See what i mean is the bad days are bad right and the good days are walking ten miles and eating three full meals and using new sensory aids readily without shame and acknowledging my pain levels while safely pushing myself and taking ownership of my words and taking all my medication twice like I'm supposed to and not drinking because i know it won't add anything to the evening
See what i mean is for me the good days feel miraculous
some days i drown in a really heavy sort of negativity and just can't seem to escape it... like i genuinely hate myself and hate that i do and especially the fact that i can't really just Fix that,,,,eugghhh it's a really rough feeling but sometimes I'm just cranky bc im hungry/sleepy? still tho,,, it's such a painnn
Has anyone figured out how to still see the old merch on the store? I'm really worried I've completely missed my chance at at least a tour tee and book... and that dang pink Meredith&Olivia onesie haunts me...
Pairing: TF Boys x F!Reader
Warnings: gore. alcohol/drug abuse. kidnapping. eventual reverse harem. self-medication. smut. semi-public sex. torture. brief hint of non-con in a dream. hair pulling.
Summary: Pope calls a meeting.
A/N: i struggled SO hard with this chapter. it was like pulling teeth. i fear that it is utterly boring, but at some point i had to punt it into the great unknown. my millions of thank yous to @frannyzooey and @krissology who continue to motivate and inspire me with ideas and words and love. i hope you all enjoy.
It didn’t start right after the club - after Will punched Ben so hard that his cheekbone swelled to the size of a plum. That night had gone from liberating to disastrous as soon as they’d opened the front door.
It had been an onslaught of emotions, and she could barely remember what the argument had even been about in the first place.
Ben could have gotten you killed. You’re in danger. This is why we don’t have women in the house.
Pope had been a total fucking dick, but Frankie had really pissed her off. He’d just stood in the corner - slinking into the shadows as he watched Will and Pope chastise her. He had no right. He wasn’t allowed to “care” about her safety when he had literally ignored her the last few weeks. She also despised that she still had briefly wondered about his date. Was she in his bed? In his room? Had he fucked her?
All of those thoughts drunkenly rolled around her skull as she watched Ben defend their actions. She balanced on her heels - skin sweating under Will and Pope's disapproving glares. The liquor and greasy food bloated her stomach. There was a startling sticky ache between her legs from riding Ben in public for anyone to see. Despite her pride and all that she said, she still felt a tug of guilt at what they had done. She didn’t owe them anything and yet -
It didn't matter. It was done.
The commotion of it all had not only overwhelmed her but sobered her up.
Will’s anger had shocked her. She’d never seen him furious. Even in the basement, he had doled out pain with an impassive, untouchable expression. He spoke softly and slowly without a drop of emotion. After George’s, he had been irate. It had hurt. It had bothered her. The disappointment in his glare had the same consistency of oil sticking to her limbs - her bones and lungs.
“I don’t fuck around when it comes to your safety.”
Those words had ripped through her - circulating with the same wild intensity of a tornado. She followed Ben up the stairs, flinching when she heard Will slam his door shut.
“Fuck,” Ben had muttered under his breath. “He’s throwing a hissy fit.”
Was he? Maybe - he just cared about her? How sweet it was to be cared for in any capacity. Her mother certainly hadn’t - not even when she was a little girl. She could have run away from home for three days, and her mother would still have greeted her with: Oh - you’ve been out all this time?
She’d yelled at Pope, which had been somewhat exciting. He pissed her off with those great big dark eyes and that permanent scowl that curled his lips. He’d tried to crush her damn high. She didn’t connect with him like she did with Will or even Frankie. Pope simply existed as her keeper. He was the man who was pulling the strings through this whole nightmare, and it wasn’t as if he’d ever attempted to get to know her.
She’d helped Ben to bed, and when he’d tried to drag her beneath the covers, she’d stopped him. She wasn’t sure why. She just felt too off-kilter. She just needed to be alone and get her head on straight and sober up because whatever had happened in the living room had been messy, and she could barely keep up with who was pissed at who.
She also wanted to pout dramatically in the comfort of her room where none of them could judge her. She was out the second her head hit the pillow, slipping into a restless sleep as the sequins on her dress pricked her skin.
She was awoken by the warm wet pressure of lips at the nape of her neck. The smell of soap and damp skin. Mid-afternoon light filtered through her drapes and flooded her white linen duvet in buttery orange.
“They’re out,” A low voice rumbled at her back. Benny. She arched into him, and he wrapped his fingers around her throat - wrenching her against his chest. “I woke up so fucking hard for you,” he murmured as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth. His fingers trailed down her thigh toward the heat between her legs.
She was still covered in glitter from the club. Her lashes were sticky and clumped as spider legs. Her hangover beat dimly within the shell of her skull. Everything spun out as all of her senses narrowed to what Benny was doing to her. “I’m gross right now.”
“You’re fucking hot,” he growled as he nosed at her jaw. “and I’ve waited all day to get back inside that pussy.”
“Tell me yes.” He was digging his fingers into her hips so harshly that she shuddered. He was pushing against her - gluing his hard body to her back. There was a want in his touch. Ben had seduced her last night. Ben had taken her out. Ben had freed her from the penthouse and treated her like she was something special. He’d ignored every girl who’d walked up to him.
They keep it quiet. They don’t make it obvious that they are fucking on every surface available. It’s an unsaid thing - an understanding. She doesn’t want to deal with questions or judgment, and Ben just seems to go with it.
It was pleasure in its most blunt form. Ben fucked her so well that she could barely think straight, and perhaps that was the point. She didn’t want to think. She had spent the last few years - slowly rotting in her father’s house. She walked on eggshells - terrified that one wrong move would send her mother into some aggressive state. She kept to herself and burrowed in her head. Loneliness marked her. She’d been genuinely isolated, and the people she did fuck had been only a night-worth of reprieve. She’d had one boyfriend in college, but that had blown up as quickly as it began.
She’d used caring for her mother as an excuse. She was lonely and bored, and she had filled up those days by getting drunk or staring at a television. At the penthouse, getting screwed daily kept her fairly busy.
It was constant. They were running through condoms. Ben just kept several on his person at all times. She wanted to get on birth control, but a large part of her was nervous that if she did, the sex would stop. She’d jinx it somehow. It didn’t make sense. Nothing in her life made sense, but the fucking was like a drug - burned just as good as alcohol.
The first time Benny had taken her outside her bedroom had been in the kitchen.
She was pouring chopped herbs into softened butter. She mixed and minced and grated. She was going to make roast chicken with truffle mashed potatoes and garlicky spinach.
She felt him before he spoke. His chest flushed against the crown of her head. He was hard - his erection resting against the small of her back - his hands clasping her hips. He nosed at her neck - his lips brushing her bare shoulder.
“Ben,” she warned.
“What are you making?” he asked as he tugged her away from the counter. His voice was perfectly normal. He gingerly drew her over to the island - his long arm sweeping the rest of her ingredients to the side. “Tell me,” he urged.
“Roast chicken,” She felt the pressure of his hand at the middle of her spine. He pushed down, and she went - bending over so that her front was sealed to the butcher block. Her hands planted. The side of her cheek lay flat next to the rosemary twigs, sage, and garlic. He flipped her dress up and drew her panties down - just enough that they banded around her knees.
“That sounds good,” he hummed just as he sunk into her. She gasped - breath hitching as he filled her in one, bruising stroke. “Did you wear this dress for me?”
She shook her head - biting into her lower lip. He made a frustrated sound before cracking his hand across her ass. The sound was muted beneath the music coming from the Ipad in the corner. Gin Blossoms. The edge of the island cut into her stomach. “I think you did,” he taunted as he began to thrust into her slick heat. There was the slap of skin. The muffled broken noises that he forced from her mouth with each drag of his cock. She was practically on her toes. He was spearing inside her - stretching her open. The pressure. The ache of it spread through her lower half. “I think you wore it because it’ll make it so much easier for us. I can just lift this dress up and fuck you standing.”
She bit into her bottom lip until she felt the iron burst of blood. He was changing up his pattern - fucking her hard in rapid, short strokes before drawing back far enough so he could press into her in one slow, inexorable thrust. She grunted when he covered her body with his. He was burying her with the weight of him. His fingers were between her legs as he plucked her clit with each snap of his hips.
She arched - pressing her ass back against his hips. His name flooded her mouth. She cried it as her knuckles accidentally knocked the potatoes from the island - the jug of heavy whipping cream - the jewel-green chives.
They did more than just fuck. They watched movies - trading off on who got to pick what. Ben had a habit of choosing old nineties action flicks, while her tastes drifted from period romances to violent slashers.
“I want to watch Scream,” she huffed.
“We can’t keep watching Scream!” His eyes narrowed. “That’s the third time in the last month.”
She stuck her lip out, and his jaw ticked - his gaze trailing over the stretch of her neck and chest and bare legs. “Fine,” he agreed. “But this is it. No more.”
She’d smirked, knocking him flat with one of those dubious expressions like she knew this certainly wouldn’t be the last time.
And it never was.
They were just down the hall. Frankie and Santi. Will is in the basement. She was watching television - another rerun of Top Chef.
She felt Ben at her back almost immediately - able to catch the subtle whiff of his cologne. He braced his broad hands on the top of the couch as he looked over her head at the television screen.
He was silent for a few minutes. The clatter of knives and chef’s yelling and dramatic music filling the space between them. All of a sudden, he gently tugged on her hair until her head fell back. He leaned down to press his lips to hers. There was the seep of his tongue - his palm hot on her cheek.
It was a flurry of movements. Ben somehow ended up on top of her. He opened her thighs with the flat of his palms, rocking against her damp crotch. All he had to do was shove his pants down and hitch her panties to the side, and then he’d be balls deep. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.
“They’ll come back,” she protested against his mouth. “They’ll see.” He couldn’t stop kissing her. Not even when he wanted to, and sometimes that scared her just as it unnerved him. I like you too much. It’s weird.
“Maybe,” he shrugged before he sunk to the hilt. She choked - gasped - revealed how fucking easy she was for him.
He rucked the top of her dress down so that her tits popped out and swirled his tongue around the nub of her nipple. She moaned despite herself. She loved the patchwork of sensations. Her bare nipple damp from his warm mouth. The harsh rasp of his pants across her inner thighs. The cool air conditioning. The weight of Ben’s too-big body as he attempted to fit on the narrow couch. The fear that they could get caught.
“I’ll be fast, baby,” He ground into her - pinned her until she couldn’t jerk a muscle. There was no space between them as her knees clamped around his hips - her heels knocking against the backs of his thighs with each harsh rut. She tangled her fingers in his hair - trying to fuck stealthily in the great wide open of the boy’s den. She could hear herself - hear the slick sound of her cunt taking him all the way over and over again. The couch creaked. She panted against his tongue. “C’mon…c’mon….c’mon….” he commanded as his fingers circled her clit - his cock impaling her and her bare ass scraping the couch. There was heat in her veins. She throbbed and whimpered - shivering from the orgasm that screamed through the meat of her.
“Jesus Ben,” she rasped and he licked into the cup of her mouth.
She held onto his biceps - clung to him desperately as the place between her legs began to go to liquid. The whole room spun, and her head tipped back as Ben bit into her throat. For a moment - she wondered if he’d open up her vein - if blood would bloom to the surface.
The thought of blood and sex inevitably brought Will to her mind. She was already climaxing by the time she realized that he could come upstairs and find them. It would hurt him. To see her not only refuse him but to take his brother instead. She had to speak with him. The night of St. George’s had left a crevice between them in its wake. Will had avoided her, and she couldn’t stand it. She had to make amends.
“Fuck, baby,” Ben growled as the couch squeaked under their weight.
She felt Ben’s teeth sink into her shoulder. Her underwear cut into the flesh of her hips as he jerked - whole body trembling above her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and fisted it - yanking it back hard enough to make him groan.
“I missed you,” he rumbled - kissing the skin beneath her ear lightly. “Fuck - I missed you.”
His voice was heavy with want - a sort of aggression she hadn’t heard from him before. Thoughts of Will flew from her mind as she focused on Benny - as she felt his muscles tense underneath her hands.
His dark blonde hair was in his eyes and she combed it with her fingers. “I saw you this morning.”
He drew back - bracing himself above her. “I know.”
She stared up at him, and he met it. His mouth was flushed and swollen. “You have a problem,” she teased, her tone soft.
“I have you.”
She’d resorted to asking Will via text about training her. Confrontation gave her hives and, quite frankly, she wouldn’t be able to handle him refusing her face to face.
Hi. It’s me. Was wondering if you’re still down about self-defense lessons?
Who is this?
Haha. Sure. No problem.
After she’d painstakingly tried to analyze his tone, she figured that he was being cordial. Did “haha” mean everything was okay? Did the “sure” and the “no problem” combined mean he was looking forward to it?
Will was already waiting for her when she stepped into the gym. His expression was closed off, his lips settling into that indifferent mask he maintained when he was outside his home. Fuck. She walked towards him, past the state of the art equipment, enormous television screens, and vast windows that revealed the heart of downtown.
“You’re still angry at me,” she stated plainly.
The corner of his mouth curled. He cocked his head - lifting a single eyebrow as he regarded her with...nothing. He wasn’t being cold but rather impassive. She shifted her weight - crossing her arms defensively over her chest. God - he was gonna make her grovel.
“I-I didn’t mean for that night to happen the way it did!.”
“I know,” he replied - dragging his thumb over his beard.
“Okay…” She stepped up to him. “So, are we good?”
He shrugged, but there was a glimmer of amusement behind his eyes. He was enjoying this.
“Oh - you dick,” she hissed - punching him hard in the arm. His hand shot out and caught her wrist - pulling her forward so fast that she stumbled against him.
“Lesson one,” Will said. “You do stupid shit? You get killed and probably horribly.”
He tilted his head - a knowing smirk twisting his pretty mouth. “Going to George’s? That’s stupid shit right there.”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know! I literally just go where you fuckers tell me.”
His smirk deepened, and he released her. “Well - now you know.”
She poked him in the chest and the muscle tensed under her fingertip. Fuck. “You’re being unfair about this. It’s not my fucking fault that Ben took me out, and, honestly, what was I supposed to say? No? He was just being nice, and…” she trailed off when she realized his expression had softened.
Those stupid blues eyes mellowed to the color to something clear and crisp as April sky. “I wasn’t mad at you,” he explained. “I just wanted to fuck with you a little because you get so heated about it.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “Funny.”
She stepped away from him - her gaze drifting subtly over his body. His blonde hair was slicked back, and he was clad in sweats and a tight black t-shirt. His cheeks were flushed, which made him only more alluring. Fucker.
She tugged her sweatshirt off and tossed it onto the bench. Her sports bra and top were clinging to her frame, and Will averted his eyes. Ha! “So what are we doing? How to throw a punch? How to kill a man with only your thighs and a rubber band?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “First - we have to build your strength up. You need a strong core in self-defense.”
“You’re not getting anywhere with noodle arms.”
She scoffed. “Not all of us can have biceps the size of rotisserie chickens.”
Will glanced down at his arms, which he then flexed on purpose. “I wouldn’t say rotisserie chickens.” He simpered. “Not big enough.”
She lunged forward, pinching the back of his arm viciously enough for him to yelp. “Fuck, Faire!” He staggered backward - clutching at the reddening patch of flesh. “You’re so mean.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
His eyes narrowed, and she suddenly regretted needling him. “Treadmill,” he ordered in a low voice.
“Why?” she scowled. She hadn’t been on a treadmill in ages. Not since she’d fucked around with a gym membership one sad January a year ago.
It’s all about recharge! Get yourself into the best shape of your life. Make the new year count.
“Warm-up,” He threw his arm around the top of it like it was a pet. “You can power walk. It’ll just get your blood going. Loosen you up a little.”
“I am loose.”
“You’re not,” he grinned. “You’re wound pretty fucking tight.”
“Because I am in a constant state of fight or flight.”
He winced. “Shit - I know. I’m sorry -”
“I’m kidding. I’m fine.”
“You’re annoying,” he frowned.
She glared at the treadmill as if avoiding it might make Will forget its existence. Perhaps, she could talk her way out of it.
“I’m not strong,” she whined. “Can’t I have a weapon? A nice hammer?”
“It’d be used against you.”
“Could you lift one?”
“They make mini chainsaws.”
He turned to stare at her, planting his feet. His t-shirt stretched across his broad chest. “Look - I want you to be able to protect yourself. You’re running around with us. Shit could happen, and I guarantee that you won’t be strutting around with a hammer or a chainsaw -”
“A gun!” she chirped.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. You’d shoot one of yourself or one of us.”
She bit her lower lip, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He leveled her with a stern glare, and she returned it. “You’re the one who asked me to help you out,” He cracked his knuckles. “I can leave? I’ve got other shit to do.”
“Ugh,” she relented. “Fine! I’m just…really out of shape.”
“Then I’ll make you in shape. Now, get up there,” Will commanded.
She ground her teeth before huffing and climbing onto the ramp. He turned the speed up to a three. An easy power walk. After a minute, the backs of her thighs twinged. She pulled a face. Her muscles were tender, and most of it was from Ben bending her in too many positions. She was sore between her legs - soft and raw like he had managed to carve into her permanently with each shove of his cock. Not like she could complain to Will about that. Not like she’d want to.
“You’ll have to stretch more,” he noted.
“I hate stretching.”
“It’s dull. It’s why I hated yoga. Too slow.” She paused before looking at him. “Fuck - I am being a huge brat.”
“Talk less. Walk more.”
It wasn’t the easiest thing: attempting to walk with Will staring at her with that casual smile on his face.
“So, did you know him?” Her words were jumbled - breath quickening as Will turned up the speed.
He raised an eyebrow. “Know who?”
“We were the same age. Went to school together, actually. I was pre-med at Harvard and then went to John Hopkins.”
“Wait,” she said. “You’re a doctor?”
“I didn’t actually finish - it’s why I’m good at what I do. I know how to keep people alive while also bringing them to the edge of death. It’s an art.”
“Why didn’t you finish?”
He shrugged. “Learned what I needed to learn. Santi wanted me back.”
“Is everything you do for Santi?”
His gaze darkened, and she felt like she’d spoken out of turn. She didn’t know their relationship. Not entirely. She saw pieces of it. She knew Frankie and Ben had their connection. Will and Ben were related. Santi and Frankie went deep. Who was Will closest to? She honestly couldn’t tell, and a very tiny part of her was upset at the thought that he was alone more often than not.
“I just - I just meant do you do anything for yourself? For your own benefit?” He said nothing, but his eyes raked down her body - blatant and weighted with something. Longing? Hunger? She was jogging now - her breasts bouncing in her sports bra. There was sweat collecting at her hairline. She suddenly felt naked under his lingering stare. Will always made her feel as if she was stretched out on glass for him. An exhibit. She was fucking his god damn brother, and still, he made her doubt all of the values she thought she held dear. She had seen him make men sob and beg. You’re in bed with cold-blooded killers. You’re already gone.
Will’s jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared and -
“Let’s do weights,” he announced as he shut the treadmill off. He started walking to the far side of the room, and she followed.
Ben’s room was darker than she expected. A lot of deep greens. A amber square with recessed lighting stood from floor to ceiling and centered the space. On the gray slate walls hung framed movie posters done in a cartoon style. Blocks of bright colors. One of his guns was lying casually on his oak bureau.
The sun pulsed outside his window. It bled over them as they lay tangled in Ben’s sheets. There were dust motes in the air - the warm glow of Indian Summer comforting and lovely. It was strange - like a dream. Ben’s eyes roved over her face - his hand on her cheek. She stared right back. Everything pulsed. There was no tension - only softness - only the sweetness of what they’d been doing. He trailed his fingers over her chest - circling a nipple. She shivered.
“I hope you cleaned these sheets,” she teased.
“Babe,” He cocked an eyebrow - his tone offended. “You’re the only person who’s been in this bed for a month….” His words fizzled out, a frown curling his mouth like he suddenly had to think about it. “At the least,” he added.
“Month, huh? Pretty sure you had chicks over a couple weeks ago.”
“Yeah - but we used the kitchen table.”
He laughed and sprung for her - wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. She grunted, shoving up against him, and he wrestled her under him. He pinned her with both of his arms braced on either side of her head. He wedged himself between her thighs and slowly rocked his hips forward so that she could feel the length of him against her. “You make me so hard,” He dropped his head to suck a mark into her neck. Her breathing hitched. “You drive me insane, woman.”
She gripped his chin - drawing his mouth down to her own for a rough kiss. He used his legs to spread her thighs apart further, and she mewled against his tongue. She placed her palms on his chest - his heartbeat fluttering and fast as a bird's. He rubbed his cock through the seam of her folds before lifting himself up. He dropped his head to stare down between them and watch himself fuck her.
It was strangely intimate of him. He liked to study the way her body absorbed his cock - the slow drag backward and drive forward. The wetness she painted him in.
“Wait,” she murmured, and he stopped - hovering right at her entrance. He grit his teeth and lowered his head - knocking his nose against hers. “What is it?”
“I want to know about you.”
“You know a lot about me,” he grinned as he slowly pushed the tip of himself into her. She jerked, and he slid deeper. “Shit,” she panted before slapping his shoulder. “No - no, I want - I want something else.”
He frowned. He couldn’t quite remember what their conversation had been twenty minutes ago. She’d stepped into his room, and he had lost his head. The smell of her. The taste of her skin and how soft she was. He’d wanted to rub her all over his sheets until the bedroom stank of her. He’d divested her of her clothes, and here they were. His mind seemed to live permanently in his dick whenever she was around.
“Alright,” he said, and he eased himself out of her. She winced, and he wondered if he’d been too rough last time. They were fucking like crazy - multiple times a day and in all sorts of positions. They had started to get messy - sloppy - not as covert. He honestly didn’t care who saw them, but she did, and he’d respect that. He snuck a glance at the patio outside his room. He should really shut those blinds, in case Frankie decided to go mope outside instead of brooding around the penthouse -
-or fucking everything that walked.
He brushed his thumb over her lip. “What would you like to know, princess?” He rolled beside her - resting his head in his palm. He caressed her stomach - drawing a pattern - his signature - anything as he waited for her to speak. She turned toward him.
“Tell me the story,” she implored. Her hand went to his spine - lightly drifting over the distorted, gnarled skin. “Tell me about your back.”
Benny - usually - would have shut down. He would have pushed her away. He would have told her to fuck off and probably do something self-destructive like fuck a girl who wouldn’t try to understand him. He didn’t like talking about it, and it wasn’t as if he owed her anything.
But when he looked at her, he felt something twinge in his chest.
She stared at him meaningfully - her big eyes glittering under afternoon light. It sucked that she was so lovely to him. He’d, of course, had plenty of gorgeous women. Too many to count. But - there was something about her that spoke to him. It echoed in his lungs and throat and made him catch his breath. The last week with her had sent him through a tailspin. He craved her. He demanded her.
If she wanted this from him, he’d give it.
“Five years ago,” he began before scraping a hand across his face. His muscles felt oddly tight. He exhaled sharply and then continued. “Five years ago - Frankie and I did this job for Santi that involved burning down several of the Reaper’s meth labs.”
She furrowed her brow. “Reapers? I’ve heard of them but don’t know what they do.”
“The Reapers own territory outside of Ashford - they’re barely ever an issue, but they’d pissed Santi off because they’d killed one of his guys during a bar fight. Santi was furious and had us punish them by removing some of their main sources of income.”
“I mean, they probably produced a ton of different shit, but I wasn’t exactly paying close attention. Just lighter fluid and a couple matches and boom,” he threw his hands apart to emphasize his point.
“Okay,” she replied as she scooted closer to him. They were skin to skin. He could smell her - the floral, smokey burst of her perfume. Her shampoo. Her sweat. He felt like he was shouting. His gaze ran up her bare shoulders before cutting across the swell of her tit. Benny forgot what he was even talking about.
She nudged him.
“Right,” he muttered as he tried to recount all the terrible moments that had happened that night. One bad thing after the next. The fact that Santi had asked Frankie and Benny last minute to do the job. The lack of planning. The amount of alcohol Frankie had had that Benny had ignored. In truth - Benny had always trusted Frankie to be fine. He had watched him mow down a group of four men with his bare hands while loaded.
“When Santi had called, neither of us had really been prepared. It was late at night. Frankie had been drinking. I don’t think I was all that sober myself.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him no? Or get someone else to do it?”
Benny shrugged. “We thought we were invincible. We were these two guys who’d kill more men than we could count, and we had never been beaten. We also never told Santi no. In retrospect, we should have, but it didn’t occur to either of us. It was just like, “ok, boss gave us orders, let’s do this quick so we can get back and party more.””
She hummed, tracing the branches of the tree tattooed across his forearm. She tapped her fingertip against the center of it. “So what happened after you blew up the labs?”
He offered her a tight smile. “Frankie was driving. He was really fucked up, and I don’t think I paid any attention to just how fucked up he was. He crashed and flipped the car and -”
Benny paused as the memories from the wreck blew through him: the shattered glass that caught in his hands and cheek, the smell of gasoline, the force of the hit. His head had felt so swollen. It felt like he was underwater and couldn’t drag himself out. She stopped tracing his tattoo and folded her fingers through his. She squeezed his hand, and it felt weird. It felt like she’d kissed him.
“I was out cold. Frankie was relatively fine except for a few cuts and bruises.” He swallowed thickly - his mouth suddenly very dry. He knew that the next few moments were really what had made Frankie hate himself. They had made Will punch him in the face - nearly beat the shit out of him. Santi had been a whole different matter - both guilty and stunned that Frankie could fuck up that badly. Ben still didn’t think it was Frankie’s fault. They’d both made those decisions, and they both suffered for it.
“Frankie left,” he recalled, and the girl tightened her grip on him. “He was so drunk and high and probably dizzy as shit from the crash that he must have forgotten I was with him. I think he made it a mile down the road before the cops ran into him. We have those cars that call emergency services if a crash occurs, so they were already on their way.”
He glanced up to find her face close to his, her expression deeply concerned. “Is that how you fucked up your back?”
Benny chuckled - combing a hand through his hair as he shifted on the mattress. ”No,” he said. “It turns out that some Reapers followed us.” Those images were now cluttered and burned at the edges. He could remember sensations, but his brain had long since blocked out the pain he’d been in. “They pulled me out of the wreck and took me back to their place. I was already pretty fucked from the wreck, but they wanted me to suffer. They hung me up and cut into me for a week.” The girl inhaled but said nothing. Her eyes were glistening. She wedged her leg through his and tugged him closer. He allowed it - slightly grateful. “They essentially flayed me alive until the guys managed to get to me. I blacked out for most of it.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He had tiny flashes of the hours that he spent in that basement. His wrists were shredded from the rope. His raw flesh burned with agony. The stickiness of his blood. The smell of iron. He’d wanted to die by the halfway point. He still had nightmares about it though they weren’t as frequent as they’d once been. He’d gotten an infection from the dirty tools. By the time he’d been found, he’d been delirious with fever. He’d been ripped apart, and the Ben who came out was not the Ben who went in.
“What did Santi do?” she asked as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Her warm breath skated over his skin. He wanted to kiss her as if it would somehow dim those gore-streaked memories.
“He crippled them business-wise,” He wrapped his arms around her waist - hauling her flush to his torso. His cock was hard between them. Fucked up, but it’s not like he could stay soft when he has a gorgeous naked girl on top of him. “He said they’d form a truce, but once he saw what they did to me…he took it back. Claimed that the Reapers had lied by saying that I’d been treated well. I’m not sure if they did lie, but they probably stepped around the truth, and Santi used it.” He sighed. “That’s why they’ve been run off the map. They’re stuck on the outskirts mostly.”
“What happened to the ones who hurt you?” He could feel her lips dragging over his throat as she dug her fingers into his ribs. He liked it. “The ones who personally tortured you?”
“Will took care of them,” he answered. Ben had never seen his brother like that. He’d genuinely enjoyed pulling those men apart - breaking them spectacularly until they were mounds of flesh and organs. He’d stepped back into the penthouse - coated in a thick film of blood - his eyes black and almost manic. His blonde hair tinged pink.
They’re gone, Ben.
She cleared her throat as she rubbed her cheek against his chest. He cradled the back of her head. “That’s good.”
“It wasn’t Frankie’s fault,” Ben added quickly. “It really wasn’t.”
She drew back from him and touched his jaw. “I didn’t say it was.”
He felt as if he had to defend him. Frankie was a good person but just lost. His head was screwed on differently. “Not to bring Frankie between us, but that whole event is why he is the way he is now. He thinks he doesn’t deserve affection or friends or family, and I’m sure Fish believes that he doesn’t deserve you. He lost control and fucked you and is now crying about it.”
“He’s not crying about it.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s looked pretty okay to me.”
“Fair,” he said. “But you also don’t know him like I do. He’s upset. He’s just very, very bad at showing it.”
“We’re not talking about Frankie.”
Both of them went silent. Ben watched her, analyzing her reaction to all that he’d said. She’d handled that story shockingly well. It’s not like she’d made a big deal over it. She didn't sob or curl into herself. She didn’t throw her arms around him in pity. She was assessing - those sharp features of hers studying him as he told her about the worst fucking moment of his life.
“Do they hurt?” she finally asked - tracing one of the scars that curled over his shoulder.
“Sometimes,” He adjusted himself on the bed - the sheets scratching at his back. “I get these weird ghost pains. I hate it…makes me remember what happened.”
“What about therapy?”
“Like physical? Think I’m fine in that department?”
She scowled and tapped him lightly on the temple. “Mental.”
“Nah,” he said. “It would only become a danger to whichever therapist tried to help us out.”
“Tony Soprano did it.”
“That’s a tv show, babe. This -” He spread his arms - outstretched towards the ceiling. “This is real. People die all the time just for knowing something they shouldn’t.”
She squinted at him. Skeptical. “I think that you should think about doing it. There’s nothing wrong with working through the hurts you’ve been dealt.”
He tilted his head. “Do you?”
“I’m not part of a crime syndicate.”
“You are, technically.”
“My dad being a crime boss doesn’t count.”
He laughed before he gripped her - yanking her toward him. She yelped, and he pinned her to the bed. “No more talking,” he ordered. He placed his arms on either side of her head as he once again shifted between her legs. “Open up, baby,” he demanded, and she did - her knees spreading. He dropped his head and kissed her jaw before sucking her lower lip between his teeth. She mewled - wiggling against him. “You could be part of this crime syndicate,” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively, and her mouth parted in surprise. He rocked against her - clutching her wrists and fastening them to the edge of his mattress. The light was flooding her hair - her skin - gilding the bridge of her nose and brow. He drew his hips back.
The rest of her sentence died on her tongue as he sunk into her. He could feel her pussy stretch and flutter around him. Her body was searing and feverish - her lashes dipping as she tipped her head back. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts - each punch of his cock forced a sweet, desperate noise from her throat. Her pretty tits bounced.
He planted his knees and pressed her to the edge of the bed. “Ben,” she moaned, and it sent sparks through him. The aches in him dissipated as every nerve in his body centered around where he was plunging into her.
He grit his teeth as he picked up his pace. Punishing. Rough. Frantic. He wanted to live inside her. The sun blinded him through his French doors - smearing heat across his scalp. He should have closed those blinds. He should have -
He glanced up and saw Frankie staring at him - open-mouthed.
“Fuck,” Ben muttered, but she didn’t hear him. She was gone - arching and bending - her head tossed back in pleasure. Her eyes firmly screwed shut. He didn’t stop. He wasn’t going to. Frankie’s expression bled from shocked into furious, and then he disappeared.
“Come for me, baby,” Ben pleaded as he fucked her. “Come for me.”
Santi dragged a palm across his face. He was exhausted. Frankie sat in the chair across from him - his mouth curled downward into a tight frown. He’d been in a dark place, and it unsettled Santi. He didn’t know how to reach him, and he certainly didn’t know how and why Charles’s daughter had managed to pierce him so profoundly. It was bewildering.
He’d been in a foul mood the last two days. He’d barely seen him. It wasn’t until Ben had informed him that Frankie was “nose-deep in pussy at the Casino again” that he had even known where he was.
“Stop sulking,” Santi ordered.
“I’m not sulking,” he snapped far too defensively.
“Did something new happen that I’m not aware of?”
Frankie’s jaw flexed, and Santi thought that he might finally confess - he was going to give up whatever had been bothering him the last few weeks. They were closer than brothers. They had shared secrets and all the fucked-up desires they’d had. Goals. Fears. Dreams. But - Frankie was also good at hiding the parts of himself that he thought were weak - that he thought no one should hear because they were his burdens to bear. He never told Santi what he had done during those lost years where he’d trekked the globe. He’d come home, and that had been enough.
“Francisco…” he implored. There was the hitch of a plea in his voice that he hadn’t meant to have. He realized it was the wrong move.
Frankie’s gaze swept over him, and as quickly as that troubled expression appeared, it left. He closed up - his face shutting down to something cold and unbreachable. “What’d you need me for?”
Santi sighed. “Baron.”
“Do you think he’ll retaliate?” Frankie asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. Shadows burned across his features. He seemed too big for the chair.
“He already has.”
Frankie’s head snapped up - attention finally captured. “What do you mean?”
Santi tossed him his phone. Frankie caught it - turning it around to glance down at the screen. His brow furrowed, and he bared his teeth. “What the fuck is that?”
“They put a dead snake in her bed.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “What? Is she okay?”
“Luckily - the maid found it. She wasn’t there, but Will said she nearly fainted when he showed her. Apparently - she’s deathly afraid of snakes.”
“Fucking hell,” Frankie cursed under his breath - he lifted his hand and massaged the creases in his forehead. He looked young. He looked just as he did when Frankie had to march into Eduardo Garcia’s office and ask for contrition after he’d killed someone he shouldn’t have.
“Morales - you’re a fucking idiot. You fucked this deal because of your damn hot head. I don’t know why we even keep you around?”
Santi wanted to get mad at him. He wanted to scream at him for acting on his own impulses. His feelings. Frankie was too passionate. He was like Will in that people feared him. His height and his breadth, and his talent at killing. You didn’t know you were dead until he’d appear in front of you and feel the sharp burn of a blade under your chin. But - Will was also logical. He was clean and shrewd and careful. Frankie shouldn’t have killed those men. His affection for the girl had clouded his judgment.
“How did someone get in?”
“I don’t know,” Santi chewed the inside of his mouth. Everything was in disarray. He felt like he was losing when he didn’t even know the rules at play. How did this one girl throw his entire life into chaos? “He has someone on the inside? He snuck someone in?” If Baron could hire ghosts to slip between walls, Santi wouldn’t put it past him. “It doesn’t make fucking sense,” he continued. “I’m done hanging back and waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“So we go after Baron?”
“No,” Santi said, and Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t fucking do this your way, man. We have to talk to him. We have to try and solve this without spilling more blood. It’s ridiculous.”
“Since when does Mateo listen?” Frankie growled. There was heat now - a throbbing sort of anger that was gleaming under his skin. Christ - he really did hate him.
Santi’s feelings toward his brother were not drenched in that same resentment. Their relationship was broken, of course. Definitely irreparable. But, he still had good memories of him. He still recalled how they’d been close as children. They’d always had the best time screwing around at Church. They’d been forced to sit through mass in their starchy shirts and tight jackets. The watered-down wine and flat white wafers. The spiced tang of incense and the harsh wood pews under their bony kid asses. They’d nearly die of boredom, and the two of them would whisper stories to each other - each one more ridiculous than the next.
An alien comes down and shoots up the place.
Aliens don’t have guns.
What do they have then?
That’s the same thing, idiot.
Fine - what do they do when they’re down here?
Kill Father Reynolds!
Ugh, then we could leave.
They’d whisper and giggle until their father would challenge them one of those stern glares, and grandmother would knock them upside the head. It’d be worth it. Santi didn’t think it would turn out like this. It hadn’t been his fault that his brother had been branded as the second son. His brother’s success had been entirely reliant on Santi’s failure. Despite the shit that had exploded between them, he had to admit that Mateo had ignored the fate his father wanted for him and prospered on his own. He’d done what he had to do to get what he wanted, and that brutal, singular motivation was what made him an adversary worth being nervous about.
Santi had seen the kind of violent coldness he was capable of. He’d seen it and knew that he couldn’t let Mateo take a seat at his table. He couldn’t collar his brother even if he wanted to.
“He will,” Santi said. “I’ll have him here. Our territory. He can talk to Faire and see that she has no interest in the Apostles.”
Frankie stood, his nostrils flaring. “No.”
“You can’t put them in a room together.”
“Why not? She’s perfectly safe with us.”
Frankie opened his mouth again before closing it. He dropped back into the seat - arms and legs spread out as if a string hanging him by the shoulders had been plucked. “I don’t like it,” he finally mumbled.
“You don’t have to like it, Fish,” Santi reshuffled the papers on his desk - his eyes flitting toward the black and white photograph of him and the guys: arms around each other, dressed in ratty t-shirts, the beach at their backs. They’d all been in their twenties aside from Benny, who had been eighteen or so. Will and Frankie were actually smiling - their teeth so white and big and branded across the shape of their sun-tanned handsome faces. Those two consistently befuddled him. They had twin darknesses that crept through their foundations. They always had - like they’d been born with a fungus that could not be removed or cut out of them. It clung to their bones, and it was just how it was and how it would always be. Mateo had been the same.
The photo served as a constant reminder for Santi. Since it had been taken, something dark and insidious had burrowed into his family. Frankie and Will huddled deeper into their heads. Ben shoved himself outward - plastering on that playboy facade that none of them really believed was entirely genuine. Santi worked. Santi liked to work. He liked schedules and clean lines. He had no life outside of it.
Frankie cleared his throat to get his attention. Santi had gone somewhere just then - somewhere beyond the penthouse. Somewhere years ago, when everything hadn’t been up to him. “Well - I guess we’ll see what happens,” he said begrudgingly. Frankie stood up to his full height, dragging a hand through his too-long hair before focusing on Santi. His expression was somehow both pointed and weary. “Have you told her everything?”
Santi stilled - his body locking up tight. “No,” He tapped his fingers across the surface of his desk. Besides the piles of paper, his gun glittered under the delicate pendant lights of his office. He could see the cityscape reflected in the wood under his hands. The trickle and spark of offices and apartments - thousands of windows and dozens of skyscrapers all birthed from his family’s empire. “She needs to trust us. She needs to stay put while she’s still in danger.”
“So we just lie to her?”
“It’s more like omitting the truth.”
“Yeah,” Frankie’s tone was bitter. “She’ll really appreciate that.”
“You and I both know that that shit is complicated.”
There was a beat of silence - the unsaid events of their past rippling between them. Frankie shook his head. “Fuck, man,” There was a bitter laugh on his tongue. “Didn’t think I’d be here nearly twenty years later with Charle’s daughter on the line.” He scratched at his chin - his overgrown beard. He looked tired - threadbare, which was unnatural on him. Frankie rarely seemed weak due to his size and brunt strength. “Didn’t think I’d care this much either,” he added softly as an afterthought.
“You like her?” Santi needled.
Fish sighed. “She’s…she’s a nice girl.”
Frankie’s jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”
“I know I have my head up my ass most of the time,” Santi dropped his chin in his hands and smirked up at him. “But I am pretty sure that it is like that.”
He could literally see the gears in Frankie’s brain working overtime - his nostrils flaring as if trying to weigh the pros and cons of admitting whatever feelings he may have for her. Santi didn’t know the extent of them, but he did know that Frankie barely gave most women the time of day. He didn’t get protective or possessive. Hell - they’d shared women before due to it being practical.
“It’s not like that,” he repeated tightly before he stormed out of the office. Santi rolled his eyes.
Santi had called a dinner, which had seemingly surprised the girl. She’d kept her distance from him since they’d fought the night Benny had taken her out. The things he had done, he had done for her. At least - that’s what he told himself.
He was not a good person. He didn’t consider himself one, but he was still trying to wipe his slate clean. His history with Charles felt as if it was wrapped firmly around his neck. It throttled him consistently.
Santi studied her now as she sat in one of the dining room chairs. She was perched - not relaxed or at ease. He couldn’t blame her. They held her right at the precipice where she could not tell up from down. Santi was actively keeping her in the dark, and he wondered what he would do if she outright asked him what happened between her father and him.
He had realized that she was pretty good at watching people. She might appear aloof or quiet, but her eyes were constantly darting over their movements. She observed, and she remembered. She counted the knives on the table - the sips he took of his wine. Will had filled him in as much. Their training sessions had been taking place every other day.
“She’s got a photographic memory, man,” he informed him - his tone almost dazzled. “At least, when she wants to use it. She’s been able to mimic all the moves I’ve taught her. Granted - she’s still kind of weak, but she’s got the movements down.”
She picked up her fork before lowering it back to her plate. Her hair was mussed. Santi could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. Her lips were bright - flushed and swollen from picking at them.
Frankie sat across from her - his expression strained. Every time the girl glanced at him, he averted his eyes or picked at his food. Ben was on one side of her and Will on the other - flanking her per usual.
Santi stared at her mouth again - imagined the plush of it giving way under his own. Her features narrowed when she caught him looking - her brow creasing in suspicion. He fiddled with the label on the wine bottle.
“So,” she said slowly. “Is there a reason we’re eating at the table like this?”
“Santi will tell you,” Frankie muttered as he folded his arms over his chest. The black ink of his tattoos flexed with his movements. He’d made it quite clear where he stood. Santi rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.
“The situation with my brother has gotten out of control,” he explained carefully. “He made his intentions clear when he left that present in your bed.” She grimaced, returning her fork to her plate as if she were sick. “Frankie fucked up by killing two of his men and - ”
“He did that for me,” she interrupted, her voice quiet. “He was just -”
“It was still a stupid move on my part,” Frankie intercepted. His gaze was thoughtful and bleeding with something Santi couldn’t identify as he looked at her. “I messed up. It just put you in more danger.”
She sighed - scrubbing at her forehead. “So, how do we fix this?”
“I will fix this,” Santi corrected. “I’ve talked to Baron. We’ve called a temporary truce. He’s going to come over and speak with you and hopefully realize that you have no intention of making a move on his territory.”
Will’s jaw ticked - his fist curling tight around the handle of his steak knife. But it was Benny who spoke.
“Yeah...,” he drawled. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“It’s already done,” Santi poured himself more wine. The pain in his head increased. He needed to get fucked.
Ben jerked his thumb at Frankie. “You’re fine with this?”
“No,” Fish said. “I’d rather pierce my dick than break bread with that fuck.”
“Thank you so much for that visual, pendejo,” Santi took a hearty gulp from his glass. “And the support,” he finished.
Frankie shrugged. “It’s my mess. I’ve screwed it enough.” He cast the girl a furtive look, which she returned evenly. “Santi knows what he’s doing.”
The girl’s mouth twitched. Santi felt as if several unsaid things were being shot around the table. The shared gazes. The tense jaws. Everything bled innuendo and suggestion.
“I don’t want him here,” Will rumbled - his arm thrown over the top of her chair. He was turned toward her - leaning into her body protectively. “I don’t want him near her.”
Jesus. Christ. Now - he had Will to contend with about this.
Santi opened his mouth to argue, but the girl beat him to it.
“Will,” she soothed - placing her hand on his. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be safe with the four of you.” She motioned to Santi. “If Pope says it’s what we have to do to get out of this, then it’s what we should do.”
He’d keep her around just for agreeing with him. It was becoming apparent that she had more sense than the others, who had slowly begun to lose sight of how they did things because of their affection for her. The irony.
“Thank you,” he replied as meaningfully as he could. However, she didn’t smile - in fact, she closed up again - staring back down at her plate. She was still pissed at him.
Will snorted - unmoved. “Baron is not going to touch her. He’s not walking in here and putting a bullet in her head.”
Faire shifted in her seat, and Ben scoffed. “As if he could.”
Santi glared. “This is just a meeting. It’s just a conversation.”
Will’s expression darkened as he pinned Santi with a sneer. “I haven’t forgotten how he acted during the RICO meeting.” He curled his fingers around the back of the girl’s chair. “That had just been a conversation, also.”
“It’s fine,” She chewed her lip - a nervous habit that Santi had noticed she had. “I’ll do it, but I don’t understand why me talking to him in person is going to convince him that I don’t want to be part of his group.”
“He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. He’s going to have his inner circle there - people who can vouch for him and say that you personally admitted that you wanted nothing to do with the Apostles. It’s all just presentation…ceremony. You walking into the Chapel was a symbolic move even if you didn’t know it at the time.”
Will gave a frustrated grunt but didn’t argue. He was practically pressed against her, his hand still firmly settled on top of her chair. The tips of his fingers brushed the curve of her shoulder in a way that screamed intimacy. She pursed her mouth before nodding at Santi. There was something slightly childish about her features - a combination of her having seen both too much and too little. He couldn’t describe it. He had remembered her as a young girl - the big wide eyes and cute mouth. She had grown out of that girlhood spectacularly well, but it was as if her insides had permanently marked her beauty. A sadness stuck to her. Santiago felt it because there was sadness in him. She seemed lost in a lot of ways. As she sat in that chair, the edges of her dimmed. She started to dull. Charles hadn’t wanted her to be part of this life, and yet here she was. She was stuck on a runaway train with no reprieve or ability to brake. A fixed track. Written in the stars.
It made him fearful for her.
Santi found himself speaking before he could stop himself. “If you’re sure?” he urged. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Frankie raised an eyebrow - his stare pointed. I thought you weren’t giving her a choice.
It was as if a flip switched. She sat up higher - sticking her chin out. The glittering lights from the chandelier swept over her - dressing her face in a warm, rich glow. The sadness had vanished, and Santi felt his breath catch.
“I’m sure,” she replied. “How bad can it be?”
Santi gripped his glass before downing another heavy swallow. “Alright,” His gaze dragged over her again before he could stop it. Something heady bloomed between his ribs. He’d have to call a girl over tonight. Maybe, two.
“Ben,” Frankie called from the foyer. He was doing everything in his power not to gape at where Faire was slouched on the floor of the den. Her back was against the front of the couch, and Tom sat curled in her lap. She mindlessly stroked his head as she stared up at the television. She was dressed in jeans and a pink sweater with tiny pearl buttons. Everything fit so snuggly that Frankie could see the curves of her hips - the swell of her breasts beneath the cashmere fabric. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The way she looked when Ben was fucking her on that bed still played on an endless loop in his head. Her face tipped backward - her lips parted, and her eyes shut in ecstasy. Her arched back as Ben drove into her hard and fast. Frankie hated that that particular image had managed to overtake the one that was his. He recalled sensations: tight, wet, and clenching. Her moans and the tiny wrinkle between her brows when he first sunk into her. She’d practically strangled his cock. The heat of her gorgeous cunt had been molten and soaked. He’d cared for that image. He nursed it. He’d fucked at least a dozen women since, and it hadn’t been enough. Still - he continued that descent - racing without a steering wheel toward an unfinished end as he tried helplessly to banish her from his memory. More nameless women. More. More. More.
“Ben!” Frankie yelled again. The girl finally cast him a sharp glance before it darted back to the television. He deserved that. He deserved her hate and her anger, and all of the bitterness that had no doubt accumulated over the last few weeks. Frankie heard Benny curse and then the tread of his heavy boots stumbling down the stairs. He strolled into the foyer like his world had been doused in gold. Maybe - it had been.
Ben grinned at him. He was freshly showered - his boots still untied. Frankie briefly wondered if he’d just gotten done fucking her when he remembered that Faire was sitting in the den looking perfectly put together. Jesus. He was losing it. Jealousy was a foreign feeling for him. He’d never cared enough to be jealous, but the sight of her getting pounded by his best friend had unlatched something poisonous in his system.
“Where we headed?” Ben asked. Frankie ignored him and marched out the door.
“What have you been doing?” Frankie snapped over his shoulder.
“Jacking off,” Ben quipped as he followed him out into the hall. “Now - tell me where we’re going? I was looking forward to a quiet night.”
Since when had Ben ever looked forward to simply hanging out? He was restless - always chomping at the bit to work his club or socialize with the masses. Gamble. Drink. Sit in his booth with the same pompous energy he’d utilize if it were a throne. Now - that wasn’t enough for him.
Frankie knew the answer. Of course, he did. The girl had managed to infiltrate each of their heads - shake them around until they didn’t know what direction they’d been standing in, to begin with. He was not himself, and neither was Benny. Even Will no longer spent all of his time in the basement.
“Theo,” he replied shortly.
“Why?” Ben laughed. “We fucking her again? Thought that was a one-time thing.”
Frankie’s lips curled. He wouldn’t put it past Ben to try and get a rise out of him after they’d made direct eye contact while he was balls deep in their captive. “We’re going to make sure that Baron will be on his best behavior. You know how good Theo is at wrangling him.”
The garage was empty and humid. Summer was still clinging to the buildings - leaking into the concrete. He slipped into the front seat of one of the Range Rovers, and Benny followed, taking shotgun.
He was silent as they made their way out of the garage. Frankie was grateful for that since his head was beginning to pulse. His ears buzzed. He tapped his fingers across the steering wheel as the sun filtered through the windshield. It was a gorgeous day. Blue and blinding. It irritated him.
“So,” Ben clapped his hands together. “We going to discuss how good Faire’s pussy is or -?”
Frankie slammed on his brakes - the car screeching to a halt and nearly missing the stop sign. “Jesus, Ben.”
“What?” he smirked. “I know you fucked her.”
Frankie’s head whipped toward him. “She told you?”
He shrugged. “I figured it out, but she confirmed it.”
He pursed his lips - sweat building on his palms. He dragged a hand over his face and started driving in what he hoped was the right direction. They had to meet one-on-one with Theo. He couldn’t remember why. It was as if everything about his day had suddenly melted into black space.
Benny cleared his throat. “She thinks you hate her,” he remarked. “She thinks you don’t respect her - just wanted to use her.”
“I mean, that’s kind of what happened. It was…a moment of insanity…I don’t know.”
Ben’s huffed. “You can’t do that to her. She doesn’t deserve it.”
Frankie shot him a withering look.
“What? Are you guys dating or something?” His tone was mocking. He was pissed when he didn’t have the right to be, but he couldn’t hold back. “Ben, you are the most fickle person I know. You’ll love this girl for a week - be enamored with her and her pussy, and then you’ll get bored like you always do.”
The words were spilling out of him like brackish water.
Benny’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? I can name a dozen other women you’ve done this to...Emily, Cara, Jessica, Marissa…the list goes fucking on,” Frankie shook his head, scoffing. “I did the right thing. I couldn’t get attached, and she definitely can’t get attached.”
“Yeah,” Ben snorted. “You absolutely love blowing up your fucking life and then acting like you’re a martyr in all of this.”
“I’m not acting like a martyr.”
“You are, man!” He leaned toward him. The car was beginning to get too hot. “She’ll probably kill me for saying this, but you really upset her. She cried about it. That's why I took her out to George’s.”
Frankie froze. A twinge of regret nipped at his neck. He brushed it away. “That’s exactly why I had to cut ties,” His voice was low and full of gravel. “She was - she can’t -“
Frankie groaned. He wanted to put his head through the windshield. “I don’t know. I took advantage of her when she was having a dark moment. It didn’t feel right.”
"She doesn't feel that way."
Frankie shook his head. "It was still wrong."
Ben blew out a breath. “So you’re cool with me just fucking her then?”
“I know what you’re doing, Ben.”
“What am I doing?”
“Trying to get me to cave,” he growled. “You won’t. I’m not good for her, and you aren’t either.”
“None of us do good things. We don’t live that way.”
“Maybe - I’d like to do something good for once.” He tugged at his hair. It had gotten too long. “I’d like to do something good for her.”
“I know you, Frankie,” Ben leaned back into his seat - a thoughtful smile lifting his mouth. “I know how you are with the things you want.”
Frankie didn’t respond.
Her knees scraped across the carpet as she reached for the bottle she’d hidden under her bed.
He was here. She had to meet with him.
Baron. Baron. Baron.
There was vodka still sloshing at the bottom of the glass, and she slammed it back. It scorched her throat, and she wrinkled her nose - scrunched her eyes. Blegh. She was nervous, and when she was nervous and alone, she tended to self-destruct. She tended to fill the uncertainty with a mind-numbing agent.
She’d kill for a Xanax or Klonopin or both. She wouldn’t mind a nice warm cradle of prescription drugs.
Baron and his men were in Pope’s office already. They didn’t want her to come in until she had to. It was all bizarre. The boys were almost madly protective of her - so much so that they didn’t want her to spend more than a minute than was necessary with Pope’s brother.
She felt sick. Her stomach turned over. She was still recovering from him leaving a dead snake in her bed. If she’d brushed up against it, she would have died. She would have flat out passed away. Will had been kind enough to buy her new sheets and bedding and then check it nightly.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just - huge fear. Big, big fear of snakes. So gross.”
He chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ve got it. I promise no more snakes.”
He hadn’t said anything, but she knew he was furious that someone had broken into her room. It was disturbing that someone had managed it. It was throwing the guys off their game. They were used to being unbreachable, and she almost felt bad that her existence had seemingly caused a glitch in their system.
This was happening because of her.
Her phone pinged, and she glanced at it. Ben had texted her to come down. Great. She stood up and smoothed her sundress. She had pointedly decided to wear something that made her look disarmingly young. She wanted her outfit to read, I’m a self-destructive alcoholic and kind of a slut and want literally nothing to do with my dead dad’s business, or I'm terrible with finances and don’t have the disposition for drug trafficking or whatever it is you do -
She’d be fine.
Actually, She was fine until Frankie intercepted her in the hallway. She nearly crashed into him as he stalked down the corridor. His hands clasped her shoulder, and she blinked up at him. Weary. Her tongue tasted strongly of mints on top of vodka.
She’d been having the same cycle of nightmares lately. Terrible ones. Baron’s man was on top of her - his breath smelling of turpentine and her mother’s art studio and old sangria. She felt the ghost-pain of glass. She’d bleed out from those cuts as the intruder buried her into the kitchen floor. Dizzy. Vision swimming.
The worst ones were when the man turned into Frankie. His handsome face distorted into something hellbent and angry. His dark hair spilling around her - stinging her cheeks. His olive skin - sun-drenched and flushed with a fever. His muscles were rolling and flexing as he pushed her into the carpet of her bedroom.
“Stay still,” he growled before he rocked into her. “Stay fucking still.”
There was pleasure in it. Pleasure and fear. Sweet-honeyed syrup oozed through her veins as she held onto the nightmare-version of Frankie. She’d wake, and it’d be over, and she would still feel that emptiness inside her core, just like when he’d left her the first time. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.
So when Frankie caught hold of her, she momentarily saw a different version of him. The alcohol was muddling her mind. Her head throbbed. His fingers bruised her shoulder as he loomed over her.
Her breath rattled as she gasped, and he released her immediately. The fog cleared, and there was just Frankie staring down at her. No nightmares. No dreams.
She stiffened and stepped away from him.
“You care?” Her tone was biting. She was slightly proud of herself for it.
“Of course, I do.”
She had stuck up for him in front of Santi, but there was still something mangled between them. The connection they had was wrung dry - burnt out.
“You have a really wonderful way of showing it.”
His jaw clenched. “I know what I did. I don’t have an excuse for my behavior other than trying to do what’s right by you.” He was so close- towering over her with his broadness and his generous mouth. She could taste him - recall with technicolor clarity the way he had pinned her to the rug and slid inside her. She could barely catch her breath and, even now, it felt as if he had sucked the air from the room. She responded to him - felt drawn to him. His eyes drifted down to her lips before he averted them.
“I care,” he repeated, and she wanted to believe it.
She moved forward before she could stop herself. She reached up and grasped his jaw, savoring the way he exhaled against her parted mouth. He said nothing, but his expression managed to flit between bewilderment and hunger. His lids were heavy - the coal-black line of his lashes fluttering with each centimeter she conquered.
Why does it even matter?
Fear and anxiety were swirling around in her gut. Her chest was tight, and her head wasn't straight, but Frankie could ease it. He was good at that. He’d held her in his lap and cradled her through a panic attack. He’d used his body before to snatch her from the brink of a breakdown.
From down the hall, the entrance to Pope’s office burned gold. The heavy sun of afternoon streaming through the doorway. A rectangular box of light. It was calling to both of them. Frankie’s face was a mosaic of shadows. Was he fighting with himself? She couldn’t read him. She could feel him but could not guess what he wanted out of this. I care. I care. I do.
He pushed into her hand, and beneath a patch of light, she could make out his eyes searching hers. He was either waiting or trying to find the right moment to pull away from her. He swallowed thickly. His nostrils flared. Fuck it. She wrenched him down to her mouth and kissed him.
It was the same as the first one had been. Dirty. Wet. Unhinged. His lips slotted between her own - his tongue slipped across the roof of her mouth. She turned her head, and then he deepened it. A groan rose up from his chest - drenched his throat and rumbled behind her teeth. His hands fisted her hair as he walked her back into a wall. He was practically lifting her up as he held her head firmly. She opened for him - her nails digging into the nape of his neck - the ends of his hair brushing her knuckles.
Was he worried about her? Did he think something was going to happen? She didn’t understand why now of all times he was attempting to bridge the gap?
He shared a balcony with him. He never shut his curtains, and it’s not as if they’d been all that careful about when they fucked. Maybe - he saw?
“You’re jealous,” she wanted to taunt. “You’re jealous, jealous, jealous.”
But - he was lifting her against him. She was nearly on her toes - her lungs fit to burst - her heart pounding. He felt like cool, clear water dousing her head while also scorching the bare pieces of her in crackling fire
His hand crept lower - drifted over her ass. Like the last time -there was an edge to his grip on her. It was flustered and feverish and dizzy. His mouth burned as it moved against her own - everything burned. He was too much and not enough all at once, but the taste of him quenched her fraying nerves. It doused the anxiety that was rippling through her system. For a moment, she was thoroughly distracted and felt at ease slipping into this man’s hold. Even if he had hurt her.
And he had hurt her.
Her confidence was still in pieces. There was still the sting of her insecurity from the sight of that purple box - that woman under his arm. His stupid ability to make her feel under a microscope without even looking at her.
She placed her palms on his broad chest and shoved him away from her. Frankie stopped - staggering backward. She noticed a spasm in his fingers as they curled into fists. Good. I want you to feel unsteady. He gaped at her - his lips swollen and his brow creased in disorientation. Mystified.
She used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth and brushed past him without another word.
The second she stepped into Pope’s office - the air in the room expanded. There was a vibration beneath her feet. The other boys were there already - arms crossed firmly over their chests as they regarded her quietly. There were men she didn’t know and men she did. She guessed security from both sides.
Ben’s hand was warm at her lower back as he nudged her toward a chair at the center of the room. She caught Will’s eyes. They were hard - giving nothing away. Ironhead thoroughly coating his skin. She heard Frankie shut the door behind her. She checked him over her shoulder, and his expression was strained. He swiped his thumb over his lower lip - still swollen and wet from her spit. It had been between her teeth not even a minute ago.
The fading sun streaked the hardwood floor - it dashed gold over the expensive rug and its geometric patterns. It heated her skin. Her head spun and she knew that she drank too much vodka.
Pope leaned against the front of his desk. His stance was casual as he crossed his ankles in his expensive suit. He said her name softly before he gestured toward the far side of the room. She followed the trajectory of his hand - followed until she met a pair of lake-blue eyes.
She had only ever seen a flash of Baron. She’d been so drunk and mildly in shock that his face had never registered for her. She hadn’t really thought about it - hadn’t traveled back to that moment to process what he had looked like. He was a blur - an interaction dulled by her own loose senses and the shock of violence that Will had wrecked upon that man with a baseball bat.
As she studied him now, she felt both bewildered and surprised. He didn’t look like Pope. There was no similarity at all. But just like Pope, he was also breathtakingly attractive. No - he was beautiful. Cheekbones and full sensuous lips. A girlish beauty all warped by his very broad and very masculine demeanor.
Gruff. Shadowed. Thick black tattoos winded up its neck and across his chest that peeked from the v of his gray button-up. He was tan. His square jaw was shadowed by stubble. His brown hair was swept back.
She blinked at him - her feet unsteady as she sat in the chair Benny led her to. Baron’s gaze was pensive and heavy as it swept over her - the very brunt of it like a violent wave. The corner of his lips quirked as if he was entirely fascinated by her appearance. She wondered if he knew she had chugged alcohol before this. It felt like he did. It felt like he was wedging his fingers beneath her skin and peeling something out of her.
Beside him stood a tall, leggy blonde. Her hair hung in soft, golden waves, and she was clad in a stylish pink pants suit with emerald Louboutins. The woman’s eyes were gray-green - mischievous and suggestive as she watched her shift in her chair.
Ben hovered at her side - his breath warm as it brushed her ear. “Theo,” he whispered. “Baron’s number two.”
They had tried to prepare her for this, and still, she couldn’t meet Baron’s eyes. There was something about him that upset her. She found him nothing like what she had expected. She felt as if he was carefully stripping her of each centimeter of flesh.
Pope was talking. He had been talking, and she had tuned him out, distracted by his brother’s face.
His words were rushed like he was trying to fill the space - making sure there was barely any dead air whenever he paused for breath. She didn’t pick up on what he was saying. She couldn’t.
When Baron finally spoke, it was directed at her.
“You don’t want it?” Baron asked - his brow furrowing. She startled, blinking at him. What was she supposed to not want?
“No?” she replied though it lacked any of the strength she thought she’d mastered the last few weeks. It lacked the confidence Will was subtly building inside her as he trained her or even the self-love she felt when Benny worshiped her body. Baron made her forget. There was something about him...
“No?” He lifted a brow and stepped toward her. It was immediate: the other four moved with him. Baron stilled - his gaze dancing between them curiously before centered on her. “Huh,” he muttered - his tone now fixed with interest. She felt as if the boys had just made a mistake - that they’d revealed their hand too fast. “Imagine that.”
“I don’t want it,” she confirmed - wanting his attention off of them. “I don’t want anything to do with my father’s business.”
“Why not?” He continued to stare at her with those soft dark eyes. His voice was low and caressing. He was subdued and solemn, and the air around him crackled with uneasiness. It was also apparent that he was thicker than Santi. Muscular. “It’s a lot of money. It’s power.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“I didn’t know it existed until a few months ago,” she reasoned. “I have no experience in these,” she searched for the proper word. “-matters.”
“There are men who care more about blood than experience,” he remarked - not unkindly. “Your family has been in charge of the Apostles for decades - a century, even. Maybe, longer.”
She was perplexed. It was almost as if Santi's brother was trying to convince her to keep it. He was playing a game with her, or perhaps he was tricking her into saying that maybe she did want a piece? She had expected him to be chaotic. She expected him to be something other than this. Foaming at the mouth, maybe? Blood drying on the lapel of his button-up.
“She said she wanted nothing to do with it,” Will interjected. His voice was so cold that it ached - could turn bone to glass. “It’s done.”
Baron ignored Will, his gaze still firmly fastened to her. It gave away nothing - not a single tell. He was unscrewing her - flipping her about to see where the liquid sloshed. She didn’t know how to meet him. She didn’t know, and it was terribly unnerving.
“You look like your mother,” he stated out of nowhere. His eyes slid toward Frankie. “Doesn’t she?”
Frankie’s mouth thinned to a flat line, but something hot burned behind his eyes. What?
Baron’s jaw flexed, and he settled back into his seat. “This whole thing is ridiculous. I’m sorry that-“ His gaze shot to Pope before returning to her. “ - things got lost in translation. That wasn’t what I intended.”
“You didn’t intend for men to come here and take me by force? Try and kill me?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Both Theo and his eyebrows raised simultaneously - his lips splitting into something that she couldn’t define. A smirk? A sneer? Plain amusement? Did he enjoy watching her squirm?
It was Theo who then drew her attention. She was disarmingly striking with her high cheekbones and big white teeth. She seemed the very picture of a man’s fantasy except for the slight glimmer in her pupils - like she knew far more than you did. She was perfume and gin and silk lingerie with arsenic underneath. Pepper in the milk. You didn’t cross her without losing a piece of yourself. She tugged her pink lip between her teeth and winked at her.
“No one was supposed to kill you,” Baron assured her. “I never ordered that, and it’s not like I tried to go after you again.” He gestured to Frankie, whose scowl deepened. “Not even after Morales decided to murder two of my men out of spite.”
“We said we’d rectify that,” Pope grumbled as he massaged his temples.
She frowned. “The snake?”
He lifted his broad shoulders. “Had to get your attention somehow. My brother wasn’t answering my calls.” His eyes lit up. “It was strictly symbolic.”
Santi glared. “You didn’t call me.”
“I did,” he argued. “Truthfully - I think you’ve just wanted to keep her hidden away. Safe as houses.��� His gaze continued to circulate between her and the men. Ben’s presence stayed rooted behind her chair. Will tense and ready to step forward on her left.
“They’ve kept me safe,” she replied.
“From what I heard, you were able to keep yourself safe,” he returned. “Defended yourself -“
“Against your men,” she growled.
“Yes,” he grinned. “Against my men.”
They were going in circles. She wasn’t sure what the fuck was happening or what he was playing at, but she was positive he was trying to goad her into something.
“Who would have thought Charles’s little daughter would turn into this?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged a hand over his jaw. He seemed to be assessing her. Pensive. The air was thickening again. Tense and bleak and overwhelming. She wanted to leave.
“So a truce then?” Pope declared. “You got your answer.”
Baron’s gaze darted between each of them before landing on her once more. He studied her from root to tip with a single flicker. She met it bluntly - hoping it was enough to convince him.
“I did,” he drawled in a husky voice. It held the same texture as smoke. A smile faintly pulled at his lips.
She wasn't sure if Pope and Baron meant the same thing.
may i please request Glamrock Freddy carrying a gn!reader around and just being cuddly in general? please, i just want to be held by the himbo dilf bear 😭
Shoving these two together to chomp down more requests at once but-
1) Me too dude, me too😭
2) Dw abt sending more than one request at a time! I genuinely don't mind! It might take me a while to get to them both but you've got nothing to worry about. And if I ever get overwhelmed w/ the asks I'll just close the askbox until they get more managable again
Glamrock Freddy (FNAF) x GN Reader
[Headcanons - General fluff + being carried]
Warnings: Slight injury mention
First time Freddy picked you up was when you scraped your knee and banged your chin on the ground. It took you a hot second to realise you're being lifted up and carried off to the medbay, you were in an insane amount of pain. Thankfully you didn't actually break your jaw - just bit your lip. It hurt, sure, and you've messed up your left knee, but other than that you were alright. Just a bit shaken up, but alright.
Freddy, on the other hand, hasn't worried like that since he was switched online all those years ago. Kids got hurt fairly often here, yeah, but he's never seen someone drop so hard off the 3rd-to-last step while going down. He was by your side in an instant, carefully helping you roll over; eyes scanning your face for any broken bones before heaving a sigh. Still, he picked you up and carried you all the way through the establishment to get you patched up.
Whenever there aren't any people around on the floor during closing time he'll swoop you off your feet and carry you back towards his room. At first you were extremely worried someone's going to catch you and interrogate you about what the hell is going on. Thankfully nobody here is paid enough to care, especially not during the closing hours.
He may or may not abuse the personnel-only corridors and routes to hold your hand while you walk with him wherever he needs to go. Whether it be to shows, to his room, or to do whatever he needs to do in-between shows and parties.
Yes, on multiple occasions he's made up an excuse to drag you away from whatever you were working on, going as far as to tell your supervisor that you're needed elsewhere. Promptly. He never does it out of selfishness or attention seeking, however. It only happens when he realises you're either stressed, overworked or not doing the best at the moment. Someone has to look after you, and since sometimes you don't do it yourself? He will.
Holding you close to his chest is one of his favourite things about being around you. Not only are you so much smaller than him but you also radiate heat – a favour he repays when you're in need of a personal heater. More often than not you'll tuck your head under his chin and let him hold you for as long as the both of you need it.
You'd think he's uncomfortable to lean against for longer periods of time but honestly? It's nothing a blanket won't fix if you're particularly bothered by it.
Despite the metal he's surprisingly warm, and comfortable enough for you to doze off against on regular basis. Whether you're leaning against him or snuggling up to him, half of the time it'll end with you closing your eyes for just a moment. Before you know it an hour's gone by and Freddy's on standby mode conserving battery because he wanted to snooze with you as well.
There are times where he has no heart to wake you up even when he has things he needs to do. He's not big on breaking the rules and ignoring tasks but he'd much rather deal with the consequences later than wake you from your nap – you look so content when you sleep, he likes seeing you so peaceful.
Teen!Bruno Madrigal x Foreign Fem!Reader 「Chapter 1」
This is probably gonna be a short fic instead of a one-shot, I wanted to start it on their teenage years, but will probably make the rest of the story pass by after the birth of Luisa, Isabela and Dolores!
Read it on AO3
Bruno Madrigal. You've heard this name so many times since you and your family moved to Encanto, it wass as if the guy was the only talk on the village. Be it via hushed whispers, disapproving gossip or even revolted screams, everyone always had something to say about him.
Being knew in the village meant you hadn't met the Madrigals yet, curious about their powers and what they would look like! The only one you've seen so far was Señora Alma, the lady being kind enough to introduce you to a few of your neighbours.
Now, a week has passed and you still haven't had the time to meet many people, more focused in helping your parents get habituated.
"That Madrigal boy is a magnet of bad luck! You and your family better stay away from him!" your neighbour commented one day, as you were helping your mom hang some clothes to dry outside. "Came to my son one day telling him he was gonna be in pain, and wouldn't you know? The very next day he broke his arm!"
Your mom hummed along, not really paying much attention to the older woman. She seemed to have taken a liking to you, already joking about how you and her son were the same age, nudging you into talking to him as much as you could.
"But why would it be his fault?" you asked, confused. "Did he break his arm or something?"
"He wouldn't dare, he's skinny as a stick, that one! It was his bad luck! If he had kept quiet it wouldn't have happened!" she seemed enraged about it. "Alma needs to do something about that boy, or else he'll keep spreading his curses around!"
The conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere, so you decided to tune it out, the older woman ranting about the boy to your mom, while you hummed to yourself. Finishing your task quickly, you blew your mom a kiss, waving to your neighbour and deciding to finally check out the village properly.
Crossing the bridge that connected one half of the village to the other, you heard the soft clicks of tiles tapping against each other, following the sound for a bit, stopping in front of Casa Madrigal, smiling softly at the sweet aroma of passion fruit in the air.
"Hii! You're new here, right? Mamá told us about you!" a red haired girl happily skipped next to you, colours lightly shifting around her as she spoke. "I'm Pepa Madrigal! But you can call me just Pepa!"
"Hi, Pepa!" you waved at her, introducing yourself. "It's nice to finally meet one of the famous Madrigals! Your family is pretty popular, huh?"
She laughed, linking yor arm with hers as she talked about her gift and how it usually got people's attention, walking towards the house and guiding you to the kitchen, where a brunette girl sat, munching on a piece of cake.
"Julieta! Look who I found right in front of our house! It's the new girl!" gesturing for you to sit down, Pepa took her place next to her sister, still happily chatting as she served you a piece of cake. "I was telling her about our gifts!"
"Ai ai, Pepita! Mamá told you not to go running your mouth already..." the girl said, jokingly, turning to you. "She's not overwhelming you, is she? She does that sometimes."
"No, no! I have no problem listening to you guys, really!" you waved your hands in front of your body, gesturing for Pepa to continue her story as you finished your piece of cake.
After a while, you noticed the sun starting to settle down, getting up and quickly thanking the girls for the chat, telling them you had to be home soon. They waved you goodbye, inviting you to come over any time, happy to have made a new friend.
As the days passed, you got closer to Pepa, accompanying her on her errands, talking about yout life before going to Encanto and laughing at her stories about her family, they were always very nice to you, but you still hadn't met the infamous Bruno, being told that he was either in his room or already left the house every time you came over.
On the other hand, it seemed like the villagers had even more to say about him than before, and it was starting to get in your nerves. Pepa and Julieta told you very few things about Bruno, but they were all positive, and you didn't get the hatred the people of Encanto had towards him.
You knew it made his sisters sad, hearing them complain about how it wasn't Bruno's fault what he saw on his visions, and they were your only friends there, so it was starting to get you down too. After passively listening to another of your neighbour's rants once more, you decided to go for a walk so you could cool off.
Her son didn't get the hint, apparently, rushing to your side as you walked towards the village's market, waving the cast on his arm, his mom too prideful and irritated to let Julieta take care of it.
"You've been awfully close to the Madrigal's lately, huh?" he started. "Did you get the weirdo to see your future already?"
"I'm sorry, who?" you cocked an eyebrow, turnining to look at him with an irritated look.
"You know, Bruno!" he reminded you, indignantly. "The one who broke my arm!"
"You broke your own arm out of sheer stupidity, Nicolas, Bruno was just trying to warn you." turning to one of the food stands, you looked at what they had for sale, still annoyed at the guy next to you, gesturing to his cast with your head. "And then you keep the pityful look, even after Julieta offered multiple times to help you out with that."
Nicolas let out an indignant huff, opening his mouth to complain once more, before looking behind you with a slightly frightened expression, and quietly gesturing for you to leave. You cocked your head, turning around to see a boy around your age, his skinny frame towering over you, a large green poncho almost engulfing him. He looked like he wanted to tell you something, but before he could even start, you were already warning him.
"Sí?" you locked your eyes on his, still annoyed. "I swear, if you heard me and are gonna try and tell me another puta historia about Bruno, I will not hold myself from doing something I might regret later."
"Well, I'll try not to be too egocentric." the guy in front of you gave you a short smile, before extending his hand for you to shake. "Bruno Madrigal, nice to meet you."
Anon request: after a night of patrolling, matt comes home to the reader waiting for him at the couch prepared to tend to his wounds and bruises, but he notices that she’s wearing something new. more specifically, a red silk nightie dress ;) the reader tries to patch him up, but matt just can’t stop touching her (i believe this man has to be incredibly touch-starved) and she teases him about it
Thanks for the request and I’m sorry for the wait! I hope you’ll enjoy it :) Also WOW all the love I’ve been receiving on my recent posts has been incredible! Thank you all sm <3
Contains: descriptions of wounds, needy!Matt, early season 1 setting, suggestive dialogue, (im also a slut for sub!matt so a bit of that here too), grinding, oral sex (m receiving)
A loud bang caught your attention from your place on the couch. The source of the noise coming from the roof access stairs across from you. The only reason you didn't scream was because you saw a familiar silhouette through the dimly lit apartment.
Matt began to stumble down the stairs as you scampered to help him, his grunts of pain filling the silence between you.
Leading him to the couch, you ticked off the list of medical supplies in your mind that you would need to grab. You sat him down and began to assess the damage, removing his eye coverings and lifting up his shirt.
A half wheeze half laugh came from him, “It’s not as bad as it seems, really.” He said, probably to calm your nerves buzzing into the air.
It was only when he started to catch his breath when he sensed it, something about you was different. He reached out and felt the material on your body. The silk slip which hugged you nicely.
You carefully straddled him to better reach a gash across his forehead, his hands instantly resting on your hips. His fingers lightly made circles in your skin, “This is new.” He said as he took in what you were wearing.
You lightheartedly scoffed, “Yeah and it was supposed to be a nice surprise.” You said as you placed some medical tape across the shallow wound.
The softness of the silk against his skin was overwhelming. The way it stretched over your body made you feel as though you were made of the material. He began to trail his hands up and down your thighs, savoring the feeling.
“Can you let me do my job?” You asked him while he continued his exploration, his hands moving from your thighs to your ass. He gently squeezed before smacking it, making you jump, “Calm down Mr. Handsy, you’re still bleeding out.”
He chuckled, “I’d bleed out forever if it meant you got to stay where you are, as you are.” He said, his voice low and raspy. You’ve gotta admit, that was hot, but he was littered with cuts and bruises that needed tending to.
With his hands back to rest on your thighs, you finished up with the wounds on his face. You began to get off of him when his grip tightened, a smile appearing on his face. “Why don’t you stay? You know, you feel so pretty sitting here.” He whispered, as if others could be listening in.
You returned a smile to him, fingertips at the hem of his shirt, “Sure I can stay, you’ve just gotta work with me here.” You said before lifting up the black material. He cooperated and helped you get it off of him completely, leaving his scar-littered torso bare.
You slowly, painfully, ran your hands up and down his toned chest; half checking for fresh trauma, half finally getting your hands on him. His body tensed up when your slightly cold hands met his burning hot skin. A small gasp came from his lips as your hands travelled lower.
Satisfied from his reaction, you ground yourself into him in small circles from where you sat on his lap; causing your only piece of clothing to ride up your body. He grunted, surprised at how good you felt even through clothing.
You kept your pace and he kept his hold on your hips, his hands roaming to your ass every now and then. He leaned his head forward into your breasts, the softness of your skin, the silk, his favorite perfume of yours, all of it, drove him wild.
“Please,” he murmured, “I want to feel you. Let me-” He started to undo his pants, trying to pull them down. You cut him off with your lips, stealing his words and his breath.
You pulled away and observed the man in front of you, his reddened lips and pleading expression. “Look at you, so needy,” you said, a whine coming from Matt in response, “let me help.”
Climbing off him, you get on your knees and pull his remaining clothes down to his ankles, his cock fully erect. You tease him by kissing along his thighs, making him wait for what he really wants.
“Come on baby I-“ a shiver cuts him off, “Oh fu-” he can’t complete his sentence as you wrap your lips around his tip. A delightful groan is heard as you hollow your cheeks; his sounds are making you enjoy it almost as much as he is.
Your eyes begin to water as you take more of him, his hands swiftly flying to grab your hair in a bunch and guide your bobbing head. He moans your name along with a string of other curses that would definitely require him to go to confession for.
You can feel his body tense up and see his chest begin to heave up and down, “I’m almost, you’re so, please…” he rambled before spilling into your mouth, groaning as you swallowed him down.
Your mouth leaves him and he recovers from his high. Panting, he reaches down and lifts your chin towards him to kiss you; a nonverbal show of gratitude. He pulls you into his lap and breaks the kiss, resting his head on yours, “Can I take this off you now?” He asked, his fingers already beginning to remove the straps from your shoulders.
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Summary: Nat is sick and her girlfriends come to the rescue.
Warnings: Vomiting, lowkey soft Nat, and uhm fluff.. and I think that's it?
A/N: this is my first attempt ever at wandanat x reader.. don't think it's my best work so i'm hoping to get better at their dynamics overtime, but i hope you like it <3
Natasha hated being sick.
Years in the Red Room surely built her strength, her tolerance to pain, the dangers awaiting. But not a cold?
Sure, her immune system was probably stronger than most, but it still didn't prevent situations like this from happening.
She sneezes, her body curling up into the warm sheets of the bed. Her body ached, she felt too hot, then too cold, sweaty and gross all over. The universe seemed to be testing her as she twisted and turned in bed, throwing off the covers just to pull them back on. It also sucked that her girlfriends were nowhere to be found. No matter how many times she called for you both, there was no answer.
She huffs and sits up in bed, her head spinning wildly for a few moments even with her slow movements.
It was late, that much is obvious with the setting sun she can see peeking through the curtains.
She's almost certain she accidentally fell asleep earlier when Wanda turned on one of her sitcoms. The boredom from that and also paired with you running your fingers through her hair surely didn't help in her favor.
She needed to find you both.
You two were the only ones who could keep her sane during it all. Wanda took on more of a caring role once her sickness started, making sure she was fed, clean, and up to date with her medicine. You were the one to keep things light for the most part, quelling any feuds before they started, making terrible timed jokes if it'd help. When their stubbornness got the better of them at times, they could always count on you.
She didn't even get three feet away from the bed when she was suddenly sprinting to the bathroom.
Each rushed step only added to her headache. The pounding in her head and the bile rising in her throat overwhelms her to the point of tears that prick in the corners of her eyes. She grabs the edges of the toilet seat, heaving up all the food Wanda had made for her earlier in the day. She hoped you both wouldn't be upset, especially since you worked so hard on it with her.
It wasn't long before she felt her hair being held up and soothing words whispered at her side, a warm hand rubbing up and down her back and one on her thigh. With each comforting word all of her silly thoughts of you two being upset dissipate like they were never there in the first place.
"It's okay, we're here," she hears you murmur at her side.
The smell and taste are absolutely revolting, her throat burning and eyes profusely.
She chokes back a cry when she's finished. You pull her into your lap, whispering soothing words in her ears.
She would be ghastly pale if it wasn't for her flushed face, the sweat forming on her forehead made loose strands of hair stick to it.
She felt uncharacteristically weak, and she hated every second of it.
Suddenly she hears the rush of the bath running. She flinches violently, obviously not expecting it, and the headache she has makes the sound ten times worse. Wanda murmurs out a soft apology a little bit away and you lift Nat up, hooking your arms under her thighs.
Your body is warm but not too scalding like her own. She finds comfort in your embrace, tiredly slinking her arms around your neck.
"Where were you both?" she manages to ask as you set her back on the bed, finally having the courage to look at your face.
You looked worried, a slight crease in your brows and a frown forming on your lips that she loved so much.
"We were getting dinner. Wanda didn't feel like cooking and I wanted to go out," you mutter. She chuckles when you roll your eyes in thought, making a brief smile fix itself on your face as you take her shirt off.
"How long have you been awake?" Wanda asks softly as she walks from the bathroom, her eyes soft with concern.
She shrugs, helping you by shimmying out of her sweats. "I couldn't find my phone, maybe twenty minutes."
"I told you we should've left a note," Wanda mumbles, making you laugh.
"Maybe, maybe not."
The amused grins on your faces make it obvious that you're not mad at each other. But, you're both still obviously concerned for her wellbeing as the air is less light than usual.
Natasha had been sick since the last mission you all came back from. She tried to brush it off, but as the days increased so did her symptoms.
Wanda had been the one to scold her when she found out, though that didn't last long as she quickly became worried. News spread to you and then the rest of the team, and you and Wanda bullied the rest into getting her some weeks off (though she wasn't entirely sure how much of that she'd spend sick).
You walk away, muttering something about getting some fresh clothes for her.
Suddenly she's being lifted up again, and she huffs as she nuzzles into Wanda's shoulder, trying to hide her obvious embarrassment from both of you. Natasha would probably be the last one to get babied.
Deep down she thinks some part of her liked it, being taken care of by you both, but she'd never admit it to herself and least of all to you two. Though she has a feeling you both already know.
Wanda sets her into the lukewarm water. She scoffs when she sees the bubbles and you both giggle.
Wanda stands and kisses her forehead gently, sending a pleasant dizzying feeling to her stomach she knows isn't from the sickness. You place down her clothes on the counter, walking over to her and carding your fingers through her hair gently.
Part of her wants to cry from being treated so well. The way you both behave with her as if she's the most precious thing on Earth, soft words of affection and lingering kisses that'll never be forgotten in her mind.
Still, when she sees the medicine in Wanda's hands she physically recoils, sinking into the water with a groan.
"Nat," she warns as she walks over to the bathtub. She huffs, looking away from your teasing smirk as you stand up and walk out of the room.
"Here," Wanda says softly, holding a spoon up to her lips. She flickers her gaze from it to Wanda in disbelief.
Wanda tilts her head warningly and she faintly gulps at the sight, quickly taking the spoon in her mouth and taking the syrup-like medicine.
You walk back into the room with a big fluffy towel, "Works every time."
"Shut up," she grumbles, cringing at the taste in her mouth.
"Hmm, did we forget the food downstairs?" Wanda asks and you nod, and before Nat can blink she's out of the room.
You stay with Natasha the entire time, telling her about the day you've all had in the moments she wasn't awake. She laughs as you tell her about how you had to clean up the kitchen from the mess you made earlier, and even more at your terrible puns.
Before she knows it she's being pulled out of the bath, her temperature gone down significantly which you're all thankful for.
She's placed in the middle of you both when she gets dressed again.
The bed seems less uncomfortable, and she isn't sure if it's because you're both there or because of the bath she took.
She decides it's both.
"We should watch Frozen," you randomly speak up, a playful smirk on your face as you search for something to watch.
"Detka, please don't make me take the remote again," Wanda groans out, making Nat chuckle.
You huff. "You got to pick last time, don't be a cheater!"
"Well, my first thought wasn't to watch a kid's show," she mutters with amusement, shoveling some takeout into her mouth.
"Maybe it should've been, Nat fell asleep ten minutes into your sitcom," you retort lightly.
Wanda scoffs and Nat flushes, they both take the opportunity to shovel some food into their mouths as an excuse to not respond.
You giggle and use it as your chance to play the movie. Wanda sighs in defeat and Nat sighs in contentment when you both snuggle up at her sides.
It's only then that Nat realizes her headache is gone, her body feels a little bit better compared to earlier, maybe the best she's felt all week. She figures you both noticed her fever coming down before she did, and in an odd way, it fills her with an undeniable warmth in her chest, to know you both care so much, and you're here for her.
That's when she decides it doesn't matter if she watches one hundred Disney movies or sitcoms.
Hi! Your work is simply captivating, it's amazing how you can convey such strong emotions in your stories. If you're still taking requests, can you write a snippet where the villain has captured the hero and needs to hurt them (e.g. a broken leg) to prevent them from escaping? If you could have the villain tautingly/gently comfort the hero after they have injured them that would be great.
Sorry if this has been requested before, keep up the good work! :]
It started with the villain holding up their belt, all soft leather and silver buckle glinting in the overly-bright light.
"Would you like to bite down on this?" the villain asked, oh so courteous. "It might help."
The hero had taken one single look at the villain's face, at the simple baseball bat in their hands, and nodded. They knew the villain after all.
"Hold still, okay?" The villain tucked a strand of hair back from the hero's fear-sweaty forehead. "I'd like to make it a nice clean break. Neither of us wants to to mangle you, hm?"
It wasn't that the words didn't cross the hero's mind; the 'I won't run, I swear' and the 'I promise I won't even try and escape this time' and the 'please'. Of course it did. It was only that none of those declarations would make a difference, and the wait was its own prolonged sort of agony. So was holding still, though.
"Here," the hero mumbled around the belt, instead, pointing with entirely too steady hand to the exact spot. "For the least permanent damage."
The villain beamed at them, all soft and fond around the many edges of them. They hit the spot exactly.
It ended with the villain's arms curled around the hero as surely as shackles, cradling them close, as the hero's vision popped nauseous black spots.
"Shh, shh." The villain pressed a kiss against the hero's hair. "I've got you."
The words made the hero aware that they were still making sound. Raw, keening, involuntarily. They spat out the belt, shuddering, distantly aware of the bite marks tearing the material. Bile clawed up their throat. They felt dizzy. Too hot. Too cold. Their leg -
Well. They couldn't think about their leg.
The villain's closeness was an overwhelming thing; their expensive scent, their warm hands, their breath against the hero's skin. Overwhelming was better than thinking about the leg. Maybe. The hero squeezed their eyes shut.
Stop thinking about the leg.
"You're alright," the villain murmured. "You did so well! Barely even a flinch. And your screaming -" The villain's grip tightened, a reassuring little squeeze of the hero's shoulders. "Just lovely. Perfect."
The villain hadn't always been like that. Once, the words, the praise, would have left something warm fluttering through the hero. Maybe, shamefully, it still did. Given the alternative.
"I'm so proud of you," the villain said. "You break so beautifully."
Right. Of course not. What a stupid question. They pressed their face against the villain's shoulder, breathing hard, not sure if they were waiting for the ringing throbbing pain of it to stop, for the world to soften into something more manageable, or to pass out into sweet oblivion. Whatever came first, perhaps.
They did not pass out. Eventually, they even managed to sit up, leaning back heavily against the headboard of the bed. The villain's touch lingered, caressing a tear away from their cheek.
The villain picked up their belt again, head tilting as they considered the hero.
The hero's stomach lurched, twisted, threatened to upchuck every rancid thing in it. Their eyes widened.
The villain clicked their tongue at the hero's expression.
"It's your own fault," the villain said. "You'd hop. You never take reasonable bed rest, do you? You're much too conscientious. Too talented an escape artist."
"I'm not," the hero said. "I'm like, so bad. My focus is shot. I don't - I won't - [Name]."
"Now, now," the villain offered them the belt again. "Don't talk down about yourself. You're magnificent. Brilliant. Utterly deadly. Only person who could ever beat me, yeah?"
The hero swallowed. Their track record, their damn perfect track record, spoke for itself. "We're done, after this?"
The villain offered them the belt again.
"I think we've established it's best you don't talk at all for the next bit."
They would have to be done. They would have to be.
Requested by anon: I really loved how you portrayed Nat in your last fic and saw you'd like requests. I keep wondering how she'd react if reader was an empath... Wanting to be in a relationship but also afraid that this person saw right through her.
A/N: Small and sweet. Hope you like it <3.
You didn't want to be here. Well, maybe that was a stretch. It's not that you didn't want to, you just didn't know what you could possibly add to the team.
Tony was a close friend of yours, you had known him for years. And I mean, really know him.
You have a gift, that you didn't consider a gift the first time you discovered it. You considered being an empath a curse for a long time, feeling so many emotions all at once, emotions that didn't belong to you. It was overwhelming, and it cast an unimaginable weight on your shoulders.
But then, you learned how to control it. You learned that you could choose to take in other people's emotions, feelings, and lingering fears. Or, you could just choose not to.
You also learned that you could take those emotions away, not make them forget, but make the weight a bit lighter. And then, you started to see your gift as something that could be good.
You perfected your abilities over the years, helping people around you the best way you could. And Tony was one of them, on his worst days, you lightened the weight.
The doors of the elevator opened, you took in a deep breath. Backpack straps tightly grasped on your hands.
And now, here you were. Avengers headquarters. Tony convinced you to at least spend some time around, telling you how all kinds of messed up everyone's mental health was. You couldn't blame them. You also didn't believe you were capable to handle them.
Tony was waiting for you right outside the doors, a huge smile on his face. He made sure to introduce you to everyone as you went along, the reception was better than you thought it would be.
"I'm happy to finally meet you." Captain Rogers extended his hand for you to take, his smile was small yet genuine. "Tony has talked a lot about you."
You shook his hand. You felt the weight of too many years on his hold, years he should have lived but didn't. You felt the weight of leadership, but this was one he was proud to be carrying. It happened sometimes, this you couldn't avoid. Feeling some sparks of emotion here and there whenever you were in someone's presence.
"All good I hope." You chuckled to him.
Doctor Banner was the one you met next. You felt kindness when you shook his hand. Some uneasiness was also there, as if he was always expecting something to happen.
Wanda was one of the kindest, her smile was bright and she seemed happy to have a fellow girl with her. She was also surrounded by grief, your sympathy towards her was immediate.
Bucky was very guarded. You sensed how shy he was, he shook your hand with a fear of breaking it. You made a mental note to tell him later about the amount of goodness you felt in his heart.
Tony was on his way to show you your bedroom when you felt her.
You felt her before you saw her.
You stopped in your tracks and slowly turned around, seeing a redheaded woman walking through the living room doors.
The weight on her shoulders was a heavy one. Sorrow and loneliness that had lasted a lifetime and were still brewing. Memories of a past she was not proud of, brought her pain and regret. Actions she desperately wanted to take back. An everlasting feeling that she could never be good enough, that she would be forever stained.
Her posture was immaculate, with light steps and a serene expression on her face. You had no idea how she did it, how she was able to hold all of that in and still look so well put together because one glance into her soul and you felt your heart thundering and your breath shaking. You felt like crying.
"Ah, there's Romanoff." Tony landed a hand on your shoulder as the other motioned for the woman to come closer. "Natasha this is Y/N, the-"
"The empath." She cut him off as she came to stop right in front of you. You saw her clench her jaw and purse her lips, you felt the uneasiness.
"Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you." You managed to croak out.
Before you could extend your hand for her to shake, she nodded her head once in your direction and turned around to leave. Disappearing before you had the chance to say anything else.
After six months living amongst the team, you could safely say you had a good friendship with almost all of them. They warmed up to you pretty fast and you found yourself liking them more each day.
Natasha was the hardest. She liked you, you felt that. You also noticed it. She would sneak in glances towards you from time to time when she thought you weren't looking. She would save you a seat at the table beside her every time. You went on walks together and watched movies. But nothing more.
You fell for her, you knew she did as well. Yet she always kept you at arm's length. You had yet to touch her skin.
There were times when she would just move away when you came too close. Other times she would verbally tell you she didn't want to be bothered.
She never allowed you close enough to feel her, not really. It hurt your heart that she was protecting you from herself.
The weight of her past was always there, lingering on her shoulders. And you wanted nothing more than to make her feel better, to show her just how much kindness you saw inside her. How good you knew she was. She never let you.
Rain was pouring down today, the afternoon was ending and you could feel a cold breeze coming through your window. Natasha didn't like the rain.
You couldn't place exactly why. You just knew it made her feel more anxious and alone. Whenever it started to rain you always saw her curling in on herself, arms hugging her own body until she retreated to her room and didn't come out until the next day.
Today the rain was exceptionality hard, you couldn't bear the thought of her being by herself.
You found her in the kitchen making tea, she was wearing a fluffy hoodie, searching for warmth wherever she could.
"Hey Nat." You greeted her gently, fingertips running along the marble countertops.
Her eyes snapped towards you and then softened. Her hands fidgeted with her mug. You saw her gulp. "Hi... You want tea?"
You shook your head and stopped right beside her. "Just wanted to make you company."
Her mouth opened, her eyes searched your face before she looked down. She moved just an inch away from you, but you noticed.
Natasha's fingers lightly tapped her mug, she could feel a familiar lump forming in her throat. As much as she liked you, you scared her. The fact that you could see right through her facade and into all the bad and heavy burden inside her, was terrifying. She wanted to let you in. She also didn't want to lose you.
"You don't have to." Her voice was tight, her words going beyond this one moment.
"What if I want to?" You whispered only for her to hear. You regarded her carefully, the way her body was tense but you could feel her aching for comfort.
You took a deep breath, shaky fingers raising up to touch her. Your movements were careful and slow, giving her time to pull away.
You saw her eyes swimming with tears and her jaw setting, but she didn't move.
With utmost gentleness, you touched her hair first. Threading your fingers through her red locks and tenderly putting them behind her ear.
Natasha let a trembled breath escape. She closed her eyes and you visibly noticed the way she relaxed and melted against you.
Your hand found her jaw next, cupping her face delicately. You felt her first tear hit your thumb, and then her second, and her third. You wondered for a moment when was the last time someone held her.
She was sobbing when you pulled her to your chest. Your hand moving to the back of her head and the other encircling her waist, holding her tightly against you.
With her pressed against you. You felt her burden fully. Your own tears escaped as you shared her pain. It was indescribable, the amount of it that she was carrying. But she was also unbelievably strong.
Her hands clutched the fabric of your shirt, she buried her head on your shoulder. Natasha felt guilt filling her chest, for tainting someone as good as you with her sins.
You pulled away. She almost felt her heart shattering right then and there.
But then your hand moved to the crease between her eyebrows. Soft fingertips traced her features, moving from her forehead to her cheekbones and her jaw. Natasha sensed a strange fluttering feeling on her ribcage, it wasn't unwelcomed though.
"You are the most beautiful person I have ever met." Your quiet words resonated in Nat's ears. She touched her forehead to yours, longing for closeness now that she had a taste of it.
"I can feel your heart, it overflows kindness." You bumped your nose on hers as a sign of affection and placed your hand right over her heart.
Natasha let out a mix between a chuckle and sob. She pulled you in a long-awaited kiss, telling you what she was incapable of putting into words. All the fear she once felt, and all the love she was feeling now. She knew you could feel her, and she wasn't afraid anymore.
The weight was lifted. Natasha believed you.
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3
Your breathing was beginning to sting in your throat. Your legs were burning and your heart was ready to jump out of your chest and run a mile. Your chest heaves while you make your way to a source of light you saw. Your eyes are much better than the average persons, but the downside is that it causes a strain on your eyes. But you could deal with the after effects after you get this demon off your tail. You were skilled and well aware of that, but it seems that got to your head. You were taking on your first mission as an Apprentice. And of course you were under the impression it was going to be easy and just another stepping stool to your success. How wrong you were...
You were so, so, so- close! But you could hear the growling close behind you. And worried tears begin to form in your eyes. You regret so much, there is no way you could die now! Ignore the pain, ignore it, ignore it, all you have to do is make it to the house. Your tears begin to cloud your vision and your ragged breathes begin to tear into fearful sobs.
"GONNA HAVE TO RUN FASTER THAN THAT, SLAYER~!" exclaims the quickly gaining demon. This demon was not supposed to be any different from the others, why was it so fast? Why was it so set on you for gods sake? You trip over a rock and stumble before continuing your retreat. The light was getting closer and you felt the rock of worry in your stomach begin to fade when you see figures moving in the house. You scream trying to alert them
"H-HELP!" you scream out of breath but they probably didn't hear it, hell you were probably done for.
"It's no use Slayer~ You should just sit down, relax and enjoy the final moments of your life!" the demon sing songs from behind you, still in heavy pursuit. You break back into sob, fearing you wont make in time. Your feet have carried you to a dirt path leading towards the estate. You try to turn around and face the demon, knowing that possibly you could just trust yourself in the hands of these strangers if you were to get injured.
He jumps for your throat and you swing your sword, effectively slicing it's forearms. Your knees were threatening to buckle, and your ankles were about to give out. You hear a whistle and a sound of gleaming metal, before a thump. You knew it was the end of your life threatening situation when it's head rolled to your feet, fading away already. You look up to your savoir but the strain on your eyes was far too much, your vision was riddled with pain. And your body finally shuts down.
You awake in a room surrounded by people you don't know at all. Bright blue eyes stare at you with concern and they light up when they see that you are regaining consciousness.
"Oh thank goodness!" she exclaims before calling out for the others to come see. And before long people flood around you.
"Are you okay? That was one nasty demon." A woman with blonde and brown hair inquires.
"She is probably really confused, we should uh- introduce ourselves. I am Suma!" remarks the bright blue eyes girl. You try to push your weight onto your elbows but soon wince from the pain.
"I'm sorry, we couldn't tend to your injuries- you were asleep and we didn't want too-"
"Take your clothes off while you were asleep." Suma interrupts the girl with the ponytail and you nod. You stare up at all of them, slightly intimidated by the small crowd. It really kind of made you feel pathetic and very much overwhelmed.
"Here, why don't you wash up and then we can talk in the morning? I am Hinatsuru by the way." she hands you a bunch of clothes with a warm motherly smile and the blonde-brunette takes your hand.
"I am Makio, come with me I will show you the way." she was blunt but her hands were warm and somewhat rough. They were comforting and you fought the urge to cup them to your cheeks.
"Here we are there are bandages already in the bathroom." you want to thank them a thousand on your knees.
"Thank you very much" you bow and hurry into the bathroom. Embarrassed and ego stricken that you needed the help of strangers to kill one demon. You were overwhelmed, dirty and tired.
The water had been filled and you sink into the water and blow bubbles into the once clear liquid now slightly stained with blood and dirt from your fight. You scrub at your arms and legs slightly frowning at the muggy water, but even so you were happy to be able to bathe. You take a bucket and dump it over your head, letting the water run through your hair. Draining the tub, you quickly dress in the robes and try to look for your room. You walk into a room that still has the light on and you knock on the door frame not wanting to disturb anybody.
"I cant find my room.." your eyes fall upon a man in a Yukata that can only be described and luxurious with platinum hair. He was very well built and positively stunning. You recognise him as the one, the only- Uzui Tengen. The sound Hashira who you began working under a matter of days ago.
You must have been staring for too long since a grin became evident on his lips.
"Oh-! Yeah right, here come with me I can show you too the guest bedroom." Suma got off her spot on the mans lap. And straightened out her Kimono, a blush slightly painting her cheeks. Her thighs were so very plush, the perfect pillows. Soft skin with gentle hands-
"Wait." both of you turn around to face the origin of the storming voice.
"Who might this be?" he questions. All eyes were on you, so you answer
"I am Y/N, I am uh... A demon slayer." you figure it would be best to lie, since it wasn't like he would know- he has so many people working for and under him already, no way he would remember you specifically. They seem to know that already, but they seem like they want more information.
"Well, I had that idea. My beautiful wives pointed that seeing as you were in the uniform." he seemed amused and you almost forgot that you were wearing nothing other than a bath robe.
"I was sent on a mission, but all of us got separated and it ended it up chasing me here." you lie, and that seems to give them the information they need. Your eye lids were shutting and if you so wished, you could just pass out on now.
"Oh, I'm sorry we asked..." Suma looked kind of sad, like she was pitying you. Your guilt felt like it was going to rip a hole through your stomach, the way it was growing like a weed. So you go into the middle of the room and bow as low as your injured back will allow you too. Suma goes frantic not knowing if she should stop you or thank you, but the man seems highly amused. Makio rises to her feet and walks towards you. And Hinatsuru seems a little taken aback but doesn't try to stop you.
"You can thank us by getting a good rest and helping us tomorrow, when you are more energetic!" Makio's smile was warm, accepting. Very different from her eyes, her eyes were brown and had a sense of bravery swimming around in them. She smiles at you, and waves you off with Suma.
"Oh and that is-"
"I am Tengen, the god of festivals." he boasts. Quite the peculiar name, but it made you laugh. He looks slightly insulted, but Makio and Hinatsuru are already laughing. He seems to love them very much, because just seeing their smiles seems to cheer him up.
Suma grabs your wrist and leads you to a room, happy and giggling about something you didn't pick up with tired ears. Once you guys get to the room, she helps you pull out the futon. She keeps sparing glances at you and your hands. She takes one hand in her own. Slowly brushing a finger over your knuckles, and cupping them in her own warm hands. She stares at your calloused hands and the cuts over the skin. She seemed to pity you once again but said nothing. You thank her again and she hugs you this time.
"Get a good rest, okay?" she asks with a bright smile and you smile back nodding. She shuts the door and hurries back to her husband and other wives? Not a relationship that you have ever heard of before, but if it worked for them you were sure that was all that mattered.
You pull the blankets over your tired body and easily fall asleep without interruption.
The next day you get ready to leave, not wanting to over stay your welcome. But you are stopped by Makio who mentions you shouldn't leave on an empty stomach. Makio and Hinatsuru are already cooking while Suma sets the table, talking amongst each other. Uzui is sitting outside on the deck. Silently listening. He looks good with his hair down.
"Is their anything I can help with?" you ask after getting Hinatsuru's attention. She smiles and greets you,
"Well I am sure Suma would appreciate it if you helped her out with the table." she smiles and you thank her. You go see Suma and help her while making small talk about the weather.
"How did you sleep Y/N?" she asks from beside you.
"Well, really well actually. Thank you guys so much for the spare room and bedding it was one of the best sleeps I have had in a while." you giggle and Suma smiles and hugs you.
"Of course! We weren't going to leave you in the cold. Say, why don't you stay a little longer"
"Suma! Hold your tongue." Makio lectures and you laugh,
"I would love too! But I don't want to stay longer than I already have." In reality you would love to stay, but you have lots to take care of. You chuckle and Suma stares in disbelief
"Do you not like us?" you stand shocked, no of course you like them. You are rather fond of them actually.
"Suma, don't be greedy. You can leave whenever you please, but maybe it would be best if you stayed until you were in better shape?" Hinatsuru brings peace to the world once again. And you once again thank them. You cup Suma's hand and smile and she gives you a small smile back, but does not let go of your hand.
"Food is ready, Tengen! Come eat!" Makio calls and Tengen wanders into the room Taking a seat beside Makio while you sit beside Suma since she hasn't let go of your hand yet.
"Suma, I need to eat." she looks to you and then you hand again and takes her hand back with a flustered expression. It makes everyone laugh. Suma sparks conversation with you and you of course indulge her. Hinatsuru soon joins into the conversation by asking questions and nodding along. Makio and Uzui watch while they eat and occasionally Makio pipes up.
These women were extraordinary, you would have been jealous of them if you weren't busy trying to push out thoughts that were definitely not suited for someone elses wives. Tengen was also interested in the conversation and throwing his opinion in here and there. And before you knew it, the meal was done and all of you were helping to clean up.
Then came time to go your separate ways. Not leave- no no not yet, doing separate tasks around the house. While everyone was out you began to clean up, the best thing to do to help with your guilty conscience. You scrub, dust, and organise things all over the kitchen. A/N: YES I DO THE COOKING YES I DO THE CLEANI-
And soon your body was covered from head to toe covered in dust, you would think that for a house containing 4 people it would be more clean-
"What are you doing?" it startles you, you didn't sense anybody behind you.
"Oh Makio! I figured that I would help out.." she picks you up off your knees and starts to brush the dust from your clothes.
"You don't have to thank us or whatever,.. but if you really MUST clean up, at least take a break for a little while" you want to say no but she is already dragging you out to a space that looks like a training area. She sits you on the deck, and starts practising and any time you try to get up, its always 'your break isn't over yet!' and a glare. She makes light conversation and eventually comes to join you by sitting beside you. She rests a hand on your thigh and suddenly your heart feels like it would burst out of your chest. But this time it wasn't out of fear. This time it because you want to hold her, kiss her, make her laugh, make her smile- but again. She is someone elses wife.
"Makio! Where is Y/N?" You hear Suma cry from inside.
"None of your buisness!" Makio huffs and you giggle. And Suma burst through the doors. Makio grabs you and hugs you close to her body.
"Stop it! I want to spend time with them too!" she cries, Makio glares at her, holding you a little too close.
"I think I am gonna get back to work, you guys can keep each other company though!" you were practically inside the gap between her breasts. And Suma was practically begging to be near you. It was an over load to your senses and if you held a bag of corn to your cheeks, you would have a bag of popcorn to snack on.
When you you walk into the kitchen again Hinatsuru was putting away your cleaning supplies.
"Oh wait, I still haven't finished up-" she turns to you and smiles
"You aren't allowed to work." she says with a pressured smile.
"Why-?" you ask, slightly intimidated.
"Because you are a treasured guest." she takes a rag out of your hand and holds your hand. Smiling, before Tengen waltzes in and hugs his wife from behind. You would have been jealous of him if it weren't for the fact you may or may not had been into him as well, deja vu?
And thats how your days went by for about a week. You would all have breakfast together, go your seperate ways around noon, and then eat dinner together, and then at night you would go down the hall to your own room while they went to theirs on the other end. Though tonight something felt off. Suma looked very flustered throughout the entire meal and Makio was uncharacteristically quiet and Hinatsuru kept shifting in her seat, and Tengen? If you didn't know any better you would think he was flirting with you while flirting with his wives. His voice thundered and he kept his eyes trained on his surroundings. He was like a colourful lotus surrounded by three koi fish. Maybe four now, since you can't help but admire him and the sight in front of you. Suma looked absolutely stunning with blush over her cheeks. Makio too, she had a certain grace with her every movement despite the rough shield she puts up. And shy Hinatsuru? A sight you wish you could save in your mind to replay over and over again. Oh how you wish you weren't hopelessly in love with the man and his wives. He was perfect in every sense, the way his make up perfectly accented his face, his flawless hair, his bravery, and the kindness he shows for no one but the people he adores.
"Y/N? Are you okay?" Hinatsuru taps your hand and brings you back to reality.
"Oh yeah, I am fine just thinking is all." you mutter taking another mouth full. Her hand wraps itself around yours and gives it a squeeze. This time you wanted to stay in it's hold but when you see Tengen staring at her hand with a shocked expression you can't help but pull it away.
"I am gonna go take a bath, thank you for the food." you push your dishes away, grab a towel and hurry into the bathroom and shut the door. But before you stood Suma holding a towel of her own.
"I don't wanna be alone" she mutters and you cant help but let her join you despite the growing worry. You face you back towards her while you bathe but she doesn't seem to care for the sentiment.
"Why don't you face me?" she asks and you can hear her lip quiver.
"Suma- Suma, it isn't that I don't like you it's that you are already married." you confess with a sad tone.
"I TOLD YOU!" Makio yells from the other side of the doors. You shoot your head towards the door. And in comes the other three. Tengen is sporting the most shit eating grin while Hinatsuru looks embarassed and Makio looks like she just won something.
"How flashy." if there wasoen thing you didn't know about Tengen before this it would be how much of a pervert he is in private.
"IamsosososorryaboutthemIreallytriedtostopit." Hinatsuru mumbles a hurried apology but you were too shocked to care about the shocked intrusion and plus, Suma took on the responsibility of covering you. You make an effort to string a sentence along but it just crumbles into your hands.
"If you don't want to touch us because we're married, why not just marry Tengen-Sama too?" Suma asks her hands creeping up your shoulders. The other two wives seems hopeful and Tengen waits for your answer. Your head was spinning, did they really catch on that easy? To be fair it wasn't like you were trying to keep it a huge secret anyways.
"We have had an eye on you for a while Y/N, I took a liking to you and so did my lovely wives. Who do you think promoted you in the first place? Hmm? After all, why would I save you myself when I have such skilled flashy wives if we truly were strangers?" he purred, playing with Hinatsuru's hair.
"So, why be so hospitable? You could have taken me as your spouse with the snap of your fingers." you speak carefully, like it was something you didn't want to say at all.
"I did say that I was not the only one fond of you, no? Everyone in this room is willing to allow you into the relationship. This week was too simply prove our suspicions." his voice was smoother than velvet, like it was second nature to ask someone to marry you.
Suma grabs your jaw and kisses you, still in the bath pressing her body so close to you you could barely fit a blade of grass in between you.
"How did that feel?" she pulls back and Makio looks between you and her frantically.
"Come on! I keep the secret for a week and SUMA gets the first kiss!?" Makio exclaims, outraged at the robbery. Makio pulls you out of the tub, bathing long forgotten and she smashes her lips against yours. She pushes your lips apart with her tongue and pushes her tongue inside once you grant her entry and you bring one arm around her neck while entangling your another in the hair you adore so much. Her mouth was warm and inviting, and it felt like she was pulling the air out of your lungs. She pulls back with a gasp and lickes her lips.
"So, how did THAT- feel?" you nod frantically and then before you know it you are being dragged to their bedroom.
"ah- wait wh are we going in here?" you ask and Hinatsuru speaks up with a grin
"Well, it would be best if you got used to the room you will be sleeping in, from now on that is." she pushes you to the bed and kisses you up and down, peppering kisses over your neck and shoulders. As she peels your clothes back to give herself access she slowly undresses you for the viewing pleasure of everyone in the room who also began undressing themselves. And while you bite your knuckles to stifle your moans, it seems to egg her on. Makio slips your kimono too the side and kisses you once again while Hinatsuru works her way down your body.
She pulls down your panties, and throws them to the side in which Suma eventually picks up. While Hinatsuru practically makes out with your pussy, Tengen starts to lazily jerk himself off. You can hear the lewd sounds coming from Hinatsuru as she fucks you with her tongue. While you tug at her hair Makio and Suma are on either side of you, toying with your nipples while the other wife pushes your thighs away while you roll your hips into her tongue. She looks up at you with innocent eyes and bats her eye lashes. You bite your lip and tug a bit harder at her hair which pulls a moan from her throat. A woman who was normally calm, collected and mature was eagerly lapping at your cunt. A familiar heat builds in your core and surely it wont take long to bubble to the bottom. So your sways become frantic and desperate but she doesn't seem to mind, in fact she stays still so you can fuck yourself onto her tongue. And the hand that was pulling her hair was now pulling her closer to your cunt, pushing her tongue deeper, while her nose pushes at your clit. And your mouth falls open while your thighs shake, wrapping themselves around Hinatsurus head, drenching her face with your essence. She pushes your thighs away and stands. She pushes a finger into your cunt while she licks her lips.
"Sorry- I was supposed to warn you" you apologise between moans. She just hums and kisses you again after Suma nudges her away. Quickly coming to clean the aftermath of Hinatsuru's feast. You string along incoherent sentences and your eyes threaten to roll back into your head in a incoherent haze, Makio leaves your side at some point but you're too busy trying to figure out if it is too much or not enough. And before you can come down from your high another orgasm is pulled out of your body on accident by Suma. And when she pulls back from your clit with a pop you whine but you can finally hear Makio chocking and gurgling apparently getting her throat fucked by Tengen. Despite how gentle he is with his wives he does not seem to care for that in bed.
Taking the break you so needed you watch in awe as tears stream down Makio's face but that only seems to spur him up even more. While Suma kisses Tengen while he fucks her throat, cumming with a particular thrust. And soon she pulls up with a cough and she coughs, and he pulls her in for a kiss.
"Good girl. Now let Suma take care of you, I have someone to take care of" he stares you in the eyes, like a predator eyeing a rabbit trapped in a corner. You crawl towards the corner of the bed he was seated on and he pulls you to straddle his hips. Rubbing slow circles while he admires your glazed eyes and warm body.
"I want you to sit your flamboyant ass on my face." you whine but do as told. Climbing on top of his face and looking down at his beautiful fuchsia eyes while you cage him in between your thighs. He seemed awfully happy to be in that position since when you didn't drop all your weight on his face he pulled you down further planting your pussy lips onto his own lips. And soon enough he had you falling apart on his tongue
TBC. I am so sorry but I have no more motivation AHA-
Hii! Can I pls request a smut with fem!readerxMarauders
Like reader experienced pain for the first time in their relationship and get overwhelmed. Very fluffy, they’re all taking care of her and apologizes to her repeatedly and stuff!
Reader is of age! !No pedophilia pls!
just a note: I don't write pedophilia! you don't need to specify with me, that's on my list of things that i do not write. rest assured, any requests that I do get for pedophilia will be deleted, and i will also block the sender.
this post is 18+, minors dni.
One second Sirius's fingers were stretching your cunt, the familiar pleasurable burn clawing its way through your system, the next you were squirming desperately away from him.
"Siri!" You cried, tears springing to your eyes, "Siri, stop!"
You were able to worm your way off of his fingers, your chest heaving as you stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back at you just the same, frozen in his place.
"What's wrong, bunny?" James was the first to speak, hesitantly reaching out for you, "What happened, are you okay?"
"No, I- Yeah," You stammered, trying to figure out the swirling dread in your stomach, "It hurt. And not in a good way."
"I- I'm sorry," Sirius murmured, his hand slightly shaky as he held himself up on the mattress, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's okay," You whimpered, leaning into Remus when the man sat beside you, helping you lean back against his chest, "I'm not mad. 'S not your fault."
"How can we help?" Remus cooed, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Just- just sit with me," You breathed, reaching out for Sirius who still looked terrified, "Please, I just want to cuddle for right now."
tw// mild panic attack featured, injury & mention of blood
tags// comfort, physical healing, trust, angst with a dash of hope
an// Hi there! So yall really liked part one and I really enjoyed writing it, so here's part two of Andrew!Peter Parker helping a reader with unpredictable powers. If you have suggestions for later parts lmk. I hope yall like cuddles.
With your arms around his neck and your body hugged tight to his, Peter swung you around the skyscrapers of New York, trying to take the quieter route for your sake. One of his hands stayed securely on the back of your head, tucking you close to his chest. "Try listening to my heartbeat," He'd said before leaping off the building you'd been hiding on. "Don't focus on the sirens, just focus on me." You'd heard of taking a leap of faith before, but this was far out of your comfort zone.
Finally, the cool wind stopped whipping against your face and you felt Peter drop to his feet. He carried you as he crawled through a window and sat down onto a bed. The room was warm, yet he was even warmer. Carefully, he pulled back your head to examine your face, his hand still in your hair. His wide eyes searched you with care. "Are you okay? Was that too much? Some of the best people I know get motion sick."
You didn't answer, but gave a huff of laughter, making him grin. You looked around at your surroundings as he slowly shifted you onto the bed and moved towards his closet. The cluttered desk and textbooks screamed overwhelmed high school student, and the piles of discarded dirty laundry gave you the impression that he didn't have much free time.
"What are we going to do now?" You asked, your throat sore and raspy.
"I'll do my best to figure out what's happening to you. When I got bitten I had a reaction, but it wasn't anything compared to this. I'm almost jealous because this seems way cooler-" You saw him perk up suddenly, "Oh, you're shivering. Pull it together Peter, focus for five minutes." You hadn't realized it until he told you. Peter helped you into a large sweatshirt, tucking the hood around your neck like a scarf. His knuckles brushed against you as he meticulously moved the cloth over you. He bit down on his lower lip, scrunching his eye brows as if keeping you warm was something he just had to do. You heard him huff, his breath warming your cold skin. "Maybe you should get some rest, we can do some tests tomorrow. No scary tests, I promise, just little ones."
His knee suddenly bumped against yours and you let out a pained grunt, flinching away. He lifted his hands quickly, "Hey, what's wrong-" He glanced down and saw the wound on your thigh getting worse, more blood running down your leg than before. Your breathing became incontrollable and that burning electricity under your skin came back. It was as if the power had gone to sleep once Peter had calmed you down, but once it started going, it didn't really stop. The lights of the small bedroom began to short circuit, a few lightbulbs breaking. You both flinched as mirrors shattered and the walls shook. All you could hear was your heart leaping out of your throat. Your skin went numb, and angry buzzing overwhelming your senses.
"P-Peter-" your voice seemed to be coming from all directions, blood rushing and boiling inside of you, "M-Make it stop, make it s-stop, please I-I can't, it's so loud, make it stop-"
"Y/N, please just focus on me," you could feel his hands pulling on yours and holding your shoulders firmly, grounding. His voice sounded worried, but not scared. He wasn't scared of you. He had already decided to trust you beyond fear. "I need you to focus on me again, just like before, I know you can do that. I believe in you."
As the walls shook, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat again, and you reached for it, gripping onto his skin like it would save you. The overload began to reach a pique as the world became fuzzy and unfeeling.
It was as if you'd blackout out, but when you came to, you realized that your forehead was pressed into Peter's shoulder. He was positioned below you, bandaging your thigh, one hand firmly on your back. He pet your hair when he realized you were awake. "Y/N lives," he laughed softly, "I think we're making progress."
Your hand brushed against his shoulder. You could have killed him and he was still making jokes. You could have cried right then and there. "My spidey-sense is supposed to tell me when there's danger, but it's also telling me that you need a hug right now." You nodded vigorously, and he didn't even hesitate.
"It's okay, Y/N. I've been through a lot worse. Have you ever fought a man literally made of electricity? It's not very fun, I wouldn't recommend it. Gave me some severe back problems." He heard you sniff and pulled back, his hands moving to hold your face. "Hey, don't cry! You've been doing great! I can never focus on anything, but you've been keeping everything inside for a long time and I'm proud of you. It's going to be okay, alright? I won't leave until we figure this out."
He could see the fatigue building behind your eyes, only then realizing how heavy his own body was beginning to feel. "My aunt May says that sleep fixes everything. In my experience, my aunt is always right." He smiled up at you, trying to get you to smile back. "Do you want to test that theory with me? Try to get some rest? It's been a long night."
Gently, he helped you lay your body down and settle into the soft pillows. He let you grab onto his fingers, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. Your voice came out a little more broken than you had hoped. "Can you stay with me?" New York was loud, even from the safety of Peter's room. You remembered the sirens, the guns, and screaming. The only silence you'd experienced all night was Peter keeping the noise out as he took care of you. He saw in your eyes that you needed him close, and he knew that the only way he could sleep was if you felt safe.
He flashed another soft, goofy smile. "I'll try not to snore, okay?"
:Where when you meet your soulmate for the first time, you get a flashback/relive their entire lives (can see all their memories)(pt1)
Warnings: fluff and angst, blood
Characters: Bo, Vincent and Bubba
Soulmate Au Masterlist
He didn't even know about the soulmate subject before meeting you, he only knew that people said it was 'real'. The man thought they were full of crap. How would it be possible to relieve your soulmate's entire life without even knowing their fucking name???
He found it super childish and unbelievable.
That was until he saw you driving into town as he was working on some car at the gas station. When he saw your car stopping near, he was super smug, preparing himself to knock you out or something. That's until you got out of the car and you both were bombarded with foreign memories, which made you almost fall on your ass.
After witnessing those, you just stared at each other with wide eyes, Bo probably the most confused and shocked about what just happened.
It sure shocked him again when you started to cry and walked slowly towards him. Before he could get back, though, you wrapped your arms around him, making him freeze as he stared at your back, confusion plastered across his face.
He thought about your ups and downs he just saw. For the first time in his life, he had the immensely strong desire to almost wrap you in a blanket, never wanting to let you go even though he didn’t think you even existed seconds ago.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Bo.”
His stoic face fell when he heard you say his name, and a small almost invisble tear fell down his eye, which he’d be ashamed of if it wasn’t in this circonstance. He didn’t take pity from nobody, but he couldn’t help but feel safe as he shakily wrapped his arms around your back, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he hugged you tightly, his face in your neck. Without even realizing it, he took a whiff of your sent and felt at home as his body became less tense.
Him? He’d always thought about his soulmate. They’re some things he doesn’t want his soulmate to see, but he can’t stop it from happening if it’s real. Even though he’d never want you to see that him and his brothers kill people, he can’t stop it from happening, if the things about relieving your soulmate’s memories is true.
You’d probably meet when Bo gets you to him, telling him happily that he got ‘another one’. The bag on your head made you panic even more than your current situation, and since you kept making noises, Bo got annoyed and got the bag off, making you shut up as you stared with wide eyes at Vincent, the other man totally oblivious as you and your soulmate stared at each other. Fear and pain were the two biggest emotions that came to you as you watched his life before your eyes, like a movie.
As soon as it was finished, you saw him get up from his work space, his eye fixed on his brother. You were too overwhelmed to see what happened after, but you snapped out of it when you felt a large but gentle hand cradle your chin, a curious eye staring at you. Strangely, his gaze made you feel calm, and it was probably the same with him as soon as your eyes fell on his mask covers face. Normally, he’d have probably flinched or got anxious a tiny bit, yet he felt none of that.
As he untied your arms form your back, he was taken aback by your hand gently going to rest on his chest.
His brothers always told him the soulmate thing was crap, that it was all fantasies. They had never bothered to look for their’s, so Bubba never thought of doing so either. He always had that hope to meet you before his family got their hands on you.
When he heard Drayton talking about new victims, the mention of your features caught his interest. Yes, you sounded like any other person, but there was a tiny part of him which told him you still were something.
When he saw Drayton coming in with you, a bag on your head and your arms tied behind your back, your whimpers made him let out a distressed squeal, which made Nubbins start to ramble about things that he didn’t care about at the moment as he followed them to the table, watching them tie you, and then walk away. When he was alone, his loud footsteps made you cower in the chair, which made him try to make them lighter as he went to your side, wondering if he should get the bag off your head.
Without a second thought, he ripped it off, his eyes freezing on your face as he took some steps back, all your memories flashing before his eyes. Without even realizing, he let out some almost inaudible babbles, probably muttering some thing to himself, as he took his head into his hands, staring at your bounded form as you stared back at him with wide, terrified eyes, an almost inaudible whimper escaping you.
Your gaze turned sad as he blinked at you, a whimper of his own escaping him when he realized you were his soulmate. His mask covered face lit up and he gently cradled your face into his large hands while you continued to stare at him, a sad frown upon your once terrified face.
The man’s objectif was now to protect you at all costs, especially from Nubbins. He knew Drayton wasn’t too keen on killing or hurting anybody, so he had one less worry. He knew he was bigger too.
As he was untying you, his brothers still oblivious, he was surprised by the feel of your hand on his shoulder, which made him flinch a bit, until he relaxed when he felt your other hand on the back of his neck, your arms wrapping softly around him as best as you could, forgetting the reason how you got there.
“You poor guy…”
This alone almost made him tear up as he hugged you back, squeezing his eyes closed tightly.
Thank you guys for all the likes from my previous post. I really appreciate it <3, I actually posted this story private at first bc it didn't show up in the tags and I was mad about it. It actually should've been a new year special story since I was bored on that day. It's probably not good bc I ran out of ideas but I still hope you'll enjoy it :)
Being the overworking man himself, he gets frustrated easily. So it was just something that he has done many times, his hands in his pant and palming his growing bulge. What he didn't know was that you also were in your shared house. Hearing grunting noises, you were worried about your boyfriend being in pain. You walked over to your shared bedroom and opened the door, only to be met by Diluc masturbating. Shocked, he pulled his hands away from his pants, looking at you frightened. ,,Oh.. You could've just told me that you are frustrated Diluc. I would've helped you.." You say as you slowly walk towards him.
Childe is also a really busy man himself. The fatui work can be really overwhelming sometimes. You were out with your friends and Childe took that opportunity to just let loose of the frustration that build up in his body. Slowly taking his clothes off, he layed himself down onto the bed as he starts to jerk off his already hard dick. Precum leaking as he throws his head back and let's out a moan that sounded so sinful. When you arrived home, you didn't thought Childe to be home this soon. His work affected your relationship sometimes, being away for some days or even weeks. Moaning sounds were heard and you walked towards your bedroom as you saw the sight of your boyfriend pumping his cock. Not even a second later he notices you staring and grins at you, not even slowing down his pace. ,,Why don't you help me with this problem of mine sweetie? "
Zhongli isn't really the type to to masturbate. If he was needy, he'll just ask you. But since you were gone on a mission and he was sexually frustrated he couldn't keep his hands away from his growing bulge. Sitting at the couch and palming his dick through his pants. Soft moans leaving his mouth as the tension gets to high for him. Slowly, key noises were heard as you opened the door, to be greeted by the sight of your boyfriend masturbating himself. Fastly shutting the door, being scared that anyone saw he looked at you, his eyes slowly glowing. ,,Felt horny, so I pleasured myself since you were gone.. "
It was nothing new for Kaeya to literally jerk off in his office. Bored and stressed of doing all the paper work. Stroking his growing bulge through his pants as he leans his head back against his chair, a whimpering breath leaving out of his mouth. You were standing standing at the door, shocked of seeing your Co-worker jerking off, fascinated by the sight of him, you felt your groin heating up. ,,If you are so interested then why don't you come and touch it yourself? "Kaeya's soft voice spoke as he smiled cockily at you.
His hips stuttered as he kept fucking into the halfed folded pillow, cum already leaking out as he just overstimulates himself more and more. Thinking about your tight little hole, it was not his fault that you have such a big affect on him. Not noticing the door opening as you watch him fuck the already used pillow. ,,I didn't know that you would hump my pillow like this Gorou.. How perverted"
Pairings: Moon Knight x teen!reader (Marc Spector x teen!reader with slight Steven Grant x teen!reader) (Jake is mentioned but didn't appear)
Summary: After years without any contact, you finally reunited with Moon Knight.
Request: @daughterofthequeen: "Heyyy so this request could be a stand alone I guess but it’s based off of your moon knight x teen!reader. So after the reader had got captured Marc taught her how to fight so she can have a better chance of protecting themselves. And now it’s a few years later and the reader is 17 and knows how to fight. But one day Moon Knight kinda gets overwhelmed with bad guys and needs help and the reader helps fight them off even after MK told her never to interfere. So after she had helped him they went back to the reader’s apartment and Marc checks over the reader and finds a bruise(you can choose where)and starts fussing but eventually the reader calms Marc down and they have a fluffy hugging moment. I’m in a very angst and fluffy mood Idkw 😁🖐"
Warnings: injuries, arguments, fights (lmk if I missed anything)
a/n: please inform me if I made any mistakes on portraying DID. Like the request said, it could be a stand alone but if you wanna read the other fic it's here.
A groan escaped your lips as your body once again fell to the hard mattress, making a thud sound filled the empty gym. You swore you could feel your heartbeat getting faster and you could hear it thumping in your ears. You were starting to get tired of training, no matter how hard you try you just couldn't seem to win over your opponent, but that thought went missing once you hear what he says next.
"That's all you got?" Marc walked in a circling motion around your laying figure on the floor. The man you now call mentor barely sweats while you're covered in them.
Panting heavily, you rolled to face the ceiling while draping an arm on your face, and another on your side. "Give me a minute," you said through heavy breathings.
"Don't you think that's enough, Marc?! Look at them! They're bloody panting on the floor!" Steven's worried voice rings in his head.
Your mentor/opponent frowned as he crouched down next to you. You look tired– no, exhausted. Maybe he's being too hard on you, yet again he wanted to make sure you can fight for yourself so that something like the previous incident wouldn't happen again. After you were captured and used as a bait by Arthur Harrow, Marc insisted on teaching you self-defense. You never really master the skill of martial arts since your speciality is something the opposite of it, but if given the opportunity to learn it you'd gladly accept, even more now that you know and understand how dangerous it is to be involved with people like Moon Knight. And coincidently Marc wanted to teach you as well, so it's a win-win situation. Or so you thought because you're beginning to doubt it.
Marc's been teaching you from basic fighting movements to the more complicated ones and you've nailed them so far. Lately he's been challenging you to take him down in a fight, using the movements he taught you, but for some reasons you could never do it. Marc always found a way to make you lose and you despised him for that.
The ex-mercenary sighed, Steven is right, his goal was to teach you how to defend yourself. He couldn't teach you everything in a short span of time, you need time for progress. Marc motioned his hand towards you to reach. "Come on, we can try again next time."
You peeked through your draped arm and instead of grabbing his hand, you do a circling weep motion with your legs that causes him to fall down. Quickly, you climbed on top of him and punched him on the shoulder, hard, taking him by surprise. You got up and claimed your victory as Marc rolled in pain.
"Ha! I told you I could win against you!" you said while turning around to see Marc with a hand on his shoulder, the one that you punched.
"Technically that's cheating!" He protested.
"Technically I still won! You said it yourself not to be distracted in a fight."
The smirk on your face made the man in front of you let out a huffed chuckle. "You sure do learn a lot, huh?" he says, getting in a kneeling position, still holding his shoulder.
Marc watched a grin creeped its way to your face, and the next thing he saw was you standing in front of him, extending your hand which he gladly accepted.
You pulled him off the mattress. "I learned from the best."
Out of all times, Moon Knight doesn't know why he's having a flashback, and about you, out of all people. He's currently fighting a mafia gang that's been quite a trouble for him these past couple of weeks in an abandoned building near your living place– or previous living place, he couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was the location that reminded him of you. He then recalled a particular day where he was out with you and passed this building, he remembered your comment on how the locals said that the building is haunted. He snickered on that comment saying if he could face Gods, ghosts wouldn't be a problem to him. Now that comment haunted him because he could possibly die and became one of the ghosts there.
Red tints are visibly drawn on his white suit, some parts have holes on it because of the shootings, he's sure he's been stabbed in a few areas, and blood is falling off his leg as he tries to get away from the men that were tasked to kill him. He has no worries about his injuries, it'll heal in a short matter of time, it's just that he wasn't able to have that short amount of time to heal because the attacks kept on coming in. Mr. Knight fronted a few times to help him already but gave up eventually, leaving it to him to finish their mission. To put it in short, he is overwhelmed.
As his legs carried him away, he noticed that there were no longer men on his tail. Good thing he could use this opportunity to heal himself. He started to think something was off. The gang leader won't let him go this easily, there gotta be something– someone that distracts them from going after him. His theory is proven right when that someone comes sprinting to his sight. He took in their appearance and quickly recognized that it's you as he matched your running pace. You were dressed in an all-black clothing. Red and black colored goggles covered your eyes. Each of both your knuckles are wrapped with a white cloth that has blood on it, he'd like to think they're not yours. You had grown taller than the last time he saw you. He hadn't contacted you at all since his sudden departure back to Egypt, but surely not before he told you you can no longer take part in any of his business. He figured that as long as you're bound to him, your safety will be endangered. He had talked about it with his headmates and they've agreed to get you as far as they could from their line of "work". Aside from that, Khonshu was beginning to take interest in you when you finished your training with Marc. He has successfully gotten you away from him as far as possible until tonight, apparently.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" asked the man in white after you two encountered a group of men and got yourselves circled by them. He held his hands up in a fighting stance.
You copied what he's doing, holding your fists up in front of you and positioning your back against his back. "Are you blind? I'm helping you!"
"No you're not! Did you not hear what I said to you? You can't interfere in my business ever again." Moon Knight declared through his mask as he punched one man coming at him in the face.
Someone comes in your way and you send them an uppercut to the jaw. "Oh, you mean what you said to me three years ago? It's outdated, man. You need help, and I'm around." You kicked another person coming to Moon Knight's side, hard enough to make them stumble backwards.
Three years? Is that really how long he'd been gone? That explains why you sound a bit annoyed at him. Talking about voice, you have a more stern and mature voice than three years ago.
He turned around to face you as he threw one of his crescent darts to someone coming to you from behind. "We'll talk about this later."
The two of you continue to fight side-by-side, watching each other's back as you kick the bad guys' asses. As much as he hates to admit, your presence really helped him. He realized that your fighting style is better than before, you still use the movements he taught you, but you also add a few of your own moves. Needless to say, he's proud of you, so much that he had to hide his smile as he watched you fight. But still, he doesn't approve of you interfering, and fighting alongside him.
The fight lasts for a few more minutes, Moon Knight finally gets to meet the gang's leader and gives him a piece of his mind. Both of you walked back to your apartment that's located not too far from the abandoned building. To his surprise, you haven't moved out of the apartment, even your apartment's layout is still pretty much the same as it was when he was last there. He took a seat on his usual spot, which is the sofa across your working corner. The suit is no longer on him, revealing the t-shirt and jacket he wore before summoning the suit.
Marc looked around the apartment from where he's seated. He expected the apartment to be completely different, but there's only a few new changes like book piles next to your computer table, a makeshift pull-up bar on your bedroom door, and a board covered with cloth hanging above the book piles. He also noticed you've framed your picture with him in an arcade and sets it on your working table. It feels like nothing has changed, yet everything is not the same. If he was being honest, he missed being in your apartment, watching you track down his targets or just simply hanging out with you. So many things happened after his disappearance in your life, and it happened to you too.
His train of thoughts soon got interrupted by you taking a seat next to him, passing him a glass of water and drinking one for yourself. Marc was about to drink the water until he noticed a red tint on the glass, he titled his head before quickly turning his gaze towards you who's chugging the whole drink.
What he said next made you almost choke on your drink. "Are you injured?"
Coughing, you bang your chest lightly as you straighten your pose before facing him. "I don't think so?" That came out more like a question. You followed his gaze to the underside of one of your arms, it was blurry due to the black clothing, but there's definitely blood on it. Now you know why Marc's glass was heavier than yours. Your question is, why didn't you feel it? "Well shit," you mumbled, glancing at the man next to you and gulped knowing what would happen next.
"I told you to stay out of my business." His voice was calm but his expression told the opposite.
"I did, I stayed out but–"
"You wouldn't be injured if you didn't come to that building."
Abruptly, you stand up. "Will you listen to me first? You needed my help."
"You can't help me!" Marc snapped, making you flinch at the sudden change of tone. Never in your time knowing the man has he ever yelled at you like that.
Marc only realized what he had done when he saw you slowly backing away from him. He swore he could listen to his headmates scolding him as he hurriedly went to find the med kit while silently cursing himself. With Steven's help he found it right where it was the last time he was there. Before he got back to his seat on the sofa, Steven and Jake offered to front, which Marc declined because he thinks it's his mess and he needs to take care of it himself. When he gets back he notices that you haven't moved an inch. You're still standing right where you were, holding your injured arm close to you.
"C'mere, we need to tend that wound before it gets infected." His voice is softer than before, but you know the sea of storms is still there. You approached him without saying anything and sat where you were previously seated. He took your injured arm and rolled up the sleeve, revealing an open, almost dry wound. Marc took care of the bleeding first and cleaned the spots around your wound before pulling out a thread of suture and began to stitch it.
Silence wrapped around you like a blanked, neither of you said anything except you who hissed whenever Marc touched your injury. "Be gentle with it," you said, still not looking at the man next to you.
"I'm trying." Marc glanced at you, your expression tells him that you're fine, but he could see through your eyes that you're not. You're trying to hide the fact that you're in pain, still trying to look brave and strong even after all these years. He focused back on stitching your wound. "If only you told me earlier, we could've gotten you to a hospital."
"I didn't even know I was injured," you mumbled quietly, hoping Marc couldn't hear you, and he didn't. "I was just trying to help you," you said. The ex-mercenary stopped stitching for a split second before continuing, you took that as your cue to continue. "I heard you were around here for that mafia gang so I've been trying to find you, and when I did, you looked like you could've used some help."
"You were really helpful to us," he confessed, earning your attention. Marc hesitated at first but continued eventually. "You were always helpful from the very start. We just figured that as long as you're tied to us, danger will follow you. And we–" Marc paused for a beat before continuing, "I couldn't let something like Harrow happen to you again. I wouldn't forgive myself if it did."
You expected the fussing, but you didn't expect Marc would confess something so… sincere like this. He wasn't the best one with words to begin with. Guess some things really changed after years not being in contact with him. But you could see why he's feeling like that. Ever since the capturing incident you noticed the system seems to be more protective of you, especially Marc. He asked you to move out from your apartment but you don't want to because you already feel comfortable there. Heck, he even offered you to live with him, but you stayed strong to your choice.
You stayed quiet as you watched Marc wrapped a white bandage over your now stitched up wound. "I'm sorry for interfering," you said, breaking the silence. "I know I shouldn't have done it, but Marc, you were the one who taught me how to fight, and you made sure that I was able to protect myself. You knew that I'm capable of helping you back there, and as much as you hate to admit it, you know that I'm right."
Marc locked eyes with yours by the end of your speech. He could see fierce in them, and for a moment you forgot that you're injured. Then he realized you're no longer the fragile kid he saved, you've grown into a brave young adult.
"Yeah, you're right," admitted Marc, causing you to hide a smirk. "Guess I was just overreacting. You mean a lot to me– to us. I can't lose you, kid."
"I can't lose you as well," you replied. He's a big part of your life, you cannot lose him, at least not again. "I lost you three years ago. I was confused, scared, and angry. I couldn't contact you at all, I couldn't track you down, I didn't even know you were still alive. And this was the first time I ever heard about you since then, and I don't want our reunion to be a goodbye."
Hearing your confession made him realize just how impactful he is in your life like you are in his. He watched tears build up in your eyes as he felt some in his eyes. Then for the first time, Marc engulfed you in his strong arms. He didn't say anything, he just held you in his embrace as you slowly repeated the action with your uninjured arm. You could feel this feeling you've forgotten how they feel, warmth, affection, home.
Marc placed his chin on your head, after a while you heard him saying something. "I shouldn't have left you." His mumble was low, you almost couldn't hear his voice breaking. "I'm sorry."
"I'm guessing you have no other choice," you cracked out.
Marc chuckled bitterly. "Yeah." He pulled himself away from you but he still placed a hand on your head, he patted it a bit as he remembers the thought of you growing taller when you were fighting bad guys earlier.
"Wow… you've grown a lot. I missed so many things, didn't I?" You perked up at the sudden change of accent.
"Steven?" you gaped.
"Hiya. Been a while. Sorry I just fronted now, Marc didn't let me because–"
You cut him off by hugging him with your uninjured arm while excitedly exclaiming, "I missed you!"
"I missed you too– wait– careful, we don't wanna hurt your arm there." Steven referred to your injured arm but you couldn't care less. The giftshop-ist, well, ex-giftshop-ist recalled your argument with Marc. "Marc's a jerk, isn't he? Sorry he snapped at you like that."
You shrugged. "Well, he apologized, and it's kinda my fault as well for interfering and breaking my promise in the first place. I'm sorry."
Steven nodded, you truly have matured more. "It's alright. You're alright now, that's what matters." There was silence, only Steven running his hand through your hair gently pushing back a few loose hair strands. "Wanna watch a movie? I'm in the mood for movies."
"Why not? I think I still have that star wars movie right where it was." You were about to stand up but Steven pulled you back down.
"Nope. You stay right here while I get it, yeah? I remember where it is. Just stay here." Before you could complain, Steven already went to get it and put it on the TV. The man came sitting back down next to you as the iconic star wars intro filled the room. "I don't know why you love the prequels so much, especially this movie, isn't it too painful to watch?"
You raised one of your eyebrows. "It is painful, but the kind of painful that I like."
"Marc was right, you're a menace to society."
"Hey! I'm not the only one who likes Revenge Of The Sith!"
Steven chuckled at your reaction. "Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you sleep better at night, bruv."
Rolling your eyes playfully, your gaze followed his to the TV screen. By the end of the movie, you've already fallen asleep with your head on the armrest. Steven lets Marc took control over the body. Marc, now fronting, looked at your sleeping figure. Your body was tense and you're holding your wounded arm close. He gets up to get a pillow and blanket from your room and placed the pillow under your head. After he was done placing the blanket over you, he turned to turn off the lamps.
"Steven? No, Marc? Is that you?" your voice called.
"It's me," answered Marc with his American accent. He turned around to see you, your eyes are almost closed, but you could see him about to walk to the apartment door as if he was about to leave, which made you pushed yourself to a sitting position.
"Are you going to leave me again?" Your question shattered his heart.
Is he going to leave you? He was just about to turn off the lights, but is it just that? Will he leave you after that? He wasn't sure. He could leave you now and keep you away from him again, that way you'd still be safe. You won't get to see him for a long time again but no one could harm you. Or he could stay, tell you that he was just about to turn the lights off and go back to the couch, letting himself rest after a tiring day. He could protect you by being close to you. He contemplated for a while, thinking what's the best answer.
His mind is telling him to choose the first option, but his heart tells him otherwise. "Go to sleep, kid. I'm not leaving you anytime soon."
Since he has yet to turn off the lights, your relieved smile didn't go unnoticed by him. Marc watched as you slowly lay back down, your body seems more relaxed than before. His answer may not be the best, it may not be right, but it makes you feel better, and that's the only thing in his mind.
Summary: "Dean remembered how calm it made him feel watching over her during his restless nights. Now, though, it was so painful. Everything he could see when he looked at her was blood."
Square/s Filled: Quote F: "Don't look me like that." "Like what?" "Like you still love me." (TMAS Bingo - @supernatural-jackles)
Warnings: angst, so much angst, some fluff too, implied smut
Words count: 2611
A/N: Hi there! It has been quite some time since the last time I posted a new story. This last month has been crazy, and I don't have much time anymore. I just hope to be able to write and post more often. Now, that being said, I've written this story for the challenges of two lovely people: @libre1rose8 and @roonyxx. For @libre1rose8 the prompts were: "Dean's green Hanley", "I have a secret to tell you" and "into the woods". For @roonyxx I had: "I have always been alone". You'll find the prompt in bold. Girls, I'm so terribly sorry for the delay, I just hope you're gonna like what I came up with. Before I leave you to the story, I wanted to thank the sweet @snowlovespie. Thank you so much for the love, support, and help with this one-shot, I appreciated it more than I can say.🖤 Let me know what you guys think. ;)
Dean Winchester Masterlist - Masterlist
It has been months since the last time they shared a room. Since then, many things had changed, while others had seemed to remain the same.
She still slept with his green Hanley.
He still spent his night looking at her.
Dean remembered how calm it made him feel watching over her during his restless nights. Now, though, it was so painful. Everything he could see when he looked at her was blood.
Blood was on his hands while he was cutting through the soft skin of her abdomen. Her screams still resonated in his ears.
He could already feel the panic starting to creep on him at that memory.
… that didn't happen.
Then why could he still feel her warm blood between his damn fingers?
Dean sat up fast, feeling the air getting shorter with each breath. The cold under his feet was the only thing able to, somehow, ground him, while his hand wouldn't stop trembling. Those images, still stuck in the back of his head, were ready to torture him.
He scratched at his stubbled cheek, dragging his fingers to his eyes and rubbing them. He shouldn't have taken this hunt. He knew something was up the moment Sam had told him about the hunt, insisting for Dean to go help some random hunter asking for backup. He should have known it was about her. To be honest, though, it wasn't Sam's fault, not entirely. Dean was to blame too because he should have left as soon as his suspicions were confirmed. At the end of the day, though, he was a weak mean.
So, here he was in the middle of the night, in a cabin in the woods. So far away from home, trying to deal with something that he thought had been already dealt with.
Dean had never been so wrong in his whole life.
He realized it as soon as he saw her in the empty parking lot, leaning against her green olive car months after Michael. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and the mere sight of her was enough to overwhelm him with a new wave of pain.
He sighed, glancing at the woman sleeping in the bed next to him. Y/N – the woman he had loved once.
The woman he still loved.
The same woman Michael was threatening him with. The one Dean had tortured to death over and over again. And it didn't matter if that was only a simple mind game to keep him in line. It had felt real to him.
She was the one he had to push away, and, damn, if that hadn't hurt.
Dean froze at the sound of her voice. He could hear her shuffling between the sheets but kept his back to her.
"Something like that."
He cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder, trying to follow her every move. Dean watched as she adjusted against the headboard, patting the free space next to her. He turned a bit more in her direction while deciding if moving closer as she asked him to was a good idea. Dean shifted his gaze from her to the space between them a couple of times. He knew it was a bad idea when he felt his body move of its accord, taking the seat next to her. Dean leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest. He left as much space between them as possible, too worried about what would happen if he got too close to her. Instead, Y/N had to bite her lip to hold back a smile as she remembered herself to keep her hopes low.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No, not really."
Y/N nodded, not that surprised by his response. She sank more into the pillow behind her back, crossing her ankles. Her hands tucked under her legs to warm them up. She let the silent washed over them. She stole a glance in his direction from time to time until she found the courage to speak again.
"I've been missing this… you."
She could feel the warmth surging from her neck to her cheeks as soon as her words were out. Dean swallowed hard - eyes squeezed shut, and head turned - trying to keep his emotion in check. She dared to glance his way when it was clear that no response would come from him. Her heart quickened its pace.
"I hope you've missed me sometimes too."
Dean got up from the bed at that, a painful smile on his lips, rubbing at his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He kept his back to her, trying to come up with something to say. It seemed like his brain wasn't cooperating because, of course, he had missed her. He had missed her more than he should have. He had missed her more than it was possible.
He missed her like air, and he didn't give a crap if it was too cheesy.
"I didn't, and you shouldn't have either."
And, of course, he had to go and say the worst possible thing because going back now wasn't an option. Little did it matter if his heart was cracking, words afterwords. One more scar and he wouldn't have survived all that pain. He could feel it in his bones, and turning to face her, sitting in the middle of the bed, with her eyes on him, didn't help. It just made things worse.
"Don't look me like that."
"Like you still love me."
"But I do. Nothing can change that."
Dean licked his lips, biting them right back. Head down, he rested his hands on his hips, already regretting what he was about to say.
"Me cheating on you should have had."
He was being a dick. Dean was well aware of that, but that was the only defense he had left to protect her. Y/N nodded her head, looking down at her hands. She trailed the movements of her fingers playing with the hem of her – his – green shirt. All it took was a glimpse at her sad smile for the guilt to come back in full force. She faced him again a few moments later, and Dean braced himself for what was coming next. He knew very well he deserved whatever she was throwing at him.
"I have a secret to tell you."
He frowned in confusion because it wasn't quite what he had expected. He didn't even know what it was. So, he kept silent for once, giving her a chance to say something more, to make him understand.
"I know you didn't cheat on me."
Her voice was a whisper, and Dean could have sworn he'd heard her wrong if it wasn't for the look in her eyes. He was ready to deny it when a simple gesture of her hand stopped him.
"I knew you were lying, and I let you."
He didn't know if it was that small revelation or her watering eyes, but the fight inside him started to fade away. He walked towards the bed, seating on the edge; his mind going a mile a minute trying to elaborate on what Y/N had told him.
She knew all along.
Dean had thought it was a smart move. He thought that lying and hurting her that way would be enough to make sure she would leave the bunker – him – behind. It was the only way to protect her from Michael – from himself.
"To give you a better chance at fighting Michael."
Dean turned around, searching for Y/N's eyes, founding her closer than he thought. One more movement and he could have touched her and, damn, if he wanted to.
"You had a nightmare the first night you were back. You were saying things… you were begging someone to stop, and then you said my name. Since then, you pulled away from me. So, I started to have more and more suspicion even though I didn't say anything about it."
Dean never looked away from her, not once. Not even to blink.
"He was keeping you in line by threatening me, wasn't it?"
He didn't even need to nod for her to know it was the truth. She had known since that night but had kept quiet because too scared, even more than she would have liked to admit. She had been holding on until she couldn't take it anymore.
"That night, the night you said those things to me... I figured it all out, and I thought with me out of the picture, you'd have a better chance of beating him. Giving you an advantage by letting him think you hurt me so bad that I was going to leave and never come back, then…"
She could feel her cheeks getting wetter and wetter while she got rid of the tears with the back of her hand.
"And I was kinda right until I wasn't anymore, and you decided to go suicidal with that damn Ma'lak box."
"How do you know about that?"
"I was there every step of the way, even if you couldn't see me. Do you think I could ever give up on you?"
Y/N tilted her head to one side, trying to study him up as best she could. Dean blinked a few times at her question.
Did he think she could give up on him?
Dean wouldn't blame her if she did it. He knew that being with him came at a cost, and he would have never asked her to pay the price, not for him. He wasn't worth the trouble; at least that was what he thought.
"Sam kept me updated among hunts. I've helped your mom with a couple of hunts. I was at her house when you got there."
Dean narrowed his eyes, remembering what happened when sleeping on his mother's couch. An amused smile appeared on his face.
"So, it was your shirt, the one I found."
Y/N nibbled at her lower lip, a small smile confirming his suspicions. She got closer to him. Their hands almost touched until she felt one of his fingers brushing her warm skin.
"You told my mom to call Sam."
"No, it was me. I called Sam."
"What? No, Sam said…"
"…that your mom was worried, which was true, but I was the one who called him. I did it the moment I found the box."
"You were still there?"
"I wanted to be sure everything was okay before leaving."
"All right, you got me!"
As much as he tried, Dean couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. His girl got him back just right. He should have been mad because his plan backfired. Yet, he couldn't deny that he was so damn impressed and quite turned on if he had to be honest. Y/N lowered her eyes, feeling redness rise on her already warm cheeks under Dean's gaze.
"I'm blaming Michael for that. In no other circumstance, I would've been able to pull it off."
Dean raised his hand, capturing a stray lock of her hair between his fingers. He turned the strand around his index a few times before bringing it behind her ear. Y/N lifted her gaze, meeting his green eyes halfway. The smile on his face caught her off guard. So, she took a few more seconds studying him until she couldn't take it anymore.
"Say something, please."
"You're becoming one hell of a hunter."
She felt his hands on her middle, guiding her to sit on his lap. She had to fight hard to stop the grin that was trying to slip past her lips. Once he had her in his arms, he took his time to look at her. Dean traced every line of her features, realizing at that very moment how much he had missed her.
"All this time, I thought I was protecting you while you were the one protecting me."
"Are you mad?"
"I wish you wouldn't have put yourself in danger because of me? Hell yes, but no, I'm not angry."
Y/N could feel her heart quickening its pace in her chest as a shy little smile showed up on her rose lips. She let her hands wander along his arms, stopping as they reached his shoulders. She touched the collar of his shirt with her fingertips, playing with the soft fabric. Dean stared at her mesmerized, shivering at the feeling of her nails scratching his skin.
"Everything? I shouldn't have…"
Dean turned away, shaking his head. He felt disappointed with himself for not being able to find the right words to apologize to her. Y/N cupped his face in her slender hands, caressing his stubbled cheeks with her thumbs.
"I'm sorry for hurting you, Y/N."
She let go of his face, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning her forehead against his, a small smile on her lips.
"Michael was the one trying to hurt me – us – not you."
"But I've let him."
"That's not possible, and you know why?"
Dean shook his head, tightening the hold around her center, pulling her even closer. She let her finger trail through his hair, massaging his scalp.
"Because of that look in your eyes whenever you're willing to sacrifice yourself for someone you love. I still remember the first time I saw it; I was so jealous at how damn lucky Sam was to have you as his keeper. I'm not proud to admit it, but seeing that kind of love…"
Y/N swallowed hard, struggling to hold back the tears that were threatening to roll down from her already red and puffy eyes.
"The night you said those things to me, you had that same look in your eyes, I saw it, and it was from me then, only me. You were looking at me that way, and it just broke my heart because I knew what that meant, and I couldn't let that happen. I have always been alone, you know, so knowing I was going to be once again shouldn't have scared me that much, but it did. It did because Michael had been trying to take away that one person who has ever cared about me, and I couldn't let him."
She closed her eyes, feeling the tears warming her cheeks. Dean cupped her cheeks with his hands, wiping her tear-stained skin with his thumb. Y/N leaned into his palm. Her eyes fluttered open when his lips found their way to her forehead. They traveled down her temple, leaving a trail of soft kisses.
"You wouldn't have believed me no matter what I'd said, did you?"
Y/N shook her head, a teary smile on her face. She leaned forward, searching for his mouth. She brushed her lips against his warm ones, as Dean stood still, watching her every move.
One glance later, she was kissing him, and it was like being alive again.
It was like every single fiber of his being was on fire. He had experimented with that kind of feeling before. This one, though, was something quite different and sweeter. He was willing to be consumed by her kisses, and that's what he did.
In that shared bed, with trembling fingers and short breaths, they found their way back together. And it wasn't until they were lying in the rumpled sheets that she dared ask him.
"Is it okay for me to come back home now?"
Dean smiled, pulling her closer to his chest before kissing the crown of her head.
Remember when I said I felt rlly down in the dumps today and probably wont post? Well I lied fucker. If I feel like shit, you're gonna feel like shit with me.
Hug me closer
[Summary: the captain had had a terrible day, truly terrible. But it seems as if fate led Mark to a crying captain.]
[ISWM!Mark x reader]
(Tw: Badly written angst. Like rlly badly written. Crying. Overworked. Idk if those are triggers but I'll still put them. Duh!)
To say today was a stressful day for you was an understatement, you were ready to cry when there was another leak in cryo. Ofcourse Celci helped you fix the issue with no problem but when the alarms rang the only thing you could hear was your own sigh of disappointment and the feeling of crying building up inside of you. You were practically already tearing up once you exited cryo. The whole crew didn't notice you were on your last straw that day, and so did the ship. There was another alarm, ADS had gone offline again. Which you let out a painful sob in response. Gunther was already there to your surprise, thank God Gunther was here or else you would've just let the lazers shoot you.
The problem was fixed in no time, but to you and your loud beating heart it felt like an eternity. After exiting the room you swore your legs almost gave up under you but thankfully the door was there to support you. Some of the crew worried, especially Gunther (as mark wasn't there in the moment, he was fixing another broken door.), however you just waved them off, making some excuse about a hard day at work, which was true but it was more than just 'a hard day at work'.
You ran to the storage room, you always went there whenever you felt overwhelmed about everything and just wanted peace. Thankfully no one was outside of the storage room. You placed your gloves hand on the scanner (thank mark as he updated the gloves), the door slid with a quiet hiss, as if it was scared to make any other noise.
You lazily walked over to your usual spot which was at the darkest corner of the room. And as if on cue, right after you sat down on the floor you burst out crying. The build up in your chest was slowly pouring itself out on your gloved hands.
'I saw captain going in here...' Mark thought as he heard a faint sobbing on the other side of the door. 'I don't want to disturb them.' Mark let out a long sigh as he took 3 steps away from the door before rapidly moving to the hand scanner next to it. Placing his gloved hand on the scanner he quietly thanked himself for the gloves.
The door let out another silent hiss as you quickly tried to compose yourself but just ended up breaking down more. No thoughts filled your head as the only thing you could hear was the loud sobbing coming from you and rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Captain?..," Mark let out as he placed his hand on your shoulder. You flinched but leaned into it after a few seconds. Mark looked worriedly at you, confused but he also knew what to do. Sitting next to you on the hard cold floor. You swore you saw his face glow faintly.
You quickly apologized for how 'disgusting' you looked and how you should've been a better captain for everyone. Mark quietly shuffled closer and finally hugged you, he apologized for not noticing sooner and also cried right after, he didn't like seeing his captain cry after all.
The room was filled with apologies directed to each other until it stopped and you could only hear faint sobbing.