didn't say anything until you noticed I wasn't talking to anyone, though." You counter.

James is silent for a moment, trying to garner the words. Then, "I love when you involve yourself in conversations with my friends. It makes me happy to see you all together. But I'll never force you to do more than you're willing to. We were in there for three hours, love. Any normal person would be exhausted of them, by then."

You huff a laugh, turning to pick up a walking pace again. James follows, allowing the silence to overcome you both as you think of a response. He's so patient, always so patient and sacrificial. You wonder if he'll ever tire of that. The thought scares you.

"Is it too much, for you?" You ask, then clarify, "To feel like you're always keeping an eye on me, saving me from social situations just because I can't function normally."

James' immediate answer is No.

Simple. Plain. It's all the answer you need, but he goes on, anyway.

"Everyone has their thing. Remus is a lot like you. Sirius brings him out of his shell, sure. It's why they're always bickering. But for years, Remus used to just... brood. Wouldn't talk, just observe. Maybe for different reasons, but it was the same thing. He's still here."

You smile. Remus has always been rather lovely to you, almost like he knew, somehow, that his friends can be overwhelming. That social settings can be overwhelming. "So it doesn't annoy you?"

You feel like a child asking for reassurance, but you know James will always give you it, no questions asked. And he means it, too.

"Never. You take part in as much as you want, I'll never be upset with you for saying you've had enough." He tells you, his flat appearing in the near distance.

"I think I'll go for coffee with Lils this week." You announce, feeling pleasantly calm with the admittance.

It doesn't send a spike of anxiety through you like it did when she first asked. Not when you know James won't be cross if you have to leave early, or call him from the bathroom for a get-out. If you become exhausted, if you don't want to be social anymore, it'll be okay. You're sure Lily will understand. You hope she will.

As much as an effort as James' friends have made with you, you feel it necessary to make some in return.

"She'll be over the moon, love." James says, pulling you closer to his side and pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You smile at the affection, feeling the clouds lift as though James' personality singlehandedly batted them all away. The sun after a storm. You're grateful for it. For him.

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hotchnerxo · 1 month

Text

Make a difference

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x single mom!reader Words: 1.8k Summary: You're feeling insignificant and overwhelmed. Aaron's making sure you never forget your worth. Warnings: Anxiety and some intrusive thoughts. Nothing major, a bit of hurt/comfort and fluff A/N: This can be read separately, but also if you're familiar with my 'The chances you take' fic, this is set between chapters 13 and 14. This is dedicated to everyone who’s been having a hard time lately and days are a struggle. I am very proud of you <3

Join my taglist here

~~~

You watch steam rise from the coffee you’re pouring into your thermos. It’s probably your sixth cup of today, but you fill it anyway. Once satisfied with the amount, you screw back on the purple lid and grasp the mug in your hands. Its warmth is grounding and you admire the watercolor lavenders on its surface. But despite all that, your mind has wandered far off.

You’ve been a part of the team for quite some time now and you couldn’t be happier with the way they have welcomed you into their family. You’re thankful for every single one of them and you wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else.

But still, this moment feels off. It’s overwhelming and tiring; it’s confusing. All of the sudden there’s a harsh voice in your head screaming that you don’t belong. That no one would notice if you just walked away from this. You’re not sure whose voice it is in your mind, but it is eerie. Thoughts like this have been with you for a long time, but whenever things get overwhelming, your self doubt gets stronger.

You’ve come to lean on the kitchenette counter, nursing your warm coffee between your hands. The bullpen is loud, but blurring in your mind. There’s no conversation to follow, just a lot of sounds coming from all around; chatter, typing, rustling paper and so on. But the racing of your thoughts keeps you too busy from paying attention to things around you. You couldn’t even hear the footsteps coming closer to you.

“Left some for me?” he asks, but gets no reaction from you. Few seconds later you hear your name being called which distracts your mental spiral.

“Huh?” you hear yourself asking instinctively. How long had Hotchner been standing next to you? You have no idea, but when you turn to look at him, he already has concern written all over him. Apparently he’s been there long enough.

“Left any coffee for me?” he repeats his question, giving you another moment to get your thoughts together. Your attention moves towards the pot of coffee, just to see there’s only a drop left in it.

The thoughts of self blame start to raise their head again. There is sort of an unspoken rule in the office: whoever takes the last cup of coffee, needs to make a new one. That way there’s always something for the next person coming in. You’ve just now broken that rule and the guilt of it is strong. Way stronger than what it should be. It’s such a minor thing, but it feels more like you’ve majorly screwed up and should be fired on the spot.

“Sorry! I’ll make a new pot, it will be just a few minutes” you apologize quickly, interrupting your brain from catastrophizing the situation.

“It’s alright. I think I’ll be fine” he reassures with a gentle smile. Your tone must have been more panicky than you thought as he does his best to diffuse your anxiety so quickly. “Here, let me help you” he says softly and goes to grab a filter and the coffee grounds before you get to them. You thank him quietly as you fill the machine with more water. You watch him measure the grounds and within a few seconds, your mistake no longer exists.

Your cup is back in your hands and your eyes follow the man as he puts the ingredients back into the cabinets. You lean to the table, leaving the rest of the office behind you. At some point during the day, he’s taken his suit off and rolled the sleeves of his light blue shirt. The stripes on the shirt are barely noticeable from afar, but you enjoy the small detail.

“You’ve seemed really distracted today” his warm voice brings you back to the present moment. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks before you get to reassure him that you’re fine. He looks sincere and with your time at the bureau, you’ve learned how easy he is to talk to. And ever after the christmas party at Rossi’s a week ago, you’ve craved for his company.

“It’s nothing” you sigh and you both know that isn’t true. But he doesn’t argue with you. Instead, he falls quiet and waits. He waits for you to find the right words to sum up the storm in your mind. “At times I just feel~” you pause, turning your eyes down to your hands. “~I don't know, insignificant”. You can feel his eyes burning on your skin, but you’re too afraid to look back up.

He wants to say something, but he closes his mouth before any words come out. He can tell there’s still something else that you haven’t been able to word yet.

“I just don’t feel like I make a difference” you continue. Few seconds go by until you gain courage to look back up towards him. It was his turn to fall deep into his thoughts, trying to find something meaningful to say. You see him fidget with his left hand fingers, which you’ve learned he does when he’s nervous or carefully thinking something through.

“You know” he begins after a moment of consideration. His gaze lifts up again and only the way he looks at you makes all of the self doubt fade away. He doesn’t need words, his presence alone is all you need to calm down, but he continues nevertheless “when Ella was over for a sleepover with Jack, she asked me what my favorite color is”. You’re not really sure how that connects to the subject at hand, but you’re curious. “but before I could answer, she really wanted to guess. After some time of thinking, her whole face lit up and says purple. She was so sure about it and there was no way I could deny that”.

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask and take a sip of your coffee for the first time

There it is again; the small smile that you’re sure lights up your whole day. You love the way his whole stoic exterior melts away: his brow softens and a warm sparkle appears in his eyes again. And when he smiles, you can see dimples forming on his cheeks.

“I’m telling you this because after that, everytime I see the color purple anywhere, it makes me smile. And it makes me think of how proud and happy she was” his tone is so soft and sweet it almost makes you tear up after all the anxiety “What I’m trying to say is, that no one is insignificant. Everyone makes a difference, even with such little things that we ourselves aren’t even able to tell”.

Both of you fall quiet for a moment. It’s as if your eyes are so drawn to each other and you both forget everything else around you.

His voice lowers down to a whisper as he continues “I could list a million things you’ve done that have permanently changed my life. How a joke you told three weeks ago still makes me smile whenever I think about it. Or the way you sing your favorite songs when they play in the radio while driving you home” the affection is so thick in his voice, it’s almost hard to believe. The way he speaks makes something click inside of you, like pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place when just moments ago it all seemed a mess and meaningless. “and trust me, the meaning you have in so many people’s lives goes way beyond words. Think of the way Ella looks in the mirror every morning, feeling like a princess because her mother complimented her. Or your dad being grateful you brought in the mail on your way to your parents’, just so he doesn’t have to walk all the way to the end of the driveway when his knee is acting up again. Or a victim in a case, who you helped calm down from a panic attack”.

He lists a few more things and you feel heat rising to your cheeks. You didn’t realize that the people around you actually notice these things. You didn’t think they’d hold such importance to anyone.

“What I’m trying to say” he adds almost shyly after having rambled on for way longer he intended to “your impact is everywhere. Just like fingerprints. Your importance can’t be wiped away clean from all the kindness you’ve shared in your life”.

It’s not often you’re left speechless. But you no longer can find words to match your gratitude. If you were anywhere but the office, you’d hug him. As you’re about to open your mouth to thank him, you hear steps coming closer to the kitchenette breaking the moment between the two of you.

“Does the line start here?” Rossi asks from beside you “For the coffee?” he clarifies as both of you give him puzzled looks. Your conversation had made both of you forget where you are and for how long. Coffee no longer was a priority, and you hadn’t even noticed it being done.

Aaron clears his throat and goes to grab a new dark blue mug from the shelf “Yeah, one moment” he says and fills his own cup before offering to fill up the one in Rossi’s hand.

“Did the M.E. reports from the Seattle case come in yet?” Rossi asks, forcing the unit chief to turn his attention back to his duties.

“Yes, it’s on my desk. I’ll be right there” Hotchner’s tone is back to his normal at-the-office voice and you can tell he’s forced to get his focus back on his to-do list, no matter how he wants to stay in the moment with you as long as possible. David nods and leads the way. Aaron follows his friend a few steps behind but stops once he’s by your side.

His hand raises to your arm, landing on it softly just for a few seconds. His thumb rubs soft circles on the fabric of your sleeve and his eyes fall to find yours. There are a million things he wants to tell you, an apology for the interruption being the strongest one. He wants to tell you that his door is always open for you and he’s only ever a text or a phone call away. He wishes to tell you just how much you mean to him and to everyone else around you.

But instead of saying a word, he smiles at you softly. As he turns to leave and continue his workday, his hand lingers on your arm for as long as he’s able to. He goes to follow Rossi to his office but you swear you can still feel his touch on your skin and it makes every last bit of your anxiety melt away.

You wish he knows just how much he’s changed your life for the better, just by being himself.

@ssahotchsbitch @mayasreadingnook @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @ssamorganhotchner @kajjaka @reidsbookmark @thenewnormalforensicator @wheelsupkels @thedancingnerdmermaid @agirlinherhead @tonystarkscumslut @itsmytimetoodream @marvel-marauders @mintphoenix @whoreslovehotch @mrslizzyolsen @louderfortheback @newlydevouthotchgirl @pandorasdreamings @anlin2058 @alexxavicry

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotchnerxo fic

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mncxbe · 9 months

Note

How do u think the bsd guys would help out if they had a daughter who started her first period?

Omg this is so sweet I cannot. I assumed that the daughter didn't know much about periods so I hope it's ok. The characters were also randomly chosen so if y'all want me to add anyone else lmk. Enjoy♡♡

First period◇

𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒔𝒅 𝒙 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: good vibes/ silly/ fatherhood

°☆○

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

let's start off with our favourite glazed donut

this man knows about periods and what to do when his daughter gets one

if his partner isn't at home, he definitely calms her down and teaches her how to use a pad

Dazai is a goofy dad, so he surely makes little comments and affectionately calls his daughter "little ketchup packet", but if she has cramps he will be serious about it

brings her painkillers and something warm to put on the tummy and then tucks her in

9.5/10 overall experience

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

oh he knows what to do

still gets quite anxious when his daughter announces that she got her period

if she's really scared or stressed he tries to comfort her but ends up getting frustrated

Mr. fancy hat will teach his daughter how to use a tampon but he's not 100% sure he's doing the right thing

the two of them sit on the bathroom floor while Chuya's trying to read the prescription for painkillers (the text is too small and he gets angry cuz he cannot read properly sjsksksk)

surely opens a bottle of wine after the whole deal is done

8.6/10 experience

𝑨𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊

he panics a whole lot, more than his daughter even

immediately calls his partner and googles advice on how to deal with a first period

after two mental breakdowns he's ready to help: brings her sweets, buys her pads and they watch yt videos on how to properly use them

he's really gentle and does his best to reassure her and make her feel comfortable

8/10 experience

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

let's be honest he knows about periods, after all he has a sister

but he has no idea how to take care of someone who just got their period

he just simply stands there with a blank expression on his face, lowkey trying to suppress his anxiety before calling his partner or sister to ask for advice

he does offer to make her tea and watch a movie with her

uses Rashomon to get the things she needs from different rooms so she doesn't have to move too much

overall a 7.8/10 cuz he doesn't really know how to comfort her

𝑶𝒅𝒂

he's so chill about it

having brought up a number of kids already, he knows how to deal with his daughter's first period

teaches her all she needs to know + extra self care tips

Oda would make her stay in bed all day if the cramps are painful; brew her tea and bring sweets

offers to read or tell her stories to distract her from the pain

10/10 experience

𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂

this man loves his schedules; anything that's out of the ordinary makes him spiral

that's why when his daughter called him at work, saying that she just got her first period and doesn't know what to do, he kinda panics for a second

nonetheless he quickly makes his way home and does his best to comfort her

after that, he explains the whole situation and shows her how to put on a pad, what medicine to take and teaches her tips on how to deal with cramps

9/10 experience cuz he gets too anxious

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

just like Akutagawa, he doesn't really know how to deal with periods

he probably gives his daughter a nasty look at first like why does she expect him to help?

but still he explains the whole biology of it and reassures her that it's a normal phenomenon

makes her tea and, if she has cramps, attempts to take her mind off of the sharp pain, but ends up mentioning blood rituals that Russians used to practice💀

7.6/10 experience (bonus points if he asks his partner for advice)

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

he is utterly dumbfounded

asks his wife for advice; goes to buy her pads if there aren't any at home

he's lowkey proud that his daughter is growing up so fast

if she mentions cramps he surely prepares her a strange concoction that he swears will help ease the pain (it doesn't)

8.6/10 experience; he's really sweet and caring

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

he reacts so well

buys her those silly books about puberty, y'all know what I'm talking about

I'm pretty sure that Fukuzawa would own cat if he were to settle down, so he gently places it on his daughter's abdomen if she has cramps

"Oh, I heard that the frequency of a cat's purr has healing properties. I thought that maybe it could help you."

really gentle and caring; brews her tea or coffee, whatever she needs

also cancels his plans for the day and stays at home in order to make sure she's alright

10/10 experience

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oneforthemunny · 11 months

Text

you make loving fun |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader| part 9

prompt: after a long week, eddie is exhausted. you come over to help him unwind.

reader is 26 and Eddie is 42. age gap relationship, but everything is consensual.

eddie edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple thank you love <3

contains: age gap, older!dilf!Eddie, angsty, mentions of trauma (relationship, parent), dad guilt, relationship guilt, Eddie is a little insecure and vulnerable in this, language, p in v sex at the end. minors dni

Eddie was exhausted.

The kind of exhausted that had him collapsing on the couch when he got home, staring at the blank TV screen, still in his work coveralls covered in grease and oil. Nothing played on the screen, the remote situated in Eddie's stained hands, but he couldn't bring himself to turn it on, simply staring straight ahead.

The past few days had been hard. Eddie had been working overtime at the shop, two of his guys had come down with the flu, and the icy roads brought in more cars than he could handle.

To make thing worse, Brielle was furious at him. After he'd come home the night before, bones aching and heavy, all he'd wanted was to relax. His plans quickly turned when Brielle came to him, sheepishly holding a slip that needed to be signed. A detention slip.

Eddie had snapped, he knew he shouldn't have but he did. Tired and agitated that Brielle had left the school's campus again.

"Daddy, I just went to get lunch!" She whined, a high pitched shrill that had him wincing, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temple.

"Brielle, you're not supposed to leave-"

"Well, maybe if you'd actually grocery shop, I would have lunch to eat, and I wouldn't have to leave!" Brielle snapped, hateful and mean.

Eddie knew she didn't mean it. That she was just trying to deflect and pin the blame elsewhere (a manipulative tactic she'd unfortunately inherited from Gina), but it didn't make him feel any less horrible. He had forgotten to go grocery shopping, again. He'd meant to go, but he'd been so busy.

Guilt filled his chest, heavy and suffocating, embarrassment and anger- at himself, mainly- flooded his veins. Eddie had screamed at her in frustration, demanding she go to her room, that she wasn't to leave for the night. The night ended with crying, hurling hateful words, and slamming doors.

Eddie held his head in his hands, smoking his cigarettes furiously out on the porch. He felt his stomach churn. He hated yelling at Brielle, prided himself in rarely ever loosing his cool like that. Every time he did, he felt horrible.

He felt like his dad.

Gina's biting tone from years before, when they were still married always rang through his head, haunting him and leaving his mind spiraling. "You scream at her and act just like your dad did!" She'd barked at him, one particularly nasty fight. "And when she wants nothing to do with you, Eddie, just like you want nothing to do with him, you'll have no one to blame but yourself!"

Eddie had felt sick, sobbing and crumbling in front of her, not for the first time. Gina hadn't even met his father, didn't know anything about him other than what Eddie had told her. When he'd rambled, spilling his anxieties about being a good father, not wanting to be like his dad. She had cooed at him, sickly sweet smile assuring him he'd be nothing like him, just for her to always use it against him. Hit him in his weakest spots.

Eddie wished he'd never told her that.

Eddie hadn't slept all night. When he'd gone to talk to Brielle, she was asleep, her tear stained cheeks didn't make him feel any better. Guilt and nerves wracked his chest, keeping him tossing and turning all night.

By the time the morning came, Brielle was gone to school and not coming home until Monday night from Gina's. Eddie had sent her a text, telling her to have a good day and he that loved her. She'd only replied with a cold and short, 'you too'.

Eddie went through the whole day, mind racing and keeping him distracted. He went through every 'what if', beat himself up, convincing himself Brielle would hate him forever.

On top of it all, his back was aching. Shooting pains that had him grunting and wincing with every step, and he couldn't find his medicine. He needed to go back to the doctor before he hurt himself further, but they'd want him to take time off- take it easy. He didn't have time for that.

The doorbell chimed through the silent house, making him jump, eyes snapping forward. Eddie groaned when he stood up, pain setting back into his lower spine as he shuffled to the door.

You stood there, looking as beautiful as ever in your little slip dress that had Eddie grinning. "Hey, baby," You chirped, stepping forward to press a kiss to him. "D'ya just get home?"

Eddie nodded, one hand still on his spine and other holding onto the door. You cocked your head to the side. "Long day?" You asked, he nodded again, long sigh out of his nose. You frowned. "D'ya still wanna go out?"

Eddie's face fell, blinking as he looked down at you. He groaned, leaning his head against the door. "Fuck, baby, I'm-" He shook his head. "'M so sorry. I-I completely forgot."

You watched the way he winced, like he expected you to yell, scream, berate him. Instead you furrowed your brows, concern lacing your features. "That's alright, honey, we can go another time." You hummed, thumb padding across his cheek. "You feelin' ok? You look..."

"Like shit?" Eddie scoffed.

"Tired." You said, cupping his cheek.

Eddie nodded, deep breath that had your eyes flashing to his carefully. "I am." He admitted softly. "'M real sorry, baby. I-I can go get ready real quick, just let me shower and take my meds-"

"Eddie," You said firmly, giving him a stern stare, hands on your hips like you gave your classroom when they were talking during a lesson. You ran a hand down his arm, tense under the touch. "Let's just stay in tonight. Take it easy, you need to."

Eddie hesitated, lips pressing together, eyes furiously reading your expression for any signs that you were upset. You grabbed his arm, stepping into the house. "C'mon, I can order us pizza. Where do you want?" You asked, moving into the kitchen, slipping your heels off and kicking them into the corner.

Eddie watched you, carefully, shutting the door. He moved into the kitchen, hand still cradling his lower back. "We don't have to get pizza if you don't want. Just let me know where you'd like. Anywhere, I can-" You looked up at him, forehead furrowing when you saw him. "Honey, is your back actin' up again?"

Eddie's face flushed in embarrassment. He knew you didn't care that he was older, and that his back had been hurting since his mid-thirties, but it still hurt his ego a little, knowing he showed signs of aging in that way. Wear and tear that could slow him up from time to time.

Eddie shook his head, and you tutted at him, spinning around to the medicine cabinet, fingers thumbing through the bottles until you found the orange bottle you were looking for. Twisting the lid, you popped two pills into your hand, reaching into the fridge for a water.

"Eddie, you've got to take your medicine when your back starts hurting." You sighed, shutting the fridge with your hip. "Before it gets bad like this."

You handed them to him, watching him toss them back before you handed him the water. He was quiet, cautious. You sighed softly, hand running over his cheek.

"How about I run you a bath? That way you don't have to put as much strain on your back, ok?" You suggested, swiping at his curly bangs. Your hands moved down his body, gently massaging each kink and knot you felt through his scratchy, thick coveralls.

"You don't..." Eddie shook his head, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He wasn't sure why you were being like this, so caring and kind for him. He felt guilty. He'd forgotten your date and now was making you dote on him.

"Bunny, I can just shower, and we can still go out." Eddie insisted, quickly, forcing a smile but his eyes crinkling when he moved betrayed him.

You frowned at him. "Eddie," You warned, lifting a brow. "You need to rest." You poked his chest gently. "I can feel your stress from over here." You teased.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. "'M fine, I promise." He said softly. "I really feel better already. Just give me thirty minutes, and I'll-"

You held up your hand to him. "Eddie, I'm not listening to you." You said, glaring at him. "I'm not listening to anything else unless it's what you want me to order, and where you keep your bubble bath stuff."

Twenty minutes later you'd called in the pizza, filling up the tub with warm water that steamed and rose to your face, warming your cheeks. You poured in the lavender scented bubble wash, stirring for hand through the water.

Eddie watched you from the doorway. You'd asked commanded him to take his work clothes off, making a mental note to treat the stains in them before they settled in worse.

"I think it's ready." You grinned, wiping your hand on your t-shirt you changed in to. It was Eddie's, but it was your favorite one. Soft and from his youth, from when he'd seen Ozzy in concert in '91.

Eddie hummed, shuffling over to you without much protest. As much as he wanted to, the water did look inviting. The candles you'd lit adding more comforting ambience to the mood.

"You gonna get in with me?" Eddie asked, a wicked, suggestive grin on his face.

You giggled, shaking your head. "Someone's gotta get the pizza." You said, rubbing his bare leg when he dropped his boxers, stepping into the tub with a groan. "But I'll stay with you. Keep you company if you want."

Eddie nodded, sinking into the water. "Please." He sighed, feeling the hot water soothe his muscles, stretching out into the tub. It was a little tight with his long limbs, but it felt nice, deep enough to cover him.

You rolled a hand towel, lifting his head so he could rest on it, a makeshift bath pillow. You made a mental note to order him one, a little gift for him since he was always giving you ones.

Eddie muttered a thank you, eyes fluttering close as the warmth of the water wrapped around him. You smiled, heart warming at seeing him like this. You liked taking care of him. He always took such good care of you, and you liked returning the favor.

"So," You said softly, stroking a wet curl behind his ear. "What happened?"

Eddie sighed, long and tired, out his nose, his eyes still shut. "How long you got?" He teased, edge of his lips curling up softly into a smile.

He told you about work, how stressful it had been, how he'd managed to tweak his back. You ran your hand through his hair, smiling when he leaned into your touch. Your head propped in your hand when he talked about Brielle, sympathetically pouting with him.

"...I just," Eddie sighed, frustrated. "I don't like yelling at her like that, ya know?" His eyes opened, looking at you carefully.

You nodded, fingers skating over his muscles. His shoulders tensed when he talked about it. "I don't want her to hate me, ya know?" He sighed. "I'm always the one who has to get onto her, though. Gina won't ever. I'm always the bad guy."

Your heart fell, anger rising and bubbling in your chest at the mention of Eddie's ex-wife. Of course she painted Eddie out to be the bad guy, you don't know why you thought she might have the decency to not do that to their child.

"You're not the bad guy," You mumbled softly. "You're a dad. You're parenting her."

Eddie scoffed lightly, looking down at his hands in the water. "Yeah, and I'm not good at it." He muttered. "Brie wouldn't even talk to me today." Eddie paused, lip starting to tremble. He tightened them quickly before you could see.

"I don't want her to hate me." He admitted, eyes shining when he looked up at you. Your breath caught gently. You'd never seen him like this, vulnerable. "I just... I wanna be a good dad, and I don't... I don't want to fuck her up. Like my dad did."

Your heart crumbled, sinking and aching in your chest. "Eddie," You cooed gently, cupping his cheek. "Baby, you're so good to her. She loves you, Eddie."

Eddie shook his head. "Eddie, yes," You insisted, firmly. "Why do you think she's over here all the time? She's a teenager, they're really stupid. I was one not that long ago, believe me." You cringed slightly at the wording, blushing when he raised a brow at you.

"I mean, whatever, you know what I mean." You giggled. "You take such good care of her. You take such good care of me, and everybody else."

"I don't." Eddie grumbled.

Your brows furrowed, pulling your hand away and fixing him with a stern glare. "Stop saying that. Who's put this in your head, Eddie?" You asked, firm but gentle, heart aching at the way his eyes softened sadly. You had your answer.

"Eddie, you're a good dad, a good boyfriend, a good man. You're good." You said, sincerely.

Eddie clenched his jaw, fighting the emotions bubbling in his chest and creeping up his throat. He wouldn't cry in front of you, he couldn't let himself. But you could tell how much it meant to him, especially when he reached his soapy hand out, intertwining his fingers in yours and giving you a squeeze.

"You're good," Eddie repeated, eyes shining at you. "Too good to me, bunny. Y'didn't have to do all this for me."

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly, gently. "I'm happy to." You grinned, your nose still on his. "I kinda like gettin' to take care of you like this." You admitted, a blush dusting your cheeks.

Eddie scoffed. "'M supposed to be takin' care of you, baby."

You smiled. "You do." You said, hand stroking down his cheek.

Eddie stayed in the bath until the pizza arrived, fingers shriveled and pruned, but he felt better. Soothed from the inside out, his back pain minimizing to a dull ache.

You two sat on the couch, cuddled together eating pizza, watching some movie Eddie had never seen before. A rom-com that when he told you that, you gawked at him in disbelief.

You'd managed to get Eddie into the bed early, with the promise of a massage. You straddled him, hands working over his tight and sore muscles while he groaned, muttering underneath you about how good it felt.

The night took a turn you didn't expect, but you didn't reject. Eddie on his back, hand gripping your waist while you rode him, slow and passionate. You leaned down, hands on his shoulders, your chest on his.

Eddie groaned in your ear, feeling you clench around him, your lips working on his neck, at the spot right under his ear that had his toes curling.

"Easy, baby," You cooed when he clenched beneath you. "You don't wanna- oh fuck- hurt your back." You whined breathlessly.

"Keep going," Eddie growled, hands gripping the meat of your ass. "Don't stop. 'M so close."

You felt yourself clench, stuttering your movements while you chased your own orgasm. Eddie was twitching in you, balls drawn up tight, he was close.

You pulled off him slowly, lewd squelch filling the room. You ignored his whines of protest, an evil glint in your eyes when you crawled down his body, pumping him a few times before shoving him down your throat.

Eddie groaned when your nose touched his hairy base. He smelled like lavender and soap from the bath. His hands found your hair, gripping as he spilled down your throat.

You wiped your mouth, smiling at him when you sat up, enjoying how he panted, catching his breath. "Fuck, you're so good to me." Eddie whispered, reaching out for you. "C'mere, bunny."

You climbed beside him, face pressed to his chest, running your hand down his still lotion-slicked body. Eddie pressed kisses into your head, holding you tight.

"Thanks f'takin care of me." Eddie whispered into your hair.

You looked up at him with a small smile. "I'll always take care of you, Eddie. You don't have to thank me." You said, hand running down his tummy.

Eddie smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips, passionate and needy. You sighed against the kiss, letting him melt into you. You knew he wasn't used to having someone care for him, love him with no string attached- tonight made that very obvious. But you were determined to prove to him that you were, that he deserved to be loved that way.

Loved the way he loved you.

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parkinglotdelulu · 10 months

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bf!skz x gn!reader - How each member helps you with anxiety ⛅️🧸

a/n: my qualifications for writing this is I have major anxiety and these are all the things I wish people would do for me that match skz members personality! enjoy - 🌞

tw: mentions of anxiety

word count: 615

Chan

I feel like Chan would definitely be one to hold you when you are feeling anxious. First of all his hugs seem so safe and warm. But if you’re in a not-so-private place he would definitely just hold your hand or rest his hand on your knee. That small amount of contact with a reassuring squeeze will make you feel calmer and safer.

Lee Know

Lee Know is definitely the type of person to show love and care through actions rather than words. So when you are super anxious, he would ensure you’ve eaten and drank water. Having low blood sugar when you’re anxious is really terrible so he wants to make sure you're healthy. I think Lee Know would also just try and be around you, just sitting next to you and not leaving your side to show his support.

Changbin

I think changbin would try to make you laugh. Try and distract you from overthinking and spiraling by doing something funny or just being extra cute. Whether its going cutesy poses or showing you funny videos. He would try everything just to make you smile again. Oh and he is most definitely going to show you the most recent girl group dance he learned.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin would want to take you out for a peaceful day of activities. You guys would go on a walk through the park, get food and just try to enjoy the beauty of the world around you instead. But after a long day you guys would definitely go stargazing and talk about anything and everything. Have a deep conversation that leaves not only you, but hyunjin as well, with a new perspective and you’ll feel ever closer than before…no matter how many times you do it.

Han

As we know Han always has his headphones, I don’t think he leaves the house without them tbh. So if you're in a public (or even private) setting and get overwhelmed/ anxious he would most definitely give you his headphones in a heartbeat. He would even go a step further with picking out songs or even having a playlist for you ready to go whenever you're anxious.

Felix

Felix of course is a touchy person and while that brings you great comfort when you're anxious, it's not the only thing Felix will do. He is a gamer, so honestly I feel like he would try to distract you with a game. Either he will pull up a chair or let you sit with him and watch him play, or he would have you guys play Mario Kart together. Either way, you're going to feel safe in his arms and distracted from your thoughts with games.

Seungmin

Seungmin is definitely not as much of a touchy person but I feel like he would hold your hand and make you tell him what was wrong and what's going through your head just so he can debunk your anxious thoughts. I feel like Seungmin is just very practical and takes the approach of processing your anxieties with you.

Jeongin

I think he would also be one to try and distract you. He would take you out to see a movie or go get food. Anything to get you out of the house because sometimes you need that. A breath of fresh air and jeongin always knows when you are the type of anxious that needs a distraction. For real this man would DRAG you out of bed and not tell you where you are going. Of course, this is all out of love, he wouldn't dare to actually force you to go somewhere if you truly weren't up for it!

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synthetickitsune · 1 year

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The8 (Seventeen) | Morning anxiety fluff | 0.9k

You knew you were fucked as soon as you woke up. Something didn't feel right - a sense of wrongness permeating everything. The darkness was thicker than it should be. The light from the outside seemed too red. It triggered something inside you that caused your mind to spiral. You knew you wouldn't fall asleep again.

And that would be fine. You could handle getting through the day sleep deprived, having years of experience at this point. But lying back down, you couldn't find a comfortable position and even as the sky became bright outside, you kept tossing and turning. Also fine. If your boyfriend wasn't as light of a sleeper as he is.

“Can’t sleep?” Minghao asks, barely awake, voice heavy and thick. It has this comforting heft to it - just as his arm that prods at your waist and sneaks under your body, wrapping around you and pulling you closer.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Too many thoughts. Sorry I woke you up.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and falls silent. You feel his breath on your skin, so even and calm you think he’s already asleep. Meanwhile, inside your head it’s the exact opposite. You pick out details from previous days, all the ifs that could go wrong, the tone someone used in a conversation. Outside, the sky shifts closer to different hues of blue with each passing minute when suddenly - darkness.

The world goes black.

His hand is warm, and some deep brownish orange comes in lines between his fingers as he covers your eyes. You hear him move and feel the bed dip right behind you until your body is tilting and only stops when your back meets his chest.

“What-”

“Just listen to the birds sing,” he murmurs. There are birds outside, loud and noisy, but you can’t say that listening to them is what you wanna be doing.

"Hao…" you whine. Your dismay for the exercise is clear in your voice.

"You let me blind you," he reprimands gently, "So trust me."

You do trust him. Even if you can’t see, you’d do anything he tells you - except apparently right now, except with something as simple as just being present in the moment. As if he could sense your reluctance, he disarms you by pressing his lips against the back of your neck.

“Shhhh,” he breathes and it sends shivers down your spine, “Do it for me, darling.”

You don’t dare roll your eyes even if he couldn’t see it anyway. Instead you close them and try to do as he says. Now that you’re focused, you can hear a variety of bird voices.

It's almost like a conversation in a different language, a multitude of them, and usually you'd love it, would be excited by it, but right now you're defiantly infuriated by it. You can't even say why.

"Hear the birds sing," Hao whispers again, pulling you closer. That works much better - his voice and touch, "Hear the wind in the trees. Remember the one we saw yesterday?"

You nod, and despite yourself you smile. "Yeah. It was in full bloom. I haven't noticed before."

You feel his smile on your skin. Much better than listening to stupid birds.

"Then listen and imagine. The wind blowing past, carrying the petals all around. Can you hear the birds?"

Yes, you want to tell him, but I'd love to listen to you instead. Yet you don't, because you know he's tired and he needs to sleep as much as you do. So you listen again, and nod.

"What do they look like?" he asks, but you’re distracted by him nuzzling into your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you say quicker than you can realize you’re snapping at him, and you’re immediately trying to make amends, “Sorry.”

“Just imagine,” fortunately, your boyfriend is a very patient man.

Ashamed by your earlier outburst, you do imagine the birds behind the sounds. And doing so, you realize you know some of those birds. Like the tiny brown and gray one who just has to be the culprit behind the happy chirping. The majestic black birds who must be the ones cawing. And then-

“The sharp sound - that’s the one that used to sit on our kitchen window,” you say, receiving a hum and another kiss, “The one that stopped coming.”

You keep emotions out of your voice even though you’re admittedly still bitter about being abandoned without any good reason by a bird you thought liked your window. What did you do wrong? You left it alone, you were mindful of it, you even avoided your own kitchen when it sat there to let it rest. Sometimes you even left it seeds to snack on…

Before you realize, tension is melting away from your body as you remember the bird. The paranoid thoughts quieten down faced with wonder. Your mind drifts all over the place. You feel like you’re floating among the blue and the birds.

You get startled when Hao’s chest vibrates with a chuckle. Still smiling, he kisses your shoulder.

“Better?” he asks, softly, already falling asleep now that his mission’s accomplished. You snuggle further under the covers.

“Thank you,” you say, even though you really mean i love you. You have a feeling he knows anyway.

#seventeen #the8 #minghao #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #the8 x reader #minghao x reader #seventeen fluff #the8 fluff #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt reactions #drabble #fluff

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 6 months

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The Babysitter (22)

I've Got You Detka

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 22- W/c 4.6k

Tag list- @natsluttt @cerberus-spectre @dorabledewdroop @bibliophilicbi @hopelesslyfallenninlove @simpform1lfs @get-the-fuck-outta-here @natashaswife4125 @marvelwomen-simp @supercorpstan97 @aliherreraaa @aru-son (Comment if you want to be added)

I've Got You Detka

Warnings: Teenage party (eg underaged drinking etc), Homophobic language and slurs, Character death, talks of grief, brief talks of self hate and implied internalised homophobia

—

Wanda's face softened when she saw her children running in, grins plastered on their faces as they somehow managed to keep all the popcorn in the bowls while rushing to sit. Her eyes contained an enamoured glint as Tommy rushed over to her, moving to press his body into her side while keeping the warm bowl of the treat in his lap, sharing some with Wanda before her gaze moved over to you.

She knew that her boys were very affectionate people, always loving contact with her but she found it adoring that they craved the same contact with you, always trying to hug you in some way after finding out about the two of you all those weeks ago. What made her heart melt was how much Billy seemed to like to hug you, his body moving to rest in between yours as you sat on the sofa, letting his body slide against yours so his back was flush against your front, him also sharing the tasty food with you. The content expression on the older woman's face faltered when she saw your eyes, the usual happiness not surfacing in them, instead a distracted and crestfallen look.

You had been quieter the last few days, Wanda accepting your comments of just being 'tired' but now she was starting to get concerned as you zoned out in your spiral of thoughts.

Throughout the film, the event being a new tradition between the four of you on a Saturday night, her eyes wandered over to your form on the other sofa, trying to gauge whether you were lost in thought or back to reality. You seemed to come back a few times, only briefly to wrap your arms around Billy or take a piece of popcorn before drifting off again, a small frown forming on the other woman's face.

Had she said something recently? Were you uncomfortable with the twins knowing? Did something happen at college?

Swarms of questions filled her mind as the film continued to play, eventually coming to an end and the twins ready for bed, their bodies becoming exhausted after the long day of fun. Wanda helped them to bed as you went off to her room quietly, the Sokovian determined to quickly tuck the twins in so she could check on you.

Her heart broke when she heard a sob erupt from the back of your throat when she walked in, rushing over to your form on the edge of the bed.

"Detka," she cooed in the softest tone she could, kneeling by the end of the bed while one of her hands went to your knee to give a comforting squeeze, the other brushing your hair out of your face. "What's wrong Moya Lyubov?"

Her gentle tone and soothing actions don't stop the tears spilling down your cheeks, another harsh sob being forced out of you as Wanda moves to stand, letting you bury your face against her stomach as your arms wrap around her body, desperately trying to keep her as close as possible. Her fingers delicately scratched at your scalp, murmurs of loving words falling from her lips as your cries gradually quietened, your grip never ceasing on her.

"I miss him," you croak out hoarsely, the words slightly muffled as you didn't move your face from where it was pressed against her. "I miss him so much," Wanda's brows furrow, unsure of who you were referring to.

"Miss who, Detka?" she cautiously asks, not wanting to further upset you. You slowly move your face away from her, wiping your wet cheeks before looking up at her with a heartbroken expression etched onto your face.

"My dad," you whisper and Wanda can feel her heart clench at the amount of pain you must be feeling, wrapping her arms around your body and moving you both around until you are practically sitting sideways in her lap. Tomorrow was the anniversary of his death and everything just seemed to hit you at once, body melting against her comforting embrace.

"Oh Detka," she coos over and over again, your face burying at the crook of her neck as she lets her hands rub slow, soothing circles against your back. "I've got you," she presses a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there as she can feel tears brewing in her own ears.

She can't imagine losing one of her parents so young, the idea of losing them now terrifying her. She couldn't imagine the agonising pain in your heart, especially as she knew there was something about your father's death that troubled you even more than expected.

When you seem to calm a little, Wanda tentatively speaks up,

"Do you want to talk about him?" you pull away from her neck at her words, Wanda fearing that you would resent the idea.

"He was amazing," your tone is barely audible, Wanda's hand cupping your jaw as you lean into her touch, eyes fluttering close as a tear spills from your eyes. "I loved him so much and he didn't deserve to die," there's a bitterness to your voice, eyes opening and meeting concerned green, hurt swirling in your eyes. "It's my fault he's dead."

"Detka," Wanda's voice cracks at how small you seem, her hand keeping your face level with hers, your eyes still looking into hers, "You can't blame yourself."

"But it's my fault," desperation and pain laces your tone, "If I was good- If I had listened and been- Been normal, none of it would have happened."

"Dorogaya," she lets you turn your face away, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. She wants to tell you that it's not your fault, that you aren't to blame but she doesn't know what occurred, "What happened?"

You turn back to look at her, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. When you see the pure love and care in her eyes, you push past through the nerves and anxiety, needing to get it off your chest.

***

2 years ago

Glass rattled in your bag as you shot Natasha a sheepish look, the bottles of alcohol bumping against each other in your bag as you walked into the Bishop's residence, the music and sound of teenagers drowning out the noise. By the time you two had arrived, the party was in full swing, drunk teenagers already messing about in the living room, many dancing to the blaring music as you squeezed your way through the rooms until you made it to the kitchen.

"I wonder where Kate is," you say while placing all the drinks you had brought onto the marble top, Natasha already pouring you and herself a drink. At your words, her lips tugged up into a knowing smirk, your brow raising at your best friend's smug and mischievous expression. "What?" your tone confused as you took the drink from her, playing the words off as if you were interested in where the host of the party was before taking a large sip, throat burning at whatever concoction she had made, her tolerance to alcohol far better than yours as she drank almost half of the red cup.

"Nothing," she chuckles out, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and single handedly pouring more alcohol into her cup, guiding you through the large house that belonged to the girl you were searching for, "It's just when you and Kate are together, something always seems to happen."

"Like what?" you say innocently, a smile taking over your face as you know what she's referring to, her laugh just about audible as the music becomes louder as you enter the main room where everyone was.

"Don't you remember what you did to Mr Fury's house?" your shoulders shrug nonchalantly at her words, another chuckle escaping the redhead as she shakes her head at your antics, emerald eyes spotting someone, "Speaking of the devil."

"Hey Y/n, Nat," Kate greets, her eyes peering over the rim of her glass as she looks at you with a tender gaze, her eyes flickering over to Natasha who has a playful expression written on her face. Natasha turns her gaze to you, your teeth nervously biting on your lip as you stare at the other girl, eyes devouring her outfit.

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds to it," the redhead teases, your mouth dropping as your friend reveals that she knows about you and Kate, your girlfriend chuckling as she sips her drink again. "I need to find Clint anyway, he owes me a tenner," she grumbles, giving you a wink as she walks bast the brunette, pausing when Kate couldn't see her and turning back to you, making a lewd gesture with her fingers and tongue making your cheeks flush a dark shade of red.

"How about we get out of here?" she murmurs in your ear, her body practically pressed up against you as everyone else was too busy in their own worlds, not noticing either of you. Your body heats up at the close proximity, an excited but also nervous feeling throughout you at her suggestive tone, your head nodding slowly. Her hand encases yours, gently dragging you away from the thriving party, the buzz from whatever drink Natasha made starting to increase your confidence as you walked through the Bishop residence.

Laughter spilt from your lip as you made it to the third floor of her ridiculously large house, Kate muttering nonsense into your ears that caused you to chuckle. Her hand had drifted to your waist as she walked you through the long corridor, this area out of bounds for those in the party.

"Where are we going I wonder?" you mutter playfully in a faux oblivious tone, leading the way to her room as she smiles at you, opening her door before closing it and pressing you up against it.

"Where do you want to go?" She rasps out while pressing a slow and sensual kiss to your lips, hands trailing lower to your hips as she presses her body further into yours, a soft moan escaping you. Her mouth peppers kisses along your jaw, the feeling of her lips sending waves of arousal through you, especially when her lips meet your neck. The hot open mouthed kiss she places at the juncture of your neck has your head lolling back against the door, a low groan tumbling out of your lips.

"The bed, please," you sigh out, threading your fingers through her soft locks and pulling her away from your neck. She smiles up at you, claiming your lips once more while moving backwards towards her bed, falling back onto it when the back of her legs hit the frame of it. Your body naturally moves to straddle her waist, her hands gently resting on your hips as your forehead pressed against hers, both of you smiling into the soft and passionate kiss.

"There's something I want to tell you," she whispers, breaking apart the hungry and messy kiss, your hands drifting across her shoulders before settling on loosely wrapping around her neck. You look at her in curiosity as she peers up at you with lust filled eyes, the blue almost completely replaced by desire. "I know this isn't the most romantic time to say it, but I can't keep it in any longer," her hand delicately cups your cheek, her thumb caressing your cheek while her other hand tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, a tender and gentle smile playing on her lips. "I love you," her tone is nothing but genuine, soft, and enamoured, your mouth stretching into a wide smile at her confession, lips crashing back down to hers.

Kate Bishop was one of the only people to know the real you, who was there for you when you needed someone. She was everything to you and to hear her say that, you were lost for words, well, almost.

"I love you too," you murmur back in between heated, emotional kisses, needing her to know how much you appreciated her, how much you cared for her. "I love you so much," your tone raw as you confessed, her forehead resting against yours as she kisses turned slower, softer, the touches becoming more intimate than lust driven.

When you both pulled back, the only sound was the low hum of the music downstairs mixing with your heavy breaths, gazing into each other's eyes, unable to wipe the smiles engraved on your faces.

Your lips met once more, powerless in stopping the urge to feel her mouth against yours, tongue sliding in your mouth as both of your touches turned bolder, your hands lowering to the hem of her shirt.

Your eyes met hers hesitantly, not having done anything more than a heated make out session before, the silent question being answered when she pulled the item over her head.

"You're so beautiful," your tone low as you pressed your mouth back to hers, addictive to her soft and plump lips. You can feel her smile into the kiss at the words that left your lips, her mouth opening when the door of the room swung open, a gasp leaving you both at who it was.

Due to your distracted states, neither of you noticed how the music downstairs stopped or how your phone was spammed by calls and messages from Natasha trying to notify you of who had shown up.

Eleanor Bishop's eyes glossed over with rage, danger evident on her face as her eyes took in the sigh of you on top of her daughter, lips stained by her lipstick.

"What the fuck is going on?" She grits out, the normally composed woman dissipating at the sight of her daughter being with a girl, the idea unfathomable to her.

"Mom-" Kate tries, your body moving off her lap nervously as the brunette slips her shirt back on, your fingers trembling as fear ran through you at what was about to happen.

"No," her tone is harsh as she snaps at her daughter, Kate visibly cowering at her mother's powerful voice. "Get out Kate, I need a word with Y/n," she orders, your face paling as she wants to speak to you, Kate snapping her head over to you with a fearful look.

"Mom no-"

"I said get out, I will speak to you when I'm finished," Kate opens and closes her mouth, turning back to look at you with an apologetic glint in her eyes. The brunette reluctantly leaves you, offering you the best reassuring smile she could manage. as she left the room, hovering by the door to hear whatever abuse her mother was about to scream at you, ready to step in.

"Mrs Bishop I-"

"What do you think you are doing?" Her voice sends a shiver down your spine, your eyes unable to meet hers, "Corrupting my daughter into some- some whore like you." Your jaw clenches as you can feel tears starting to brew in your eyes, hurt washing throughout you. "My daughter isn't a dyke and never will be," she screams, and screams, and screams more vile words at you, your mind blocking them out as she hurls slur after slur, your mind only registering the end of her rant. "Stay away from her," despite all the horrific things that had left the older woman's lips, that hurt the most as you loved Kate. You felt safe with her, felt at home with her, and now that was all going to be destroyed.

"I'm sorry," your voice was barely above a whisper as you met her enraged stare, a scoff leaving her lips as she turned away from you, slipping her phone out of her pocket when you tried to move.

"No, stay there," her tone leaving no room for any debate, "I want your mother to know what a disgusting slut she's raised." After the words leave her lips, your mind becomes a blur, dread overruling your body as you know exactly how your mother is going to react.

You don't look up when Eleanor opens the door, not meeting Kate's sorrowful gaze before the door slams shut, leaving you to drown in your anxiety and thoughts. You move on autopilot when your mother drags you out of their house, her face red with anger when she looks at you, a disgusted expression engraved on her face when she finds out what you 'are'.

The car ride home was filled with a deafening silence, your mother refusing to speak to you without your father, assuming he would be on her side.

Your father looks up from his book, legs casually laid across the sofa when the front door of your house slams shut, swinging his legs over the edge, a smile playing on his lips which quickly falters at his wife's venomous stare and your despondent expression.

"What happened?" His voice drips with concern, his book being carelessly discarded onto the cushion as he stands up, making his way over to you when your mother speaks up, halting his movements.

"Don't comfort her," she snaps, your gaze lowering to the ground as you don't want to see his disappointed stare when he finds out.

Confusion is evident on his face at the harsh tone used, her walking away from you and towards the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine and pouring herself a large glass.

"I was called by Eleanor Bishop earlier," she explains, your father listening intently, "Saying a party had occurred at her house, our lovely daughter being present." He looks back at you, a little annoyed at the fact you didn't tell him that you were going to a party, that being one of the deals you had made as you reached your teenage years. He knew what it was like to be young, wanting you to be able to enjoy it but also to be safe.

"She went to a party without telling us?" The confusion is still present in his tone, not sure as to why his wife was blowing up over this, knowing they could deal with this in a calmer manner.

She hums in response while taking a large sip of her drink, continuing with the story.

"Yes, but it gets worse because Eleanor walked in on something." His face pales a little, not able to imagine you, his precious little girl doing something like that. "She had her tongue down the Bishop's girl's throat," your mother grits out in distaste, your body frozen in place as you could hear them from the hallway you were in.

"What?" Your father is about to continue but your mother cuts him off abruptly.

"She knows that's unacceptable," her tone dripping with anger at your actions. "It's wrong, she can't be one of them."

Your father says your mother's name in an unsure tone, the woman scoffing at the expression on his face. He ignores her mumbling under her breath, leaving to console your still figure in the hallway, eyes fixated on the floor.

"Hey sweetheart," he forces a smile onto his face, his hands going to your shoulders and giving you a reassuring squeeze, "Let's go to your room, ok? Let's let your mother calm down a bit." You trudge your way up towards your room, your father closing the door behind as you sit on the bed, a single tear spilling down your cheek as you desperately try to keep it together.

"Please don't hate me," your voice breaking with the amount of emotion you say it with, your father sitting on the bed, wrapping his arm around you protectively.

"Shhh, I'll never hate you, you're my little girl," he softly says. "I'm a little annoyed you didn't tell me about the party but I'm not mad at you." He squeezes you closer to him, your head tilting to look at him. He offers you a comforting smile, his eyes containing nothing but care as you feel more tears spill. "Hey," he coos, brushing away a few of the tear drops that lingered on your skin, "It's ok."

"It's not," you croak out, "Mum she's- she's never going to let me see her again. I can't lose her." His eyes widen at the heartbroken look in your eyes, realisation washing over him as he gathers that you like Kate more than he first anticipated, assuming you were just trying new things out.

"I'll talk to your mother, alright? I know she has her... traditional views but she loves you, and so do I."

"She hates me," you mutter, "She thinks I'm a freak, I know she does."

"I'll talk to her," is all he can offer in response to that, not too sure on how he could get her to see your side of it. "I'll always support you Y/n, you know that right? I'm always going to be here to protect and support you." He moves his hand to interlock with yours, letting you play with his fingers as he knew it was a nervous habit of yours. "I just want you to be happy, and if that means you're with a girl or a boy, or even no one, I don't care. Your happiness comes first, always."

"I love her," you whisper, your father sympathetically smiling softly at your words.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs while pressing a kiss to the side of your head, lingering as he thinks of what else to say. He's interrupted when his name is called from downstairs, your mother becoming impatient. "I'll be back in a little bit, ok?" You nod hesitantly at his words, not wanting him to leave you. "I love you," he whispers before standing with a sigh, not ready for the argument that was about to happen.

Drowning out the screaming from downstairs, you bury your face into your pillow, quietly crying into the soft fabric. You want to scream, scream as much as you possibly can't but all that leaves your lips are small whimpers, your eyes becoming sore with how relentless the tears were.

A loud noise can be heard downstairs, catching your attention, making you turn your head to face your door, listening for anything else.

"If she wants to be like that, then she's not my daughter anymore," is the last thing you can hear before loud footsteps approach the door, your father slipping back into the room, body tense and jaw clenched. His stare that was filled with anger directed towards your mother softens when he sees your body cuddling against your pillow, tear stained cheeks and red puffy eyes.

"I'll be back in a little bit, alright sweetheart? I'm going for a little drive," His tone tries to be gentle but you can still hear the frustration evident in his tone.

"Please don't go," you mutter, eyes pleading with him to stay while he moves to sit on the edge of the bed next to you.

"I won't be long, I just need to clear my head and calm down," you know why he doesn't want to stay, fearing he'll grow too angry and have another outburst, not wanting you to see him when he can get angry. "I don't want to do anything I would regret," he whispers, placing a soft kiss against the side of your head before attempting to leave, your hand reaching out for his as you stand to crash your body into his.

"Thank you," your tone is so quiet that he only heard the two words as you were so close to him, his arms wrapping around you protectively and comfortingly.

"I'll be right back," he reassures. "Don't let your mother in your room, lock the door and wait until I get back, I don't want her near you at the moment," he says and you nod your head against him, dread filling you as his body slips away and out of the door, your hands going to lock the door as he said, body collapsing back onto the bed.

You pushed away the gnawing feeling inside you, the anxiety that bubbled inside you as an hour passed, then two hours passed, and then three, your father still not returning home.

***

"I got a phone call after four hours," Wanda's arms pulled you impossibly closer, trying to comfort you in any way possible, "A drunk driver ran a red light, going twenty mph over the speed limit and hit the side of his car."

You remember the physical pain of your heart breaking when listening to the phone call, your mind going numb as he was dead and there was nothing you could do about it.

"He was dead before I could even get to the hospital," your voice wavers, the memory of trying to hold it together in the hospital as they delivered the news, the sympathetic expression on the doctor's face as he watched your world fall apart.

"Detka, look at me," Wanda speaks up after letting the room sit in silence for a couple of moments, her fingers softly guiding your face to look at hers. "This wasn't your fault."

"Wanda-"

"No, Dorogaya listen to me," her tone is gentle but commanding, stopping you from arguing back, "You weren't the driver in the car, were you?" Your head shakes at that, "Then you didn't kill him, it wasn't your fault. It was the drunk idiot who decided to get in his car when he clearly shouldn't have."

"But if it wasn't for me being..." you pause on your words, not wanting to elaborate, "He wouldn't have gotten in the car."

"He got in the car because he was angry with your mother, not you. You can't blame yourself for this Detka, it's unhealthy. It was an accident, there was nothing you could have done to stop it." Her words soothe you, helping you to ignore the words that your mother said to you after the crash, how she blamed you for his death and made you feel worthless.

You press your lips to hers softly, needing to feel her close as you try and get a grip of your emotions. When you meet her lips it's like your mind slows, allowing you to not be overwhelmed by the drowning distressing emotions. Your mind fills with her, just her.

You part from the heartfelt kiss, leaning your forehead against hers as you listen to more comforting phrases fall from her lips, her arms wrapping further around your body and moving the two of you into a lying position. Your face naturally buries into her chest, listening to the steady beating of her heart, focussing on that as you completely calm yourself down.

"I want to see him tomorrow," you murmur into her shirt, refusing to meet her eyes as you ask her, "It's the anniversary and I can't- Please could you come with me?" You're a little nervous as you ask her, scared she wouldn't want to come to the cemetery with you. If you were being honest, you needed her there, too afraid to do it on your own.

"Of course Moya Lyubov, I'll be there for you," she coos, letting her fingers return to your hair, scratching at your scalp as you snake your arms around her body, nuzzling further into her body. "I'll always be there for you," she whispers, voice raw with sincerity, while she lets her hands roam your skin comfortingly, slowly lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of being overwhelmed catches up on you. Just as you're drifting off, she whispers one last thing, "I love you Detka."

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