#cause i like to think nightmare has a hooked nose

[cherrysodabear]

🧸Nightmare freddy🧸

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fivenightsatfreddysfanart #fnaf humanized #fnaf fanart #nightmare freddy #my art #cherrysodabear #i forgot i made these awhile back #i got like same nose syndrome which is so frustrating #cause i like to think nightmare has a hooked nose #just gotta work on noses gr

[denwritesandcries]

sleepy!Tara Carpenter Headcanons

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: In all the times you fall asleep with Tara, she's always in your arms.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: cursing, mentions of ghostface, fluff, slightly angst, LOTS of cuddles, sleep disorders, tara's horrible sleep habits.

A/N: Alright, I don't know who first started the headcanon of Tara sleepwalking, but thank you cause it made me think about things.

English is not my first language.

- Tara has many different facets of behavior when she's sleepy and all of them end with her acting like a clingy koala.

- Will use you as her personal pillow at every opportunity she gets, whether in quick naps or during the night. Don't even try to escape it. Head lying on your shoulder or lap, leaning against your body and completely melted in your arms.

- If she's too drunk after a party, she'll pass out on you the second you lie down and even if she's mad after a fight, she'll drag you to the bed by your wrist and put your arms around her waist, fixing you the way she wants, before crossing her arms with a frown and her back turned to you.

- It's no use tho, a few minutes later she turns around again to bury her face in your chest or neck and intertwine your legs together. A stupid argument isn't worth a bad night's sleep, even if she's still very mad at you (she’s not).

- Has frequent nightmares, but doesn't like to talk about it. Tara wakes up scared and with her heart racing and becomes extremely shy and quiet as she asks you to hold her tighter.

- She insists that her dreams don't scare her anymore, but the way she's clearly alarmed after it happens tells you enough to know that it's not true, so you just do as she asks and do your best to make sure she doesn't spend the nights alone and embarrassed of being affected by it.

- Tara often can't go back to sleep after them, so she follows you around the apartment while you stay up with her, insisting that she's not tired even though she yawns loudly while you prepare a late-night snack or put on some random show for you to watch on TV.

- Poor baby has had a lot of trouble falling asleep since Ghostface – she has practically chronic dark circles under her eyes – let alone sleeping peacefully, so when it happens, Tara sleeps like a rock. As if there could be a bang in the house and she still wouldn't wake up.

- It’s a sleepwalker and sleep talker. Tara is very restless – you've already been kicked a few times because of that. Better be prepared to be frightened a lot until you get used to it, because she won't admit that she actually does this. You don't know if she just doesn't want to admit it out of shame or if she's in denial – or maybe she's just gaslighting you for fun, who knows? Your girlfriend can be a little smartass when she wants.

- Tara says disjointed words most of the time, what she's dreaming about or conversations you've had throughout the week, topics you didn't even remember talking about but suddenly her hoarse voice wakes you up and she's mumbling about something silly that the core four did together or even full sentences that leave you simply confused.

- At first you think she’s actually talking to you and you poke her to ask what she's saying and she wakes up irritated. Girly gets so, so grumpy about you waking her up, why the hell did you do that? She was so comfortable sprawled on top of you. What is that? No, she didn't say anything. Shush.

You wake up one night with a hand too small to be another Ghostface slapping you squarely in the nose, propping yourself up on your elbows and looking around in alarm, only to find Tara in the far corner of the bed lying in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable, one of her legs hooked into the crook of your knee.

“...the car,” she mumbled and you moved closer to hear better, confused and scratching one of your eyes to ward off the tiredness.

“What?” You ask quietly, holding back a yawn, “What you said, baby?”

Tara shifts her position, looking slightly uncomfortable, her hand almost reaching you again as she rubs her face into the pillow.

“No,” she turns again, “The blue car.”

Why does it feel like she's angry with you?

Noticing that her eyes were still tightly closed, you arch an eyebrow and lightly shake her shoulder.

“What car?” you ask when she finally opens her eyes.

“What?” Tara looks just as perplexed as you.

“The car. The blue car,” you repeat, curious, “What about that?”

She stares at you for a long moment, seeming to try to assimilate what you're saying.

“You woke me up to talk about a damn car?”

"You tell me!" You exclaim, “What’s with the blue car?”

Tara snorts in complete disbelief, adjusting herself back in your arms and choosing to ignore your confused expression. You lay there, cradling her safely and being the one without sleep this time, wondering what the hell car she was talking about.

- Sometimes she murmurs variations of 'I love you', spoken softly against the skin of your neck, so over time it stops confusing you and becomes just captivating.

- You almost have a heart attack when you see her sleepwalking for the first time, thinking that someone had broken into the apartment.

- Sam had to sit down with you and explain to you that Tara does this since they were kids, after the high scream you gave when you saw a five-foot shadow trying to open the wardrobe with unfocused eyes and failing miserably.

- You woke up the whole house – including your girlfriend – with the sound, but at least it gave you all a good laugh and a completely confused Tara cursing everyone and going back to bed.

- In defense of her and your sleep, this doesn't happen that much. These are peculiarities that occur mainly due to stress; if she has a fight with you or Sam, for example, or during college tryout season.

- It also happens because of the nightmares she has. You and Sam are convinced that this would improve if she went to therapy like her sister, but you know how stubborn your girlfriend is.

- This also becomes captivating, you no longer wake everyone up when you find her sitting at the kitchen counter writing a grocery list in the dark because she forgot to do the task during the day and kept that in mind.

- You always gently guide her back to bed and she curls up around you immediately, because as much as the 'You can't wake a sleepwalker!' thing is bullshit, it's better not to have to deal with the sad pout on her tired face when this happens.

- Tara is a BIG cuddler. Even if she doesn't stay like that all night, she has to have your body touching hers and fall asleep like that.

- She is usually the little spoon, but likes to be the big one when she is angry or feeling protective about something.

- It's comical when that happens, it's like having a little backpack clinging to you, even if you're not much taller than her, because Tara insists on trying – she never succeeds – to rest her chin on the top of your head in those days, so the difference is always stark. Girl is determined.

She's upset after a stupid party where a random guy hit on you, practically foaming at the mouth while mumbling about 'That fucking dumb bastard, how dare he?' on the way back.

Your girlfriend is still upset as you prepare for bed, even though your reassurances and soft kisses have calmed her earlier anger. Now she's just quiet, insecure.

You lie down among the sea of pillows and blankets spread out on the bed, opening your arms: “Come here, dear.”

Tara goes, but instead you feel her weight sink into the mattress behind you under the blankets, warm arms wrapping around you tightly.

She only truly relaxes when she buries her face in your hair and breathes in your scent. You feel her melt, like she can't get enough of your touch.

- Her favorite position, however, is when she is turned to you, her face buried in your neck and her body pressed against your chest, with your arms around her waist keeping her close.

- Likes to nap during the day and stay up late making movie marathons or finishing college work. Takes every chance she gets to simply rest with her head on your thighs for a few minutes.

- On those occasions when you are not with her and find her dozing on the couch, Tara will wake up for a moment, blink her eyes innocently and ask you to join her for just a few minutes. Her doe eyes can be very convincing, there's no way denying her that.

- You promise to yourself that you won't fall asleep, but you end up passing out less than 20 minutes later, with her warm body sprawled on top of you. It's like you can't help it, your girlfriend is basically a walking heater and she's so comfortable.

“Tara, I need to finish this book.”

“But baby,” she takes your hand in hers, rubbing circles into the wrist with her thumb, “Lay here with me just for five minutes. Please?”

You sigh, knowing you’ve lost immediately: “Fine, but just a little.”

- She’s not really afraid of the dark, but feels safer in a brighter place, sometimes leaving the door ajar to let a flight of the light from the hallway enter the room.

- You buy her a cute night light as a gift once and she gets angry at first, thinking you were mocking her, but over time she starts to shyly take the item out of the drawer to turn it on on days when nightmares haunt her. You keep a few extras at your dormitory too, just in case.

- She doesn't snore or breathe through her mouth – in fact Tara is very silent except for her occasional murmurs – but sometimes she breathes heavily in her chest due to her asthma. She loves it when you rub your hand up and down her back to calm her and follow her breathing, especially on days when she's feeling under the weather.

- She sleeps with as many blankets and pillows as she can fit on the bed and curls up in them like a ball – don't worry about feeling too hot, she almost always ends up monopolizing them all at some point during the night.

- Set several times to wake up in the morning, all with the same default sound because music annoys her.

- Always gets satisfied when she wakes up next to you, the sleepy smile marking the dimples in her cheeks while there is a good morning kiss waiting for you.

- In short, sleeping with Tara may have its... peculiarities, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #scream 6 #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter fluff #denwrites

[skele-ghost]

Baby, it’s Hot Outside: Part 3

Ruh-roh Raggy

MDNI, 18+, Warnings: Omegaverse, near-death experience (NDE), hospitals, hugs lol

Masterlist

“Ghost!”

The desperation in Johnny’s voice has Ghost scrambling out of their cabin, gun unholstered and ready for anything. He steps out onto their rickety porch and sees Soap standing on Seraph’s porch, frantically waving him over.

“Ghost, hurry!” He shouts, and Simon doesn’t hesitate. He crosses the clearing quickly and nearly slams open the door to the cabin.

The smell that hits him almost causes him to stumble back. It’s sour, almost rotten, and everything inside him screams that something is terribly wrong.

It’s Seraph. She’s limp in Soap’s arms, completely unconscious, and for a moment Ghost thinks she’s dead. Her chest rises and falls in short, shallow breaths.

“She’s hardly breathing,” Soap says, tears brimming in his eyes. “Just—just hold her, I don’t know if your scent will do anything but—“

Ghost strides over and falls to his knees, quickly taking her limp form from him and cradling her into his lap, tucking her head against his neck. He checks her pulse and it’s weak, too weak.

“Gaz is calling for a medevac,” Soap says, rising to his feet, “I’ll go get the captain and König—just please…”

“Go, Johnny,” Ghost commands, “I’ve got her.”

Soap runs off, leaving Ghost with a nearly-dead omega in his arms. He pulls off his baklava, exposing his scent gland and keeping it as close to her nose as he can.

His chest tightens, her sour scent making his stomach toss. If he’d known she was this bad—

But he did know she was bad. Soap had returned to him day after day smelling of her, worse each time.

It was only a few hours ago that he had gathered everyone together and told them that they would need to call a medevac tomorrow if she didn’t get any better.

How had she deteriorated so fast? Three days was all it took for their happy little hacker to turn into this husk?

Ghost growls, holding her tighter against him. “No,” he says to her, “we’re not going to lose you, (Y/N).”

—

It’s like waking up from a nightmare. You feel content, and comfortable, and as recent memories flit back to you, they almost seem like conjurations of a fever dream.

But you open your eyes and you’re in a private hospital room, an IV hooked up to your wrist. You’re tucked neatly into the hospital bed, in a hospital gown.

A snore catches your attention. Soap MacTavish is asleep on a tiny couch next to your bed, in casual clothes with a blanket draped across him. The position he’s in looks so incredibly uncomfortable that you decide it’s best to wake him.

“Soap?” You’re a little taken aback at how soft your voice is. How could you have lost your voice? You have to call his name a few more times before he wakes up.

“Oh, thank god,” he sighs, any semblance of sleep lost as he stands up and engulfs you in a hug. You swear you can see the sparkle of a tear in his eye as he pulls away, but you don’t get a good look before he turns and pulls up a chair.

“Uh, hey,” you manage, surprised at his actions.

He sighs deeply, leaning forwards in his chair, squeezing your hand briefly. “We thought we’d lost ya.”

“Sorry,” you say automatically, before you shake your head. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Mexico City. We had to have you medevac’d…it got pretty bad, hen,” he says, sounding sad.

“I really did go into a heat, then?”

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “The doctor said it’s rare, to present so late, but it’s not impossible. So…welcome to the omega club, I guess.”

You chuckle, “thanks, MacTavish. What about the others, are they okay?”

“The others are fine, bonnie,” Soap says, shaking his head with a smirk. “You’re the one who went hyperthermic and nearly had your brain fried.”

“Shit,” you grimace. “That bad, huh?”

There’s a quiet knock on the door before it opens, revealing a woman in a lab coat. She smiles warmly at the sight of you both.

“I thought it heard conversation. How are you feeling, Miss (Y/N)?”

“Um, fine, thank you,” you say.

Soap rises from his seat, giving your hand another squeeze. “I’ll let you talk to the doctor, love. Team’ll want to know how you’re doing.”

With that, he leaves you at the mercy of the doctor. Not that she’s a bad doctor; she’s very sweet.

She gently explains to you how, in very rare cases, omegas can present later in life. Heats in those cases, however, can be quite severe if not taken care of. That’s what happened to you.

Unfortunately, those ‘late bloomers’ also have trickier heats, sometimes lasting longer or becoming more intense.

As for your heritage…you aren’t adopted. Your genes just decided to mutate and make you an omega instead of a beta.

And that leaves you, an unclaimed omega at 26, with absolutely no clue as to how to proceed. You call your parents and then Laswell, and by the time you’re discharged you’ve decided.

You’re pulling up Soap’s number in your phone, walking down to the main lobby when you literally run into him.

He squeezes you into a hug again, and your eyes widen at the sight of your entire fucking team behind him.

“You look right as rain, angel,” Soap says, patting your shoulders.

“You guys didn’t have to…all show up,” you say quietly. Your mind races with questions—had they stayed here? Gotten hotels? You’d been out for two days, they better have gotten a hotel—

“We’re so glad you’re alright, Seraph,” the captain steps forwards, giving you a gentle, warm hug. He’s the one that smells like cigars, duh.

“Oh, thanks,” you say, still bewildered at all this attention.

You catch König’s eye next, and the expression of concern and worry on his face almost makes you melt. He bends down to hug you, too (are you a flashing ‘hug me’ sign?), squeezing you a little too tight. His scent is new—like conifers and a crisp, autumn morning.

“Are you alright, meine liebe?” He asks, looking you over at arm’s length like you might be sporting some secret injuries.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Kö,” you promise him, smiling at his gentleness and concern.

Gaz doesn’t miss out on the chance for a hug, either. “You really had us worried there, mate,” he whispers to you.

You look to Ghost, but not expectantly. He’s not huge on physical affection, you know.

“Don’t do that again,” he says, and you can tell that he’s being playful and not serious.

You smile and nod, “not planning on it.”

They really do look happy to see you again, which is why breaking the news to them makes you more nervous than usual.

“Uh, listen, guys,” you say, readjusting the straps of the backpack on your shoulders. “I talked to Laswell and I’m going to take a couple weeks off. I just—the doctor said I should take it easy, and my parents want to see me, since I almost died…” you trail off.

“(Y/N),” Price says, and you look up at him, “we completely understand. If you need some time to yourself, then by all means, take it.”

The generosity and kindness in his voice makes you feel guilty, but you nod and thank him. And on your flight back home, while you should be thinking about yourself, you can’t help but think about the team you’re leaving behind.

Because how are you supposed to tell them that you’re not planning on coming back?

—

You didn’t realize how homesick you were until you got home. Go figure. And even though you’re a grown adult, it’s nice to be doted on by your parents again.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They were worried about you, and they had been worried about you before you were an omega.

You’re still undecided. That’s what you told Laswell—that you’d think about it. Your parents want you to take a desk job at the Pentagon, the one you’d had before you joined the team. Remote, no field work.

The fact that three of your teammates were alphas had always concerned them. Now that you’re an omega, they think you shouldn’t be anywhere near alphas.

You explain it to them over and over—the team is already a pack, they have an omega, and they sure as hell aren’t interested in you. It still stung a little in your heart to say it, and after the hospital, a part of you wondered if it was still true.

But the part of yourself that knows better, the part of yourself that keeps you from disappointing yourself—it won’t let you even dream of it.

You didn’t really care to understand what the doctors said—you still don’t really know what it means to be an unclaimed omega. Claiming, scenting; she threw all those terms at you and expected you to know what she was talking about.

Well, you didn’t, and you still don’t. You just want to be normal again. You want to return to your old, comfortable life like nothing had ever happened.

But you don’t know if you should, and you didn’t even know if you’d be able.

Someone else has to decide for you.

You’re at a local bar with your parents, enjoying some live music. Your cousins all have a band together and it’s good enough that you wish the music they make was on Spotify.

Your phone buzzes a few times in your pocket before you notice it over the feel of the music running through you.

Unknown Caller.

You answer it immediately, rushing outside so you can actually hear her.

“(Y/N), are you there?” Laswell asks calmly, and you nod before you remember that you’re on a phone.

“Yeah, I’m here—sorry, live music,” you stutter.

“Well, I’m sorry to pull you away from leave; I know you asked not to be contacted, but I need you.”

“Ma’am?”

“I have a problem, and I think you’re the only one who knows how to fix it. Have you decided yet?”

That dreaded question. You’d snapped at your mother the other day for asking it and felt so bad afterwards. Three weeks was long enough to decide, wasn’t it?

Because if you’re being honest with yourself, you knew the answer from day one. You knew the answer when you felt that pit in your gut as your plane taxied out of Mexico City. You knew the answer when you layed awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering what your team was doing, and if they were okay, if they were hurt.

You knew the answer. It wasn’t the safe option, or the convenient one—and you were at least 60% sure it was probably going to be a challenge.

But you knew.

“When and where?”

-

A/N: ngl Ghost’s ‘not gonna lose you’ line is so cheesy but I kind of like it that way. Next part will take longer to come out, I’m still working on it. Stay cringe, folks.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #task force 141 #cod omegaverse #omegaverse au #cod x fem!reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #141 x reader #tf 141 #poly 141 #ghost cod #cod gaz #cod price #cod soap #cod ghost #cod konig #konig x y/n #konig cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #baby it’s hot outside

[love-toxin]

Trapped - Harley Kunuk

a/n: for reference for any new lovelies--this is a piece featuring one of my ocs <3 this is cut to be a little shorter but lmk if you'd like me to finish the next part!

(cws: gn!reader, yandere, depression/mental illness, non-yandere stalker, blood, injury, nightmares, meet-cute, minor violence, misuse of farm tools, teasing, protective yandere, mutual pining, sharing a bed, fluff and comfort)

word count: 7.3k

This whole "get out into nature" thing really hasn't panned out for you so far, has it? It's a little embarrassing to be honest. All you wanted was to inject a bit of fresh air into your daily diet, all with the hope that it might improve your mental health–maybe your physical health, too.

Yet here you sit in the dirt, your scraped hands held close to your chest while a total stranger helps you out of the prickly situation you've stumbled into. Made even more humiliating for the reason that this particular stranger is….well, he's not any run-of-the-mill good Samaritan. Those types don't generally trek through stretches of wooded areas with no paths, armed with a hatchet on his belt and all manner of hooks attached to it to carry back the catch from his traps.

When you'd first spotted him through the trees after stepping in one of those rabbit traps (currently still clamped around your ankle) you figured he was a lumberjack or something. Maybe a serial killer with those dead eyes and stoic expression, but you'd prayed not. You could see his wild, unruly black hair tied back in a thick ponytail to keep it out of his face, his huge frame that stood hulking and tall next to the barren trees, his worn-in flannel under a heavy leather coat and jeans permanently stained with dirt and who knows what else…he gave off the impression of what you imagine a giant would look like, although the pale smattering of freckles over his slanted nose and the gleam of brown in his dark eyes as he turned had sent a strange shiver down the back of your neck. In fact, your cries for help had almost instantly died down when you caught him in your peripheral, because you feared he might be the type of person to take advantage of your suffering–he just looked mean, and you distinctly recall the way your breath hitched in your dry throat when he started walking towards you.

But you've learned your lesson to not judge a book by its cover, and quickly, because he's been nothing but helpful so far–with just a dash of sass in the process. You did step in his trap, after all, which he'd supposedly been looking forward to checking for a nice, fat rabbit to make a stew out of. And based off of how deep it's buried itself into your skin, it probably won't be any good for other rabbits with your blood all over it.

"You really shouldn't wander out here blindly. It's dangerous." His muttering like he's not even addressing you would otherwise put you off, were he not so close and handling your leg so gently as he pries the blunt claws of the trap off. He's been trying for the better part of twenty minutes, but without any tools aside from his hands it's been slow-going. He tends to be gentler when the touch trap scrapes against you or digs in deeper, so in a bid not to hurt you further he's abandoned the idea of trying to preserve the trap itself–now the aim is just to get it off you by any means necessary, and based off the blood from his own hands and from your leg, it's not going nearly as well as he would've liked. "Not just cause of my traps. There's animals out here, too."

"I didn't think it would be," You admit bashfully, a heat further rising to your cheeks. He glances up at you as stone-faced as he was before, but something in his expression flinches like he's intentionally trying to keep a wall up. The sounds of the forest around you luckily keep you grounded as you adjust your position, your hand tentative as it grasps his shoulder for balance. Does he work out? His muscles aren't that noticeable at first glance but you're positioned in a weird way, he probably looks a lot bigger when he's not so close you're practically breathing on him. Then again he kind of has to be, considering the snare is giving him more trouble than he expected and snaps back to dig into your ankle for the nth time–eliciting a pained yelp from you in the process–but with a gruff "Fuckin' piece of trash-" grumbled right next to your ear, he finally manages to wedge his fingers between your flesh and the steel and wrenches it back down with harsh, brute strength.

A sharp twang echoes through the forest, the sound and his hard motion startling you enough for your nails to dig into his shoulder through the leather. You'd be surprised if a big guy like him would even feel it, and you think that especially so when you cast a glance down and feel your heart skip at the carnage lying before you. You almost feel worse for the trap than you do yourself–you've got some stinging dents, scrapes, and punctures in your skin from the teeth clamping down on them, but with his bare hands Harley's bent the steel jaws back so far they've snapped off the base of the trap completely. One of them lies shattered in pieces in the dirt, the spring holding it all together looks completely bent out of place, by all accounts it's completely unsalvageable. And completely your fault.

"Thank you. I'm really sorry-"

"For what? This?" He cuts you off by holding up a handful of his snare's remains, but only shows some remorse after the fact, like he's not used to the normalcy of human interaction…it's a big leap considering you don't know him from Adam, but you can only make assumptions about some strange man you've never seen who dresses like a lumberjack but can barely string a few words together at a time.

Harley tosses the mangled trap aside, completely oblivious to the way you flinch at the way it flies and tumbles to the soil in a discordant symphony of rough clanging. "It's garbage anyways. Hasn't caught squat…just you."

As he says that, his eyes draw over from the pile of junk back towards you, quietly creeping upward until they meet your own. Maybe you're imagining things, but you feel some odd sense of kinship with him…you feel like he's looking deeper into your soul than you realize, right up until he coughs and gets back up to his feet with a grunt.

"Don't step into my traps again, unless you turn into a rabbit."

All things considered, your nose scrunches a bit as the unexpectedly gentle giant towers over you once more. The snare had been covered in leaves and all manner of brush, plus he'd set it up right next to a rotting log that you'd stepped over and subsequently fallen down when the snap and the pain threw you off balance. Only a hawk could've spotted such a well-hidden trap in the midst of an otherwise empty forest, and you release a huff from your chapped lips as you struggle to stand with the help of his outstretched hand.

"If I'd seen the trap, I wouldn't have stepped in…uh, what was that? Was that supposed to be a joke?" Harley flushes at once, faster than your eyes can manage to process since he turns around so his back is facing you. He's already taking steps away, his nerves showing through his facade as he nearly stumbles over a tree root before steadying himself against the trunk.

"I mean it. Watch your feet around here."

"Uh…Harley, hey! Wait!"

To your surprise, he actually stops and turns back around to face you–this time with concern written clear on his features at how urgent your tone is. Wisps of black hair fly free from his ponytail and whip against his cheeks as a breeze suddenly blows through the empty trees, and more than ever you draw your arms tight around yourself to keep out the cold. You didn't dress for this weather most certainly, and part of you knows you don't want him to leave partly because you're losing that warmth that had made you feel so secure.

"Um…I, uh, don't know if I can make it back. I'm kinda far from home, and my ankle.." You glance down at the exposed patch of skin above your sneaker and Harley's eyes flicker before they follow, a trail of fresh blood dripping down your goosebump-covered skin as you put pressure on it. "...I-It really hurts."

You fully expect him to tell you you're fine, that you don't need any help, or that you're just being a baby and want more sympathy. But he comes back, draws closer slowly like he's approaching a wounded animal, and gestures behind you towards the stump you'd been leaning back against. When you sit yourself down on the cold, mossy wood, he rolls up his dirty sleeves and crouches down in front of you–this time with his face right near your knee, and you have to look anywhere but at his concentrated expression while he pulls your ankle into his massive grasp. It looks and feels so tiny in his hand, like you're a doll compared to him, and as much as your fingers itch to touch his hair now that it's so close you keep digging them into the stump below you. He just keeps observing the wounds, gently pressing a finger around the area of each while easing off when he feels you cringe in pain.

"...Hurts? Can you feel that?"

"Yeah, it…yeah, hurts. It really hurts. Sorry-" Somehow the touching, the eyes on your wound, they choke you up before you even know what's happening. The pain runs deeper than the physical sores and you know that, or you did, you just didn't expect it to well up so much that you find yourself shedding tears in front of a complete stranger. Your pitiful sniffles and wiping your nose with your sleeve are what finally attract his attention. Harley peers up from his deep concentration and you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, clearly unsure of how to proceed in the face of this unexpected development. If he were you, he might've just gotten to his feet and scurried away from the scene.

"...Wait here. I don't live far, I'll go get my kit and come back. Don't cry."

The way he says it doesn't feel patronizing, not like it should. You hadn't noticed until his face draws closer that through your tear streaked vision, his brow is set low and his brown eyes soft with a gentle glimmer of care. You catch a glimpse of his hand hovering near your cheek out of your peripheral, the warmth soaking into your skin–but before it can make contact, he's sucking his teeth and tugging it away before he stands for the second time. He repeats that command to stay where you are, and with a step back and a turn on his heels he's headed back in the direction he came from. He's out of sight in less than a minute, which is somehow oddly comforting as you dry your puffy eyes with your sleeves and sit there in wait, sniffling all the while in the cold. Hopefully he won't be long…hopefully he'll actually come back. You've got a good feeling he will, even as the minutes tick by and you hug yourself tighter when the cold of the late day sets in. It'll be dark before you know it, and on this leg you won't be getting far even if you'd brought a torch with you.

It's probably been a solid few minutes before the sounds of snapping twigs alerts you to someone else's presence. The angle confuses you though, because Harley left in the direction you're facing and the noise is coming from behind you. A whisper of something in the back of your head begs you to turn around, and just when you do, your line of sight aligns with a stranger who stops in his tracks as soon as you catch him in your vision. You're on your feet as quickly as you can be with one of them incapacitated, your heart jumping into your throat at the sound of him mumbling something incoherent in your direction.

He's definitely not Harley. Definitely not somebody you recognize either; older, squirrely, raggedy-looking but somewhat put together. A white coat sits on thin shoulders with sleeves that inch down over knobby hands worn with age, aside from that he's dressed just as any other trail walker you would see–at the actual trails at least, not this patch of forest that's further out of town and has a reputation for being bear country. You'd probably never even notice him if your eyes passed him on the street or a walk where the couples and families go on the trails, he seems like the typical older man you'd see anywhere. Except for those eyes that feel like they're bulging out from behind thick-rimmed wire glasses, roaming over you from head to toe and giving you an intense, icky feeling of being sized up like meat.

"Is that guy your boyfriend?" The staredown continues as he throws that strangely accusative question your way, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket so you can't see what he might be holding. What you don't know he is holding.

"Uh, what? Do I know you?" You shake your head in disbelief, taking great caution to step back slowly enough that you don't slip on your weak ankle.

"I've seen you walking here alone. Is the big guy your boyfriend? Is he your dad?" He still has his hands in his pockets. Your brain won't stop imagining all the things he could be hiding in there–and the disjointed way he walks and the questions he's asking unnerve you to your core. And did he just admit he's watched you walking around here? This area of the woods isn't even remotely near a trail and you picked it for that very reason…unless it's an odd coincidence, it's forcing you to think back to every moment you've spent here and all the times he could've been watching. As if things couldn't get worse, your only reprieve is still nowhere in sight, Harley's footsteps nowhere near close enough for you to hear them. Who knows when he'll be back, either? It might be too late by then.

"I've got a lot of money. I can pay him." He steps forward and you take a huge one back. Your options are dwindling and you didn't have many in the first place. You can't possibly think he's harmless now that you're this far–he clearly has some creepy imagination and the only person who could save you, the only person who even knows you're here, definitely isn't close enough to hear you scream for help if you tried.

"H-He's coming back right now," You search for those words in the deepest pits of your stomach where your hope has fallen flat. The man glances around, his head turning in big, sweeping arcs to search the woods for any sign of said rescuer. Your heart hits the wall of your ribcage so hard you feel like you're gonna sink to your knees, or at least be sick all over the ground. You're not safe and you know it, and he knows it.

"I don't see him."

He takes another shaky, measured step towards you and you stumble back to take your own, but all you manage to do is trip and fall back on your behind in the mess of leaves underfoot. Those next few steps he takes towards his prey are quick and heavy in your ears, and in a burst of panic when you can finally get your voice out you sob Harley's name in a shaky, tremoring pitch that breaks with frantic desperation.

The doomed silence that follows is cut by the sound of wind whipping harshly through the trees–and in a matter of seconds, followed by the violent thwack that echoes throughout the woods as a blade flings itself across your vision and embeds itself in a tree trunk before you.

The hatchet marks a degree of separation between you and the man you hadn't realized had been stalking you for a while, landing barely an inch away from his nose. He staggers back out of shock and nearly falls over a root himself, but upon turning his gaze towards the source of the attempted assault, his bug eyes widen and he scrambles to run away with his tail tucked between his legs. No sense of relief washes over you until you spot your savior, his gait tense as he steps out from the trees and into the clearing–you only inhale a shaky breath when you see that long hair trailing down his back, the softness of his flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he reaches out to grasp the handle of the hatchet. With a deft, one-handed tug, it dislodges from the dead tree with a rough crunching sound and falls to hang down at his side. He doesn't move to look over his shoulder at you until the man has disappeared from his vision, but when he does he finally sets the tool back on his belt and crosses that short distance to kneel in front of you, his first-aid kit dangling on a clasp on the opposite side.

You'd expect him to be upset by that rather violent reaction even if it's not directed at you, but he's cooled down already, enough that his touches are gentle on your skin. At least on the outside. There's a storm brewing behind his eyes that you thankfully won't have to witness, because all that awful business he's cooking up as revenge won't be for your precious, pure eyes.

"You okay?" His deep voice couldn't be more soothing than it is in this moment, your eyes filling with a fresh set of tears that, this time, he's quick to brush away for you with his calloused thumbs. His shushing and soft, sweet crooning don't fit the scary vision of the man wielding that frightening weapon, yet his soothing touches and words are so comforting you just end up melting into his warmth. Not a word of protest escapes you when he suggests taking you back home, nor when he carefully leans your crying self into his shoulder so he can slide his hands beneath you, and lifts you off the ground and into his arms with a grunt.

Your legs dangling over one arm and your back supported by the other, Harley bridal carries you away from the scene and through the forest down a path only he can see. One still filled with roots to trip him up and dry leaves to crunch underfoot, but he barely stumbles at all with you perched delicately in his arms.

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry." You shake your head and lift it from where it's buried in his neck, a trembling hand wiping your face for what feels like the millionth time today.

"No…no, he scared me, Harley. Thank you, I.." You whimper, your words falling apart as you hesitate briefly–but in the next moment you're clinging to him, his taut biceps pressed to your soft flesh and your arms pulled tight around his neck, warming his face in the process. Maybe that dark flush is just the cold, but maybe it really is something else after all. "Please don't leave me."

A shake of his head is enough to sate you, some loose strands of his hair tickling your skin as he readjusts his grip to keep you upright. Every time he moves, even encumbered by your weight, he does so with so much ease you feel like you don't weigh an ounce in his arms.

"I did catch you, so I guess I get to keep you." A smile curving against his skin goes unnoticed but the tug on his shirt as he steps over a fallen log doesn't, your instinct to grip him tighter when he's unsteady is what leads him to brace you closer to his chest. Safer.

"So I am a bunny now? You'd better not turn me into rabbit stew, then." You chuckle, a sniffle peppering your breath.

"You do look tasty." You tuck in your arm before elbowing him in the chest, not like it really does anything but tickle when he's built like a brick wall. But it's out of shyness and embarrassment because those words sound devious out of his mouth, that slowly-spreading grin and rumbly voice sending a palpable shiver up the back of your neck like he's speaking to your thoughts directly. Does he know? He acts coy, but is it that easy for him to tell that you like him? Because you do. You really, really do.

It takes everything in you not to press your lips to his cheek in thanks, because while it would be quite sweet you don't exactly want to cross any boundaries of his. You just enjoy the ride for what it is, Harley's strong arms cushioning you every step of the way until the shade from the trees overhead disappears and the ground evens out. By the time you lift your head to look, he's crossed the grassy field that separates the land between the forest and his home, and is already slipping through the side door to a decent-looking farmhouse by the road. A soft couch lies beneath a grand window facing the open yard and it's where he sets you down, supporting your weight right up until the moment you hit the cushions and release your tight hold on his shoulders.

It's a little embarrassing to be treated so delicately for an injury that isn't terribly serious, but that's exactly how Harley addresses it. He slips your mud-caked shoes off for you and drops them on the doormat outside, tosses the kit on his kitchen counter you're facing, and excuses himself for a moment to wash his hands and search for some stronger medicine in his bathroom cabinet around the corner. The room itself is wide with the kitchen on the far side and the living room on the other, an archway sitting opposite to the side door that leads to a hallway, at the end of which lies the bathroom next to a set of stairs you can't quite see from here, but you can only imagine are there since there's clearly a second floor above you. As kitschy as it is with the creaky wood flooring and a few minor patches of water damage against the 70s-esque wallpaper, it's the definition of cozy–a fireplace sits near you along with a coffee table and two armchairs, along with a rug that looks thick and soft with age. The cabinets in the kitchen all look like similar wood to the floor, the linoleum just as old but well-scrubbed and clean of any muddy boot prints or grass, and the cream-coloured vintage fridge hums quietly with a dozen or so notes tacked to it, with scribbly drawings of things to memorize rather than actual words. Even from here, you can make out things like a certain number of eggs to bring somewhere and a particular part of a machine that somewhat looks like it belongs in a truck. And with all the natural light filtering in from the huge windows, one by your head and the other facing out above the kitchen sink, the whole first floor of the house stays warm and comfy-looking even as the sun begins to set.

"Is this where you live?" You call out and he hums loudly in agreement, busying himself with digging around the shelves through the open door. You crane your head to peek outside again, curious about the odd little hatches you can see from here and the fences around some big, grassy open areas. You just barely manage to catch a glimpse of a larger, more impressive building a little further off that looks like it could be a barn, and suddenly the weight of the cushions shifts as Harley takes his seat by your feet with a tube of something clutched in his hand. With relative confidence he squeezes a dollop on to his finger, hands you the tube to make sure you're not allergic to whatever it is, and gently presses the cream to your skin and swipes it right over your wounds.

The hiss that erupts from you at that first touch halts his progress briefly, but he's back to rubbing it in once he's given you a look and probably realized that it's not that bad. It just stings–but as he explains, it's disinfectant, so it's important to apply before you're exposed to a nasty strain of bacteria.

"How–ow! H-How long have you lived here?" Wincing, you sit up higher against the arm of the couch to get a better look. One glance at the blood staining his hands turns your stomach, however, and you're quick to peer back out the window in the hopes of shifting your focus elsewhere.

"The farm?" He queries, gaze sliding towards those same structures out the window before he finds an answer. "...Long time. Twenty years, maybe?"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"No kidding." You crack a wobbly smile, the burning sensation having slowly run its course through your poor, abused ankle. "We're not too far apart. So you grew up on a farm?"

"Kinda. Just helped out."

"Do you have cows?"

Shhhrup. He snips off a length of gauze and pins it to your ankle with a warm finger, slowly rolling the band around it in wide, careful circles. On each pass around he pulls it taut to tighten it and stem the bleeding, though it doesn't mean it doesn't make you flinch each time.

"Yeah. Chickens, too."

"You do?"

"Of course. See the building there? That's my coop." Once he's finally finished with pinning the dressing into place, he helps you lean up with his palm held out, your fingers grasping it firmly to steady yourself as you peer out the window towards the direction he's pointing. The way he talks about it gives off a sense of pride, but that alone is clear by the smile that breaks his stoic facade when you ask if you can see the cows and the chickens.

"When your ankle's better we'll go outside and feed them. You can ride one if you want, if you promise to be gentle with her."

"I can ride one?" Your eyes sparkle with hopeful excitement, glimmering like sea glass and crystals among the sand. You're assuming it's not that detail that has him quirking up a brighter smile than before, but you would be wrong.

"Mhm. Marnie likes giving rides–we can bribe her with some celery I've got." He speaks with a hand on your wrapped ankle, neither of you even really noticing the gesture until it dawns on both of you, and you break your shared gaze and the touch in somewhat flustered fashion. Yet, even though he sits like a golem above you with hands retracting back to his own lap, you still can't help the thought that he's just so…soft.

Maybe not on the outside necessarily, but Harley gives off a comforting, warm energy that seems completely natural to him. You've seen the itchy discomfort and awkwardness of men who would strike fear into your heart by presence alone, the unintentional fidgeting that betrays bad thoughts and cues towards what they've really got on their mind–things that they would gladly do or say if nobody was around and the chance of getting caught was low. Passing comments that just barely scrape the surface of impropriety, gestures masked with kindness but bleed through with the expectation of something in return. Harley isn't like that, or at the very least he doesn't seem like that.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He stands up and off the couch in a swift motion, the remaining roll of gauze pinched in one giant hand along with the balm and the scissors. They look almost toy-like in his massive grasp, it's actually pretty cute.

"Water?" He nods, brisk in his actions but not in the movements themselves–he takes your orders like a soldier yet moves along in a relaxed gait, the path to the kitchen like a sixth sense and the air in the house so familiar he's breathed himself into every inch of it. If you asked something of him, he could say no. Yet his willingness to do so prods at you with the thought that maybe he never has said it.

From the cupboard he produces a tall, well-worn glass, and the tap shudders to life to spit a strong jet of water straight into it once he turns it. It squeaks with age and potentially the need of some upkeep, but when he circles back around the edge of the tabletop and brings it to you, it sits clear and cool as it meets your hands and desperately refreshing when you bring it to your lips for a sip. If you knew how many cracked glasses he owns, you'd probably be twice as grateful that the one you hold stays intact as you drain it. You've never been one to remember the necessities when out for a stroll, a water bottle being one of them–the stuff he's given you now, though? It could well be the ambrosia of the gods to your parched throat, your tongue having sat so heavy and dry in your mouth that the unpleasant feeling has become a nuance and not an irritant. Maybe it's his pipes or maybe it's him, keeping a close eye and taking the glass back when it's empty to refill it again–but tap water has never tasted so good, you could swear it on your grave.

"So.." He murmurs, handing back your drink and waiting for you to down another greedy sip before he continues. "It's getting late, and you should really rest that leg. If you're okay, I can take you back home. Or…" The way he trails off lifts a brow from you, curiosity overcoming you in a gentle wave.

"Or?"

"...Or you can stay here for a bit. I mean, you can come back if you really want to, and we can see the animals then. But if you want to stay–and, uh, I can keep an eye on yo–y-your wound–you can."

You lower the glass, now half-empty, into your lap. As much as you want to let your smile peek through at how sweetly he's asking the question, you can't help but wonder about the possibilities. Is this a ruse? Does he want to get me alone? Will he flip out if I say I want to go home? Part of you wants to test him, wants to say that you do and then change your mind to see how he reacts…but another part of you trusts him, maybe errantly, but you so rarely get the opportunity to just take a chance with fate. Maybe this time, things will be different.

"I don't really have anyone to check on me, honestly, and I live alone. Maybe…if it's okay, maybe I can stay? There's not even an elevator in my-"

"Okay," He breathes suddenly, but follows it up quick with an apology for cutting you off. The enthusiasm tweaks your anxiety just a little bit, but you try your best to smooth it over. There's no going back now. "Yeah. I'll set up the spare room for you."

Within moments he's up, but before he gets to that particular task, the labour of food dawns on him and he makes a detour into the kitchen. Despite insisting that you've already eaten before you left for your walk, Harley imparts upon you a bit of homemade jam and some kind of fried bread before he takes you up to bed, the former quite sweet and tangy while the latter is a bit doughy from a day in the fridge but still delightfully warm off a pan that he heats it up in. That and a cup of fresh, warm milk and honey is what sends you upstairs to bed, the steps creaking twofold as Harley carries you there like a lame calf that needs constant tending. Belly full, sleepy, and comfortable–things could certainly be worse than this, especially when you consider what could've happened if Harley hadn't been around to rescue you today. Things could be much worse, you've found.

The spare bedroom sits just off the top of the staircase, as the second door from the end of the hall with another diagonally adjacent to it. The moment he carries you in, you can tell this used to be someone's room–the bed has been flipped and fitted with newer sheets and blankets, the walls have been scrubbed clean, but there's still shadows of frames that once hung against the honeycomb-like wallpaper and a closet nearly bursting with boxes of old belongings. Once he sets you down on the bed, the doors of which Harley's quick to close after stacking them higher and sliding them back to fit snugly inside and hopefully make you feel a little more comfortable. His disappears for a moment, but returns with what looks like a long, thick maroon shirt in his hands that would probably drape so far down on you it would act as a nightgown.

"Here. I'll wash your clothes for you tomorrow–this should do for you tonight." He waits patiently outside the door while you change, takes the clothing through the crack when you open it, and you notice that he's completely turned away when he does so even when he could probably be sure that you're decent. He bustles away with them like a rabbit, and returns just when the crickets have started chirping to show you the door–literally.

"There's a lock here," He points towards the highest point of the bedroom door, and back down towards the bottom where a wedge of polished wood sits nearby. With a measured bump of his foot he shows you how to slot it underneath, and respectively how to tug it back out with a decent amount of force. "It looks shaky but it works. I lock both the doors at night too when I close up the barn. Windows too, but these ones are hard to open anyways." He demonstrates by crossing the floor in quick strides and tugging on the window, barely able to shift it upwards a few inches before shoving it back down with a healthy amount of grunting…and to say the sounds don't have you hot in the face would be a mistake, as benign as they are.

"I'm in the room at the end of the hall. Bathroom's next door. If you need anything, just holler or come get me." He finally offers you his parting words with a hand on the doorknob, about to step out but clearly with some hesitation lingering in the way he stands. Maybe he wants to stay with you, or maybe he's nervous about leaving you alone after today. It's endearing either way, rather than concerning.

"I'll try not to wake you up." You smile back at him, truly feeling the gratitude for his kindness, but he shakes his head.

"No, come wake me for anything. Even a glass of water–I don't want you walking down those stairs and getting hurt."

Ouch. Those words sting, they really do, but not because of his personal fault–rather because you can't recall the last time you heard something like that, the last time it was said with sincerity, and it hits you like a brick and leaves you aching with a hollow feeling that you don't know what to do with. Your hands lift to rub at your arms a bit awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot and wincing when you attempt to do so to the other, but soon enough you find the courage to speak in the wake of concern you don't know if you deserve.

"You're really sweet, Harley."

"Sweet? I'm not sweet." His expression sours at once, a pout forming on his lips that almost doesn't fit his intimidating stature. He looks as if that word alone is an insult, yet the heat rising to his face gives him no bearing when it's so obvious that he's flattered.

"You haven't let me take a step on my own all day. You're really sweet, and really nice."

"Yeah, whatever." Unable to meet your eyes he pouts even harder to try and cover it up, turning his back on you with no better answer and grabbing hold of the doorknob on his way out. "Shut up, city-slicker. And don't stay up too late."

You nearly flinch when he doesn't slam the door closed, his bad attitude striking you more as cute than intimidating. Your ears perk at the sound of his footsteps outside, muffled through the walls and growing distant as he pads down the hall–and when his own door shuts quietly, you finally tear yourself away from the threshold and patter barefoot towards the plush bed. It's nothing special, and it's a bit old, but you certainly can't complain.

You can't help but think, however, as you shut off the lamp by the bedside and hunker down for a long night…it's just a little too cold for your liking.

Whispers hum at you in the dark, surrounding you in a blanket of voices and sensations that drench you in nothing but blackness. An incessant tapping grows in volume at the back of your mind, visions flashing by at random in a grotesque show of theatre–something burns, something hurts, and in a flash of climactic panic you shoot up awake in your bed, panting and gasping and grasping at things that aren't there.

You're alone again, but not in a good way. It takes a moment to adjust to your surroundings, reintegrate into the situation you're in, but a glimpse out the window at the farm and your hand brushing the cotton fabric of the blanket brings you right back down to earth. It was just a dream, and as you peer closer, the tapping in your head was nothing more than the branch of one of the trees whipping against the window in the wind.

You're up and out of your bed before you can really think about it, limping a little but finding steadiness as you brace the wall and the door handle before coming out into the hall. It's creepier at night, much quieter than you expected save for the noise of the wind outside, and it has you hauling yourself as quickly yet quietly as possible to get to the door on the very end; the door that creaks so softly as you open and close it behind you, but doesn't cause the warm, heavy body in the bed to stir. Even as you approach him and come round the other side that he's perched on, his breathing stays even and soft like he's nearly dead to the world.

"Harley?" Your whispers grow their confidence in the dark, the hem of the long shirt swishing around your thighs as you lean over the sleeping giant. "Harley, are you awake?"

You're wary of shaking him, but your hand just barely brushes his shoulder–when it meets his heated skin, the man in question flinches and rolls over with a groan, his arm sliding off his chest to dangle off the edge of the bed. Even in the dimness you can make out the squint of his eyes at the slivers of moonlight shining through the window, his hair tousled and splayed out all over his sheets since being freed from its ponytail. He barely tilts his head in your direction, but even so he acknowledges you with a slurred hum and a rub at his eyelids to erase the sleep weighing them down.

"I-I'm sorry–" Your fingers clench at the sight of his bare chest, the skin soft-looking and riddled with the deep edges of healed scars. "-I can't sleep. The noise-"

Without a word, Harley gropes for the blanket draped over him and grabs a fistful of it, tiredly lifting it up with a yawn. It's an idea almost too good to pursue, your brain momentarily wondering whether this, too, is a joke. But not one to give up the opportunity since he seems too sleepy to tease you, you take the bait and make quick work of crawling over his buff body to flop down on his other side. Your breath quickens in your throat as soon as you're settled, but you've got no time to dwell on the enthusiasm as Harley pulls the blanket up to your shoulder, shifts his hips up, and turns on his side to face away from you.

Is this really how fate has decided to treat you? You're not too sure you're a fan of enduring a string of so many awful things just to get one good miracle–but as the warmth of the bed lulls you in, you find your smile returning slowly as you snuggle into the sheets and relax next to the man whose hands you would gladly put your life into.

Within a few minutes of laying down beside him the space feels like it's growing larger and larger between you, the cold soaking into your veins and causing your feet to retreat further and further up under the covers. It takes a bit more time to work up the courage to search for a little more than that. Enough that you're sure he's probably fallen back asleep as you shuffle closer and closer, settling in again once your hands just barely brush his spine. That's better. Harley exudes so much warmth that you could consider him a human heater, although the chill returns when he flips over on a dime and those brown eyes are staring you down, half-open, in the darkness.

It doesn't take him even a moment to survey you, examine your intentions, think about you in any way–he mindlessly throws an arm over your body, while the other stuffs itself under your neck and loops through the space for you to rest your head on his bicep. What really kills your courage is the feeling of his warm, thick thigh brushing against your bare skin between your legs, your own clamping down around it on instinct before he brushes a place that'll really have you blushing. That wasn't his intention, but it's somehow more flustering that it wasn't. He just doesn't know what he does to you.

"Warmer now?" He murmurs, eyes fluttering closed while his fingers play with a few strands of your hair. Now, with him closer than ever, you can really feel the weight on your heart ease off. A smile graces your lips barely an inch away from his, even knowing you'll be spending the better part of your night wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. You hum your answer softly. "Good. Sweet dreams."

"You too, Harley." Your head falls back against his arm, and it's only a matter of time before the warmth of his body heat and the comforting embrace of strong arms around you lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. The only thing you remember waking you up is a brief time between then and the sunrise, when your eyes flutter open and you feel Harley's presence has disappeared for a time. But once slumber grabs hold of you again and you vanish into the land of unconsciousness, the only thing that will cause you to stir is the distinct pitch of a rooster crowing from somewhere off in the yard, signalling the dawn of a new day that may very well be the start of the rest of your life.

#harley kunuk #harley x reader #harley kunuk x reader #gn!reader #yandereverse #fluff #ellie writes #7k

[widow-maximov]

Damn tumblr smh! Okay here’s the request:

Natasha x Avenger fem!reader where during a sparring session between the two, Nat throws a VERY strong left hook at reader’s face by accident, causing a bleed and heavy bruising. Reader actually stays calm and quiet and leaves to go clean up without saying a word to her girlfriend. Nat, on the other hand, is horrified by her act and tries to apologize to reader for the rest of the day but reader ignores her for the rest of the day. And at night, Natasha is mopey and sad that her girlfriend won’t talk to her until reader approaches her with a hug and says she just needed some time to cool off to avoid an argument. Reader forgives Nat and cuddles at the end! (Hopefully it sent! -👊)

Harsh blow

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

Warning: The usual tags I don’t really know what other tags would go here, just enjoy :3

Summary: You thought training with your girlfriend would be just as fun as spending time with her, well a bruised face really proved you wrong.

Word count: 4.8k

My requests are always open so feel more than welcome to pop in a suggestion for the next story :3

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

There was many things that you loved about Natasha, it was her courage, confidence, style and many more but what you loved the most about her was her passion.

Her passion for being better in practically anything she could master, it was really inspiring to see her be so strong to get where she wanted to be.

Before dating you, the two of you were still close enough for you to notice how crazy she was with training, if it wasn't for you and the team, she would train 24/7.

She tried to take you with her to training but her training hours were insane, 4am to 6am, an hour break and 7am to 9am then breakfast, some time with the team or missions and then back to training at 6pm to 8pm unless of course she agreed to watch a movie with you then it would be at least an hour of training.

As feelings started to develop beyond friendship between the two of you, her obsession with training died down a little but that didn't mean she wouldn't train.

You were the opposite, you liked training but not to the extend where you would feel like you had been ran over by a car, it was too exhausting but it was a good challenge and you liked it... sometimes of course.

With time, laying in with Natasha became a normal thing that she actually came around to liking, you gave her the reason she needed to stay just a bit longer in bed since she didn't have nightmares anymore.

Before dating, Natasha tried her best to convince you to train with her but lord you were not going to wake up at 4am to have her beat you till you gave your last breath and expect to be alive for any events that day.

You always refused her, not only because you didn't have the energy to wake up at 4am but also because seeing Natasha in clothes that were far too revealing made you wet instantly.

You would've rather just have her be a little mad at you than accidently moan when she floored you or even ended up on top of you.

But of course since then time has passed and now you were her girlfriend so even if you still had butterflies at the sight of her, you were able to calm it.

That didn't mean just because you refused her couple of times, she wasn't going to give up. She wanted to train with you because she just wanted more time with you.

So in this moment, as the two of you were in bed, just enjoying some good peaceful time with each other, she used it as an opportunity to plead to you.

"Come on Y/n, train with meee" She had her bottom lip stuck out as she stared at you with puppy eyes.

If you told anyone that the infamous Black Widow just pulled the puppy card on you, everyone would just laugh at you and think you must've hit your head.

You giggled at her and placed a soft kiss on her nose "I don't want to wake up at 6am for you to kill me"

She rolled her eyes at you overexaggerating "I wouldn't kill you, plus it's good for your body to get that much energy in the morning"

You scoffed "Yeah right! I get energy from my sleep, no thank you"

She placed her hand on your check after tucking some hair behind your ear "Fine, it doesn't have to be in the morning, just before dinner so then you can just relax with the team and eat"

You sighed knowing that your redhead girlfriend wasn't going to give up "Okay, okay, I will train with you"

She smirked, she got you to train with her finally and she was happy, causing her arms to squeeze around you tighter, with a victorious smile across her face as she cuddled further into you.

Before you could register what was happening, Natasha flipped the two of you, ending up on top of you as you yelped "Natasha!"

She had a huge smile across her lips as she started to attack you with kisses, causing you to laugh as she managed to tickle you "Nat stop it!"

She didn't say a word, just continued to torture you with her tickling and smooching any skin on your body that she could reach, you manged to grab at her shoulders and push her away from you.

You breathed heavily as you stared at her, she had a smirk across her lips "What are you doing?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, I'm just trying to kiss you but you keep moving away" She was messing with you, she knew how much that started you off.

"You're a dick you know" You had a smirk across your face now as your hands travelled to her neck.

"If I was a dick you wouldn't be dating me since you don't like dicks" She tried to sound like a smartass.

But you smirked with your brows slightly raised "You know there are plenty of dick that would date me, let me just-" You tried to get up but she didn't let you.

She shook her head as her smile fell a little "Nope, mine" She smashed her lips against yours, holding you back as one of your hands tangled with her hair.

She pulled away as she placed her ear on your chest, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around you, listening to your slightly calm heartbeat as your hands played with her hair.

You placed a kiss on top of her head and just let couple more minutes before having to get up and face today. You were thankful today was an easy day because after missions you would definitely die at the training.

As Natasha was with Tony and Clint, figuring out the next step to gain more information on Hydra, you and Wanda decided to spend some time together.

You always loved cooking and when you found out that Wanda was in love with cooking too, you two became cooking buddies, since it wasn't far from dinner, you decided to help out before having to train with Natasha.

It was going almost peaceful until Carol strolled in, people would ask what's wrong with Carol? Well nothing but she seemed to never get the hint about you.

"Hey there Y/n" She spoke as she leaned on the door frame.

You briefly looked up "Hey Carol"

She had a smirk across her lips "Hey Y/n?"

You looked up again at her as you hummed in response to which she spoke "Your breasts remind me of Mount Rushmore... My face should be among them"

Wanda almost peed herself at the lame pick up line as she turned to face Carol as well, you on the other hand weren't laughing but felt a little uncomfortable.

"Carol-" Before you could even try to scold her for the bad flirting.

She continued "Wait I have another one-" She paused as she stood up straight "I lost my teddy bear..." She pulled a little sad expression "Can I sleep with you instead?"

That definitely had Wanda rolling, but that didn't discourage Carol, you looked over at Wanda and elbowed her which stopped her from laughing.

"I don't understand why you keep trying Carol" You spoke this time continuing what you were doing before the blonde showed up.

"You are worth every try Y/n" She confessed as she took a step closer.

What the three of you failed to notice was Natasha who stood not far as she waited for you to just reject her, she was cringing at the pick up lines but she noticed that you were slightly amused by them.

You rolled your eyes at her to which she smiled "So like did you finally break up with Natasha?"

You raised your brows at her question as if this was a normal thing to ask "Unfortunately for you, and fortunately for me, no"

She smirked as she walked closer "You know I could fuck you twice as good"

If it wasn't for Wanda in the kitchen with you, you knew that Carol would've made a move on you, good that you were practically glued to Natasha.

Wanda spat out the food she was tasting as she faced the two of you with literal shock across her face, you definitely didn't expect that "You know if Natasha heard you right now, you would definitely be in big trouble"

She was close to saying something when the your girlfriends voice made itself into the room "I heard.."

Carol turned around with slight fear in her eyes, you peaked out of Carol to see Natasha's jaw clenched at the woman in front of her "I can definitely show you how I can fuck you up"

You placed the knife down as you walked over to Natasha's side, and you were instantly pulled into her "Nat it's okay.."

She looked down at you "Is it though?"

You nodded but she couldn't seem to shake off the anger, you looked at Carol "Scramble before she actually throws you out of a window"

Carol nodded and definitely ran out of there faster than ever, you looked up at Natasha "Are you okay?"

She nodded stiffly as she looked down at you "Are you?"

You nodded with a half smile, she forced a smile back "Ready to go?"

You nodded and waved Wanda goodbye as the two of you made your way towards the training room, the thing is Natasha was still angry, not at you but at Carol and most of the time she used training as a way to get out her emotions.

Something about beating the hell out of a punching bag was relaxing for her so not knowing that, you walked into the training room after changing into training clothes.

She was warming up whilst you stretched a little bit just to be prepared for anything, you walked up to Natasha "Are you ready?"

She turned to face you and she just simply nodded, you started off with your pose and so did she, she looked focused on you, analysing your every move.

Throughout the training you managed to land a few hits on Natasha but mostly it was her repeatedly having the upper hand in the fight, until you landed on the floor.

In that moment you thought she would've stopped but anger was driving her, the fact that Carol could flirt with you and she just had to take it out, unintentionally on you.

You stood up as you tried to move hair out of your face and try to swing at her again but she caught your hand and threw a very strong left hook towards your face.

The punch was so strong that you ended up on the floor, couple good feet away from Natasha and with a busted lip, large bruise that made your eye go slightly black and some bleeding that came from your nose.

Natasha's body froze at the sight of you, your face was covered by your hair so she couldn't see to what extend she hurt you, you felt blood form in your mouth.

You stood up as you looked at Natasha who had her mouth covered at the sight of your face, you knew it was bad and you felt upset with how she managed to hurt you this badly.

But you stayed calm, and just walked out to get yourself cleaned up, leaving the Russian horrified by her actions "Y/n wait!"

Before she could never try to catch up, it was like you disappeared into thin air but maybe that was for the good, she didn't want to make it worse even though her heart ached as she saw how horribly she acted.

You managed to make it to the nearest toilet, as you stared at yourself in the mirror, you frowned slightly at the sight of yourself, you looked horrible, a new bruise forming on your check.

You opened the mirror and saw the first aid kit, you took it out and started to clean yourself, trying to keep a straight face whilst disinfecting the wounds.

But that's nearly impossible with the unbearable pain, you looked down as your jaw clenched and hitting the sink with the side of your fist, you prevent you from making any sounds.

You had tears from the pain as you looked up again, continuing again, you were just glad that you didn't have a broken nose or broken teeth.

You didn't know where Natasha was and to be fair you didn't want to see her because that would mean not having enough time to cool down.

You found your clothes that you hid in case you couldn't reach your room for some reason and changed before heading to the kitchen to grab some ice and put it into a zip lock bag.

Forgetting that dinner has started, you walked into the living room where Carol appeared behind you "Hey.."

You didn't say anything as you gave her a glare and proceeded to the kitchen to take the ice, she followed "What happened to your face?! Did she hurt you?"

You looked at her now angry "This is your fault, just leave me alone"

The way you worded it, sounded like Natasha did it on purpose but you didn't mean it like that "I'm going to kill her"

She turned around as Natasha stood there obviously worried about you but annoyed that Carol is still trying "Y/n/n, let go outside and talk okay?"

You ignored the Russian and continued to put the ice in the bag, Carol crossed her arms "As you can see she doesn't want to go anywhere with you"

"I didn't talk to you, get out of here, this isn't your business" Natasha crossed her arms now as she stood not far from Carol.

"It's my business when you lay your hands on her" The blonde narrowed her eyes at Natasha.

"I didn't lay my hands on her, this was an accident- Y/n baby, tell them" She looked over at you in hopes that you would say something.

You ignored her, grabbed your ice and just walked out, Natasha was ready to follow you but Wanda stood in the way as she raised her brows at the other redhead.

"What happened Natasha?" She asked as she gave the redhead a chance to talk.

"We went to train and I was angry and I punched Y/n too hard and now she won't talk to me" Natasha looked helpless, she didn't like how you didn't even acknowledge her.

Carol had a small smirk across her lips, even though this wasn't her intention but she wanted you to be single so she can steal you, even thought that wasn't going to happen.

Wanda dropped her hands, feeling a little bad for the Russian "Why were you angry?"

She turned to Carol "I don't like it when some individuals flirt with my girlfriend"

Carol shrugged "You should trust her more, maybe this wouldn't have been the case"

"Maybe you should shut your mouth before-" Natasha was close to just throwing another threat towards Carol.

"Natasha this way you won't make Y/n speak to you, instead of arguing, do something" Wanda got in between them as she wanted to stop something serious from happening.

"Yeah you're right, okay, what should I do?" Natasha asked after running her hand through her hair.

Carol scoffed "You don't know what your own girlfriend likes?"

Wanda narrowed her eyes at the blonde "What are you still doing here? Go join everyone else because I make you"

Carol was a little scared of the witch, and to be fair she had every right to be, the witch was able to do many things, including throwing you far away.

So the blonde did just that, and went to eat at the table whilst Wanda and Natasha came up with couple ideas to make it up to you.

Meanwhile you sat in the library, it was a rather small room with couple hundred books, you found the room extremely peaceful and it held the safety to needed at the moment.

You came here often, to read or even watch some movies that no one liked, it was your space but of course dating Natasha meant no secrets whether you knew that she knew or not.

So she knew about this place and sometimes she would spend her time with you here but she preferred the living room with the team and that was fine, you liked it here and respected it when she would rather just mess around with the rest of the team.

As you sat in a chair, having your phone next to you and headphones on to listen to music as you were reading your book, it was a way to forget anything that was bothering you.

But of course your peace didn't last long, your music was interrupted by the sight of Natasha carrying you food that Wanda prepared, she had a sheep smile across her lips as she walked towards you.

"Here детка (baby)" She placed it down next to you but your eyes seemed to only linger over the food for couple of seconds before going back to reading.

As much as your body was begging to be against Natasha's, you were too upset by what she did, even if it wasn't intentional, she could've told you that she rather train alone.

She nodded at no words from you, her eyes fell on the ice that was laying next to you "Do you want me to bring you new ice?"

No answer.

Natasha felt a little nervous at your silence "Y/n/n.. I'm sorry" she kneeled down as she tried to get your attention "I'll make it up to you"

You didn't even bother looking at her, you didn't want a fight to break out, you really care about her but you were allowed to be upset.

She sighed as she stood up and walked out to prepare her next idea how to make you talk to her again, you looked up at her as you sighed, grabbing the food and eating it since you were hungry.

After couple hours of peace, you managed to finish your book as you walked to the kitchen to place the dishes after eating the food, you made your way out of the living room, suddenly the redhead appeared in front of you.

She held flowers, chocolates, your favourite ones too "I bought these for you"

She handed you those as she smiled widely at you, being confident that this will make you speak, but you just looked at her and walked on with the things in hand.

She frowned at no words from you, how could she fail at making you speak to her, usually it worked if you were sad, she hating this but that didn't mean she would give up.

She even ended up cooking something for you, but that didn't mean that it was okay for nearly breaking your teeth, you weren't as upset as you were when it happened.

Actually you were pretty calm but you just needed some time to yourself, you held the cold liquid to your face, it wasn't ice anymore but just water.

That's when Natasha walked in again, this time with some other food that she prepared, she placed it down and waited for some sort of word to leave your mouth.

Nothing.

Her eyes fell on the bag full of water "Let me change that for you"

Before you could even give it to her, she took it out of your hands and just walked out, she came back really quickly with ice that held just little bit of water.

She handed it to you "I heard that ice with water makes it better for the swelling to go down.."

You gave her a half nod and just placed it on your face, the Russian felt extremely guilty for what has happened, it was never her intention to hit you that hard, she was planning to have a productive training with you, teach you something but instead she upset you.

It has been hours and there was no word from you at all, she was missing your voice and your warmth, she just wanted to be in your arms again.

Natasha walked out with her head hanging slightly low, she was running out of ideas, she knew she could prepare the best night possible for you but the question was if you even would turn up.

She strolled to Wanda, she just needed some comfort but Wanda was no where to be found so she just sat in the living room, as she waited for Wanda to appear after sending her a message.

It was only after couple hours that Wanda showed up, Steve was briefing her over some things and walking her through some things for an upcoming mission.

Your mood changed as well, no longer upset and filled with slight anger, you were sad. As much as you were wounded that Natasha manged to hurt you, you wanted to be in her arms, they were your safety even if that was slightly in question after today.

You managed to stumble out of the library at the same time as Wanda arrived to Natasha's rescue, you walked without any thought until you stopped at Wanda's voice.

"What's wrong Nat?" She asked quite worried about her friend.

"I tried everything Wands, literally everything but nothing is working and I'm just worried" Natasha spilled with ease, Wanda always gave that safety vibe, you knew you could trust her.

You stood still as you listened, feeling your heart speed up at your girlfriends words, feeling guilt slowly surface up, maybe her actions crossed a line but you weren't any better.

"Heyy" Wanda spoke placing her hand on Natasha's arm "You just have to give it time Nat, you did the most you could and now it's all up to Y/n"

The Russian nodded at the Sokovian's words "I know but I am hurting too, I never wanted to hurt her, god that was the last thing I could ever want"

"I know I deserve it in a way, I should've told her that today wasn't the best day for training, I know she would've done everything in her power to make my day better but for some reason I went against my better judgement and ended up hurting her" Natasha just couldn't hold it, she wanted to tell you but she knew nothing would come out of your mouth.

"And Carol was right, if I just trusted her more and just ignored Carol then this wouldn't have happened, but sometimes it's just so annoying to see someone constantly flirt with the person you love" Natasha confessed to why it was really bothering her.

Wanda nodded "Thank you for telling me this but it's Y/n that needs to hear this, lack of communication is what gotten the two of you into this situation"

Natasha hummed in awareness of the other redheads words "Yeah you're right, I need to talk to her"

In that moment you ran, you panicked, you could've just walked in and had that conversation with her but you panicked, it was as if fear controlled your body instead of your mind.

It was what you wanted but you just needed a second to think this through, you found yourself on the roof, taking a deep breath of the fresh chilling air.

You pulled out your phone to check the time but your phone was dead, you sighed and after couple deep breaths and longer minutes, you finally decided to speak with Natasha.

You managed to glance up at a watch and see that it was quite late so as you finally huffed out the fear out of your body, you opened the door to your shared bedroom.

Natasha came back to the room soon after the conversation with Wanda and started to finish off her reports that she started earlier on but at the sound of the door, she immediately stood up.

There was no words coming out from both of your mouths, you just walked up to her and hugged her, letting couple tears slowly slide down your face.

The embrace held so much emotions behind it, it felt like you were away for years instead of hours, Natasha held you so tightly as if you would leave again.

"I was worried I would have to sleep alone tonight" She whispered in your ear.

You chuckled whilst pulling away, wiping away the tears that fallen down your face, being careful of the still fresh bruise "I don't think I could sleep alone"

"Y/n I'm really sorry.. I'm so sorry that I wish I had that bruise on my face instead of you" Natasha gently placed her hand over your check, letting her thumb touch the tender places.

You saw she was saying the truth "Nat, it's okay. I just needed some time to cool down because I didn't want an argument. I'm sorry too baby.." Your hands travelled to her neck, keeping your gaze on her.

"I heard what you said to Wanda and I wish you told me that but it's okay, I guess it's something we both need to work on" You confessed and Natasha nodded, not saying a word, just letting your voice travel through her ears.

"Yeah I should've handled it a little bit better but it's Carol that's making me want to kill her" Natasha confessed, recalling her feelings about Carol.

You smiled slightly "Baby but you know there will be other people not just Carol, people who will want you and want me but if we handle situations like this then they will win and we will fail"

She nodded with a smile across her face and a single tear falling down her face, she placed her forehead against yours "You are right, but I will still want to kill everybody who thinks they can take you"

You giggled "And I will tell you repeatedly that I only want you"

Natasha smirked "I like that, I should threaten more people for you to say that more often"

You shook your head against her forehead "Or I can just tell you that till we both die together"

Natasha smiled widely "Or that too, yeah I guess your option sounds better"

Natasha leaned in to kiss you after hours of torture she went through, even though your lip was slight swollen, it didn't matter, it was everything she wanted.

She pulled away "Can we talk about the rest of this tomorrow?"

You nodded eagerly "I think that would be the best, I need sleep"

She smiled as she waited for you to change so she can finally get the cuddles she was so dearly missing, you looked over at the reports that were left unfinished "Are you not going to finish?"

She shook her head "No, now get in bed, I want my cuddles"

You shook your head in slightly disappointment that was more in a playful manner as you claimed inside the bed and she almost instantly attached herself to you.

You didn't mind, you missed this as much as her, it was well deserved for both, she finally had you talking to her and could finally fall asleep knowing that you were safe and sound.

"I missed you, you, your voice, everything about you" Natasha lets out as she looked up at you.

You half smile as you look into her eyes "I missed you too, I love you Tasha"

She smiled widely at your words "I love you too дорогой (darling)"

But that smile didn't stay too long as a smirk appeared "You know I heard the pick up lines that Carol used on you"

You rolled your eyes "Ugh please, don't remind me"

"I don't knowwww, You seemed pretty amused from where I stood" Natasha raised her brows as she disagreed with you.

"What? Please I felt like I was going to throw up, they were awful" You tried to delete those lines out of your head.

Natasha smirked as she ended up on top of you, wedging herself in between your legs, you didn't really realise what she was doing until you felt her pressing against you.

"What are you doing?" You eyed Natasha slightly.

"Well you know that Mount Rushmore line was quite interesting.."

Your eyes widen slightly "No, you're not going to shove your face in my boobs!"

"Natasha"

"I deserve this after today!"

"Natasha don't you dare-"

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

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[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Vyn Richter - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

If this was a fairytale, it would be Beauty and the Beast. Except he was simply the Beast and you were his magic rose he got to watch bloom. But instead of watching you under glass, he preferred it to be removed, even if it shredded your innocence in the process, but oh, watching you grow anyways, both blooming beautifully while growing fierce thorns to warn anyone before they touch, just to spite the adversity you were faced with was his truest pleasure. Your fortitude; that was what he truly admired about you.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

You’d think it’s your eyes, being the windows to the soul and all. But you’d be wrong; it’s your hands. Specifically, your tender touch. It’s gentle, warm, and safe. Being able to hold your hand feels intimate for him, and he actually enjoys when you tap his arm to get his attention, then let your hand linger when he gives it. It’s like a reward and a comfort all in one.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He does enjoy a good cuddle, but hugging you from behind might be his favorite. Whether sitting together on the couch with you on his lap or spooning you in bed, he likes when he can nuzzle the side of your head or rest his chin on your shoulder.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He will have planned this to a T because he’s not much for spontaneity. And it would involve a walk together, flowers, and he will either have made you a dessert or the two of you will make something together. It’s something quiet and intimate for you to enjoy time together, talking about anything and nothing while the date is riddled with affectionate touches and some kisses.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Good grief, this man’s emotions are… complicated. He’s very logical, but he’s not ignorant to his emotions. It doesn’t seem like it, but he frequently tempers them, only to bring them up again in full when he records his diary so that he’s able to manage them.

But you have ruined him. His carefully kept emotional balance has been thrown to the wind. You make him feel intensely and strongly, to the point it almost trumps his logic, which makes him uncomfortable. His diaries have been getting longer as his inner turmoil increases, and that’s all your fault. It’s something you notice, too, watching his even temperament waver more and more frequently around you as the emotion inside him wars with his rationality. You will have to give this man time. Time to open up and be honest with himself, and you, about his emotions. Be prepared to validate his emotions in his moments of weakness. It’s the only way he’ll get better about honestly expressing them to you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He wouldn’t be opposed to staying childless. He also wouldn’t be opposed to having a child, and you could probably talk him into two if the first goes well. Little humans would be fascinating studies, after all. (“Dear, do not psycho-analyze the children.”)

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He does not care for trinkets. Nor does he care about giving you them. Gifts should be practical.

At least… that’s what he likes to think. His one exception to this is when he gives you something to wear. It’s his way of marking you and wearing it will spark a possessive streak in him.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He likes—no, needs to be either touching or holding your hand in quiet, private moments. And he wants to hold your hand when he’s jealous. Especially when he’s jealous. And you know when he is because he holds tight as though reminding you that you’re his while also sending passive-aggressive signals to the cause of his jealousy. When you’re just out walking, he will sometimes hold your hand, but he also likes when you loop your hands over his elbow and he can escort you like a proper gentleman. (It also causes you to pull yourself in close to him, so he actually quite enjoys when you do that.)

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Depends. Minor cuts or burns are treated with care and, occasionally, a kiss. Get into an accident, and he gets shockingly worried about you. However, if you end up hurt because of a reason to do with NXX, he’ll be sick with emotions. Guilt, fear, anger; all of them brew for a deadly concoction. He will not rest, even to the point of abusing his own body, until he finds the person who hurt you and sees to it they are paying dearly for their crime.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He doesn’t always joke around, but when he does… this man is a wicked tease. Don’t expect to get off the hook easily. You better learn how to tease back, or he’ll use words and puzzles to twist you exactly where he wants you, which normally is you as a blushing, stuttering mess.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Sweet kisses off-the-cuff are quite nice, and so are the passionate ones, but the ones he likes best are the slow, lingering ones that take place hidden away in your own world. They convey so much with no words. There’s no frantic holding or clinginess. Rather, it feels like a moment of security, coming together and staying. He likes the comfort they provide him and the way they actually settle his heart.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

He actually was super nervous to confess. He’ll have practiced and planned this confession before it happens. Which you never would have guessed because it was in such a smooth conversation during one of your outings that he admitted he held feelings of a romantic nature for you.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He wants it small, intimate, and preferably outdoors in a garden. He wants it nice but not overly fancy. He won’t fuss over the smaller details. Besides, he doesn’t realize it yet, but he will barely remember anything beyond how utterly stunning you look in your wedding dress, anyway.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He hates being a failure, but if he’s everput in a position where he fails you, he will never forgive himself.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man has literal decks of cards of only one kind of card. You want a 52 card deck with all ace of hearts? He has that. Ten of spades? He has that too. Four of clubs? Yup. You don’t know why he has them, and he won’t tell you, but you think it’s literally just because he’s highly amused the way you wrack your brain over it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He’s classic. Love, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart. But he’s half-German (At least, that is my best speculation considering he was called “Vilhelm” and is canonly mixed-race), so “Liebling” is also an endearment he calls you, and my guess is he saves that one strictly for the sweetest, most tender moments you share.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Calm setting, electronics put away, and preferably some form of physical contact with you. This could be working together in the garden, side by side, or going out to walk around town together, but those are not his favorite. Baking with you is one of his top ones, though. Expect him to tap some sort of batter or frosting on your nose. His other favorite is lounging together on the couch, your back leaning against his chest, and just talking. Communication is important to any relationship, and he finds it a joy to communicate with you.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

He’s the kind that shows his affection by giving you his time and attention. He’ll show it in the little touches exchanged back and forth and in the way he’s attentive to your well-being, particularly your mental well-being.

He’ll also show he loves you by playing mind games on you until you’re a blushy, stuttering mess. He’s usually forgiven with a kiss and “I love you”. You know you’re too soft on him, but whattcha gonna do?

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He is an onion you have to peel back layer by layer to get to open up to you. And like an onion, there’s likely going to be some tears shed as you do that. Time will determine how many secrets he’s willing to share with you, and it’s likely going to take years for him to fully open up to you. But keep at it. You will be rewarded with his innermost thoughts and feelings and the discovery of how insecure this seemingly unflappable man is.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

This man doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but falling hard and fast for you? That he did. One of his biggest hurdles he had to get over was logically evaluating his feelings and what he thought your feelings for him were as well as coming to terms with the way he’s been treated in past relationships (And not just romantic ones. He has an… interesting way of creating carefully crafted ties to people.) So it might take a little time for him to get comfortable enough to ask you out. And throughout the relationship, he’ll probably still be working with his past demons, so be prepared for that.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He’ll comfort you the best way he can if you’re a sad upset. A mad upset, and he’ll probably give you a little space to work yourself out while offering his guidance. And upset at him? This is where a good chunk of your arguments happen, to be honest. So then you both have to calm down before coming together again and talking it out. But you always do and are stronger for it.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’ll never admit it, but he loveswhen he can leave you impressed. It thrills him if he can show off a trick or his general intelligence and have you praise him for it. Occasionally, he’ll search for ways to impress you just because he wants that attention. But never will he admit it.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Well…he’s all okay with fighting as long as it’s not physical fighting. If you’re going to verbally spar with someone, he’s more than happy to let you go, and he takes pride in the fact you usually wipe the floor with your opponent. But the moment it’s going to turn into a physical altercation, he’s your shield. Part of him thinks that in times he is unfortunately not around, it might be good to have some self-defense under your belt, but at the same time, he’d rather you just flee instead of fight. Because he knows you well enough that if you had the ability, you’d probably knock someone’s lights out if they came at you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He’s a psychologist; he can already read you well. But on top of that, you are his favorite study, and he will catalogue everything he learns about you away to pull out for future reference. So while he already reads you well early on into your relationship, give it a few years and you have basically no secrets from this man.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

He will never forget the “surprise over romance” opinion on proposals you shared with him. So, determined to give you the best, he sets up an elaborate puzzle for you, getting all the important people in your life to get in on it. Together, the two of you will trapeze the town hunting down little clues—in places, that you only realize later, hold significance to both of you—before he’ll “conveniently” take his leave so you can finish out the last leg, which ultimately ends up leading you to his office, the place you first met. And there he is, sitting behind a house of cards sits made solely from the Ace of Hearts with a ring in the middle of the top tier which was made from two different cards: the king and queen. Only once you realize that and he revels in your joy and tears will he properly get on one knee and ask you to marry him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

When everything is “right” in his world. His patients are doing well, he’s got no massive cases on his plate, nothing requires his immediate attention, and you are close by, doing well in your own right.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #fluff #tears of themis headcanons

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

An Offer

Warnings: coercion, threats, slightly blackmail-ish, intimidation, entrapment, implied noncon

This is dark!(lumberjack/nomad) Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve makes you an offer you can’t refuse.

Based on this drabble request:

Nomad Steve Rogers + “You'll never find anyone better than me.” + Lumberjack AU + Smashed and broken dreams of a good career forces reader back home. With a degree in her hand but no real chance of finding a good job reader has to accept any job she finds and Steve isn’t making it easy cause he wants her so he sabotages any job opportunity to make her depended on him. This really hits home 😭. Sorry 😭.

When you sat in your college lectures, you never expected to end up there. Never expected to be carrying armfuls of wood to a large stack, splinters catching in your gloves as each piece clacked between the noise of the logs being split. You didn’t expect to be working for pennies, busting your ass for hours, just to pay for the room above the liquor store in your hometown.

You didn’t expect any of it. It was a surreal nightmare. It was as if that purgatory could never let you go. The small town’s always claimed what was theirs. Blood grown of that soil could not venture far before the roots dragged them back, a constricting coil around the throat.

Another log split, almost exploding as the two halves fell on either side of the stump. Steve took one and chopped it again, then the other. Perfect quarters for you to pile in your arms and add to the mounting stack. Your sweat soaked the flannel coat, the same kind your father wore when you were a child, the same that everyone in town seemed to have somewhere in their closets.

Steve rested the head of the axe on the stump and leaned on it as he watched you.

“Think that’ll do,” he said as you heard him scratch his beard, “supposed to be a mild winter.”

“Mild? Around here? You know that just means the snow stops at the knee, right?”

You carried the last of the wood to the pile and laid it out in the niches perfectly. It was like a Tetris game, every piece had its place. You clapped off your gloves and looked back at Steve as he shook out his jacket and pulled it back on. Even as his work left him sweaty, you didn’t know how he could stand to take it off and bear the bitter winds in only a tee.

“My knees are higher than yours,” he said, “think I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh,” you put your hands on your hips and looked out at the trees, the sun setting behind them in an amber haze.

“Hey,” he interrupted your sightseeing, “how about you stay for dinner? I finally tried that chili recipe…”

“You? Cooking?” you shook your head, “so that’s why I’m out here lugging wood.”

“Is that yes?”

“Do you have pepto?” you joked, “sure, guess I could. Save me the trouble of opening a can at home.”

You followed him inside as he held the door for you. You shoved your gloves in your flannel pocket and hung it as you wiggled out of your boots. Usually you tidied and did the household chores as Steve worked outside. It wasn’t much of a job but there was nothing to be had in the lifeless town. Still, even with the work you found in the city, you couldn’t afford even a closet to live in.

The house was nice, big. The country land was cheap and as Steve told it, he built the entire thing himself. It was a wooden castle with better amenities than most of the antique houses in town. He bragged about how he chose every countertop and cut down every leg of every chair and sanded and polished the thick table over a willowy fall.

But you wondered how he ended up there. He wasn’t from the town and his accent was not of the nearby metropolis. He must be from far away. You could see it was an escape from the life he didn’t talk about.

You sat at the table as he clinked around in the kitchen. He came out with two red bowls and set one before you as he sat at the corner near you. He handed you a spoon with a wooden handle and you twirled it as you watched the chili steam.

“Did you make these too?” you asked.

“Ha,” he said dryly and stirred his bowl.

“Well…” you shrugged and looked around.

He smiled at you and leaned his head back until his neck cracked. He let his spoon rest and rubbed his jaw. It twitched and he looked out the big bay windows of the dining room, the ridged bark and overgrown grass staring back.

“I…” he shifted and leaned on the arm of the chair, “I slipped your pay in your jacket.”

“Oh, thanks,” you were embarrassed to talk about money. He knew how little you made even if he did pay you generously for the work you did.

“But… I did want to talk about it, er, about…” he sighed and rested his chin in his hand as he traced his lower lip in thought. He sat up and cleared his throat, “we get along, don’t we?”

“Sure,” you blew on a spoonful and tasted the chili. It was spicy but not bad.

“I know how hard it’s been, Maggie, Lester, Jeff… tough break.”

You swallowed and sat back. You frowned. “How did you…” your resume had been turned down by almost every business owner and manager in town.

“It’s a small place, like that box you’re living in.”

“Steve--”

“I’m not saying it to embarrass you but… because I… want to…” he gripped his spoon, thought about having a bite, then let it go again, “I want to make you an offer.”

“You pay me more than you should for doing your chores,” you left your spoon in the bowl and ran your nails up and down your jeans, picking at the little metal snap by the pocket.

“That’s not--” he squared his shoulders and all humour left his face. He bit down and the vein in his head surged, “you could live here. The place is more than big enough… lonely.”

“I can’t--”

“Please, just listen,” he raised his palms, “I’m lonely and you’re in a bind. We could help each other.”

You squinted and shook your head. He took a breath and leaned forward. He reached under the table and touched your knee. He slid his hand up your thigh until it met yours and you stopped him.

“What--”

“You don’t even have to keep on cleaning or any of that,” he said quietly, “just be mine. You’ll be comfortable here. All you have to do is… be here… with me.”

“Steve,” you held onto his thick fingers, “maybe you don’t mean it that way but I’m not… not a prostitute.”

“It wouldn’t be that,” his throat constricted, “it would be convenient; practical.”

“I should go,” you shoved his hand off of you and stood, “you did a good job with the chili.”

The chair scraped behind you as you stepped out from between it and the table. Steve was fast and caught your shoulder before you could evade him.

“Go where? Do what exactly?” his voice was stern and stolid, “huh? No one in town’s gonna hire you, we both know that. And you can’t make it in the city.”

“That’s mean, Steve, I want to go,” you pouted, “let me go.”

“Why can’t you see I’m helping you?”

“You have helped me but what you’re… offering is insulting, don’t you understand?”

“It’s generous is what I’d say,” he grabbed your other arm and pulled you close as he snarled down at you, “I can give you everything you need and want, all you have to do is give me…” his eyes crawled down your body, “a little sweetness.”

“Steve--”

“You’re proud, I get it, you don’t want to admit you have no choice but what happens when Fletcher needs that room for storage or he rents it out to a higher bidder? Where do you go then? Huh, you keep handing out that resume and what has that degree got you but sorrys and no thank yous?”

“Get off--” you pushed on his chest as he squeezed your arms painfully.

“Let me tell you I will be the only yes you ever get,” he growled, “I made sure of it.”

“Wha-- I--”

“I’m not driving you back to town,” he released you, “so if you really wanna go, if your pride is worth all that, you can walk and see if you beat the wolves. Or you can stay and earn that extra bill I put in your pocket.”

“Steve, what the hell?”

“Your call,” his fingers stretched around the waist of his jeans as he flexed his chest, “reception’s shit so good luck getting a ride.”

“You can’t--”

“Let me make this easy for you. Walk and see if you make it home, stay and you’re already home.”

You searched his face. You’d never seen this side of him. You blinked and spun on your heel. Fuck him. You’d drive yourself and he could tell the police you stole his truck. You ran to the front door and snatched his keys from the hook. You bent to grab your boots but his hand on the back of your neck stopped you. 

He wrenched you back and tossed you against the wall. The keys tumbled to the floor and he kicked them away, “no cheating,” he said, “you wanna go then?”

Before you could answer the high whine of a coyote cut through the air and the glass slats of the front door dimmed. You faced him and your heart beat wildly.

“Why?”

“You going?” he asked again.

“Steve--”

“Well?”

“You can’t do this,” you pleaded, “keep your money then. Just take me home.”

“No,” he marched towards you and pinned you by your neck against the wall. His hand threatened to stifle your breath as he leaned in, “go or stay?”

You batted away tears with your lashes. You turned your head as far as you could whimpered as the sky continued to darken through the marbled glass, “Steve.”

“Go or stay?” he rasped as his breath tickled your cheek.

You trembled and touched his wrist. He squeezed just a little and you gasped, “and if I get lost? If I die out there?”

His lips curved and he chuckled lightly, “you willing to take that risk?”

You watched him, looking for any crack in his veneer, looking for an ounce of the man who’d been your godsend in that desolate town. He wasn’t there. It had all been an act, a trick. He had you in his snare like any good hunter.

“What choice do I have?” you whispered.

He pressed his forehead to yours and his large nose brushed against the tip of yours, “I’m not that bad,” his other hand crept along your stomach, “you’ll see that,” he played with the ribbed cotton, “you'll never find anyone better than me.”

🪓🪓🪓

Please reblog and leave some feedback if you enjoyed. Thank you 💕

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #nomad!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #drabble #dark fic #dark drabble #dark!fic #dark!drabble #request #marvel #mcu #captain america

[asset35-maya]

.When the party’s over.

>REINITIALISING…

>ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

>WIRELESS CHARGING: 69%

>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: STABLE

>24H FILE RECOVERY: 45%

Nines slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on his side and everything around him was quiet.

>ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

>THREAT ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS…

Layers of fabric covered his body and something soft and warm was pressed against his face. Eyes still shut, he nudged it gently with his nose and it emitted a low vibration.

>2% THREAT DETECTED: FELINE SUBJECT

The cat sprang upwards and hopped off the surface that Nines was lying on. It was ostensibly a bed, but Nines didn’t own any furniture apart from a couch and work table. The logical conclusion was that he was not in his own apartment.

>RUN LOCALISATION PROGRAM: Y/N?

>Y

>ERROR: PROGRAM FAILED TO EXECUTE

>ERROR: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTION

Nines had no absolutely recollection of his whereabouts or how he had arrived. He had not been compromised as his system health was stable, so there was probably another reason for being completely disoriented. It was voluntary.

He had gotten the android equivalent of blackout drunk.

It was not the first time and he feared it would not be the last. Such were the hard-partying ways of his friends and colleagues. They were all terrible influences. He loved them dearly, but they were terrible.

At 6PM every Friday, Chen and Miller would start things off rather innocently. “Hey there’s a new brewery downtown.” Or “My bartender cousin just hooked us up with a thirty percent discount!”

From there it wouldn’t take long for the DPD’s resident frat boys Connor and Gavin to gather a steady crowd of officers and check out the venue. If the vibes were good (which they almost always were), Sixty would get wind of things. Then the rest of the frat house would descend and total chaos would reign until the break of dawn.

SWAT Unit 32 was famous for its particularly destructive brand of revelry. Skinny dipping in private swimming pools, scaling skyscraper rooftops and causing media scandals were all par for the course. The day after Captain Allen’s birthday, the DPD crew spent the entirety of their bonuses to repair the collapsed ceiling of the Eden Club.

Nines couldn’t remember how he exactly he was coopted into the madness. Probably peer pressure. Connor insisted that he try thirium alcohol. Sixty said that he would regret being a loser and not joining them. Gavin had just held out a hand and double-winked. That did the trick.

One night blended into another and soon Nines had worked up quite a reputation of his own. He was the Casanova of the homicide department. The handsome devil… the hunter… the sex god. People would actually come by his desk and congratulate him on Monday morning.

Nines hated it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same thing over and over. Perhaps it was the appreciative clap on the shoulder from Gavin the morning after Sixty posted photos of a high-end Traci model giving Nines his very first lap dance.

Life at the DPD was the epitome of work hard, play hard. It seemed like one big party but deep down Nines knew they were all just slaves to their compulsions. He wondered whether it was because they needed to celebrate every demon they vanquished or whether they needed to wipe the troubling memories of doing so.

In Nines case, there were definitely things he needed to kill within himself. Some were nightmare inducing crime scenes, but some were memories so heart-wrenchingly sweet that he thought he might self-destruct if he were to dwell on them too long. There were things he couldn’t have and things he needed to erase from his brain.

Something touched his face gently.

>PERIPHERAL OBJECT DETECTED: HUMAN HAND

>THREAT ANALYSIS: NON-COMBATIVE

The hair on his forehead was brushed aside and fingers ran over his features. A thumb swept over his bottom lip and caressed his cheek.

Nines couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and come face to face with his most recent conquest. He lay still, frozen with regret as the hand continued to stroke his face.

The hand travelled down his neck and fell upon his chest. Nines caught it abruptly. It wasn’t even the month-end and his savings were badly depleted. He couldn’t afford round two. He retracted the synth skin down to his wrist and prepared the electronic payment credentials.

Fingers merely intertwined with his.

“Just take your money and go. I’ll tip extra if you delete everything from your hard drive.”

“What the phck are you talking about?”

Nines eyes flew open. Steel blue met storm green.

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD

“Fuck!”

“Wow that’s flattering.”

Nines pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a vain attempt to remember what had led to this absolute, unmitigated disaster.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Gavin looked affronted.

“You ruined our housewarming for one.”

>MEMORY ARCHIVE SEARCH: housewarming, Gavin

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “G.REED” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:33 18 JULY 2040: Assholes. Party at our new place. Next Friday. From seven till LATE. Bring booze, bring bitches. Nah. Actually, don’t. Our landlord’s a bastard and we already got three noise complaints.

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “CONMAN” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:34 18 JULY 2040: Yeah we should keep this one PG. Bring food if you wanna eat. This mf can’t cook and I don’t care to. See y’all!!

Oh right. Fuck. Gavin’s housewarming. Gavin and Connor’s housewarming. His two closest friends who were somehow even closer to one another. Nines hadn’t realised until it was far too late and there was nothing for him to do but smother the bitterness with his favourite coping mechanisms: android alcohol and paid sex.

The circumstances definitely explained the state he was in, but things still didn’t add up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did we… did we…”

“No. Nothing happened between us. You were completely shitfaced. I just put you to bed to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling, struggling to put the pieces together. His system offered him no useful prompts. The fermented thirium had done its job of code corruption extremely well. He looked back down and met the green eyes focused on him with deep concern.

“What did I do?”

“Sixty has videos, but I don’t think you want to see them. God, Nines… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m really sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to ruin your night… and Connor’s.”

“He’s fine. He and Sixty moved the crew to Hank’s place. Which is what we should have done in the first place… there’s really no point throwing a party in this shoebox and telling people like Tina Chen to be quiet. Honestly if it wasn’t you it would have been her bringing the house down. Good thing they had all of Michigan Drive to tear up. Hank’s neighbours can sleep though a bombing.”

“What did I do?”

Gavin put his hand back on Nines’ face, his expression unintelligible. The human touched him often enough, but never like this. Never so intimately. Nines forced down the twisting sensation in his torso. He couldn’t get his hopes up. This was pity.

Nines braced himself to hear the worst. He prepared for the shredding of all his dignity and the collapse of his falsely extroverted and confident identity.

What came though was a soft press of lips to his forehead.

“It wasn’t pretty and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but I think it was a long time coming… I’ve never seen you so emotional before. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything all this while.”

“Gavin, please.”

“I’m going to focus on the positives, because really… there were a LOT of negatives. Oh boy. You… uh…”

“Gavin.”

The detective dipped his head and looked away.

“Phck, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed…

You told me you loved me.”

Nines closed his eyes. That was it. He should quit his job and move to another state. Hell, he should go to Cyberlife and request a factory reset on compassionate grounds.

“I’m so sorry. I… I should leave.”

He made to sit up, but was pushed back into the mattress. Gavin curled into his side.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“What?”

“You threw up on my plants and smashed Connor’s RA9 sculpture, buuuut you’re good.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around Nines and edged closer until the android was forced to turn on his side and reciprocate.

“What do you think, genius? If a guy like me doesn’t throw a guy like you out of the house after all that… what does it mean?”

“That you have a high tolerance for toxic friendships?”

“It means I want you to stick around, dipshit.”

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP RATE FLUCTUATIONS. OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

“You mean you like me?”

“Of course I do! I always have, but it never seemed right to bring it up. We’re actually really good friends. I didn’t think it would be possible when we first met but we have so much in common.”

“Bad habits for sure.”

“Come on, Nines. We’ve had a really great time together. Some of my best memories at the DPD are with you. Don’t ever quote me on it but you’re a phcking amazing partner. Can’t believe you thought I had something going with Connor when it’s always been you.

So yeah, I do like you. And I’m willing to try… I dunno… being with you. Like for real.

Stop drinking like that, though. I know I’m a hypocrite but you really scared me last night. I lost my Dad and I nearly lost Hank to the bottle. You might be this super advanced android, but that liquid courage shit is a death trap, man.”

>SYSTEM ERROR: THIRIUM PUMP AT MAX FLOW RATE. PUMP OVERLOAD. REDUCE PRESSURE IMMEDIATELY!

Nines nodded quickly and blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Gavin grasped the android’s chin and tipped his face down gently. Their eyes fluttered shut simultaneously and their lips met.

>SYSTEM RECOVERY MESSAGE: THIRIUM PUMP FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED

They broke apart after several golden moments and Gavin hugged Nines tightly under the sheets.

“What am I supposed to say to the others? I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye ever again.”

“Are you serious? You got nothing on the insanity that bunch is capable of. Sixty thinks he’s hot shit with his blackmail material, but I got receipts that’ll glue his mouth shut for decades. Anyway, that’s what friends are meant to be like. You have dirt on each other but you’re not meant to use it.

The same applies to us too, by the way. Don’t feel like you gotta be… apologetic about what happened last night. Yeah, you better replace my fancy new plants but I’ll never judge you for what happened. I want you to know that I’ll always be in your corner, Nines.”

Nines hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand though Gavin’s hair, marvelling at the fact that he could now do so whenever he wanted. He didn’t say anything in response, and just settled for cuddling closer to the human.

>>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: EXCELLENT

#tw: alcholism #reed900 #happy ending #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh #my writing #my work #long post

[aetherarf]

When you get the chance... Can you write a ChiLumi story involving hurt/comfort by Lumine after Childe (Ajax) uses Foul Legacy Form and goes too far? Please include trauma of sort.

To make this easier: It’s storming and they are on DragonSpine (I REALLY love this area)

Have fun and Thank you!

I did my best to make it... angsty. Here you go!

@luciana-scarlet

[[ TW: Blood, Violence, Aggressive Behavior ]]

[[ Summary: Lumine wanted to go to Dragonspine, to complete tasks long since forgotten, letting Childe come along to help, only for everything to go wrong.

Word Count: 2'773 ]]

It was just a mission. Lumine had been going through her pack, and... she found a box. An odd box that she... didn't exactly understand. After spending an, admittedly, long time looking through scrambled notes

[ Aether was always better with notes, with keeping track of what was important... ]

She found out it had something to do with Dragonspine. She thought she was done with that gods [or, perhaps, Archons] forsaken place, the chill only just having escaped her bones after so many months...

"Ah, you want a coat?" Childe asked, and Lumine nodded, "Well, my only question is... for what? I'm not the best at fashion, but I know how to keep warm as well as any Snezhnayan. Actually, probably a lot better."

Lumine lifted her hand, and held up two fingers-

"Warmth, then," He had long since understood, "Does Paimon need one?"

Lumine hesitated for a moment, looking over at Paimon, who was bundled up...

Would she need to come?

Lumine shook her head, then shifted her hand to lightly pat on her chest, signifying only she needed one.

"Right. Paimon is going to stay in the Teapot, then?" He asked, looking over at her, and how pleased she seemed in this moment... and Lumine nodded. "Where are you intending on going, anyway?" He leaned forward a little, to be closer to eye level with her, "Anywhere I could come to?"

Lumine thought for a moment, then held her hands in front of her mouth, palms upwards and fingers forward, and curled her fingers up, wiggling them as she moved her hands forward, and blowing over her hands...

Dragon.

She crossed her arms at the wrist, fingers inwards except her index and middle, which curled inwards, she then used one hand to touch the back of her neck, and one hand gestured that she was holding something, and the other signalled that it was trailing down a string.

Spine.

"Dragonspine?" Childe asked, and she nodded, "I thought you hated Dragonspine."

She had reached over to the odd box and showed it to Childe, he lightly dusting it off as he examined the fine design...

"This has something to do with Dragonspine, and... let me guess, your adventurers pride won't let you leave it?"

She nodded, and he chuckled.

"Oh, I'll come with you, then. Can't let you freeze to death... Plus it'd be good conditioning for when you come to Snezhnaya with me." He nodded to himself, as though approving something, "Right, I have a coat, and if it keeps me warm in Snezhnaya, it'll keep me warm in Dragonspine... I think I know a place in Mondstadt that we could get you a custom, fluffy coat..."

He was already thinking about it, and Lumine could only smile. She'd get the best coat for the cold that money could possibly buy, and she didn't have to pay a single mora.

... ... ...

Bundled up tight, Serenitea Pot left at the camp (she never liked bringing it up the bitter mountain), and she had already began to climb the massive beast made of ice and stone, with Childe right beside her.

For some time, besides her stopping and warming her hands at any nearby fire or seelie, it was peaceful, the two taking a few brief moments to look over the ocean of snow resting over the rest of the mountain ...

Then Lumine began to shiver, and they went onward, likely to the next source of heat, or just out of the wind nipping at her nose and cheeks.

"We should come here more often," Childe hummed, as they stopped at a small, abandoned camp, equipped with the bare essentials...

But, when you came prepared, it was just a pleasant head start. Set up in a large, empty cave, there wasn't too much fear of asphyxiation, and it seemed mostly abandoned, other than a few animals.

Lumine was doing her best to start a spark with two stones, until there was a small, promising flame, setting a pot near it--

"Hmm..." Childe looked out the entrance to the cave, "There's a lot of Hilichurls nearby... I'd rather not get disturbed in the middle of a good time by them, you know?"

She was motionless for a second, then looked up at him, staring blankly for a long moment...

"Well?" He asked, a grin on his face, and she just sighed...

They probably have some reasonably fresh food stores there...

Her feelings on Hilichurls were awkward at best, but, at the end of the day, they were openly aggressive against humans, even whose who truly had no ill intentions and did everything in their power to leave them be, so she used that as an excuse to comfort herself.

Lumine nodded, and Childe cheered in excitement, jumping up, "Yeah! Come on, come on, let's do this!" He laughed excitedly to himself, grabbing her hand and hoisting her up to her feet, all but dragging her ahead as she struggled to keep herself from falling face first into the icy ground.

It didn't take long for them to get out of the cave, and... Lumine looked around, there truly wasn't much. She wanted to argue, to insist that the Hilichurls wouldn't bug them, but Childe turned and looked at her, a wild look in his eyes...

... He needs to vent energy.

Despite not really knowing where to go, and plenty of dragging Lumine around until she finally smacked his arm, a single warning before she'd leave him to freeze in the snow, and they found themselves to a camp... Lumine looked at the area, it seemed to try and house itself beside a sharp cliff, to hide from the bitter cold, but...

Avalanche.

She grabbed Childe's hand, tugging at it a little, and as he looked at her, she shook her head with a pouty frown. Sure, there were Hilichurls, but...

"Nah, I got this," he dismissed, not looking at her for a second longer, "You ready?" He asked, and his blades appeared in his hands, and the frost already began to freeze the tips, the blades...

She sighed, and with a single moment, her sword was in her hand. She looked at the guard, the eye-like structure that stared right back at her... Dread filled her gut, but that feeling seemed to become more and more prominent, nowadays...

"Now!" Childe shouted, with a wild laugh, and he had dashed ahead, the Hilichurl's ears popping up from their fluffy heads in their surprise at his volume, and then chanted out their own cries, running towards the both of them, and Lumine could only helplessly chase as Childe seemed content to destroy anything that moved--

And the battle was over quickly. Of course it was, Childe was thorough and quick, and his blades shattered within seconds as soon as he was done, but he was still looking around...

"Is that really it?" He asked, barely panting, "That wasn't anything... Just a dumb few... Hili... Churls..."

Lumine tilted her head to the side, looking up at him, and suddenly... the mild warmth from the sun disappeared, and a shadow loomed over her--

She was only able to turn around just enough to see a massive Mitachurl towering over her, and then with a brutal swing, she was hit right in the stomach, and thrown into the stone cliff face.

"Finally!" Childe snapped out, his blades returning, and he threw himself at the Mitachurl-

Lumine could barely even get herself off the ground as she helplessly looked at the scene before her-- Childe had not even gotten a single strike, his blades trying to hook into the chest of the beast, to rip open its flesh and to watch its innards fall out...

But the cold froze his blades, and they shattered like glass, and he fell to the ground, awkwardly mangled as he was too dazed to realize that he was not fighting, he was...

"Ajax!" Lumine shrieked, shrill enough that the Mitachurl had focused on her again, and with an unsteady grip upon the blade, the agony of its corruption crawling up her hand...

She could only purify herself, and the dread that hangs over her, and fills her lungs like smoke.

As it ran to her, she thrust her blade forward, piercing its face as its blood spewed onto her face, but what she didn't expect was ,just a bit above her own mark, a purple spear thrust out from it, just an inch from her face, the tip of it causing the lightest cut on the tip of her nose, holding her breath in pure terror, but the spear was ripped back out, and the Mitachurl weakly lifted its hand to the hole, before...

It all turned to dust, the bitter wind of Dragonspine whisking it away, and now... all that stood beyond it was the nightmare of Lumine's dreams.

"Oh," he said, spinning his spear of electro in one hand, the Foul Legacy's massive maw opened, but spoke without needing to move it at all, words coming from deeper within, "You know, I kind of like it when you look afraid." He said, idly, "Reminds me of when we met... the only worthwhile fight, beyond my masterrr..." He trailed on the end of the word, letting himself gently fall to the ground, walking closer, and closer, and when Lumine tried to jump out of the way-

The spear shot into the stone wall behind her, any movement in that direction would lead to electrocution...

And in the other direction, a spear of hydro. Touching it would, at best, freeze her hand, at worst, kill her flesh with cold and ice.

And before her, the Foul Legacy stood, staring down at her.

"Why can't you let me have my fun?" He asked, getting down on one knee, and Lumine lifted her hand, her hand hitting the stone wall, but she still held her blade, it twisted, pointing at the Foul Legacy with her iron grip...

He leaned closer, the massive maw widening more, enough that if he so desired, he could crush her head in a single snap, and roaring right into her face, she flinching, closing her eyes tight until he ceased...

And he panted.

"Tell me," he demanded, "Why can't you let me have my fun? Maybe," his head twitched, tilting back and forth rapidly, "Only you can entertain me..."

She knew this wasn't Ajax. She knew, deep down, it wasn't. Perhaps, perhaps the body was his, and he was the host, but as she looked into that single eye...

Holding onto her blade, she thrust it into that blue eye, stabbing it into the Foul Legacy's eye, getting it well over halfway in before it threw its head back in agony, thrashing around, "It-it burns! IT BURNS!" It shrieked out, and she only cursed herself, knowing the burning would fled to Childe's mind as well...

And as it held its own head, it bashed into the cliff, and above--

The rumbling.

The chaos.

And the encompassing darkness as snow had begun to fall,

Avalanche.

She could see, however, as though time slowed, there was a slight overhang, and...

She pressed herself to the cliff, and watched as the Foul Legacy be consumed by an oddly beautiful sheet of white and...

And it was over. She breathed heavily, seeing the mound of snow... A distant thought, she pondered if she should leave, but-

No matter her hatred of the Foul Legacy, that was Childe's body, Ajax's soul within that cursed form.

Not wanting to risk her Anemo to turn the snow to ice and to shred him to pieces, she fell to her knees- and dug.

Her hands- her gloves quickly became wet after digging, the heat of her own body, and she could feel her skin burning with the cold, digging longer and longer, tears falling, and freezing on her cheeks before they could fall to the ground, until--

The handle of her sword appeared, and the eye was fixed forward, before, it jerked to look at her, and the faux eyelids seemed to narrow, amused with the situation...

She let out an animalistic snarl, her hatred to the weapon leading to her grabbing the handle, grabbing it and throwing it off to the side- she knew she couldn't let its disease spread, but in this moment she did not care...

But it meant that he- Ajax, was just below, and a few more moments of digging had shown his face, and blissfully enough... there was no wound. It had not harmed him, thankfully.

She grabbed the sides of his head, and she put hers near his, her forehead and tip of her nose against his...

He was breathing.

She offered herself just a second, a second of knowing he was safe...

Before she continued to dig, and eventually, she had gotten him from the snow and the frost, carrying him back to the little camp they had, only stopping for a second to grab her sword, and a few other things she could quickly shove into her satchel.

... ... ...

Since she dragged him back, she had not left his side, never more than just a little bit aways, and she would keep looking back at him, bundled up, and tucked inside the sleeping bag...

Lumine sighed, and she returned to cooking. She didn't really care what was in there, some frozen vegetables [or, truly, should she say plants in general] she took from the Hilichurl camp, some meat, and a bunch of water [again, she should just say melted snow], so it'd be easier for Childe to just drink and then go back to sleep.

She hated Dragonspine, nothing ever good from this cursed mountain, having slaughtered its people once, and it wanted to slaughter any others who remained.

And right now, that meant her and Ajax.

Looking at the soup, she decided to throw some seasonings in there, just to, hopefully, make it more palatable. Childe wasn't picky, but... She never did like it when anyone would insult her, it was rare, but from time to time a foolish knight would say she ought to be at home, taking care of a man, and there was nothing more she hated than that...

But she did like taking care of one man, maybe just a bit... when he needed her. Not like he said she should do that, in fact, he acted more like a housewife than she did.

.. Miserably, she chuckled.

Childe weakly began to cough, and if she had ears of a dog, they'd be perking up, and she immediately rushed over, moving to her hands and feet to crawl a little closer, and Childe... weakly opened his eyes,

"Hey," cough, "Hey baby... How dead am I?" He asked, and she shook her head, shifting to sit on her knees, and looking over him, her hand resting over his heart... But he rested his hand atop hers, eyes closing, but he smiled in an almost... delirious way.

Childe inhaled... and exhaled.

"I know," he said, "You don't like it when I do it. If I'm honest, I don't like it either... feels like I'm cheating."

She shook her head, not happy at all with his only concern being 'fairness'... but he chuckled.

"I'm kidding... well, about the cheating thing." He inhaled, and exhaled, "I was just... I guess I was scared, but I scared you, too..." He sighed, his head lolling to the side.

Lumine closed her eyes for a moment, and sighed, "I don't want to come back to Dragonspine again."

Childe opened his eyes fully, propping himself on his elbows as he looked at her, "You," he swallowed thickly, "Didn't you have a... uah... Box? Box for Dragonspine?"

She just shook her head, and as Childe tried to sit up, she took the liberty of helping him, pulling him to her, and once he was sitting up, she took a second to hold him, likely excusing it to herself as 'just helping', and not that she wanted to hold him after horror of everything.

"I won't..." cough, "Press it... But I do want to know," Cough, cough, he sounded so miserably weak, "What are you cooking? Smells... good... or maybe I'm just really hungry."

As though on cue, his stomach grumbled, and Lumine could only smile helplessly... How... how silly. How ridiculous. She pressed a kiss to between his eyes--where she plunged her blade before, and got up to go get him some, noting to eat hers as quickly as possible, because knowing him, he'd probably inhale it in the fraction of a second if he had the chance.

#genshin impact #childe #lumine #chilumi #childe x lumine #luciana scarlet #request #bark writes #hurt and comfort #angst #angsty bark

[antiloreolympus]

12 Anti LO Asks

1. its victim blaming of hades to tell minthe its HER fault she "couldnt get over him". like? you lied to her! youre the one who blurred the lines to date her! you were just as toxic to her if not more so by controlling where she lives and her job, all while never defending her to your cruel family! you had all the power over her while she had nothing! you dumped her for a 19 year old and dont care she crippled minthe! i wont excuse minthe's actions, but hades is ultimately the worse of the two IMO

2. you know why fans claimed "Minthe should've reacted better"? since the first episode Rachel has been drilling into their heads Minthe is an irredeemable monster, and her not bending over backwards to H/P means she deserves the absolute worst. Minthe reacting how anyone logically would doesn't matter when LO is designed to coddle H/P, and anyone against them must suffer for it, even if the victim to H/P's actions. they never wanted her to be "redeemed", they want her head on a silver platter.

3. i know this is not what she intended bc the only characterization rachel has of hxp is "the best over everything" but uh, does she know having hades control all the petroleum and gasses and whatever else is actively destroying the planet, right? like hes helping the very thing persephone draws her power from and what she's connected to be destroyed to appease hes need for wealth and power. its kinda gross hes being romanticized while he commits horrible acts like this for his bank account.

4. its not impossible to go opposite in their original myth personalities and still have it work. like in hades game, sisyphus is one of the most likable characters, achilles is gentle and kind, ares is calm and rational, etc, but it makes sense within the context of the story. LO in comparison goes "all these loving mothers are evil because i said so! this beloved god is now evil because i said so! minthe is evil because i said so!" and that's about it in terms of logic to these wild changes.

5. I can kinda get behind anon's theory about the flower nymphs looking like P to help her be undetected, the problem is there are also unrelated women in comic who are bright pink and look just like her, with hades even confusing them for her! if i had to bet the only reason they look like that is because rachel just wanted daphne to look like her to hammer home apollo is "obsessed" with P and to fake them as her "real family" over demeter. also just laziness in designing characters in general.

6. its weird hades and persephone are well aware what they're doing is bad even openly admitting it and yet the narrative is so hellbent on excusing their bad actions?? like hades being the major toxic factor in his relationship to minthe, persephone killing people, or hades wanting to bone an eternal 19 year old? like rachel you know thats not how character growth works, right? you cant show they have horrible flaws and leave them to never grow and learn from it, that's not good writing at all.

7. what i also dont get is the hierarchy makes no sense? like zeus is framed as the top god, but that would mean hades cant be the most important man ever so rachel also made him equal rank with zeus (and i guess poseidon too) so?? how does zeus have all that power over them then if theyre all equal? is it because zeus swallowed metis?  also how are the fertility goddess so powerful and rare yet so easily taken down? how are they overpowered and super weak at the same time? i just dont get it.

8. Re reading chapter 144 and other anon is right we do see the pomegranate pin on Hades outfit (so Hades gifts it to her)

But also some things to note

During the makeout session persy begins to disappear in butterfly form and hades is like "no don't leave!" And he grabs her, preventing her from leaving. Which is..kinda Ick considering they were on their way to having (public) sex and he doesn't want her to leave which seems like he's not really respecting her boundaries? (because if she does he'll "be lonely")

The pomegranate pin is Hades' to begin with so technically one of Persephones symbols is not hers (yes I know in the original myth she ate it in the underworld / was forced to eat it but still its supposed to be her symbol)

Hades notes that he "doesn't want to overstep his boundaries as host" because Persephone is a guest (too late for that)

Persephones main concern (after what a week or 2?) after being raped is when Hades wants to stop her reaction is "dont you want me anymore?"

Girl you aren't even dating ...??

Persy's literal one and only concern is that she thinks if she doesnt sleep with Hades right then or when/if he wants to that "she wont be able to give him what hes used to" ... Which is reinforcing that she went to therapy to get "over being blocked" in regards to having sex

Although Hades does mention that she shouldn't feel like she needs to please him and that a kiss can just be a kiss which would be nice

(And yet his thinking of marrying her amd he's known her for 2, 3 weeks? ... And he says "the beginning of a new relationship is exciting and scary" so hes basically indicating thay their dating at this point, I think?)

And later the nymphs in the store are like "do you wanna be the dominatrix of the bedroom?? Buy this lingerie!" And persy does. So??

Meanwhile Demeter is very worried for her daughter who is busy sitting in Hades lap in a pool. 

9. Can we talk about how anons are making fucking flow charts for the LO Timeline cause it's so ridiculously jumbled?

10. im not even against rushed relationships, ive known actual couples who met and were married all within the same year and it worked out great, the difference though is these were people who had their own lives and previous relationships. the issue with LO is RS designed it so Persephone can NEVER have relationships or a life outside of Hades, and if they did get married offscreen, it's framing their marriage in a toxic and unbalanced light. That's not a romance, it's a disaster waiting to happen.

11. i feel like there's a difference between drawing an interesting hooked/aquiline nose versus whatever the hell RS puts on Hades' face. It honestly looks like he's in between morphing into a bird half the time since it just looks like a beak over an actual facial feature.

12. are there shareholders or a board of advisors or something at underworld corp? because if there is id say they have more than enough reason to kick hades out and strip him of his titles/shares because of all the shit he's caused by being guided by his broken pp over thinking with his head. liking dating TWO employees? and getting one of them phsyically crippled by the other bc he can't be honest with either of them and she's a walking time bomb? he's a walking HR nightmare.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Baby, how do you sleep when you lie to me?

FRANCISCO ‘CATFISH’ MORALES and BEN MILLER x FEM!READER┃ TRIPLE FRONTIER.

❝ summary: Benny has flirted with another woman and now he has to bear with the consequences.

❝ words: about 2.8k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, polyamorous relationship, threesome, fingering, voyeurism, unprotected sex, language, mention of bodily fluids and I think that's all.

❝ a / n: you all can blame @chibsytelford for this because it was just a fantasy I had and she pushed me to write it because I can't refuse anything from her. I left the end open so, in case you enjoy it, I have more ideas for them.

Gif credits to the author.

You have given Ben the silent treatment since two days ago. Every Wednesday the guys and you go to a pub to share some beers and old stories and to play pool until late at night. But the younger Miller drank more alcohol than he should and started to flirt with a random chick, who was making him googly eyes since you all put a step in. Supposedly, nothing happened between both thanks to Will who stopped him —supposedly because you weren't there when that happened, as you asked Frankie to take you home; miffed and ashamed.

You have never doubted the polyamorous relationship the three of you are committed to: until that night. The thought of what could have happened if no one had separated them is killing you slowly. You love them both with your life, you can't live without them. But Ben doesn't deserve any kind of attention from you. The funny part is that he doesn't remember anything from that night and blames the beers he drank for his behavior. If he did it, he did it for a reason though.

You can't lie saying it's been easy for you to punish him. You miss him during nights when only Frankie warms you between his arms, feeling a little unprotected without Benny sleeping by your other side, even if he's in the next room. You've found yourself waking up in the middle of the night with a suffocating sensation burning within your chest, crying for the lack of his presence. And Catfish is starting to get tired of this situation.

“This has gotta end”.

The nervous movement of your knee, rising and falling, suddenly stops by the firm tone of his voice and the finger pointing out the distance between you and the boxer, both at opposite sides of the sofa. Since he has reunited the three of you in your living room five minutes away, Frankie has been walking from one side to another like a caged lion, trying to find a way to reconcile you.

“Kiss her”. The pilot demands, three steps away in front of you.

“Try to kiss me and I'll knock you down”. You quickly reply standing on your bare feet, frowning as you cross your arms on your chest.

Of course, the two men knew which would be your response, but Frankie is the one who knows how to break through your fortress when you're resentful. He walks towards you with no expression on his face, leaning forward to press his lips on yours. A soft touch as if he is asking you for permission to go ahead, although he doesn't need it. You are pretty aware of what he's trying, but you can't refuse when his charming tongue slides itself into your cavity to play with yours. You gulp an arousal gasp, feeling Benny's blue eyes —becoming darker at the view— firmly stuck on how much you enjoy Frankie's hands pawing and squeezing your buttocks while tasting the pair of lips he could die for.

You are too bewitched to notice the pilot beckoning him with a hand to come closer. Ben hesitates scratching his forearm with his head bowed down like a beaten puppy. Your indifference has caused him nightmares, pain and anguish. Yes, sex is amazing, but you're more than a girl to hook up. He needs you. He needs your hands to stitch him up after a fight. He needs your legs around him to feel like he's at home. He needs your chest to rest his forehead whenever he feels the world is falling around him. He needs your kisses to put him to sleep when insomnia takes over his brain. He needs your laugh to be happy.

You have been so assorted in your own thoughts that you haven't noticed the change until you hear Frankie's whispers in your ear encouraging Benny to touch you as his trembling fingers don't dare to do it. And now that you are feeling him this close again, you don't want to stop. You can't. The heat begins to concentrate beneath the cotton fabric of your panties, as his tongue invades your mouth and Frankie sticks his chest to your back.

“Tell him what you want”. He murmurs gripping your jawline using five of his fingers, while his free hand lands on his own growing bulge.

Ben trails a path of wet kisses to your neck, down to reach your collarbone. “I wa— want you inside me”.

“But he doesn't deserve it. Not yet”. Frankie claims, earning a whimper from his friend. “Take his hand, show him where you want it”.

Of course, he will not let the boxer have any pleasure from this round. He first has to fight for it —fight for you, after disrespecting your relationship. Because Catfish is upset with him too. Resting the back of your head on his shoulder as you grab Benny's right hand pinching one of your nipples over the dark shirt, you drag it slowly over your body. He can't help but nail his fingertips in your skin, need for your touch, desperate to feel something yours. The younger Miller swallows a knot stuck in his throat when the palm of his hand cups your heated and soaked cunt. You both moan inevitably when he gently rubs it, raising his dark ocean eyes towards yours, as Frankie peppers the top of your head with sweet kisses.

Ben doesn't wait for another signal to snake his long fingers to put your panties aside and cautiously traces the wet slit between your folds, hoping you don't pull him away at the last second. When he sees in your orbs how needed you are for him, understanding you're not going to stop him, Benny pushes softly his index finger into your center, well-aimed to your tight warm hole. You can't help but moan somewhat alleviated, placing your hands on his shoulders to find balance as your knees go weak at his touch. Frankie licking and biting the sweet spot under your ear, whilst massaging your breasts with his experienced digits, doesn't help either.

“Tell him why you are so damn tight, amor”. The pilot hums as soon as Ben's finger has reached your limits.

“I ha— haven't had sex… since Wedne— Wednesday's noon”. You whining almost brushing the younger lips with yours, so concerned that you can't stop your hips to swing looking for more friction against Frankie's hard cock pressed to your ass and over Ben's hand.

And, oh, now he already knows too why Frankie is controlling you and what he can do. And he feels more guilty now. He still can't believe he flirted with a woman who is not you and it's something that is going to chase him for the rest of his life. A life he doesn't want to live without you, nor without his friend.

“Can I put another one?” Ben almost beg, asking Frankie for permission, who continues enraptured on biting your neck with the clear intention of leaving some marks there.

“Uh-huh”. He just affirms.

Ben maneuvers inside your panties to flex his long finger to join the index one. Instantly, your hands grip the fabric of his t-shirt in two fists, strongly closing your eyelids as a pleased whine dies in your parted lips touching his. Saying that it feels so good would be insufficient. The three of you are used to have sex, at least, two times per day —some days, they're capable of overstimulating you to the point that you can't move a single inch of your anatomy. The pace of his thrusts become faster, as much as the limit of your panties lets him, in and out. He knows exactly how to curl and swirl his fingers to push your g-spot, to give you the pleasure you deserve, to make you feel desired. Frankie is the best at eating you out, as his experienced tongue can make you cum in less than a minute. But Ben is the one who knows how to use his trained hands to put you to beg for more, and more, and more.

“Amor, I need to fuck you”. The pilot hisses frustrated onto your ear, before biting and sucking your earlobe. And you are conscious of how he's going to punish the other.

Making him look without being allowed to not even touch himself.

Ben pulls his hand away causing you to grunt disappointed, so Frankie can walk you to the sofa.

“Don't you dare to taste her”. He says then pointing at the blonde, signaling the wet fingers in your juices until he cleans them in his own t-shirt. Catfish knows how much Ben loves to suck them clean, but it's part of his punishment. So he will learn to not disrespect you again.

Removing the only two pieces of clothing that cover your body, you put on four over the sofa keeping eye-contact with the younger, whilst hearing the pilot undoing the belt and the zip that keep his jeans on. Frankie positions himself behind you with a leg kneel on the sofa and the other stand on the floor. At the same time, Benny sits over the armrest, close enough at least to be able to kiss you. He needs something from you. And he'll conform with it.

Usually, Frankie loves to take his time worshipping you —slowly, meticulously— but he can't wait right now to slam his hard dick into your soaked cunt, crashing his pelvis against your buttocks. You cry out on Ben's lips, as the older is still pushing your limits as much as he can with both hands nailed strongly in your hips, almost hurting you.

“Tell me how it feels, baby”. Ben requests huskily, gripping your whole neck with all his fingers.

“Oh, god…” You breathe through your nose, causing your stomach to contract itself because of the lack of air in your lungs. “Frankie feels so good… He's too thick, Benny… He fi— fills me so good…”

“Yeah?”

“Yes…” You try to nod with your chin, as he continues balls deep inside you. “Please, Frankie… fuck me… I need you. I need you to fuck me hard”.

The way you beg him provokes Ben to clench his jaw. He loves that honeyed and painful tone of voice too, pleading him to be impaled by his length and he knows he will have to deal with this situation for some more time until you believe him —until you believe that he doesn't want any woman, but you.

“I'm gonna fuck your soul outta your body, amor”. He growls going back only leaving his glans inside you, before pounding you again with all his strength, enjoying how pissed Ben is watching you two right now, without even being allowed to jack himself off.

Frankie rocks his hips back and forth with an insane rhythm that doesn't let you recover from the hit to your g-spot when he's already pushing it to its limits. The boxer drinks your delighted gasps, not being capable of hearing you moaning Frankie you fuck me so fucking good, baby. He wants to hear his name too and the rage is consuming him by leaps and bounds. Ben always enjoys when Frankie pounds your pussy as you blow him, or vice-versa. There are other times when he's too tired and it's Frankie who worships your body with total adoration. There's no competition between them; but right now, after almost three days ignoring him, not feeling anything more than indifference, Ben is furiously needed.

But doesn't seem enough punishment for Frankie, who —not only haven't had sex since the last Wednesday— that has heard you all this time crying for Benny, believing he didn't love you or desire you anymore. Believing that he was just looking for an excuse to fly away from the two of you. And yes, you have pretty clear that if one of them decides to not continue, you will stay with the other one. You really love them both. Frankie tangles a hand in your hair, forcing you to sit up on your knees and arch your back so Ben has a better view of your naked and sweaty body being hardly fucked by him with no mercy, whilst he is just there. Watching. Feeling the painful pressure under the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. Feeling that he could cum just of watching you being used to finding the most animal pleasure.

“Fuck, amor… you're so fuckin' tight”. Frankie hisses, placing his chin on your shoulder as his dark eyes are on the blue ones, rejoicing at how much Benny wants to leave right now and maybe hit his punching bag until destroying it. “So wet only for me… So warm you co—could set me on fire”.

Ben is aware that if he leaves now, everything will be worse. So he's doing his best to endure like a champion, biting the center of his bottom lip when Frankie tilts your head to trap your mouth and tuck his tongue into it. You feel like you're floating to the seventh heaven when he drags one of his huge hands down your torso to look for your throbbing clit, as your walls clench around his twitching dick. You're close, too close to falling above the edge.

“Please, Fra— Frankie, don't stop”. You whine against his lips, feeling some tickles because of his perfect mustache, breathing his own breath.

“You wanna cum, ah? That's what you want, baby girl?”

He can't hear your response due to the obscene and filthy dry sound his pelvis produces crashing against your flesh once and once. No mercy, rough like he has never been with you unless he has been out of town attending some kind of mission —so keen to fill your guts with his cream and mark a territory Ben isn't allowed to touch for now. Your moans become erratic, stepping on each other. Your voice is breaking with a high-pitched tone, not being able to handle it anymore. And your pettiness appears from nowhere, after what your heart has suffered. You cry out Frankie's full name with your crystal eyes, because of too much pleasure, glued to Ben's.

“Oh, fu— fuck, Francisco!”

Your vocals echo around the living room, whilst he continues going deeper and deeper. His pleased growls join yours, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when Frankie explodes inside you like an unbridled torrent, so warm that it feels like hell is concentrated in your soaked and filled cunt; abused after a short but an intense round of slams straight to the weakest spot of your anatomy.

Even so, he is still pressed against your limits, holding his still-hard dick between your wet folds whilst trying to recover your breaths. You can see Ben heavily gulping his saliva, keeping his hands away from the lump under his sweatpants. It hurts just looking at it, but these are the consequences. And he hasn't cheated you. He feels like he has done it though, and that's more painful than the erection claiming attention, or how only Frankie is allowed to touch you, to comfort you, to talk to you —to interact in any kind of way.

And now, Ben can leave to have a cold shower.

It's the third night you can't sleep. Although you're really tired, you can't find the point where your brain disconnects from the world. Curling your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, you put your eyes again in the stargazing above your head. The soft breeze, sitting on the grass of the backyard of your house, calms you somehow but not enough to husk the insecurities Ben has created you.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice Frankie's presence until he settles himself behind you, urging you with his forearms on your chest to lie back against his. Pressing his lips on top of your head with a tender kiss, he sighs slowly and quietly.

“Benny loves you. He really does. I'm not gonna defend him, I don't understand why he did it and I don't wanna think 'bout what could have happened. But he loves you”.

“I know, but… I feel like I'm not enough for him anymore. Like we aren't enough for him anymore”. You whisper resting your head under his chin, closing your eyelids and lacing your fingers with him, looking for some consolation. “Maybe love isn't enough for him and he doesn't feel attracted to me like he used to”.

“Bullshit, baby. Didn't you see how he was lookin' at you the whole time? Like a fuckin' starving dog, and not because he hasn't had sex in three days. But because he hasn't been touched by you in an eternity. He's been following you like a puppy all around this time, sleeping against the door of your room, begging you to forgive him”. Frankie doesn't want you to convince you about anything, but what he's saying are facts. “Take your time, okay? But don't be too harsh with him. Ben is still here, right? That's the answer to your questions”.

If you’ve liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17

TRIPLE FRONTIER: @phoenixhalliwell @goldielocks2004 @pedritomando @spideysimpossiblegirl @danniburgh

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #frankie morales #benny miller x reader #ben miller #ben miller x reader #benny miller #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #garret hedlund x reader #garret hedlund imagine

[muffindaddystyles]

Okay but vamp!harry x reader where the reader goes for a late night walk alone because she’s feeling anxious (Harry tries to insist on coming with but she says no) but soon he can sense somethings wrong and goes to look for her and finds her in a dangerous situation! I need protective vampire Harry 🥺

Disclaimer: Reader with ADHD, Vampire!H x fem!reader, cock warming.

Harry's been doing humanly things. Moreso trying for his little human whom he doesn't want to dissapoint when she's making ećlairs or pop tarts for him and all he knows is to eat them despite of being a helping hand. His fingers are magical —--- they relax her in the most livid way while he's feeding from her. Honestly, it's all she wants. Her making sweets for him and him pleasuring her in the most bizarre way.

But. Sometimes she get's emotionally exhausted that the physical activities looks like breaking a mountain for her and all she does is snuggle under the snoozy layers of her childhood blankets cuddling her cat to calm her down.

Now her tranquility is Harry.

It's one of those days. She's been feeling like a failure. An utter dimwit for not getting what's happening in her sociology class, why her neighbours are always grumpy with her and why she isn't able to study anything. It's depressing her.

Harry never left her side. She's like a honey gooed all over him not even letting him bring the pizzas he ordered for them, "Don't!" She squeaks in a weak voice catching his wrists and he sits back cupping the nape of her neck looking straight in her eyes to assure her with his whole existence, "'ey baby . . my sweet girl 'm not goin' anywhere. Delivery boy's been waiting outside -- just a mo', yeah?" He sponges a gentle kiss at her temple stroking her cheek to calm her down.

They've rented a VR receiver and alot of silver movies watching them while eating pizza. She giggles and Harry smiles goofily when he had to hit the receiver twice to make it work, "c'mon you should know how all of this work old man." He strides towards her pulling her up with armpits into his embrace and tickling hard.

"Old man huh!? Ol' ma —" He pretends to eat her whole and she squeals between her laughs, "'m sorry you're my man!" Huffs smugly giving her a breather and pecks her not twice but thrice. If he could kiss her all day. He would. She's his human. It surprises him sometimes when he's alone with his thoughts. He loves her to fucking bits and pieces.

When she's like this everyone and everything feels outta her reach. As if they're miles away from her and she's standing in barren cold. In the amidst of sappy movie she shrinks closer to him stuffing her face into his ribs wounding her leg around his abdomen and he makes her feel warm wrapping his arms around her to push her up on his thigh. Snapping his gaze down at her when the lil sniffs of her reached his ears, "What's wrong kitten . . . hurts to see ya like this baby. Love you so much." He never fails to promise that he loves her to core.

"'M jus . . . thinking tha –-- that when I'll die you'll be still here 'n . . . 'n y'would get so lonely." She hiccups without a break, "Dunno. Can't stop crying 'm sorry." She gives out an ugly sob into his chest. It's breaking his already feeble heart. God he could scream the affection to the moon he have for this girl. In such a tragic moment all she is thinking is about him.

He cups squishes both her cheeks with his calloused palms telling her to breath with slow gestures then when she's way better speaks in his softest voice, "My baby listen to me hmm? We're never thinking of future don't wan'ye to wreck ye'r beautiful brain for stupid deaths --- secondly too bad miss Y/N 'm gonna cling to ye like leech of your nightmares." He wipes her tears away ever so caringly and gives her eskimo kisses while she giggles snorting at the end when Harry brought his big goldfish orbs in the middle to make her laugh.

"'M glad to have you." She whispers smudging her wet lips softly against his's into a heart melting blood warming kiss and Harry shushes her when she whines clutching the hem of his sweater, "bite me? She asks politely rather than being batty as for she was being within past days rilling him upto extreme to get her neck and skin sprinkled with hickeys that turns into bites.

"Don't wanna hurt ye', lovie." He pushes her hair away peering down at her with pleading worried eyes, "you wouldn't. promise." He nods flushing her against his chest positioning her head into the crook of his neck. Making her hug him like a koala bear.

Rubs her back. Pats her hair. Sways her along him rather than the seductive warnings he used to give her. He's afraid. She's too fragile at the moment. He'd never forgive himself if something will happen to her, "'m gonna bite. Stop me if ye' don't want it o' hurts." He runs his palms at her sides making her all squirmy.

He pushes her fangs ever so gently to her sweet spot. If she's made of glass making her moan and tight her grip around him warming up his cock in his trousers. It's not always about you dumber. He scolds himself. Suckling lightly and pulling back in a pinch of moment. It's the first time he has almost pretended to drink from her. She's all sleepy in his hold. He carries her to bed and when tries to untangle himself so he could turn the telly off she whines not letting him.

Despite of these much blankets she's still feeling cold. From inside. It feels empty and she isn't liking it at all. Writhes and squirms causing Harry to ask, "ye okay there lovie'?" When she shakes her head with glassy eyes and a pout he understands.

"Cold." Is all she had to say and he's guessing the next, "in ye'r tummy?" When she bobs her head confirming he sighs softly pulling the elastic of his trousers down to free his dick getting rid of the item woving his calves with her, thighs between thighs and places a firm hand on her back moving his thumb into circles non-stop.

"Oh me lil dovlin' c'mere . . want me cock to warm ye up baby? 'S okay s' okay darlin'." He murmurs against her lips tugging at his foreskin hissing when the head of his thick cock gets pushed between their bellys due to approximty. Precome oozes from his strokes and he takes her panties off swiping his crown over her hole to lubricate her. Wounds his arm around the nape of her neck to lap at her mouth swallowing her whines and cries while sliding inside her compact walls twisting his stomach awfully, "shhh. shhh baby love. I got ya. Gonna take care of ye ---- try to sleep. I'll be waiting fo' ye in the morning." Once, situating himself deep and snug inside her. He keeps on embracing her like a little baby.

Next morning though she woke up happy. Harry made her brekkie. Special smiley pancakes with heart shaped eyes from the little strawberry toppings. He really took advantage of his time while she was snoring her ass off. A peach smoothie and cashewnuts. Fed Meowsie. Gave her his morning lovin'. They had the meal together.

He helped her learn some of her course. Then in afternoon made lunch together egg fried rice and stirred vegetables Y/N went to give some of it to their neighbours. Lady Nat asked her if she's okay cause she has stopped stomping in her flat and it made her feel good, weirdly.

//

Maybe it's seasonal sadness that she couldn't get out of it. Harry's in the kitchen cleaning up shelves when he hears the rustle of carpet. He peeks from the wall to find her pooling into a big hoodie and slipping into her shoes. He frowns throwing the rag away to walk towards her immediately, "where ye' goin' lovie? Ye' okay what happened?" He runs his hands over her shoulders to her hair making her meet his eyes.

She nods squeezing his wrists, "don't worry just wanna . . . take a walk — clear my head." Hearing this he quickly moves to wear his jacket.

"'M goin' with you." He declares and she knows if that'll happen she wouldn't be able to, "No. Alone." She fumbles with the strings of her hoodie. He sighs not fond of the idea brows knighting together thumbing at her jaw with concern screaming in his eyes.

"Can I mark you then?" He asks knowing what hides in the shadows of outside; creatures evil than his entire existence. He doesn't want to make her feel like she owes him explanations for her each and every movement but gosh does it scare him to his bones. She's the only person who could make him weak into knees and a mesh of puddle at the thought of even the thorn pricking her, "okie." She cranes her neck and it still amuses him she's exactly how she was when he first met her. That gentle rose under the moon meant for Harry to care and water with love.

After adorning her with a crimson mark and little peck he tugs her closer hooking his nose to her hair taking a good sniff of her cocoa scent, "keep your phone in ye' hand and don't walk through the cherry street." There's nothing there but stray dogs that she's afraid of. It's better he advises her.

"Ai. Ai captain!" She salutes him stomping her feet and he chuckles kissing her cheek wet-ly, "Go before I change me mind."

//

He wanted it not to creep it to his mind but it's not helping AT ALL. He's been restless and it's been fifteen minutes since she has left. He's sitting sunk into sofa with Meowsie snuggled under his chin while he shakes his knees, cracks his knuckles, combs his hair and groans into his palms. In short throwing tantrum like a toddler missing her already and constantly worrying about her. Something doesn't feel right at all. That gut wrenching horror of losing her biting him alive.

He mutters a fuck it going to look for her and bring her back home. He was right. He has always been. Good at instincts. For fuck's sake. He's a vampire!

Y/N was walking along the path which's the lead way to a park when a dark vibe gloomed over her head. The next she knows is she's being pinned to a wall with demonic eyes snatching at her soul: it takes her breath away outta horror.

"No wonder why Harry kisses the earth you walk on." He chuckles darkly accent an old Scottish and she gulps eyes stinging with tears, "I would to . . if I get to drink such sweet ripe blood." Her eyes widens when his fangs pokes out from his gums glistening under the lamp light.

She tries to kick him in balls to get rid of his painful grip when an angry growl echoes towards them loudly and the person who had her trapped wooshes from her sight in a bolt to ground making her shriek.

"She's not a fuckin' feeder stay the fuck away from her!!" Harry grits spitting venom. Choking the person under him, "tol' ya she's my girl and I'll shred everyone alive if they'll even breath in her direction." She has never seen him this furious. Tone harsh and snappy she never heard coming from him it makes her cry.

He had warned his fellows when the news of him spread that he has bonded to human. But well they've thick skulls.

The man under him just smirks pushing him away and coughing into his elbow standing up. "Whatever thought sharing is caring, Styles." Harry glares him resentfully. Fisting a punch at his side but stables himself when a dainty hand wraps around his fingers clutching tight.

He turns ducking down to her level cupping her cheeks and tries to examine her for any kind of injury, "ye' okay? Did he hurt you? Tell me and — " she rubs her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie shaking her head vigorously.

"No. 'M fine sorry should've listened to you." He puffs out a breath of guilt letting his forehead fall against her's, "don't be sorry -- it's none of ye'r fault baby."

"Glad you're safe." He whispers hugging her with the sway of bodies, "I love you." She tells him honestly tip-toeing to kiss him and it unfortunately reaches his silky jaw only.

"And all the things you do for me." He grins down at her. He lives on praises. The cheeky bastard.

"How about eatin' ice-cream while taking swings in the park?" He intertwines their hands warmly kissing her knuckles and she quips excitedly, "sounds great!"

.

AN: idk why read more button isn't working sorry for the bug.

#harry styles smut #anon request #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry angst #dom harry #harry styles vampire smut #vamp!h #vampire harry

[im-whatchamccallit]

Crushcrushcrush//Kim Hongjoong (ATEEZ)

Request:  Hi i was wondering if you could do a soulmate werewolf hongjoong x human female reader angst and fluff like she over hears hongjoong saying something and she gets sad and shy and worried and stuff.....

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst with fluff at the end, Werewolf!AU, Soulmate!AU, a bit of College!AU

Warnings: Hongjoong’s kind of a dick with irrational thinking, cussing I guess

Word Count: 7.2k

(A/N: Lets just pretend I didn’t disappear for 6 whole months, but i am back and my medication is no longer giving me the big sad so I’m a little more motivated to write.This isn’t the best work I’ve done, this is actually idea 10 for this prompt and idk if it’s executed properly but Imma keep trying and hopefully, to keep from falling back into a slump, I’ll start a new series so I have a regular scheduled fic for everyone. Also, I think I botched expressing the AUS here but just let me know what you think. Sorry for always disappearing, I can’t promise I won’t go off the grid again but I’ll try harder to be active in anyway)

Your mother always said crushes stayed crushes for a reason: they hurt. Bad. But you thought she was wrong, that your feelings for someone could one day be reciprocated later if not sooner, and that’s what led you to him. Kim Hongjoong. The day you met was a complete accident, your body slamming into his as you wandered aimlessly during your freshman year of high school. He was gorgeous with wide brown eyes, beautiful pink lips and cheeks, his hair styled differently from the other boys to reveal his forehead, showing his individuality. He was perfection.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Those were the first words he spoke to you, his voice so gentle, so sweet. And the way he reached out to help you with no hesitation, holding your hands as he pulled you up effortlessly.

It was love at first sight, all until he looked down to your hands, eyes catching a glimpse of your wrist, a row of zeros peeking through the sleeve of your uniform jacket. He slowly pushed the fabric up, both your eyes widening to see your soulmate clock had finally timed out, his hands releasing yours to check his own wrist, a quiver to his lips as his clock matched yours, his once soft eyes now hard as he stared you down.

“Stay far away from me.” He warned, not saying another word as he headed to his homeroom, your body frozen as you watched him disappear. He was so harsh, yet you liked him. Maybe suddenly finding his soulmate scared him, but it was no problem to you! You were bound to end up together so you played the waiting game with him, being the perfect soulmate you could possibly be whether he accepted it or not.

And that led you here, now seniors in college and still acting the way you were when you met. Hongjoong was still cold, treating you like some plague while you could only smile along. You weren’t sure how you missed the fact you lived in a predominantly werewolf area until a public service announcement came on your television one night to remind humans to stay indoors during the full moon, that night dedicated to werewolves being as free as they could be, but it made you even more hopeful when you were on your way home from work one night, taking a shortcut through the woods since it lead right to your backyard.

You were 16 at the time, so the sight of a shirtless person would obviously make you flustered, but a shirtless Hongjoong? Enough to cause a nosebleed. He was 16 as well, the exact age a werewolf develops a mate bond and, seeing as you’ve already been confirmed as soulmates in the human world, the sudden desire to latch onto you and never let you go once you locked eyes only made your lifelong attachment more real, and he was freaking out. He didn’t speak, opting to shift without removing the remainder of his clothes, your eyes wide as he moved deeper through the thick trees and towards the horizon where the orange sky was in full view and, the grin on your face just couldn’t stop growing. You knew werewolves had a stronger drive to their mates, so the idea that he could avoid you forever was laughable. Sure, you were both 23 and he has uped his disdain for you from staying silent to calling you any vile name he could think of, but it was only a matter of time before he came around. You just knew it.

“(Y/n), stop gawking.” Miyeon joked, poking your side to snap you from your daydreams, your eyes widening when you noticed a few of Hongjoong’s friend’s catching your gaze, a blush painting your face as you turned away.

“I wasn’t gawking, just making sure their table was okay. I am their waitress tonight.”

“And every other night because you said, and I quote, ‘I wanna work at any table my Joongie’s going to be at!’” She mocked, your eyes rolling as you looked back towards them.

You took a job at a diner just a few blocks from both your apartment and college campus, the pay great and the distance convenient. It was the only time you had to yourself instead of lingering to Hongjoong, figuring out his classes and breaks to give him snacks and lunches you’d personally make for him since you overheard him complain about the campus food before, only to be told they tasted like shit and he’d find his own food. It was a bit of a kick to the face to hear that, but you had one saving grace: his pack. The first time Hongjoong sent you away with a bitter remark, they were curious about you, tracking you down when they weren’t with their alpha to get more info on who you were and what you found so loveable about the man treating you like some demon. They were surprised by how sweet you were and how accepting you were to be the unwanted luna of an eight-wolf pack. They could never hate Hongjoong but they sure as hell loved you just a little more than him. Unbeknownst to both of you, Yunho and Mingi found out where you worked, making a plan with the others to take Hongjoong there as much as possible so he would have no choice but to interact with you, even if he stayed silent to not appear like an asshole in front of the various strangers dining as well. Hongjoong would honestly never return if he had the choice, but something about the restaurant’s signature burger kept bringing him back, which is why he was here, sipping his soda angrily as he waited on his meal that would be served by his worst nightmare, you.

“I don’t know why you don’t just find someone else. Isn’t it easy for humans to reject soulmates? You could move on with no problems.” She said, helping you grasp onto the steel tray covered in various meals, a huff leaving you as you put on a bright smile.

“Because I know it’s harder to move on for wolves. You guys don’t have a choice on who your mates are, and you just accept it once you meet them. I know Hongjoong will accept me eventually, it’s just gonna take some time.” You gave one more smile before wobbling towards the table in question.

Hongjoong tried not to follow the gaze of his pack as they watched you happily approach them, letting out a huff as you adjusted the tray onto your shoulder, grasping the plates and placing them in front of the respective person, Hongjoong’s nose twitching at the smell of his burgers and fries, not wasting anytime to dig in as the other’s thanked you, but you shyly looked at the male before you, the tray pressed to your chest as you tried to find a casual way to speak with him.

“I-uh- I-I remembered last time you asked for extra cheese, so I decided to put cheese in the burger too! I hope you like it better than the tofu stew I made you for lunch the other week.”

“I didn’t ask for extra cheese this time, so why put it inside my burger where I can’t take it off?” He said spitefully, mouth still full as he set the half-eaten burger down.

Your smile faltered but bounced back as you reached towards his plate.

“O-oh! Well, I can take it back and make you another! This time I ca-“

“’This time’? You should’ve just done it from the start. Your job is to listen and do what you’re told and you can’t even do that? What can you do right?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes wandering to the people now staring at you as the scene unfolded, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you tried to hold it together. The worst he’s called you in an idiot and that was usually under his breath, so to practically say it out loud, in front of strangers while you were in the middle of a shift and forced to do nothing but smile like you usually would, felt like you were being stabbed and burned simultaneously. You couldn’t keep smiling, looking down as you tried to apologize, only for him to cut you off once again.

“Go bother someone else. Or hide in the back if you’re just gonna keep fucking up this much.”

The space was eerily silent, even with the soft music playing, your eyes not leaving your shoes as you shuffled away. It was a pitiful sight, Seonghwa releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as you went to a neighboring table to retrieve plates and glasses left by a couple from before. He was ready to tear Hongjoong’s head off, not as a gamma to an alpha but as one friend to another, his jaw tight as he prepared to berate him the way he did you but, somehow, Wooyoung beat him by asking a question none of them thought to ask before.

“What did she ever do to you that you have to treat her like that?”

There was a strange but tense silence as they awaited his answer, watching him taking small bites of his fries as he stared ahead at nothing before turning to them with what could only be described as a sadistic smirk.

“Imagine being 13 and finding out the best years of your life, the years of dating, hooking up, just discovering who you are, are gone because your mate decides to show up and take that from you.”

“Are you fucking stupid? That’s the reason we have mates, so we can do those things with one person instead of random people!” Seonghwa nearly yelled, trying to keep his voice low as to not alarm anymore spectators again.

“For the past 7 years, I’ve been trying to get her to leave or just reject me, but it’s clear to me now that she’s just an idiot that doesn’t understand she’s not needed, by me or anyone. And, if you’re as dumb as her, I’ll simplify it for you: she’s unwanted.”

Whatever pain you felt before suddenly disappeared into a numbness you couldn’t explain. He knew you were there, that you could hear him, that you would hear him, and yet he still said it. You were conflicted and sad, your lips curling in a mixture of disgust and anger before settling on a bright smile. Never mind the fact your tears finally spilled over, that your heart ached with every beat and your body felt heavy with the weight of being rejected by someone you waited so long for, you just had to smile. Soulmates were supposed to be a sure thing, supposed to be your happily ever after, yet it just turned out to be a crush, one that you should’ve let die the day you met him.

“(Y/n/n)…” Miyeon spoke cautiously as you made your way towards the bar, your other coworkers watching from beside her as if you were some strange spectacle.

“We have to start cleaning, y’know? It’ll help us get out of here a lot faster tonight.” You said in your usual cheerful tone, tears still flowing and a faint crack to your voice.

“How about you just head home for the day, (Y/n)? We can handle everything from here.” Your manager said, her eyes scanning your face as you moved past them and to the kitchen, their bodies following instinctively.

“What? No! I’m fine! We still have 4 more hours to go and I think if I get a head start with the chefs for tomorrow lunch specials I ca-“

“(Y/n), please-“

“I’m fine, Miyeon! Really! It’s not like I got broken up with or anything, I never even had a boyfriend! Just a crush on someone that thinks I’m a waste of space! Isn’t that super ironic? Spending most of your life chasing after someone that wants nothing to do with you? That’s really funny, right?” You choked out, lips pursing into a thin line to keep in your sobs but your attempts were futile, everything slowly starting to hit you at once until your body collapsed, one of the other servers catching you before you hit the ground.

It was all a blur from there, the words of comfort everyone offered turning into muffled noise as your cries of agony came out freely, the way Miyeon dragged you from the emergency exit at the back of the building and to her car to take you home, and even when you crawled into bed and managed to sleep despite the pounding headache. 7 years came and went and there was nothing to show for it. No soulmate, no boyfriend, no romance, not even a friendship. You were empty and for some reason the only thing filling your heart and mind was the person who broke you.

It felt like time stood still yet hours had passed, Hongjoong back in his own bedroom pressing away at his keyboard, stopping occasionally to write a few notes down from his new composition, but he wasn’t distracted enough to hear his door open, various footsteps entering and even a few bodies settling in on his bed, his eyes not bothering to leave his notebook as he figured this moment would come.

“You don’t need to lecture me.” He grumbled, going back to play a few more notes only to find his keyboard unplugged, Mingi tossing the cord away as his alpha stared him down.

“It’s only a lecture if you listen and learn, which you won’t, so we’re gonna make you feel as bad as possible for driving away the only person that gave a shit about you.” San said with a bright smile, a scoff leaving Hongjoong as he finally turned in his chair to face them, eyes scanning the room to see this situation wasn’t playful but truly hostile, almost like an ambush.

“So, you guys don’t care about me?”

“Trying to get you to accept your soulmate so you don’t die shows we care a lot more than we should.” Yeosang spoke, making himself comfortable as he sat against the pillow and headboard.

“But we’re the real assholes for trying to force her with someone as shitty as you.” Seonghwa finally said, Hongjoong’s head snapping in his direction as he let out a dry chuckle, shifting in his seat so he was leaning backwards, arms crossed as he told himself to stay calm during his friend’s potential tantrum.

“I feel like you have the most to say since you’ve been in love with my mate the longest, so go ahead, tell me how I’m such a bad man, Seonghwa. I’m all ears.” His smugness made the tension worse, Seonghwa stepping closer with clenched fist.

“I’m not in love with you mate, but if I didn’t know someone was waiting for me because we were fated to be together, maybe I would have asked (Y/n) out, because she deserves better than a lowlife with the brain function of a dead goldfish. But I respect her too much as your mate and my luna to not push those boundaries so I tried to help her get closer to you because I know you, Hongjoong. You’re not an asshole or a jerk, but to her? You treat her like shit, when really you’d have no one without her. You’re a short, scrawny, nerdy moron that locks himself in a dark room for days on end just to complete a single project, then emerge to eat cold pizza and watch Despicable Me because your pea-sized brain can’t comprehend anything that isn’t brightly colored animation. If you take away your alpha status, no girl would even look in your direction but you have someone literally at your side, the only human not afraid of you, trying to figure out everything there is to know about you, yet you can’t give her the time of day. You probably don’t even know a damn thing about her.”

“Unfortunately, I know more than enough about her.” Hongjoong spoke, all amusement gone as he glared at the older male, their mindlink clogged with threatening growls and barks, trying to keep their fight from getting physical.

That first sentence alone made Hongjoong’s blood boil, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and disgust. How could Seonghwa even say that to him, plotting to steal his mate all because he was a bit uncertain? That all it was, uncertainty! He didn’t hate you, or wish you weren’t around, he actually grew to anticipate and enjoy your ramblings about your day or whatever new thing caught your attention, he actually even loved the lunches that you’d make for him. He couldn’t help that over the years he grew to crave you more, but the thought of fully accepting you and solidifying that the best years of his life were about to be gone, restricted to one person forever before he could even determine for himself his likes and dislikes, what he considered real love rather than what fate wanted him to feel, was terrifying. So he distanced himself from you, spending the years watching you from afar in hopes that if he didn’t get too close he wouldn’t lose his free will completely.

But it was a bad habit that seeped into your college years, everyone assuming he cared so little for you when he knew everything there was to know. He knew where you worked before any of the boys did, where your apartment was, the fact you were a business major planning to open a bakery once you graduated, he knew you didn’t have classes on Fridays but always came back on campus because you prepared meals for the men’s and women’s wrestling team which is where Jongho first met you, he knew you hated mint chocolate chip ice cream just like him but loved chocolate ice cream with mint chips, he knew you were always cold but overheat at night and wake up at exactly 3am to change into shorts and a tank top to be more comfortable, he knew about the birthmark on your lower back and a scar on your hip from a cat scra-

“Holy shit, you’re insane.” Wooyoung breathed out, Hongjoong’s eyes focusing on the room in front of him, a mixture of shocked expressions and amused ones filling his vision.

“I liked it better when we thought you hated her but, hyung, you’ve been stalking her since your freshman year of high school?” Jongho asked cautiously.

It was a weird feeling bubbling inside Hongjoong, the primary one being embarrassment. He knew he’d sometimes unintentionally rant in their mindlink whenever he was upset but to make an almost decade long secret public to his pack, revealing the intimate details of how you slowly but surely ingrained yourself into not only his brain but his life until he felt like he was going crazy? It made him tear up, his face burn with a blush as he was finally forced to face the truth. He pushed you away but wanted you more than anything. He wanted to spend his years free to explore before finally settling down only to reject every girl that came close to him simply because they weren’t you, and he took that anger out on you. What was he so mad about? The fact you stood by his side with a smile happily accepting him while he tried and failed to lust after other women? Was he that pathetic? He could admit now that he was and, if he could turn back time, he would’ve introduced himself and walked you to class. Just the first step of fully accepting you.

“You’re still ranting in the mindlink, you know?” Seonghwa said softly, regaining the once again lost focus of his alpha who was too consumed in his own pity to notice the tension died down, their gazes soft as they tried to sympathize with their leader.

“Sorry. I wish none of you heard that stuff.” He admitted, sniffling as he realized he’d been crying, hand hurriedly wiping away tears from his cheeks.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. We still think you’re a moron, but at least we know you’re feeling guilty about all of this.”

“Don’t worry, Joong, if you know (Y/n) like we do, she always sees the best in people, so she’ll forgive you. But you still have to apologize.” San followed up Mingi’s words, wrapping an arm around Hongjoong shoulders while giving a bright smile in response to his weak one.

“She’s my TA in Calc 3 and I have that class around noon tomorrow. She always stays after in case anyone has questions, so I can stall until you get there.” Yunho offered, Hongjoong feeling a slight warmth in his chest thinking about it all. He’d let go of his insecurities, fix everything he’s done wrong, and finally have you as his. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

And tomorrow did come, but you were nowhere to be found. When Hongjoong arrived to Yunho’s class, he was met with a sympathetic apology on the account that you didn’t show up that day, you weren’t even at any of your other classes. The boys even tried to find you at work only to be met with a mob of your pissed coworkers led by Miyeon, threatening to rip their heads off if she saw their faces again. And that lasted for nearly 3 days, Hongjoong’s hope slowly dwindling away until he noticed two figures sneakily meeting halfway at the school’s entrance to exchange a large white cooler.

He recognized those bulky arms anywhere, and the thick Aussie accent was a dead giveaway as well, especially when it was followed by a distinct giggle. There was no mistaking it was Chan, but he could barely see the person with him, their voice low as they spoke to him and face hidden beneath a hood, but the scent emitting from them was strong, and beautiful, his eyes widening as he finally took it all in. You looked different, wearing a dark grey matching sweat suit which was a complete 180 from your usual attire, and you smelled faintly of passionfruit, possibly a change to your normal shampoo in an attempt to disguise yourself, but that thought only made his heart hurt more. Were you intentionally avoiding him? He could understand you hating him now but you were even ignoring the others in his pack, going from friends to complete strangers in a matter of hours and leaving them all devastated. He was going to fix this, here and now, if not for him and you than for his friends.

“Jongho’s been pretty upset about you not responding to his text. It’d really help if you stopped by to at least let him know you’re okay.” Chan pleaded, giving you a dimpled smile and hopeful gaze that made it impossible for you to hide your blushing face and grin.

“I just need a little more time, Chris. It’s like if you broke up with your mate and all the friends you made through her left you too. Except it’s me being broken up with by someone who was never my boyfriend and his friends came to me instead of me going to them. But, still, it hurts all the same.” You laughed slightly, trying to find some humor in the situation.

“You’re the only person that still calls me Chris.” He commented, trying to redirect the conversation as you clearly weren’t fine, neither of you noticing the burning glare just a few meters away.

“I just think it fits you best.” You admitted, neither of you breaking eye contact until you gasped, staring down to the box of food and drinks you bought.

“You should hurry to practice. You need to eat beforehand otherwise you’ll be weak after warmups alone. And I worked hard making those sandwiches and cutting that fruit, if it goes bad because you stayed here to cheer me up, I’ll really be mad.” You tried to put on your best scowl, your scolding undermined by his amused laughter.

“Alright, fine. Just stay safe, please?” You nodded, waving as you watched him turn to head to the school’s gymnasium, missing the way Chan glared at Hongjoong as he continued forward. Chan and Hongjoong’s packs were close, family almost, so the news of what Hongjoong did and why reached them in no time, and Chan was hoping today things would be fixed soon because, apart from you being the wrestling team’s beloved personal chef, you were like a sister to him.

You wasted no time leaving the campus behind, ready to go back into the darkness of your bedroom to forget you existed. You really wish you could disappear, that the ground would split beneath you and swallow you whole, but you couldn’t just leave when your phone was filled with calls and messages from friends and coworkers wondering where you were and if you were fine. So many people cared, what kind of person would you be to leave them all alone like this, especially when all they wanted was to help you? But being alone helped, trying to live life as normal as possible while adjusting to a Hongjoong-free lifestyle helped. It would take some time, but you’d find your normal someday. All you had to do was avoid-

“(Y/n)!” Your body froze.

He rarely called you by your name but his voice was distinct on its own, and it was the most sickly sweet thing you’ve ever heard. You wanted to run, to never have him see you like this. Dear god, how did you even look right now? You felt like shit, you probably looked the part. Dammit, Hongjoong was right all along, you were shit. You were worse than shit, you were just pathetic. A pathetic, lovestruck loser itching to just turn and say hi, to have the conversation you always dreamed of but you knew that wouldn’t happen. He’ll yell at you again. He’ll-

“(Y/n)? H-hi…” Hongjoong said shyly, standing right in front of you as you shrank into yourself.

His brows furrowed as you looked away, mentally arguing with yourself as you went over the days of self-reflecting you did, trying to find some lesson from your solitude to aid in this situation and it was starting to scare him. You were never quiet with him, you always had something to say even if it wasn’t important but, luckily, he had something important to say and hopefully you’d listen.

“I- T-the other day…. I w-was…. I-I’m sorry.” He stammered out, this confession a lot harder than he thought, especially now that you were facing him, eyes just as innocent as the day he met you, but he couldn’t run away this time.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, honestly. Everyone told me I was an idiot and I think they’re right. I treated you like you were garbage for years, all because I didn’t want to be mated so young. I just wanted to date around before I finally settled down with someone and, m-maybe I could’ve just said that, so you didn’t have to wait around for me all these years but, I never hated you, and I can’t hate you. I know you won’t forgive me right away but I think it’s only fair that I can be a good mate to you now.”

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the desperate ‘please’ he wanted to add as your pupils began to shake, almost as if you were a machine malfunctioning, none of your self-reflecting preparing you for this moment, the only thing coming to mind being some sad blog article you found during your second day of isolation. ‘Forgiving and forgetting too soon is dangerous. Find yourself’. It wasn’t what you wanted but maybe what you need, what he needed. So, without hesitation, you smiled brightly at him although it never reached your eyes, clearing your throat as you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Hongjoong, I can’t forgive you easily. I waited for you, I tried to make you accept me and it always ended up with me getting hurt. Honestly, if I just treated you like a regular crush, maybe we could’ve forgotten we’re meant to be together until after graduation or something.” You laughed awkwardly, wanting to look away as his eyes softened in the saddest way, but you needed to do this, eyes locked on his as you exhaled through your nose.

“I couldn’t be by your side all the time, so whether you dated anyone is still a mystery to me but, I’ve been alone for seven years hoping you’d come around, and I think it’s time I take those years back. I’m not sure if what you said counted as a rejection or if we’re still mates but, if we are, we’ll come back to each other eventually. For now, I just need some time.”

You managed to walk past him without completely collapsing in tears, speed walking back to your apartment as you tried to swallow sobs, not even taking in the way Hongjoong stumbled to follow you, almost like a zombie as he attempted to plead for you to reconsider, to force himself to accept your decision but ask how long you needed, but he couldn’t do that. He tried to picture himself in your shoes, seven years of pining only to be publicly humiliated by the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. He couldn’t blame you for not forgiving him, and he sure as hell couldn’t force you, so he let you go, trudging in the opposite direction to his two story apartment just to hide in his bedroom until he didn’t feel like dying anymore.

But as more days passed and it only got harder for Hongjoong. He barely left his room but also never slept, every song he created was played in minor scales to fit his now melancholy life. The charisma he typically exuded was hidden with puffy red eyes from crying and a yellow knit sweater a few sizes too large for his body but it was the only thing that comforted him at this point, especially when knowing you had reconnected with everyone but him.

After exactly one week of distancing yourself from the world, you caved and meet with the boys individually (sans Hongjoong), apologizing for needing space although they completely understood, but the way each interaction ended made your guts churn with guilt. ‘Stay safe, luna’, that’s how all of them addressed you before they left, leaving you filled with the desire to return to how things were before. You missed your friends and, the fact your mate was finally ready to claim you, only made you want to forgive Hongjoong sooner. But you needed to be your own person for once. You had seven years worth of relationships to catch up on and you wouldn’t let them keep you from that.

Except when they did.

You should’ve known it was risky letting them know you had a date so soon, just some other human on campus that had yet found his soulmate. They sounded happy for you, Wooyoung going so far to ask where you met and where your date would be and what time, giving suggestions on what to say and wear since it was “your first”. It was a sweet gesture, and you thought nothing of it, but that information meant everything to him which led to now, the boys huddled together in their living room with a slightly paler and sickly looking Hongjoong curled into the corner of their loveseat.

“So they’re going bowling tonight at 8:30? We could ask her about it tomorrow in case she’s into him because hyung isn’t looking too great.” Yeosang commented, everyone looking to Hongjoong as he managed to drown his entire body within the sweater, only his head visible as he stared ahead like some lost puppy.

“He’s just weak from not being around her for so long, but their bond is still there so he’s fine. But we have nothing to worry about. She won’t fall in love with him so don’t get too involved, she’ll just stop talking to us again if we meddle too much.” Seonghwa warned, a chorus of ‘Okays’ confirming their dismissal as they all stood to retreat to their bedrooms.

“Wait, who is she going out with anyways? There’s only 10 other humans at that school.” Mingi’s question cause everyone to freeze, the silence in the room contrasting with the faint answer Woooyung gave in their mindlink, Hongjoong turning to look at him with hurt and pain.

“Why didn’t you say it was Yugyeom?!”

“I did! Just not to you, until now because I forgot to tune you out.” He said shyly, flinching as Hongjoong ran past him and right out their front door, none of them sure of what to do at that point.

It was such a minor yet major detail. Kim Yugyeom was admittedly the most wanted person any of them could think of. Human girls wanted him, werewolf girls wanted him, most guys couldn’t help but stare whenever he passed by. He was gorgeous with eyes that sparkled every time he smiled. He spoke about his soulmate with so much passion despite never meeting her, following his words with how he’d treat any girl before her with the same love and care. It was a pick up line meant to hook any hopelessly romantic girl in, the sweetest way to say their relationship wouldn’t last. But this was Kim Yugyeom, they knew it was only meant with good intentions, not wanting to string someone along with the false hope they’d be together forever. And that’s exactly what you needed. To explore while knowing you’d always come back to Hongjoong. But that’s not what Hongjoong wanted. He didn’t want you dating anyone else, finding temporary happiness when he was supposed to give you a lifetime of it. And humans were more flexible with their soulmates, they had the privilege to move one without the pain or withdrawals of losing their mate. Werewolves just died if they were rejected, heartbreak and loneliness consuming them, so there was no telling how your heart would react to someone exactly like you. Maybe you’ll fall in love with him. Maybe he’ll abandon his soulmate for you once he learns how amazing you are. Maybe Hongjoong would die from lack of food and sleep before he even reached your apartment, which he was still sprinting full speed towards. It was only 7:30pm, meaning he had an hour before you and Yugyeom went out, but he didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what he was doing, but he needed to stop you before you found yourself in love with someone else.

It was like some scene in a drama, Hongjoong’s chest heaving as he finally came to a stop just outside your apartment. His body felt like giving out as he climbed the two flights of stairs to your door, only to find you waving shyly to Yugyeom just as he turned away, trying not to lock eyes with Hongjoong but Hongjoong’s eyes were only trained on you, yours finding his as a panicked look crossed your face. Should you look away? Go back inside? What was he even doing there? You never told the boys your address… You gasped as he approached you, swallowing hard as you tried to remain calm, but how could you stay calm when you finally got a good look at him?

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You didn’t hesitate to ask, stepping further from your door to examine him, reaching for his face only to stumble back to your original position. You were making great progress, you can’t do that now.

“I’ve been better, but even then I wasn’t fine.” He said with a dry chuckle, your lips curling into a fake smile to not show how much his appearance affected you. He looked like he was on the brink of death. You knew wolves would get sick without their mates, but was it really killing him? Were you killing him?

“Joongi-Uhm, Hongjoong, how about you sit down? You look like you’re going to faint.” You offered, stepping back to allow him inside, watching him stumble past you and straight to your sofa as if he owned the place.

It was such an awkward moment for you, watching the poor boy curl into himself as his sweater practically became his body, a sigh leaving your lips as you shut your door. Instead of healing yourself, you had to heal him. It was oddly pitiful but your instincts screamed at you to do it.

Hongjoong shut his eyes as he eased into your sofa, feeling more comfortable than he was in his own home, even more so with your scent invading his senses, your body warmth radiating onto his as you carefully took a seat, trying to figure out what to do.

“Do you need food, or water? Or a doctor?” You asked, the giggle he let out this time weak but still enough to make your heart beat a bit faster.

“I just need you near me.” He admitted.

You let out a squeak as he shamelessly fell into your lap, head comfortably resting against your thighs as he laid face up. You couldn’t stop your hand from easing through his unnaturally colored locks, melting at how soft they were, bottom lip trapped under your teeth as you had to fight off the desire to cup his face. You’ve never gotten this close to him and he wasn’t telling you to go away, instead letting out content purrs as he nuzzled closer to you, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Why couldn’t he just want you from the start? You’d would’ve been able to hold him like this all the time, to see him happy and healthy rather than a shell of his former self. But he didn’t want you, and now he was at your apartment just to keep himself from dying. It was silly to think he cared about you as much as he did himself.

“Of course you do.” You whispered, laughing bitterly as your hand left his hair, moving to his arm to ease him back up into a sitting position.

You couldn’t get past him no matter how hard you tried, nor did you want to, but every word he said, everything he’s done, followed you like a ghost haunting some poor unsuspecting soul. Why did you have to love someone who didn’t love you the same? Why was this your life?

“Can you just hold me a little longer? P-please?” He asked with a cute whine to his voice.

You sighed and grabbed his arm, gently pulling him back into his previous position, fingers massaging his scalp as he finally opened his eyes to look at you. You were beautiful, even with the frown lines etched into your face. He wonder how long they’ve been there, especially when he’s only seen you smiling. Maybe you spent your alone time more upset than he thought. Where you upset before he came? You couldn’t be when Yugyeom was here, no one could be upset with him around. Except Hongjoong. He felt a grudge building inside him just from the mere thought of him with you. He felt like interrogating you on what he was doing here in the first place and why you gave your address out to just anyone, but it wasn’t his place to ask and probably wouldn’t be for a while, but jealousy and rage was all he felt so any reasonable thinking was thrown out the window.

“I don’t want you to see Yugyeom anymore.” He said definitely, your eyes widened as you stared at him incredulously, an amused giggle leaving your lips.

“That’s not for you to choose, Hongjoong. I told you I need time-“

“Those seven years you’ve been waiting I couldn’t be with anyone else. I always compared every girl I met to you and none of them came close to being as perfect, now I have to watch you date some dance major with pretty eyes because I was an insecure dumbass? He has a soulmate, and he’s always going to choose them no matter how much you like each other, so why not save your feelings? I’ll wait as long as you want me to, but just don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

You tried so hard to hide your smile. This wasn’t something you typically liked, possessive guys being on the list of things you found annoying, but considering it was Hongjoong, his soft eyes hard and sharp as their hue seemed to go pitch black as his words were both sweet and demanding, made you fall in love just a little more than you already were. You wanted to take this as his confession, as a truce in your previous one-sided enemyship, to tell him that you told Yugyeom you couldn’t go out with him because you could only see yourself with Hongjoong, but you needed time. Not time to date and explore the way you thought he had, but to watch him work as hard as you did to prove he was ready and willing to love you. It was a little malicious, sure, but it was all in good fun. He’d always be your mate after all.

“I don’t know, Hongjoong, you really hurt me…”

“It hurt knowing I wasn’t with you.” Your smile cracked through, causing his own to appear, your game already over.

“And how do you think I felt? You think you can make up seven years worth of waiting so easily?”

You squealed as he shot up, magically seeming more alive than when he arrived, eyes full of life and his lips and cheeks the same rosy color as when you met him, hands warm and soft as he cupped your face.

“Good thing I have forever to do it.”

The silence was comfortable but unbearable, especially as he hesitated to lean closer, your lips puckering to guide him but he didn’t seem to be catching on and, when he did, you shifted back, laughing awkwardly as you stared at one another, both of you taking a deep breath as you finally closed the gap between you, a weird electric sensation you could only dream of as your lips slowly grew accustom to one another, moving so slow yet feeling so urgent. It was all still new to the both of you, romance and dating only now becoming part of your lives, but it was exciting knowing that you had years ahead of you to perfect it, your entire lives dedicated to loving one another. And it only took a seven year crush to get you here.

#ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #kim hongjoong imagines #ateez au #kim hongjoong au #ateez werewolf au #ateez soulmate au #kim hongjoong scenarios #kim hongjoong reactions #kim hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong werewolf au #kim hongjoong soulmate au #kim hongjoong fanfic #ateez fanfic #im-whatchamccallit

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Notes: I wanted to apologise for a stupid mistake I made in the last chapter, I mentioned that Ada fixed Joel's injury with no medical knowledge; only to remember weeks later that she's a vet as part of her character skills and I completely overlooked it while writing the last chapter so I'm sorry for that. And sorry to my lovely Adaline; because it makes total sense that she would be able to tend to his wound rather easily so I hope that doesn't spoil that last flashback too much my bad hehe

Also I apologise that it's been a while since my last chapter, I'm not going to lie this one has been a bitch to write and I'm still not 100% happy with it so I just sincerely hope it doesn't disappoint.

Chapter Twelve

Ada didn't remember falling asleep. But she certainly felt it when she woke up. Her joints cracking and popping from the curled up position she was laid in all night. Everything ached from her shoulders, to her back and her toes.

The last of her dreams faded as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. A quick glance at the clock telling her that she had slept through the better part of a day and half and although she had slept; she didn't feel rested in the slightest. The memories came flooding back, bringing with it that weight that pushed against her chest so tightly until she could barely breathe. Everything that had happened the day before felt like a bad nightmare, where her fears and worries had all come true. Joel hated her. Had more or less disowned her and Ellie. And it was her fault. The sadness and the tears were gone leaving her numb. All she had left was anger.

Yes she had made the wrong call leaving Joel as she had but it was Tommy who had thrown her under the bus. Not giving her the time she had needed to explain. It had all happened so quickly it had made her head spin. It wasn't fair.

There was no logic or reason in leaving her home and storming through the town to find her brother in law. There was no reason to slug the poor man in the face with a swift right hook either but that still didn't stop Ada from doing it away when she saw him.

The world only came back into focus when Maria had restrained her; her vision finally clearing to see Tommy holding his bloody nose.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Ada?!" Maria cried in shocked anger. "What has gotten into you?!"

"Let me go, Maria!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on!" The blonde demanded, holding Ada's arms behind her back: her grip getting tighter the more she struggled. Tommy stumbled forward still holding his nose, spitting a mouthful of blood by his feet before looking up at his wife.

"Maria it's okay...let her go." He asked woefully. Maria just scoffed in disbelief at his request, as if it was the most crazy thing in the world. She attempted to argue but the younger Miller just waved a dismissive hand at her words; his other pinching the bridge of his nose in a bid to stop the bleeding, that was now staining it's way down the front of his shirt. The townspeople were beginning to gather, a rumble of murmurs breaking out amongst the crowd at the sight of their leader being injured by one of their own.

That still didn't stop Ada from taking another swing at Tommy. Only this one didn't make contact as Maria stopped her, twisting her arm and pinning it to her back again.

"That is enough!" She roared, staring down both her husband and her sister in law. "Now you two had better tell what in the hell is going on!"

Tommy winced against the pain shooting through his nose and jaw; turning to look at the crowd staring with wide eyes. His own falling to the floor, not quite able to look at both women in front of him.

"Maybe we'd better go inside to talk." He suggested quietly; making his way back towards his home with Ada and Maria following behind. The brunette struggled her way out of Maria's grip and reluctantly she gave in and let go; turning on her heel and barking orders at the crowd to disperse and get back to whatever it was they were doing before. They did eventually albeit hesitantly. Ada glanced over her shoulder and watched them go as she made her way towards Tommy's; her brain quickly catching up with her actions. God... what they must think of her now. She was just grateful Ellie hadn't seen it; just as grateful as she was that the teen had chosen to stay with Dina the day before. Heaven only knew what she would've thought had she heard Joel's cold words when he'd left. She tried not to think about it as she looked down at her shaking hands; her right now turning red and swelling slightly. The shame engulfed her almost as rapidly as the anger had. And now she had to face the consequences of that anger.

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"...And after that he just left? You didn't even try to stop him?" Maria asked sadly as she poured Ada another whisky into her glass. She didn't waste any time downing the brown liquid as quickly as she did her first; coughing slightly as it burned her throat.

"What would've been the point? I tried to explain things and he made it perfectly clear that he wasn't in the mood to listen."

The nausea had come back; whether it was caused by the whiskey on an empty stomach or the stress of retelling what had happened between her and Joel yesterday, Ada wasn't sure. Though she guessed it was probably the former, if her headache was anything to go by. She slumped further into her chair as a deep sigh left her lungs; everything was such a mess and she was tired of feeling so hopeless. She turned the empty glass along her hand that grasped it, her eyes red and raw from the tears and the worst night of sleep she'd had in weeks. "Maybe Joel is right." She wondered aloud. "Maybe this is all my fault and I deserve this. I'd hate me too."

Maria shook her head defiantly at Ada's words, reaching over to take the glass from her and placing it back onto the coffee table between them. "Joel doesn't hate you. And as far as blame goes...I'd say we're all at fault for how we handled this. Some of us more than others." She stated bitterly, her blue cold eyes glaring at her husband sitting across from her on the living room couch. A small rag of wrapped ice held to his face. The man rolled his eyes and scoffed, pulling the ice pack from his nose and resting it by his knee as he leaned forward.

"I already told you that I was sorry. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"And I told you to keep that damn ice on your nose to take down the swelling." She berated without taking a breath. "You had no right to go behind Ada's back like that! And Joel didn't deserve to find out the way he did either!"

She was right. Tommy knew she was right. Always was. He owed his brother a hell of a lot more than yelling the truth at him like he had. But he had just been so angry. So frustrated; it had come out before he could stop it and then it had been too late to take it back. He honestly hadn't expected Joel to react the way he did. So cold and harsh with the way he'd shouted at Ada...Tommy knew how much his brother loved her. And yet he'd all but ambushed the poor woman to get answers. He uttered another apology and sat back with the ice cooling his throbbing nose that was now beginning to bruise. He didn't blame Ada for hitting him either; he'd definitely deserved it. There were a lot of things all of them wished they could've done differently. Hindsight was a nice thing in theory but now it was proving to be painfully useless once the damage was already done.

His sister in law rose from her seat and as he watched her pace about the room, the more his guilt niggled at him. She ran her hands through her greying roots and down through the fading brunette locks that cascaded down her back, they were still shaking as she moved to rest them on her neck while she continued pacing.

"Ada..." He tried cautiously." Ada..."

"You shouldn't blame Tommy for this Maria, this is my fault." She interjected and paused looking down at the blonde who could only give the woman a look of pity in return. "I mean it, Joel was right with everything he said. I'm a fucking coward!" The couple shared a look as Ada laughed bitterly at her words. "I was too afraid to deal with what happened so I left. Because I was terrified that if I had stayed...If I had tried to help him remember, forcing him to live with a damn stranger; he'd eventually decide that life was better without me. It's stupid and it's selfish..." her voice quivered as she held back tears, her arms falling from her neck to hold herself. "...but there it is."

Maria was quick to reassure her; rushing to her feet and pulling her into a hug. Ada pulled back as she was offered an old handkerchief from the other woman's pocket. Her sniffles subsiding as she was encouraged to sit down again.

"Ada, Joel loves you. He might not remember that but it doesn't just go away. You still have a chance to fix things."

Ada scoffed out a wet sob and shook her head. "No...it's over Maria. As far as he's concerned; I'm just the coldhearted bitch that abandoned him."

"Wait...Joel actually said that?" Tommy asked aghast, his eyes wide. The woman just shrugged dismissively. "He didn't have too...Though it's nothing less than I deserve.

Tommy wished she would stop being so hard on herself. He understood her guilt more than most and he hadn't even agreed with the plan in the first place. It just hadn't sat right with him to lie to Joel about his family. But then he'd spoken to his brother and realized just how much of his memory had been lost. And it seemed that he was losing himself in it. Joel was becoming angry and bitter at the world for taking something from him, for harming him in a way he hadn't been able to control. It was eerily similar to the darkness he'd descended into when he'd lost Sarah. When he'd lost all hope for happiness and decency. There was no mercy or love. It was just a means to an end in order to survive. That wall that Joel had built around himself to keep the world out. To keep emotions just out of reach. And Tommy feared his brother falling into it again. Ellie and Ada had pulled him out of it once, he had hoped they would've been able to do it again. Now he was starting to worry he'd been wrong.

He pulled back the rag and thankfully it seemed as though his nose had stopped bleeding. He discarded the spoiled cloth on the coffee table; taking in the silence that had fallen in the room. Both his wife and sister in law sat quietly with the same tired looks and stern frowns upon their faces. No one had the answers anymore, no matter how much they pretended they did.

"Ada..." his voice was quiet but it caught her attention as she glanced up at him. "I'm sorry."

She nodded meekly and smiled. "Me too. I'm sorry I punched you in the face." He laughed; waving his hand coolly as he shrugged. "Nah, don't worry about it. I mean I'm pretty sure you broke my nose but ya know...we're good sis." Ada laughed as Maria jokingly rolled her eyes at her husband's dramatics. It was badly bruised at best, both they and Tommy knew that. But Ada appreciated him trying to lighten the mood. It was the first time in a long time that she'd truly laughed since Joel's attack. And it was nice to feel something other than grief for even a second.

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Ellie tried to keep up with the rushing of her mind the quicker her pace picked up. She'd already been home to find the place empty, the only other place she could think to check would be Tommy and Maria's to find her mother. Her sneakers skidded slightly against the porch wood when she stopped to tap on the door. Her surrogate aunt greeting her with a warm smile as she opened the front door.

"Is my mom here?" The teen asked softly. Maria simply nodded, letting the young girl inside and following her into the living room. She walked in to find her mom and Tommy sat together chuckling lowly at their shared stories and fond memories. A half emptied bottle of whiskey sitting between them, with three half drunk glasses on the table. Ellie figured the three of them must've been here most of the day. Her mom shifted when she noticed her daughter, scooting along the couch to make room for her. Ellie made her way around the coffee table towards them, wincing when she saw the state of Tommy's face. "Jeez what the fuck happened to you?" She asked in concern. But Tommy just snorted a laugh. "It's a long story, don't worry about it."

The girl scoffed, a sarcastic smile spreading across her face as sat down.

"Is everything okay?"

She couldn't stop herself from fidgeting at her mother's question, instantly going back to her nervous habit. Her fingernail beds were already sore from the hours she'd spent picking at them. "I uh...I can't find Joel. I wanted to talk to him. I stopped by the house but he wasn't there." Stunned silence filled the room at Ellie's admission, Tommy's face full of confusion when he glanced at her beside him.

"Why'd you want to talk to him?" He asked. She took a moment before answering, looking to her mom with sadness in her eyes.

"I heard what happened between you two yesterday. I know what he said about us."

"Oh sweetheart, come here." She didn't say anything as Ada pulled her into her arms, instead just snuggled further into her warmth. Her head leaning against her shoulder. Hands once buried inside her jacket sleeves.

"I just thought maybe I could try talking to him...maybe if I tell him everything he'd understand or he'd forgive us for leaving." She explained." This is my fucking fault! This happened to him because of me; because of what he did to protect me...I need him to know I'm sorry...that I'm trying to fix things. That I'm trying to make it better and when we find them we can--"

"Wait, hold on, find who?"

Oh shit now Ellie had done it. She pulled back from her mother's arms, a look of guilt pulled at her brows as she chewed nervously at her lip. She tried to avoid eye contact but was only greeted with more accusing stares from Maria and Tommy.

"Ellie.." Maria uttered disapprovingly. But she didn't answer once again, attempting to avoid the eyes staring at her.

"Ellie what aren't you telling us?"

"Promise you won't get mad?" It was a big ask. Ellie knew that when she finally took the chance to look her mother in the eye, hoping that she'd soften even just a little bit. But all she saw was worry and that only made her feel worse for lying to her.

"Ellie." She warned sternly and the girl knew she had to come clean. She took a deep breath, her head falling in defeat as she finally gave in.

"Okay...I lied before. I wasn't staying at Dina's the last couple of days...we've been staying at one of the outposts outside of town tracking the fireflies...or what was left of them from Abbey's group."

"I'm sorry you've been doing what?!" "Are you insane?!" She flinched at both her mother and Maria's outbursts that echoed together in the heavy silence of the room. She shared a look with Tommy as he flashed her a small smile of gratitude but it flickered away as quickly as it came when both women rose to their feet in a rush of anger and frustrated annoyance.

"Ellie, we've talked about this and we agreed to leave it alone."

"No you fucking decided!" The teen challenged as she snapped to her feet, her face snarling into a roaring temper that could easily rival her mother's. "Those fuckers could come back! They already found us once, what's stopping them coming back to finish what they started?!"

Ada scoffed at Ellie's argument throwing her hands up, exasperated they were having this argument yet again! She understood her daughter's worries but she was certain the Fireflies had no reason to come back. They thought Joel was dead and she was determined to keep it that way. They'd had this same conversation again and again and yet every time Ellie would always push back.

"She's right."

The girls all fell silent to the single voice that spoke up, as all eyes turned to Tommy. Maria seething at her husband and Ada downright irritated that he'd shamelessly encourage this reckless behaviour. Ellie just appreciated having Tommy on her side at least.

"Tommy..." Maria warned, her eyes pleading him to stop.

"Well she is! Do you really wanna live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders?! Just hoping to God that those bastards don't come back. Yeah they think Joel is dead but for how long? They already managed to get word he was living in Jackson in the first damn place...what do you think they'll do when they realise that he's not quite as dead as they thought?" He paused, stopping to look at Ada as she held back her tears, her bottom lip quivering and he was quick to her side. His hand resting on her shoulder.

"Look I'm sorry... I know this is not what you want to hear right now but Ellie has a point. We can end this. If it were any of us, Joel would be halfway there already."

She shook her head, her breath catching in her throat. "No he wouldn't." She argued.

"He absolutely fucking would!" Ellie shouted. Her words stopped them all dead. Knowing looks exchanged between the adults before walking to huddle by the table. They knew Ellie was right. If any one of them in that room had been attacked; Joel would be doing everything he could to get them the justice they deserved. He'd never lay down and let them get away with it. Ada let out a sigh of defeat as she looked back to Ellie, gesturing for her to sit back down. She did, though moved hesitant at first. Ada sat silent, her mind clearing and calculating for a second as she sat with her hands rested against her mouth before she eventually lowered them to speak. "So...you were tracking those bastards...did you find any?" She asked apprehensively. Ellie swallowed hard and cleared her throat, sitting up in her seat before nodding.

"Yeah...Dina and I watched the area for hours. Most of the group left but a couple stayed behind at the hunting lodge. Two of them...I don't know their names. They were packing up their stuff. We followed them out when they went hunting for food. Managed to lure some infected on the way back..." Ellie didn't realise she was shaking as she spoke until her mother took her hand and squeezed it gently. "We stood and watched as the clickers tore those fuckers apart.."

"Good riddance." Tommy stated bitterly.

"I came back to tell you what happened but then I heard the neighbours gossiping about what happened between you and Joel, all that stuff he said. I thought I could fix it. But when I went to the house he wasn't there. So I sent Dina to ask around town if anyone had seen him and I came here." Adaline nodded slowly, taking everything in. She looked at Tommy and Maria both sharing the same lost look on their faces. They all knew what they needed to do next. It was just a case of whether they had any strength left to do it.

Though Ada never got the chance to answer; instead their heads turned to the direction of stomping footsteps and the door bursting opening to a breathless Dina, panting as she almost slipped on the doormat under her boots. Ellie flew to her feet and darted to her girlfriend, asking her what was wrong.

"It's Joel!" She gasped. "He's gone..."

#the last of us #Joel Miller #joel and ellie #the last of us part 2 #joel miller x oc #the last of us part ii #ellie williams #fanfiction #tlou #joel miller #starlessskies writes

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

Pembroke

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Based on this prompt! A NYPD Detective won’t leave Y/N alone, so Spencer intervenes. 116 - “I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that. But what you’re doing isn’t fair.”

Warning: Sexual harassment. Sexual wording. Swearing (I think). Just genuinely inappropriate words and behaviour. Blood.

Words: 1, 475

A/N: This related to a TV show... but do you know which?

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“Y/N, maybe after this is through, we can grab a drink?” Detective Pembroke suggested.

If you could go back and punch your past self in the face, you would. Then you’d kick her ass. Then, you’d shot her for good measure. What the hell had you been thinking five years ago? Oh right, you hadn’t been thinking, you had just been horny.

 In fairness, the problem wasn’t that you had a one-night stand, it was, rather, who you had that one-night stand with. Keith Pembroke was a detective who was completely full of himself. A tall man with broad shoulders, dark hair and dark eyes, he was sure he was gods gift to women.

 You had regretted it quickly. On a moment of weakness, you had hooked up with him and from then on, he had tried to hit you up numerously for booty-calls. Your last seven months in the NYPD was a nightmare of avoiding the other Detective before you transferred to join the BAU.

 However, since you had returned to New York, and to the very precinct you had previously been stationed at, Detective Pembroke had been trying to ‘make the move’ on you. He had asked you out for dinner, for lunch, offered to pick you up at your hotel for breakfast. He had suggested grabbing a drink, taking a stroll through the park. He had even outright just suggested you going back to his place for a romp in the sheets.

 All in the space of forty-eight hours.

 It was frustrating to say the least. You had repeatedly told him that you were completely uninterested. He still persisted. You told him you were in a relationship, he didn’t care. He didn’t even care when you pointed out that your boyfriend was on your team, and in the very same precinct.

 Spencer had wanted to step in, but you had practically begged him not to. Firstly, you didn’t want to cause a problem between the BAU team and the NYPD. Secondly, it was nothing you couldn’t put up with for a few days. And finally, Spencer, bless his heart, was a delicate flower. Pembroke wouldn’t be opposed to becoming physical, but Spencer was not a man who used his fists to get his way.

 “As I’ve told you before, Detective Pembroke, I am not interested” you repeated. “Also, its Agent Y/L/N.”

“Come now, one little drink won’t hurt” he pushed, taking hold of your arm and pulling you closer.

“I don’t want to go for a drink with you or socialise with you in any way. I’m not interested. I’m in a happily committed relationship with a man who respects me… why would I go for you?” you snatched your arm back. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m telling you now, honey, you’ll be in my bed again before the week is out” he laughed, his voice following you as you left the room.  

  Spencer had heard what Detective Pembroke had said to his girlfriend, and it infuriated him. Spencer was grown enough to admit he wasn’t the best with dealing with emotions, he could become quite petty with someone when they upset him. However, for Y/N sake, he tried to keep calm around the detective.

 He watched as Y/N left the room and Detective Pembroke, smiling to himself, walked over to where Spencer was standing with two other NYPD officers. While Detective Pembroke knew that Y/N was dating a member of the BAU, she hadn’t been specific about who it was. why? She didn’t want him hounding Spencer, which she wouldn’t put past the man.

 “Still after her, Keith?” One of the officers laughed, sipping at his coffee. “When are you going to give in?”

“When she’s in my bed” Pembroke laughed, grabbing himself a drink.

“She’s told you no multiple times, don’t you think you should respect that?” Spencer asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

 Spencer didn’t understand men like Detective Pembroke. He didn’t understand how a man could view a woman as ‘just a pussy to keep you warm’. The way men like his spoke about women made Spencer sick.

 Spencer was raised to respect women, to appreciate them, to care for them. It was obvious that these men weren’t taught the same.

 Detective Pembroke and the two officers continued to laugh. They continued to speak degradingly about women, and, in particular, about Y/N. Spencer could feel his blood boil. What gave men the right to act this way. If a woman said no, a man should accept that, apologise, and move on. What entitled a man to push for access to a woman’s body, when she didn’t want to give that access? Realising it or not, Detective Pembroke and the officers were promoting rape culture, which, in their line of profession, was something they were meant to be fighting.

 Well, Spencer thought, everyone should be fighting against rape and rape culture.

 They kept speaking, kept saying the disgusting things. They didn’t care if Y/N or any other woman, wasn’t interested. They’d push and push. Spencer’s fists clenched as they laughed, speaking about all the filthy things they’d have Y/N do for them.

 “I can’t wait to have her on her knees for me” Pembroke said, eyes watching Y/N through the window as she spoke with Rossi. “Cock so far down her throat she won’t be able to say ‘No’.”

 It was the straw which broke the camels back, as they say.

  Your attention was suddenly drawn to the breakroom of the NYPD station. You rushed forward, pushing through the doorway and entering the room, mouth open in shock.

 Detective Pembroke was bracing himself against the table, his hand covering his nose but you could clearly see the bloody pouring from between his fingers. His eyes were focused on his attacker. You followed his line of sight and gasped.

 Spencer stood in front of him, an officer holding him back, with blood covering his knuckles. “If a woman says no, they mean no. its not a maybe, its not an invitation to try harder or a request to force them. It. Means. No.”

“What’s going on here?” Lewis Walker, the precinct Captain walked into the room.

Spencer ignored him, continue to speak to Pembroke. “You don’t get to speak to or about women like that, you have no right. Being a man and having a badge does not permit you to encourage rape and rape culture. It’s disgusting. I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that. But what you’re doing isn’t fair.”

“Agent, calm down!” Captain Walker ordered, pointing a warning finger at Spencer.

“This is calm, and its Doctor” Spencer corrected him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Detective Pembroke has been sexually harassing Agent Y/L/N since we arrived. Maybe you should take a further look at you detectives and keep a better eye on them.”

 With that, Spencer stormed towards the door, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with him.

  After the ‘scene’ in the break room, Detective Pembroke hadn’t spoken to you again. Thankfully. The insistent dinner or drinks requests had stopped, and so had the ‘appreciative’ looks which had previously been following your every movement. While you weren’t pleased that it had taken Spencer punching him and calling him and his captain out in front of everyone to stop him, you were happy that he did at least stop.

 Spencer hadn’t gotten in any real trouble for his behaviour. Hotch had taken him aside and had a word, but that was more for appearances sake. Everyone was aware of how Pembroke had treated you, and none of them were sorry to see him with a broken nose.

 Stepping out of the interview room and into the bullpen of the precinct, you smiled at Spencer. “All three kids are home safe, and Mr and Mrs Hobbins confessed.”

“Well done, I’m so proud of you” Spencer smiled, reaching for you.

 His hands cupped your face and he pulled you in a for a sweet, loving kiss. The kiss is gentle and soft, but your toes curl in you heels. You love it when Spencer kisses you. Its like electricity hums down your spine and your chest expands as you take in a breath of fresh air which is all him.

 “Come on” Spencer says, pulling back from the kiss. “Let’s go get a decent coffee and a doughnut to celebrate. I think there’s a Starbucks down the block.”

 It as he’s pulling you towards the door that you catch sight of Detective Pembroke. He’s looking at you both in shock. Obviously, he hadn’t worked out that Spencer was your boyfriend, even after he threw a punch for you. Some detective he was.

 You shook you head, casting him out of your mind as you happily followed after your boyfriend. Starbucks coffee and a doughnut sounded great.

Permanent Tag List: @sskhair​​ @sammypotato67​​ @spencerreids-wife​​ @yoongi-holland​ @bucky-babygirl​​ @youareperrrfectls​​ @alexxcorona113​​ @tired-draculina​ @rachelxwayne​ @itsmoony​ @shigarakis-fifth-hand​ @andreasworlsboring101 @fantasticalfuchsbau​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @ourmrswonderlandlove

#spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer reid drabble prompt #spencer reid prompt #spencer reid request #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds prompt #criminal minds request #writing prompt #writing request

[kenanda]

For the smut prompt a lonelyeyes mix of 106, 111 and 127? If you want only.

This took a while, but it was just too good a prompt not to give it my best shot. I hope you enjoy it.

Happy belated birthday!! Consider this your gift from moi <3 🎁🎉

prompt 106. “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, i was just..” “Want some help?” prompt 111. “You have no idea how much I want you.” prompt 127. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

CRAVING Rating: EXPLICIT Words: 5,7k Pairing: LonelyEyes Characters: Elias Bouchard; Peter Lukas; Tim Stoker; Martin Blackwood; Gertrude Robinson (mention); Jurgen Leitner (mention). Tags: Established Relationship; Parenthood; Smut; PWP; Mutual Pining; Fluff; Sweet; Masturbating; Cock sucking; Handjobs; Scent Kink; Fingering; Anal Fingering; Anal Sex; Dirty Talk; Banter; Wearing the other's clothes; Doting Parents!LonelyEyes; unbeta'd; Tim and Martin are their kids AGAIN

Disclaimer: These characters AREN’T mine. They belong to Rusty Quill’s The Magnus Archives. Warning: This work ISN’T SUITABLE for minors. It’s a NSFW piece of slash fiction. Therefore, if you’re a minor or in any way squicked by what’s in the tags, DO NOT READ!

Filthy, FILTHY LonelyEyes below the cut, my beloved. It's official, this is now a Verse.

Ever since they became parents, Peter and Elias haven’t known what alone time is anymore. Life is a jolly mess most of the time, with all things required for the rearing of two children. Even if the boys are now a bit older and can shoulder small responsibilities, it still seems like too much is going on at once.

Some days are more hectic than others, which often sends the two men to bed at 10PM feeling like they could sleep for days. Work hasn’t been any better in allowing for a break — Peter’s schedule has him away for months every now and again, and Elias can hardly ever catch a break from the Institute (he’s the Head, after all).

Needless to say, it all takes a toll on their love life. They can count in one hand the number of times they’ve had a weekend for themselves in the past few years. When they want sex, it’s always rushed and quiet, afraid that one of the kids will wake up because of a nightmare and ask to sleep with them.

Elias misses the days when he and Peter would go on long dates and weekend trips; catches himself thinking about those every once in a while, of how they would spare a day to stay in their room talking and getting each other off. They aren’t that young and horny anymore, but there’s still enough of that old spark that Elias will sometimes get turned on merely watching Peter doing mundane stuff, like doing the dishes.

To think that they didn’t get along at first. Elias chuckles whenever he remembers the first time they were together. Peter had been a cocky bastard, but Elias had been cockier and given Peter one hell of a show. Elias still has the eye tattoo on his stomach, but he had removed the nipple piercings once he’d started working. Peter had been so impressed by them, he had played and pulled on them with his teeth once they actually went on a proper date.

Elias lets out a nostalgic sigh.

“Everything alright?” Peter asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Elias breathes. “Fine. Just reminiscing about stuff.”

“Such as…?” Peter rinses a bowl of oatmeal.

“That time you used to be more of an insufferable arse.”

Peter snorts. “You’re one to talk, love.”

Elias can’t help a smile. “We turned out alright. Sometimes though, I miss those days.”

Peter’s disbelief is visible even from his back. “Really!? We used to be swamped all the time, and there was that professor, Jonah- Wouldn’t leave you alone. I think he wanted to — what was it he used to say — see you.”

Elias shudders with a disgusted noise and gets up. He circles Peter’s waist and hooks a chin over his shoulder, pressing their bodies flush enough that there’s no mistaking that he’s half-hard. Peter drops a spoon in the sink with a clatter.

“Oh, wow, hello there.”

Elias giggles. “I miss you,” he whispers. He gives Peter’s nape a slow, open mouthed kiss, causing the larger man to shiver.

“Elias…”

“I know, I know.” Elias pauses, buries his nose into Peter's neck, where his silver hair has grown past his ear. He smells so good. “I could take a day off tomorrow. We could ask Gertie to keep an eye on the boys over the weekend. She’s always delighted to see them.”

After the beach incident in which they had met, Gertrude Robinson had become a dear friend of the family. She and her husband (an old scholar with a booming voice and a gentle face called Jurgen) had a massive library and a collection of items from all over the world. The boys always returned home with strange facts about books and places of which neither Peter or Elias had ever heard. Gertrude also had a grandchild a year older than Martin, Jon, whom Martin had (at the tender age of seven) sworn to marry.

Peter thinks about it for a moment, but doesn’t sound too hopeful in his reply. “They’ll need me at work tomorrow. I already said I’d be there, and it could take a while.”

“Can’t always have it all...”

Peter turns around and holds Elias’s face to give him a kiss. Elias struggles at first because Peter’s hands are covered in suds, but eventually gives in. The kiss is slow and warm; if he isn't careful, Elias can easily get carried away with it. Peter’s growing beard is ticklish, but when it slides down his jaw and neck, Elias has to stifle a whimper.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Elias shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

That’s not to say Elias’s body will just quit the yearning — it becomes quite self-evident when Peter pulls away and Elias is half-tempted to chase his lips.

But then one of the kids calls him and he needs to go. It's like that the whole day.

Elias only gets some blessed alone time with his husband before bed. Peter pulls him into a hug and they kiss until they have to stop before it gets too hot to ignore. Elias grabs Peter’s hand when it slides between them, because one thing will certainly lead to another.

“Pretty please?” Peter pouts. It looks outrageous on him and Elias barks out a laugh.

Peter smiles, but it fades into something else — something charged. They are kissing again before they know it, and it’s insane how well Peter fits between his legs. The weight of his larger body on top of him, pressing down where it feels so good, has Elias wrapping both legs around his waist and using them for leverage. Peter hums in approval.

At least, Elias is not alone in his lust. Peter is usually quieter about his wants and needs, but once he’s into it, he’s ready to go all the way. Perhaps Elias should’ve been more careful, because now he has to live with the knowledge that Peter is right there and that he wants it just as bad as Elias.

They are humping through their clothes and Elias is ready to make a mess of his pants just like that when there’s a yell from down the hall. Elias’s head snaps up and he all but tosses Peter off of him to leap up and grab his robes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Is it Martin again,” Peter rubs his eyes tiredly, pulling a pillow over his clothed erection.

“Coming! Daddy is coming!” Elias yells back.

Afterwards, they cuddle in shared frustration until they fall asleep. When Elias wakes up the next morning, Peter’s boner is poking his arse, so he gives it a wistful little press. Peter groans and holds Elias there with an arm around his waist. Peter grinds up and Elias huffs into the pillow.

“Wanna finish what we started?”

“Be late for work,” Elias points out. Peter swears, but lets him go.

They’re out an hour later; Elias drops the kids off and heads to work. Heavy clouds of sleep deprivation and sexual frustration hang ominously above his head.

Thankfully, work is something he can lose himself in. He’s good at what he does and there’s something soothing about all those Excel sheets. Coupled with the steady hum of the AC, they almost make Elias forget his troubles.

But then he sees the flyer for this new jazz café that had opened a few months ago, where he had intended to take Peter on a date but never managed to make time, and his face falls. Damn, he misses his husband’s presence, his silly jokes and ridiculous sailor stories.

Lunch hour comes in a blink; Elias is poking a fork into his salad with an utter lack of enthusiasm when his phone chirps with an incoming message. He wipes his mouth and sees that it’s from Peter.

It’s a picture of Peter standing in front of a tall restroom mirror. He’s wearing the big old ratty coat he’d left with this morning, but it’s pulled halfway to the side to reveal Peter’s hand clutching the sizable girth of him through his grey slacks.

Elias chokes on lettuce.

What’s the meaning of this???

Been thinking of you. A lot. — is Peter’s swift reply.

Well, Elias has too, but not to this extent. Can I call you?

Peter calls him instead. “Hey.”

“Are you mad!? I’m in the middle of work!”

Peter laughs. “You talk as if you don’t have a cushy office all to yourself to play as you wish.”

“Yes, at least I can say that. You on the other hand, you’ve got a bloody crew swarming you every day.”

“I’m not on the ship right now. And there are stalls here.”

“You’re hiding in the loo?!”

“Had to. Wouldn’t stop thinking of you. Now, do you want to play?”

“You can’t be doing what I think you’re doing. What if someone comes in?”

There’s something hot and heavy about Peter's chuckle that makes Elias shudder. “A while ago, you’d be the first to say fuck it.”

“Well, apparently one of us has grown past that.”

“I bet you wouldn’t refuse if you could see how hard I am right now.”

It’s a bait. Elias knows it’s a cheap bait and that he’s gonna fall straight for it if he isn't careful. When he reaches down, he notices that he’s hard too. Shit.

“I’m not gonna do this. Bloody hell, not in the middle of work. Fucking Rosie could walk in. Did you know I have a reputation to maintain?” Elias pinches the bridge of his nose. “This can wait until we’re home.”

“We won’t have time then,” Peter replies. “And I miss you too, you know.”

Elias makes a pained little noise. “You have no idea how much I want you right now. But this will wait. We’ll figure it out.”

“How much? Show me.”

"Peter," Elias warns.

Peter gives it up with a breathy laugh. "Okay," he whispers. “See you at home. Love you.”

“You too.”

Apparently, Elias’ ability to stick to reason is intact even with his horny-addled brain. He lets out a deep exhale after the call is over.

The next ten minutes are spent willing his boner to go down by and focusing on work. It’s uncomfortable, but he manages. It gives him a headache for the rest of the day and much to think about — and even more to look forward to.

Unfortunately for both, Peter shoots him a message later on telling Elias that he will be home late and not to wait for him. The boys are disappointed, because it was film night and Peter had promised to watch Return of the King with them. Elias is sad, too; Peter had come back from three months at sea not a week ago, but again they have to be apart.

Elias helps the kids with homework and gets on a work call that drags on for an hour, which only serves to worsen his headache.

During dinner, Elias is taken aback by how observant his youngest is. Martin’s Daddy must be wearing his sourest look, for it prompts the boy to pat Elias’ hand (exactly how Peter does when someone’s upset) and tell him:

“Don’t be sad, Daddy. Dad will be home soon and then you can complain to him about work.”

Elias nearly chokes on food the second time that day. Tim chimes in.

“Yeah, dad. Don’t worry about it. The old man knows what he’s doing.” And without missing a beat, with those big brown eyes of his. “Can I play before bed?”

“Definitely not. You’ll wake up cranky tomorrow.” Tim pouts, tries again, but Elias’s word is final (even if he feels soft after their comforting words). “Thank you, boys. I know how much you look forward to movie night. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

Tim shrugs, digging into his pasta. Martin is quick to come up with a solution.

“Can you read for us, daddy?”

That catches Tim’s attention. Elias crosses both hands over the table.

“Oh? What would you like me to read?”

Martin leaps out of the chair and thrusts a tomato-sauce covered spoon up in the air. “The adventures of the incredible Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End!” he roars.

Tim rolls his eyes.

It doesn’t take them long to sleep with Elias reading The Hobbit. Well, it doesn’t take Tim long to sleep (he’s heard this story countless times before and it's a favourite, even if now he says it's for babies) — Martin is paying close attention and interrupting Elias every now and again to ask questions. When the youngest finally drifts off, Elias tucks him in and puts the book back on the shelf.

Tim is almost as tall as Elias now, but Elias can still pick him up from Martin’s bed and carry him to his own bedroom. For someone who wanted to play video games and rolled his eyes at their book choice, his oldest fell asleep very swiftly.

Elias clears the dinner table, does the dishes and puts the rest of the food away. It’s a little past 10PM now and Peter is still not home. Elias only hopes nothing bad has happened (especially after today’s surprise).

Elias finally has a chance to shower and spends five minutes just letting the hot water spray massage his back. He considers touching himself — the awareness that he could use an orgasm and that now is the perfect time to achieve it is very present within him — but before he comes to a decision, he’s already stepped out of the bathroom.

Peter’s sleep t-shirt seems to eye him from the bed as Elias pats himself dry. Should he? After all, why not? He misses the old fool.

Elias pulls the t-shirt on and has to suppress a laugh at how silly he looks, greying brown curls plastered to his forehead and lean body looking too small in that tee — Peter is many sizes larger than him, so the item reaches halfway down his thighs. Elias pulls on some underwear and crawls into bed with a book. The t-shirt is so large that he has to keep adjusting it lest it falls below his shoulder.

For the first hour, Elias tries to read. He really, really does. But perhaps wearing Peter’s clothes hadn’t been his brightest idea. The item is soaked in Peter’s scent, which is positively distracting. Elias catches himself reading the same line three times and lets out a frustrated groan.

“Okay, fine! Fine, I’ll do it!”

Elias shoves the book onto the bedside table and ducks beneath the duvets, lying on his side. He’ll make this as quick as he can and then he’ll go the fuck to sleep.

He runs a hand down his chest, but it feels more perfunctory than pleasant. When it's Peter doing it, it has Elias shivering in no time. Elias closes his eyes and tries to relax, tries to think of how it feels when Peter rubs a rough palm over his nipples and kisses his belly until he squirms.

Elias has left the door open and his ears peeled to any sounds of little steps in the hallway, so it takes a while to concentrate on the ways his body is reacting.

Eventually though, it becomes easier — there have been no steps, no sounds but the soft little puffs of air that he’s letting out. One of his hands is rubbing a nipple through the t-shirt and the other is cupping his cock. Pleasure finally takes over when he presses that hand down his pelvis and a shiver runs up his body, arching his back.

Elias slips a hand under the waistband of his underwear and wraps it around his cock to pull back the skin. It’s getting hot and damp under the duvets, but Elias doesn’t plan to make this long. Just a bit more and he’ll come.

A twist of his wrist has him shuddering and letting out a breathy curse. Elias pulls the too-large shirt up to his nose and takes a big inhale. His mind is filled with Peter and he darts a tongue out for a taste, but gets none.

Still, he has had Peter in his mouth times enough to remember his taste. It makes Elias wet at the tip. He’s so close, so fucking close — but he’s also tempted to keep edging himself; keep thinking of all the things he wishes Peter would do to him. It’s been too fucking long, and he knows that if he doesn’t give his body what it wants every once in a while, it will just keep coming back to bother him.

But then again, the mess… And he’s so close, so, so close. Just a bit more, just drown out everything else.

Elias is so lost in his chase that doesn’t hear it when the front door clicks open; nor when a heavy coat is hung on the hallway pegs; doesn’t notice some of the lights being turned on and off, and is completely oblivious to the figure standing on the threshold and the socked steps that carry the man inside.

Elias only notices that Peter has arrived home when the duvet is gently pulled back and Peter’s smiling face pokes into his line of view — but by the time Peter has let out a soft “hey darling, what are you doing” Elias has already let out a blood-curdling scream and punched him in the face.

Peter falls flat on his bum with an expletive. “Jesus! What the fuck, Elias!”

Elias clutches his chest, breathing hard. “Oh- Oh Lord Jesus. My heart, my poor heart.” He turns to Peter with murder in his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking in like that?!”

Peter gets up, rubbing his sore bum. “I didn’t exactly try to sneak in, maybe you just didn’t hear me. I wasn’t particularly trying to be quiet. What the hell are you doing still up anyway?”

Elias ignores him. He snaps his head to the hallway. “Do you think the kids heard it?”

Peter shrugs, still sore.

“Get on!”

Peter grudgingly goes to check on the kids, but comes back shaking his head. Elias falls back into bed with a relieved sigh. Peter takes up a spot near the edge.

“What are you doing up? It’s way past midnight.”

Elias then remembers that his (now very much limp) dick is still out under the duvets. “Nothing much, I was just reading.”

“You were reading under the covers in the dark.”

Elias nods.

Peter isn’t convinced, but that gives way to a confused frown. “Hold on, is that my t-shirt?”

Elias looks down as if he hadn’t realised he had been wearing it. “Huh. I guess.”

Peter’s frown deepens. He touches the duvet. Elias clutches it and holds it down on reflex. Peter’s mouth opens in an accusing “oh!”

Peter can be very stubborn when he sets his mind upon something. This time, said something happens to be getting the covers out of the way.

Elias curls in on himself and burrows deeper into the duvet, but Peter (the cheap bastard that he is) resorts to tickling. Elias muffles an ugly laugh into the pillow. Peter is laughing too.

“Stop! Fuck, I’ll show you, stop!” Elias wheezes. Peter’s laughter dies off. He combs Elias’s damp hair backwards and kisses his cheek.

Elias sits up and pulls the duvet aside, feeling completely undignified. His cock is poking out above the underwear, but at least the t-shirt is covering it.

It’s enough for Peter to put two and two together.

“Were you masturbating?”

“No. Like I said, I was reading.”

Peter reaches for the hem of the shirt. Elias grabs his hand. “I said I was reading.”

Peter drops it, lets his hand fall to Elias’s thigh. A moment later, he gives it a squeeze. “Want some help?”

Elias narrows his eyes at him, then glances at the clock. Way, way past midnight.

The squeeze is back, travelling upwards. In spite of his better judgement, Elias’s legs fall open to give it more access and he sighs in defeat. So much for a steely resolve.

Peter slides a palm under the shirt but doesn’t get the item out of the way. Rather, he caresses Elias’s stomach and lower pelvis. Elias shivers deliciously; he’d been dreaming of this all day.

“You’ve been holding back a lot today,” Peter points out after Elias gets hard with just some light teasing. Peter hasn’t even touched his cock.

Elias wiggles to get Peter to touch him, slides down the bed. The invitation is clear enough, but Peter seems to be waiting for a verbal one. “I was being a sensible adult.”

Peter smiles. “Thought you’d like a bit of sexting. You used to love it back in uni.”

Elias had always been weak to Peter’s eyes, especially when they’re looking at him as if he’s something to be slowly savoured and then swallowed. Elias rolls his hips, staring at Peter’s hand on his inner thigh. The movement almost makes it touch his cock, but misses it for a few inches. Elias huffs in frustration.

“Thought you said you were going to help.”

“I can only help if you tell me what you want.”

Elias rolls his eyes at him. Peter waits happily.

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

“My cock.” Elias wants to punch him when Peter merely raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Touch my cock, please?”

If that doesn’t do it, Elias is getting a divorce. To his delight, it awakens something in Peter that makes his eyes go dark with lust.

“Fuck, yes. But it’s too dry- Where’s the-” Elias passes him the lube before Peter finishes the sentence. “Love you.”

Peter squirts some lube onto his palms and rubs them together. They’re cool when they touch Elias’s inner thighs and drag down, massaging the region and getting it all wet.

Elias sighs, eyes fluttering momentarily. He can’t help but roll his hips to ease some of the tension. He’s so hard and Peter is taking so long — but when he finally does it, Elias hisses through clenched teeth.

“Feels good, love?”

Elias bites his lower lip, chin tucked to his chest as he watches that big fist pumping wetly around his cock. Only the glistening head is visible, hot red and ready to shoot. Peter rubs a thumb under his frenulum and Elias sees stars.

“Ah, shit,” he sobs, grabbing fistfuls of the too large t-shirt and fucking into Peter’s fist, because the squeeze is so damn good.

Will Peter mind if Elias sniffs his shirt? Fuck it. Elias balls up some fabric and pulls it to his nose. The action doesn’t escape Peter; in fact, he seems entertained by it.

Elias notices his husband’s amusement only through half-lidded eyes, because every single part of his body feels like molasses right now.

“Look at you, ’s like you’re drunk in it.” Peter licks a finger and presses it up Elias’s perineum.

The pressure sends a thick dollop of pre-cum leaking down Elias’s cock. Elias’s eyes roll back into their sockets. Peter taunts him further.

“Want me to put my mouth on you or do you want something better to sniff on?”

“Fuck you and your dirty mouth.”

Peter laughs. “You can, baby. Always loved the way you shiver when you come down my throat.”

Elias points a weak finger towards the door. “Close that first.”

Peter goes and Elias hears the unmistakable sound of a lock falling into place. Peter sheds his shirt and trousers on the way back. Elias can see the outline of his cock against his underwear and makes grabby hands at it.

Peter chuckles and stands next to the headboard. “Can’t decide?”

Elias forgoes the shirt in favour of leaning over the edge and burying a face into Peter’s groin. He takes a deep inhale and mouths at it, dragging his tongue all the way up.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”

Peter moans above him and cradles his nape, pulling at the fine hairs there to make Elias shiver. Elias gives his own cock a few lazy pumps while his mouth is busy getting Peter’s underwear all damp.

Elias steals a glance at the digital clock again and whines. Peter asks him what’s wrong.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now, but look at the time.”

“I am looking. It’s working fine.”

Elias swats at him. “I’m serious!”

Peter lets go of Elias’s nape to cradle his face, guiding him upwards. Elias follows it, standing on his knees.

“I’ve bought Red Bull,” Peter confides, and that’s the most beautiful thing to ever come out of his mouth. Elias melts a little just then.

Peter grabs his arse and pulls him to himself. The feel of his underwear is rough against Elias’s cock, but Elias ruts into it. The hand on Elias’s face has now slid to wrap loosely around his neck. Elias pulls Peter’s underwear down and Peter wiggles out of them.

Peter’s cock hangs heavy where it’s nestled amid the thick silver hair on his groin. Elias’s mouth waters at the sight of it, but he eagerly presses them together. The hairs on Peter’s chest and lower abdomen feel coarse against his skin, but Elias loves every second of it. It will leave him tender and pink tomorrow, but he doesn’t care.

Peter pulls him into a kiss that is everything Elias has been craving all day — it doesn’t stop at his mouth, but drags down his jaw and neck, making him pliant. Peter moves his face from one side to the other to nip under his ear and suck bruises onto his collarbones.

“Got rubber?” Elias asks. Peter growls affirmatively.

It’s been a while, but they know how the other likes it. Elias is dripping wet with lube while Peter preps him. Elias would usually prefer his own fingers (much slimmer than Peter’s) at first, but right now he’s turned on enough that the slight burn of the stretch feels perfect. Elias lies on the pillows and lets Peter work his magic.

Peter kneels between his legs and fingers him as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, curling up his fingers to milk Elias’s cock. Elias arches his back and watches dollop after dollop of pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Peter, I swear- to God… If you make me come like this-”

Whatever Elias had thought of saying is completely wiped from his mind when Peter leans down and gives his cockhead a gentle suck, as easy as someone scooping some ice-cream with their tongue.

Elias swears at Peter, but he can’t do much else besides clench his hands and teeth and try to keep from coming. He was so close just now; only a brief touch of Peter’s tongue and his cock is now throbbing, legs shaking so hard he has to suck in his stomach to not orgasm right then and there.

“It would be a sight to behold. You are a sight to behold.”

“Cut the crap, please cut the crap and just fuck me. Fuck, I’m so hard it hurts, you bastard.”

“Then come, love.”

“I don’t wanna come without you inside me.”

Elias should be embarrassed to find that his eyes are glistening with moisture. These can’t be tears. He refuses to believe that he’s crying during sex.

Peter wipes the corner of his eye, boops Elias’s nose with his own and gives him a gentle peck.

“Okay,” Peter whispers.

Peter rolls condoms on himself and Elias, then arranges a pillow under Elias to prop him up and slides home. The size of him fills Elias up so good, so perfect — all the way down to those wiry silver curls. Sure, topping Peter also felt brilliant — but if he’s true to himself, Elias rather likes it up the arse.

They fall into a nice rhythm — whispering disconnected praises and curses. Elias keeps a hand on the headboard for leverage, rolling his hips to meet Peter’s own, re-learning where it feels good. He reminds himself that this is supposed to be quick, just a bit of rough friction before they can’t hold it anymore.

But feeling Peter’s hand clutching his waist, relishing in the delicious push and pull, seeing Peter’s fuzzy pecs flex with the easy effort of taking him — it all has Elias clenching around Peter’s cock and reaching out to trace the lines of his chest.

“Fuck, I should be telling you to go faster.”

“Do you want to go faster?”

“No… I want to keep taking your cock until sunrise.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to stop at some point for rest, but if you’re up to it, I’m all yours.”

Elias smiles, but his eyebrows twitch when Peter finds that spot and fucks into him, pressing right up against it.

“You see I want that, but when you do this… I want you to leave me all sore.”

“You’re a man of many wishes.”

Elias grins. “Think you can answer them?”

Peter pats his leg. “On your hands and knees, then.”

Arse up in the air, Elias stifles a laugh when Peter squirts more lube onto his hole and drags his cock over it.

Peter pushes back in with a smile. “What is it?”

“Just remembered something. When we first-” Elias hisses when Peter spreads his legs further and angles his thrusts just right. “Yeah, right there. Fuck… When we first had sex. I couldn’t believe you were just bringing people to your room and never doing this to them.”

Peter holds his hips like his hands belong there, finally giving it to him hard and fast. Elias has to clutch the sheets, but damn, that’s more like it. The t-shirt has balled up near his face and he keeps breathing in Peter’s scent.

“Uh- yeah. Hah, that was a long time ago. Is this OK, love?”

Elias nods. “Yeah. Bit rougher would be even nicer though.”

Peter grunts and his hands slide upwards. “Don’t want to hurt you, but if you say you can take it...”

Elias’s waist used to be so lean that Peter’s fingertips almost touched circling around it. Now that Elias is a bit better padded, they grab his flesh with a bit of loving violence while Peter ruts into him. Elias prays that this million pound house has thick enough walls that the noise of skin on skin won’t bleed out.

Elias wraps a loose hand around his cock, but that mere touch is enough to bring him closer to the edge. The fact that he feels so wonderfully used for Peter’s pleasure also does things to his head, because every grunt of Peter’s feels like a small victory.

Peter continues, fondly. “You used to be so fucking shameless. I’m still sad you had to remove the nip piercings.”

“It was easier- Oh, oh! Yes, just like that!” Elias presses his face into the bed, panting open-mouthed against the mattress. “It was easier- Easier,” he tries to continue, but Peter is fucking him so good that he can’t complete his line of thought.

“...that way?” Peter supplies.

Elias nods. He feels half out of it already. “I think- Gonna come. S-so good...”

Peter’s approving hum is followed by him dropping part of his weight onto Elias’s back, which forces Elias flat into the mattress. Elias gasps, loud and breathless and more in love with Peter than ever before. His husband knows that he’s a sucker for a bit of choking and is giving him exactly what he needs.

Peter thrusts harder, deeper, and it only takes a moment of Elias to come — the pressure and the friction too good to resist. Peter has to wrap a hand over his mouth to quieten his moaning. Elias shudders with the aftershocks, Peter’s still moving inside him almost too much to bear.

“God, you squeeze me so good every time,” Peter breathes into his nape. “I’ve missed this.”

Elias can’t breathe; tears gather freely on the corners of his eyes, but Peter doesn’t get off until he comes, too — it feels like orgasm drags on forever in an agonised bliss.

Elias shivers when Peter pulls out. It always gets a bit dry towards the end, but the burn and the stretch leave Elias tingly and sated — and now, completely boneless.

Peter eases him onto his side and removes the now damp t-shirt, chucking it aside; he then ties off both their condoms. The one that Elias has been wearing has almost slipped off; his flaccid cock now covered in spunk. Peter kneels between his legs and takes him into his mouth, causing Elias to seize with oversensitivity and nearly pull off chunks of Peter’s hair.

Peter pulls off of him with a wet pop, looking like the cat that got the cream. Elias sags and drapes an arm over his head, damp chest going up and down.

“Feeling better?” Peter asks. He caresses Elias’s thighs gently, barely even there. It makes pleasant goosebumps rise on Elias’s skin.

“God, you’ve ruined me…” Elias croaks. “You’ve fucked my brains out, Mr. Lukas.”

Peter chuckles. “Good.” He kisses Elias’s knee, his belly, his chest. Elias buries his fingers into his hair. “Gonna get something to clean you up.”

“Wait, just. Just stay like this for a bit.”

“Feeling like some post-coital cuddling, Mr. Bouchard?”

“Ugh,” Elias untangles his fingers from his perfect silver hair. “Now you’ve ruined it. Just go.”

Peter gives a rumbling chuckle that resounds through Elias’s chest. “No, thinking about it, I rather like it here. I get to see all your freckles.”

“Hm. Have you finally managed to count how many of them there are?”

“Nope,” Peter kisses his stomach, over the Eye tattoo. “But I’m still on it!”

Elias yawns. “Good- Good luck.”

“Gee, I really ought to get something to clean you up. At this rate you’ll end up sleeping.”

Elias snorts with his eyes closed. “Already am.”

Peter kisses his nose and leaves him be. When Elias wakes up the next day, he notices three things: one, Peter actually did give him a wipe down; two, he is very much aware of all the sleep he didn’t get last night; and three, he’s got an easy smile on for the rest of the day that he can’t deny.

#my fic #nanda's ramblings #lonelyeyes #lonelyeyes fic #lonelyeyes fanfiction #peter lukas #elias bouchard #martin blackwood #tim stoker #gertrude robinson #jurgen leitner #tma fic #tma fanfiction #do not archive #peterelias