#// took me a MINUTE to scrounge this up

[oddinarylani]

'i wish you'd just care about me' arranged marriage skz.

pt 1: chan, lee know, changbin, and hyunjin.

w: blood, violence in changbin's

pt 2 is ⇀ here

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷.↴

it wasn’t the best of circumstances. no. the day you were bathed in white, promised to a man, and walked down the aisle by your father to be given to the hands of your husband was one you spent in mourning, swallowed by grief. “i bet you’re so excited, yeah?” the makeup artist asked, brushing a pearly shade of pinkish red onto your lips. she had a soft genuine smile as she asked, surfacing you into reality from the fogginess in your head. you nod, once, “yes, i am.” you lie in an attempt to make conversation easy. most of the guests that day knew of the arrangement, but other’s hadn’t a clue - which made appearances dire to keep up with. part of you was pleased to move onto a new chapter in your life if it meant moving on from life with your parents. but the other part reminded you that you were going into a new marriage completely blind to the man you’d call your husband. you met him one singular time before changing your last name, the entirety of it was spent with your parents talking to his own - glances you cast in his direction, if only to study the face of the man you hoped to love one day. 

his jaw was set coldly, eyes focused on the conversation shared between your parents. he was handsome but just stone. was anything there? you would wonder. is there a man beneath that face? the bone beneath his skin rippled in tender structure, ears pierced, nose rounded, and a heart-like shape to his mouth. while there was no longer hope to hold out for, you scrounged up a bit more in the depths of your chest in desire to love him one day. truly love him. and to be loved in return. 

two months into your marriage and you still feel the brick wall dividing you from your husband. it wasn’t exhausting all the time, no. you saw him smile; a few times actually. sometimes you think of it when going to sleep. you hadn’t heard him truly laugh, but you still maintained that same hope from the first time you ever saw him that one day you’d be the reason for him to. your new routine as husband and wife took a minute to settle into; with chan slowly rising to ranks of his family’s company and your own growth in the business of your own. your days were spent at home in your office working from home, a lot of calls into business meetings that you kept your mic muted for, and phone calls to overseas clientele for holiday season. 

chan would wake in the morning and rise from your shared bed quick to get ready for work, leaving you to fix coffee and shrug on a robe in the cold of your home (winters weren’t kind in the mornings) when he’d leave, you’d have a cup ready for him, cream and a sugar cube. “thank you, have a good day.” he’d wish, already halfway out the door with a small tired smile on his face. “you’re welcome, you too,” you’d say, scrolling through your phone as the door would shut. 

he’d take little notice to your attempts at growing your relationship, and you hadn’t had the time to bring it up to him yet that you wanted to try to have a wonderful marriage. you’d step into the living room wearing a new dress for a banquet for the company, smile a bit wider and brighter than usual - he’d look up from the couch, phone still in hand and would give you a thin lipped smile. “you look nice.” you’d rent a movie, one he’d said he’d wanted to watch soon, and welcome him home with drinks by the couch and he’d brush it off, “ah, sorry. i have a company thing tonight. tomorrow maybe?” of course, he’d forget the next day anyway so it would all be for nothing. when he’d come home extra late and you’d be in bed, buddled in pjs in the comforter with a book and the lamp on next to you, you’d muster your best smile and set your book down. “hey, how was work?” he’d sigh, pulling the tie from his neck. “nothing new really.”

and then you’d beg yourself, beg yourself, to just answer the question of why were you in love with him? 

maybe it was for all the times you’d get to see him smile, the chuckles as you’d watch a movie, the thank you’s for cooking, and everything in between. maybe you loved him for the way he stumbled into the kitchen almost late for work, his hair a bit messy and his tie disoriented and you stopped him - “wait,” you put a hand up, walking up to him to fix his tie. it was the closest you’d ever been to him besides the day you’d gotten married, you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “sorry, my hands are cold.” your voice still laced with sleep as you straightened his tie and flattened his hair. “i-it’s okay.” he assured, clearing his throat. “eat some on your way to work, coffee’s on the counter. have a good day, okay?” you push a few pieces of toast wrapped in a napkin into his hands, pointing to his coffee before turning back to the stove. “r-right. thank you, have a good day.”

that was pretty cute. you even for a moment thought there’d be hope for you, as his cheeks flushed pink when you started working on his tie. sitting at your desk in your office you’d smile at the thought before catching yourself and smacking your own cheeks. 

but time was catching up with you, and the unbearable ache of loving him was almost too much for your heart to handle. you at least needed to know if he felt the same or if he ever could - but in the following days after your realization, you proved yourself right. there was no way. no way this could work out. a steady stream of emotion was constantly running through you; you couldn’t focus on work, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat - and you wondered if he even noticed. you were growing increasingly frustrated with chan, and every passing day of limited conversation, barely any eye contact, and virtually no response from chan was wearing you down. one second you were smitten, and the other you were pissed. 

and it eventually all came to a halt. 

the front door of your house shut loudly, louder than usual. and you had a sneaking suspicion chan hadn’t the best day at work. well. that was a shame - you were still pissed, and to think he had the audacity to come home angry from work when he could barely prove to be a communicative partner was enough to leave your blood boiling. you’d let him have it if given the chance. 

“how was work.” it wasn’t so much a question as much as a routine statement. you sat on the couch, shuffling through your movies to find the one he’d been wanting to watch, which upon realization, you didn’t know why you did that when you were pissed at him. 

“fine.” he stomps into your shared bedroom, yanking the tie from his throat as he did so. you roll your eyes and keep shuffling with a much heavier hand this time. when he re-emerges from the bedroom, he’s shed his tie but still has on his button-down and suit jacket on, you furrow your brows and sit up from the couch. 

“what’s wrong? what happened?” you ask out of the goodness of your heart. he tosses open the fridge, sighing. “nothing. nothing happened.”

“you wanna watch that movie you said you wanted to see?” he runs his hands over his face, closing the fridge door. he looks for a moment as if he’s thinking, his hands on his hips as he swallows. “no. not tonight.” he finishes, beginning to walk out of the kitchen before you stand.

“i really really wish you just cared for me.”

it was quiet, quiet, when you said it. the words left your lips before you could realize that your vision was getting a bit glossy. he freezes in his tracks, whipping his vision towards you at the sound of your voice. there wasn’t venom to your words like you expected there would be, no. just defeat. chan hears it, he hears it in you and all of his frustration, his anger, his annoyance, just melts away. instead, his chest is swallowed with guilt. 

“i try,, i try so hard to make this work, chris. i really do.” you wipe your face even though tears haven’t fallen yet, and he thinks it’s to stop them from ever doing so, at least in front of him, and his chest aches. he’s turned to face you now, just six feet away or so, and his brow softens at the sight of you. 

“i cook for you and make you coffee every morning and try renting your favorite movie because you said you wanted to watch it and wear pretty things out to work events and when i go out with friends but,, you don’t,,,” you look at him when you speak, he sees that water building in your eyes and takes a step closer to you, almost wanting to reach out but stopping himself before he’s to do so. your head shakes, you sniff one more time. 

“because that’s what married people do.” this time he does walk closer, you don’t move, but you don’t look him in the eye either - it seems much to hard to do when you’re on the brink of crying. 

“i promised myself,,” you lift a clenched fist to his chest, tapping him once with it, your lips screwing together in frustration though your voice is still soft and tearful. “that as your wife i’d love you one day.” your hand drops from his chest, you wipe your eyes when a single tear spills over your waterline, ducking your head to do so out of his line of sight. “is it too much to ask the same from my husband.”

it’s quiet for a minute, in one way he knows everything to say. every sweet word to soothe over your aching heart, because that’s what he’s suppose to do as your husband, and there’s another part of him that has no clue what to say. 

because what kind of husband is he to leave you feeling as empty as this.

“i told myself on our wedding day that,, i never wanted to be the one to make you cry.” his palms come to cup your cheeks, though his large hands end up swallowing some of your jawline and neck as well. your eyes widen a bit at the feeling, “look at me?” he asks, voice quiet. you do so with guidance from his own hands. “i’m sorry. i’m really sorry.” even he has some water building on his waterline, you notice. you frown, feeling his thumbs dry your under eyes. 

“i never wanted to make you feel uncared for or unheard. i appreciate everything you do for me. and i’m sorry i’ve made you question if i care for you.” he wipes his thumbs under your eyes once more before his hands lower a bit. “you’re my wife. i care about you so much. and i’ll show you that, i promise.” 

you talk for a little longer, but disregard the movie for the night, instead, you settle on curling up beside chris who wraps an arm around you, his cheeks a bit pink as you adjust yourself in his hold. he feels the burn of your own cheeks against his arm. “is this okay?” he asks, his opposite hand settling on your hip. you smile, “of course. i’m your wife, you can touch me. can i touch you?” he hums, scooting closer, giving you the okay to lay your arm across his midsection. you close your eyes for a moment, if only to enjoy the feeling of holding your husband for the first time. the warmth that always seems to naturally radiate off of him, the closeness of his breath, the feeling of being the only woman who gets to see him like this. 

“i didn’t know you were so cuddly, mr. bang.” you smile to yourself, his hand stroking soft over your hip. “only when given the chance, mrs. bang.” he replies. “ooh,, too smooth.” you admire. 

when silence encircles the both of you, and you feel sleepiness begin to creep up on you, he speaks again, “did you mean it when you said you’d learn to love me one day?” his voice is quiet, so tender - it licks at the wounds of your heart and seals them shut. your heart pounds behind your ribcage and you breathe deep to settle the rage of affection steadily brewing in you. “of course.” you reply, your face beginning to bury in his neck. 

“well, that’s a shame.” you furrow your brows, opening your eyes to look up at him. before you can reply he speaks again. “because i love you now.”

 𝓵𝓮𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀.↴

“the summer berries on the bushels in the forest are getting ripe now, i brought you some.” you lift your basket, both hands wrapped around it’s weak woven handle, showcasing your proud supply of freshly picked goods. you set the basket down a moment later, your husband batting a quick eye to the basket before he looks back to his spread of books a second later. “mm.” is his only reply. 

lee minho was the protector and guide of the largest castle in the northern part of your land. he was a renowned alchemist and practitioner of magic, known for being aid to a handful of people in the village you were raised in, and most notably - a fierce god of night. a vampire. 

it was true the stories of bloodlust and killings that tainted centuries of vampire lore; but lee minho set out to do something different. he hadn’t a care of the human experience, which he shared with that of his ancestors, but he had no need to kill them either. animal blood tasted just as delicious as a human’s. and when befriending a human, their loyalty was like no other. so he didn’t kill them, no, he made pacts and promises, and if anything used them more like pawns but they’d die soon before he did. 

and then there was you. his wife. promised to his hand by your family - a pact of sorts, one of which you both hadn’t necessarily agreed to if it wasn’t for both of your families stepping in to further push along the marriage. in a quiet candlelight scenery you were married to your now husband, and your seal of a kiss was shared. which, honestly, you didn’t regret. he was very handsome - and kissing handsome men was always a joyous occasion (well, mostly anyway) 

he was rageful. not at you, maybe more to existence itself. he was never angry towards you, he never showed it, but you could see deep within the brown wash of his eyes that he was indeed an angry man. he had a hate you’d only seen a few times, and every time you looked a little too hard you felt yourself look away - to anywhere else in the room. afraid of what it meant, afraid of his own distaste. 

“you’re wearing the dress.” he notes. his vision still wondering over the pages in his book. your slightly fallen expression gleams a little at his comment. “yes, of course. you bought it for me.” your hands smooth over your torso, he still doesn’t look up. your lips twist at the sight of your husband’s disinterest, but you turn to wash the berries and leave the room. 

most of your marriage to minho felt like a huge disinterest on his side. he’d lived many years, this much was true. but in your short time to live, you longed for a husband who loved you; and part of you thought minho was largely incapable of this. he never showed it. he never showed anything for that matter; he was always so far away. life not only was nonexistent to him as a man, but in his very eyes. he showed not a shred of emotion, and even in your good memories with him, he showed very little. part of you blamed it on his years of living, but yet the other part of you reminded you it was all the more reason to care. every day felt like a slow drag, you weren’t really living, not really. survival maybe. but being bound to this castle with a man who rarely payed you mind left an ache worse than death. were you not to his standards? maybe that was it. 

you’d shed too many tears over the situation, now every time you cry you try to pull yourself together in the face of your grief. upon talking to your family, a few members reminded you that your voice was powerful, and you should very much share your opinions to him on the matter if your marriage was to work - but that was the thing. a few months in with the man you were to learn to love, and you felt even now it was helpless. it was a sting that brought you to your knees, god how you wanted to just tell him. tell him you loved him - and hear it from his own mouth. 

upon your ravage of feelings and your family’s request, you resorted to writing a letter to your husband. you surely wouldn’t have the guts to face this powerful man in person, not like this. so you took to beginning your note in scribbles in the isolated space of your bedroom. 

your lips twitch in thought as you think over the contents of your letter, your hand stilling still quipped with a quill. you’re swallowed with silence in the stillness of your bedroom, word after word is brought to the front of your brain. there’s a number of things you could say, but not enough words in the world to describe how you felt. 

“lee minho, i’m unhappy.” you speak aloud as you write, taking a moment to look back at your writing, quickly scribbling the line out before starting again. 

“dear husband, i have a few things to bring to your attention.” you nod along as you write, happier with this line. 

“i believe if we’re to work as husband and wife, we should talk more.”

“i try time and time again to gain your attention, to bring you happiness in a way i know how.”

“but,, it seems to never be enough.”

“if you don’t want me,” you pause, your fingers fumble with the quill in your hand as your palms begin to warm against the hardwood. your lips twitch again.

against all things in your brain reminding you a married couple should speak of their issues and this was a must in your relationship if either of you wish to continue - an overwhelming feeling of pure grief washes over you and your hand as you still to keep from writing. 

every bright moment in your relationship flashes before your eyes like matches starting a fire. it’s so overwhelming that your voice dies, and a tight tug at the back of your throat halts you to a shred of reality you hadn’t dwelled on. you sit further back in your chair, eyes glossing over into thought - lost entirely to the contents of your brain. realization has hit you like a truck in the face of your confrontation. 

because what about all of the wonderful times you’ve spent together.

what about the dancing of your wedding day, the golden burn of his watchful gaze, the presents, the meals shared, the wishes of good morning or good night? what about all of the times that kept you so closely tethered to him? what about the times that kept you in love with the man who barely spoke to you. 

you take a breath - and as quiet as it would be, it’s blaringly loud in the silence of your bedroom. 

“i want to love you. i do. and,, i think i do.” clarity has left your quill, and instead, you write from your heart. what you truly feel. 

“i hate that you don’t notice when i try to do kind things for you.”

“i want to work in matrimony of us.”

“i know our marriage is against our wishes, but i want to make it work.”

“i just.. i just wish you cared about me.”

a hand sharply grabs your chin, pulling your gaze to meet that of your husband's golden gaze. 

“not care?” he asks, his face screwed into a sort of confused expression. “not care?” he asks again as his expression contorts again, further - until his hand is tender. 

you’re so sharply pulled from your own head that you’re left with whiplash. he’s heard you? where was he? did you leave the door open? your eyes are blown wide as you face him in the realization he’s heard everything.

your mouth dries as you look at him, his gaze cuts into your very being and you feel utterly frozen. “no-! i didn’t mean it-” “you do though. i’ve made you feel this way.” his gentle grip on your chin leaves you, and he shuffles away, sitting firmly on your bed. his gaze seems lost, as if he couldn’t keep up with the words you’d admitted. 

“minho..” “i do care.” he cuts in. you swallow, your brows melding together as you do so. “i don’t… want you to feel this way. and i’m sorry for doing so.”

in the face of confrontation he seems genuinely distressed, not that any part of you doubted it - but it was comforting to hear the words leaving his mouth. 

“if we’re to be married, i want you happy. comfortable. i don’t want you to feel bad because of me.” he explains. 

“i just,, i want to work this out. i want us to talk more; tell me what makes you happy and what hurts you.” you reassure, holding onto the back of your chair as minho’s head hangs low. “i’m your wife, i want to hear all of that.” a small smile stretches across your mouth; it’s lopsided and a bit sad, but it’s there nonetheless, and the sound of your voice lets minho’s head rise as he meets your gaze once more. 

he sees in you the beauty he sees across the room even as you just sit a few feet away from him. it’s overwhelming, suffocating; and part of him hates it a little bit for suffocating his heart in one swift swallow. you’re all encompassing and human - he’s learned self-control few could achieve, and yet even a few months into a marriage he didn’t agree to and he’s smitten. he wants to reach deep inside his chest and pull his heart out by it’s tethers, and apart of him wants to feel your love to the highest degree he could if just to be surrounded in heaven once more. 

“were you lying then?” he pauses, hands wrung together. “when you said you loved me?” a small quirk in the corner of his mouth leaves your face and chest hot. 

“i wasn’t lying.”

minho’s made home on your bed, lulled to his side as his pretty eyes wash over your face. you aren’t connected, in fact, you’re a little afraid to touch him - regardless of this fact, your wrist lifts to reach nimble fingers to his face, but you pause, your soft fingers retracting into your palm. 

“touch me.” he needs. his hand cupping your own to bring to his face tenderly.

your face is flushed with a dusty pink, the feeling of his face beneath your touch lights the nerve endings in your palm alight. your brow quirks in thought, but not for a moment do you part with his sun-washed eyes. 

“how did you become a vampire?” you ask quietly, your thumb strokes the soft skin beneath his eye, his hand stroking the back of your own. 

“i was born into it. my family comes from a long blood-line of vampires.” you hum in response, taking a moment to study the wash of sun-like gold that overtakes your husband’s eyes. fractals of evening sun beam through the curtains in your bedroom, creating a soft sleepy haze in your room. dust is seen floating in the room in the portions of sun that reach into the room. 

“you’re beautiful.” he beats you to it, realizing he too has been looking at you the entire time. you retract your hand nervously, a smile stretching across your face in sweet embarrassment. “thank you.”

“do you want to be one one day? or do you value your life?” he’s half joking, a floppy smirk on his lips as he sighs a laugh. you hum once more, looking to his mouth to see the slight glimpse of fangs visible to you. 

“maybe. if it meant i got to spend more time with you, than yes.”

minho’s smirk widens, his eyes washing from your face to the curve of your jaw, to the drop of your neck. his mouth parts, his hand coming to the curve of your ribcage over your waist, his warm hand freezes you in place. he lowers his lips to the column of your neck, a lowly drunken gaze filtering over his face. “that could be arranged.” his breath meets the tender flesh of your neck before he presses your waist closer to your body, his soft lips meeting your neck in a single kiss. 

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓷.↴

“be careful on the job today.” you crane your neck out of the doorway of the kitchen to look at your husband as he tightens a holster around his thigh. he looks up for a moment, face momentarily stricken with something similar to surprise at your well wishes. he looks down a moment later, checks the clip of his pistol, and then shoves it into the holster. “i will. i’ll be back tonight.” the door closes sharply behind him and you’re left in the silence of your home yet again. 

there’s a pool of melted ice on top of your coffee, you take a sip anyway, the palm of your hand now wet from the sweat off the glass. in truth, you were trying. very sternly trying to make your marriage work. but with circumstances of said marriage coupled with the dangerous reality of your lifestyles, it felt like your assumed fate was dwindling before your eyes - a thin bow ready to snap under pressure. 

being born into crime wasn’t all good fellas or the godfather all the time - no. it was nasty business, some of which you came to regret but again this was the only life either of you knew, leaving the business would be impossible without a gun to your head. you persevered in the face of guilt anyway, not knowing fully how your husband felt about the situation. the sound of your phone ringing brings you out of your head for a moment, leaving you rolling your eyes at the sight of your mother’s name across the vibrating screen. 

“yes?’’ your coffee tastes bitter now, too much water - you pour the contents into the sink as she begins talking. 

“hey hun, there’s a job tomorrow that’s opened up. one of the boys got canned, we’ll pay his bail through an anonymous source but we have to wait a few days so the cops don’t catch on. you in?” your fingers tug a coffee filter out of it’s wooden box, stuffing it into the machine as you press a button on your grinder. 

“mom,” your hand comes to your eyes, rubbing them tiredly. “i told you i was out of the dirty work. i’m doing that shit anymore. and i’m severely out of practice of doing anything hefty.” you explain, the grinder stops, you pour the grounds into the coffee machine. she sighs on the other end, her voice coming through more heated now - pressure started weighing on your shoulders. she says your name with a deadly tone, it leaves you feeling as though there’s a cold metal rod stiff in your back. 

“why don’t you ever look out for this family? you think you can just leave and do the bare minimum when your father and i have slaved over making a good childhood for you?” and then you’d argue back and forth until you felt like ripping your hair out and you’d finally cave and you mom would end the call sharply and once again leave you in the silence of your home that was beginning to feel more like a prison. 

when you heard the beep that ended the call, you tossed your phone to the couch and let your mind wander yet again - what else was there to do in your seemingly failing marriage and rocky relationship with your parents? you hadn’t many friends unless they were in the business, and that only counted for a few really close ones. you track around your kitchen with your fingers pushed into your hairline, and your mind wanders back to something she’d said on the phone a few weeks ago. 

“we found you your husband, is that not good enough for you?”

you hadn’t even the energy to put up with audacity of that claim. so you ended the call and showered, but it still ate at you greatly - because no. no it wasn’t enough. changbin, as dedicated to the lifestyle as he was, and you respected him for his commitment, was terrible at showing you what he truly felt. most conversations were barely that, mostly exchanges if anything - and the few good times you’ve had together were truly the only thing keeping you around if it wasn’t for the godforsaken hope you managed to hold onto. 

you saw the good in him - the good he was capable of, and every time you’d suffocate yourself in thought about being three months in and still not working together as a married couple should, you reminded yourself of this fact. it’s what kept you in, what drew you closer to him. because what could you both be? it’s already bad enough you have feelings for the guy and he clearly didn’t feel the same way. 

“fuck,, what am i gonna do.” to clear your head you showered again, tying back your wet hair and slumming around the house until changbin arrived back home when you’d be drifting off to sleep. at least you had an opportunity to clean; and when the house was clean, you felt a bit better. you were correct about changbin returning late - you heard a long sigh as he entered your bedroom, the plop of a duffel bag could be heard. when you look at the time on your phone you see it’s just past three in the morning. 

“how’d it go?” you ask tiredly from the bed, the bathroom light flickers on and he raises his head a bit. “oh i’m sorry i didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“it’s okay. you okay?” 

“yeah. yeah, everything went fine. what’d you do today?” you see the rings of exhaustion circling his eyes as he strips off his shirt and hides the smallest of winces.

you sigh heavily, rubbing your eyes as the sink begins to run. “i talked to my mom on the phone. doing a job tomorrow night. cleaned the house though.”

“what kind of job?” he asks as he starts the shower. you talk a bit louder so he can hear you over the sound of the spray. oh he wasn’t going to like the sound of this - these kinds of jobs were everyone’s least favorite in the business. 

“there’s a warehouse on fifth, when you’re leaving the downtown area. apparently some guys are trafficking there. gotta take them out.” 

“shit.. be careful. small time guys have been trying to make names of themselves.” 

“i know, i will be.”

careful you were, but careful was not enough. those guys holed up in that warehouse with every corner covered, not only that, but with automatic weapons with full mags, dressed in black to blend with the shadows. the job was done, the victims released into promised care and with you aid in the following days, be returned to their families or brought to homes, but not without some wounds of your own. the guys dropped you off at the back of your house, granted it was past midnight but you couldn’t be too careful. your home was secluded - but what the law knew was unbeknownst to the organization in regards to this mission in particular. 

you left your weapons in the van with the promise of getting them back the next day. “c-clean the blood off it for me, would you?” you grinned, shuffling from the van with your arm slung over your partner. you lean nearly fully into his weight as he aids you in finding your back door. you bang on the big sliding window before unlocking it, letting changbin know you were home. 

“we gotta get the fuck outta here. you be careful yeah? call me tomorrow morning.” the driver calls before peeling away from your home. you nod, using the wall to stumble inside your house as the living room is suddenly flooded with light, and your husband walks out of your bedroom with his phone in hand and his brows furrowed. 

“changbin,,” you push the door closed, leaving bloody handprints everywhere you touched. 

“fuck- okay, okay, okay- it’s alright. come here.” his outstretched hands come to wrap your arm around his shoulders and stabilize on your waist as he helps you walk to your bathroom. 

hot spots of pain blossom on your waist, ribs, and leg. it’s throbbing, all encompassing, and leaves your eyes watering when changbin’s palm presses a little harshly into your side. throughout the house your gasps and groans of pain are heard, changbin is working as diligently and carefully as he can to help you to the bathroom, only imagining how much you must be hurting. 

“okay, okay- i’m gonna lay you on the floor okay?” he helps you rest along the floor after he’s put some towels down, and kneels by your side before grabbing the extensive first aid kit you kept in your bathroom. you nod, closing your eyes to focus on breathing, but every breath in hurts, and every exhale throbs your wounds. 

“where are you hit?” he asks, you now notice his hands are tainted with your blood in just a few splotches. he rummages through the kit, reaching for the hem of your shirt as he cuts through your gear and clothing. “m-my sides, and,, one in my left leg.” 

“alright. it’s gonna be okay - let’s get you sewn up. what happened?” he asks as a way of distracting you from how bad this was about to hurt. he pours some alcohol in his hands before barring your torso to his eyes, now seeing the festering wounds. 

“t-they-” you laugh because it’s hurting so bad and your eyes are getting glossy as adrenaline leaves your body. “they had automatics… every one of them was geared the fuck up. and not only that but there must’ve been twenty,, twenty five of them and five of us.” 

changbin’s head slowly shakes in disappointment that you were set up that badly for failure, his haw is tight - but he remains focused on the task at hand, cleaning you up. he lifts you up with one arm and helps you shred your arms of your sleeves completely, focusing now on the wound near your ribs. “why’d they send you in with only five people? did they want you to die? fuck.” 

“seems like it.” you chuckle, his hand stabilizes before he reaches into your wound with medical pliers to grab the bullet still embedded in you. your grip tightens on the towels beneath you, eyes now swimming with tears as you groan at the feeling of the tug of the pliers. 

“i know, i know. you’re doing good though, talk about something. tell me about the job or- your favorite music or something.” his hands dip into a bowl of water, returning to your wound to clean you from blood and put some pressure on the wound. 

“the job was shit, but,, the guys are gone. all the victims are safe and i’ll work on paper work to get them home tomorrow.” he hums, nodding. he puts a bit of topical numbing around the wound before grabbing sutures to close the open wound. “as far as music,” you laugh to yourself again, your gaze focused on the ceiling. “you trying to get to know me? didn’t think you cared so much for that.” 

his hands pause. then lower. he looks at you with a kind of genuinity you didn’t expect from the man you called your husband. “of course i care. you’re my wife.” 

“you’re always so focused on the work, on your job. you’re gone a lot. i can tell you care about the organization i just,, i don’t know. i always hoped you’d care for us too.”

he frowns a bit, his gaze is focused back to his hands as he threads the string more diligently through the needle. he’s paused, he has a focused expression and you can tell when you look at him he’s thinking - part of you hopes you haven’t stumped him, or made him uncomfortable - maybe you did hold out too much hope. 

“i do care about us. about you. i always figured since we were arranged to be married that you wouldn’t want much to do with me.” when he returns to working on your wound you wince, eyes closing tight. he apologizes quietly, but it’s over quicker than you expected. 

“i want everything to do with you, silly. you’re my husband. i want this to work between us if we’re going to be married.” your eyes are still watery and the throbbing hasn’t subsided - you wonder if part of this is delusion since your filter has seemingly disappeared in the face of pain. 

he smiles, softly. “i’m sorry that i’ve made you feel that way, and hey-” his hand reaches for yours, the one that bears the ring he gifted you on the day you were married. your eyes meet his as your head lulls to the side, you grasp onto his hand as if he’d stabilize you - and he does. “i do care about you. genuinely.”

you squeeze his hand, the wash of tears that drowned your eyes from pain spill finally. “i care about you too.” 

“don’t cry, silly. i’m almost done, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

after changbin coaches you through treating your wounds, he runs you a quick bath and helps you wash the dirt and sweat from your hair. it felt strange to say you felt an overwhelming trust to him - but maybe that was just the energy he exuded. he helps you to bed, and quickly showers off himself before laying next to you. 

his arm wraps around you, and the pain in your side has dulled from the medicine he made you take after closing up your wounds and cleaning them. your head rests on his chest comfortably. “you never answered my question about music.” he says suddenly. 

“i’ll play you all my faves tomorrow morning when you cook me breakfast because i got shot.” you grin cheekily against him. 

“deal.”

𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷.↴

“i am to be his wife.” there was no expression in the gaze you cast your parents, hands folded neatly in front of you, ever obedient in the face of nobility. before your eyes, in the face of your youth your life of freedom ever awaiting your embrace is taken from you and shackled. your life is to be given to a man you didn’t know, and when shoved his own in your hands you feel the pulse of forgotten life in your palms. there was more to say other than you didn’t want this, there was more words you could sputter in anger at your parents, other screams and cries for this to not happen, yet you swallow, let your eyes gloss over, and prepare a wedding in the following year to a man you’d meet only once before promising forever to him. 

across from you at the altar he stood jaw tight, eyes glassy yet lifeless. when the wedding guests settled and your father handed you off to the prince’s hands, you breathed deep in an attempt to conceal the building tears that sparkled in your eyes. officiant you didn’t know, in the sea of people commending your marriage you knew few faces, and he spoke vows because of remembrance not because of promise. when he lifted the veil from your eyes to look at you, he for a moment faltered and his lips flattened. 

you kissed him because you had to. and you slept beside him that night because you had to. 

in marriage, you always imagined that life would blossom with a spark of light. as a seal to two people’s testament of their love it would grow into something truly beautiful - it would drink in the sun, bathe in the rain, paint its colors on pages and tell its story on lips through decades. as a young girl, the idea of one day marrying someone that loved you was thrilling to say the least. it was pure; and good. and every notion, every dream, every promise to your life you’d made, was stripped from you in a single evening. 

you’d rise from bed when the maids would wake you to dress. you’d be dressed beside your husband, wearing the rings that testified your union, and would watch over the kingdom that would be given to your hands one day. 

there was no use in trying, not even from the start. 

but you wanted to love him. oh you terribly wanted to love him. 

beside him you’d sleep - watching the curvature of his heart shaped lips, the breathing his body exuded - existence. how you were his without him even knowing. only in this state could you see him, really see him. the sprawl of his hair on the pillow before it was to be tied back that morning upon your wake. beautiful he was. when his eyes fluttered open, he wet his lips and you heard him speak - for the first time it felt as though it was to you. 

“i’m sorry.” 

for the entire rest of the day you spent in a haze in your own head. 

two months have gone by, and you were achingly in love with him. but you couldn’t say the same for him; his headspace was unknown. you shared a great castle together, a smaller one just outside the village as your parents lived inside the city walls in the palace, but home felt like a restraint on you. nothing was sacred.

when you spoke, it was matters of business and a shred of the time was talk of personal matters. the only truth you spoke to hyunjin was in the hours before he’d wake when sleep would leave you too early. you tuck your folded hands together under your pillow, your eyes washing over his face as he slept. upon your movement, he turned to his side, his broad shoulders creating lines of his body beneath his sleep shirt. part of you wanted to reach out, to wrap your arms around him and tell him you believed in the both of you, but your thoughts still to silence. 

“i wish you cared for me, in the way i care for you.” you mumble quietly. 

“but i cannot say it yet. you’re a shadow; yet you’re sorry. i’m so confused in my love for you.” 

that’s when he turned over, his eyes open. the maids walk in a second later and your wide eyes glance to them. they pause in their steps, looking between the both of you. had he heard you? surely not. you push yourself onto your elbows as he speaks to the maids, his own hands planted firmly in the mattress. 

“i can dress her.” 

they quickly excuse themselves after, mumbling as they leave the room hurriedly. the room stills, you’re left in the wake of his words with confusion bubbling through your head and your face suddenly flushed. he stands without another word as they’ve left the room, moving to the closet to fetch your under clothes, corset, and gown for the day. 

“hyunjin,” you speak softly. 

“i care greatly for you. i do, but-” 

you swallow, still sitting on the bed with your legs curled beneath the covers. “you cannot dress me.” you hold a hand to pause him in his movements as he approaches with your day clothes in hand. he swallows, “you’re my wife. i can dress you. if you’d let me.” 

hwang hyunjin was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen, and this he knew as well - yet the cool confidence he usually carried on his shoulders, in his handshakes, and in his voice, had dissipated. he looked at you with darting eyes that searched your own for the answers he needed, his hands gripped your dress tight. 

his hand stretches out to you, offerance of aid. you look to his palm, the gentle length of his fingers, and find his exuding energy welcoming - so you take his hand. it’s warm as your skin washes over his own, his hands were smooth and embracing, and you stand before him with a sharp intake of breath. 

“i’ve made you feel this way,” he begins, beginning to untie the laces that hang from the neck of your night dress. there’s a great deal of nerve vibrating through your body at the prospect of him dressing you, but regardless you let him in the wake of his tenderness. and if it meant a moment you could share closer to him - you’d take it. 

“you only speak your feelings to me when you think i’m asleep.” at that your breath stills, panic settles in quietly to your bones. 

“i-i’m sorry i-” “you have no need to apologize, it’s me. i’ve made you feel this way. and i’m sorry.” when your dress is removed, he kneels at your feet to gather it before letting you step into your under dress. you rest your hand on his shoulder for balance to do so. 

“in truth, i can’t tell you why i love you.” he says, his hands working to tie your second layer skirt around your waist, once it’s firm and not uncomfortable, you turn your head to look at him with glossy eyes. “you cannot say such things to me and not mean it. you can’t.” 

“i know i haven’t shown it, but it’s true, that i promise you.” with that, he gently guides your arms through the holes of your corset, and begins lacing it, leaving your eyes drowning in tears as your lips tremble. 

“you-you haven’t shown it. how am i to know you love me or that i love you when we hardly have a relationship. you’re my husband, i want to love you as one.” you gasp as he pulls the strings to tighten it, his palm laying flat on your back as he tugs once more. 

“it’s a promise i make now, to show you i do indeed love you. i want you to tell me when you’re hurting, i want to help, i want to grow with you.” his hands lay along your waist as your corset is tightened. when he rounds you, seeing your eyes fogged over, his heart pangs with guilt. 

“i’m sorry, truly. that i have made you feel this way. but please, know my promise is true.” his hands come to gather yours in his grip. 

you nod, wiping your face for a moment as you lift your gaze to look at him. “then i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you whatever you want to hear. i want to work to make this kingdom a happy place for our people, we must work together in that regard.” 

hyunjin listens, strokes his thumbs across the backs of your hands and you speak for a while longer on your marriage, how you’re both willing to work to make your love make sense, how you wish to be a unit in making the kingdom a place of happiness for your people. he prepares for the day, wearing an outfit the same shade of off-white as your own with his long dark hair tied back into a bun. 

he offers his arm to you before you both leave your bedroom, smiling softly. “thank you for talking to me.” he says, opening the door for you. “thank you for listening and talking as well. it feels nice to have this weight lifted.” 

“i agree.”

sorry if hyunjin's is written weird i was listening to cornfield chase by hans zimmer and got lost in the sauce.

[hearts4golbach]

Hello! I hope you are doing great. I was wondering if you could write a Johnnie Guilbert smut where him and the reader have been friends for a few weeks or so, but they both have a lot of sexual tension, that they just haven’t acted on yet. Everyone notices, so Jake and Carrington always make jokes. Then, one night at a party, the group is having fun, and the reader is watching Johnnie intensely. Johnnie notices and decides to walk the reader out of the party and go home to make the move everyone has been waiting for. I'm thinking kind of rough but intimate smut, lots of praise, and maybe choking because he notices that the reader is a little kinky?? 🥰 If you're comfortable with writing that. Afterward, they cuddle, and Johnnie asks the reader if she would like to be his girlfriend. Awh. (There's an edit of Johnnie walking out of a party; it's so fine. That's where I got this idea from, lol.) 🙏🙏

Be Mine.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings:

18+ smut, choking, unprotected sex (use protection), tiny drinking mention.

"fuck, johnnie. you scared the shit out of me." Your pale friend walked into the kitchen. it was half past midnight, and seeing his figure creep into the kitchen out of the corner of your eye scared the shit out of you.

he was standing shirtless beside you. "Sorry, i -" he looked you up and down. you were in your pajama booth shorts and a tank top, both excentuated your figure. "I was just coming to get water."

your eyes hovered on his bare chest and tattoos a little longer than they should've been. "Don't worry about it." You gave him a soft smile.

you were staying the night because you may or may not have gotten a little too drunk to drive yourself home. maybe a lot too drunk.

his hand grazed your waist as he moved past you. "you feeling any better?"

you cleared your throat. "yeah, somewhat. I plan on running home in the morning to get ready for the video, but then I'll be back."

he smiled, "good. im-"

"you guys better not be fucking in the kitchen." Jake interrupted as he came down the stairs.

"what kind of fucking cult meeting is this?" you joked, "why are we all up right now?"

Jake pranced into the kitchen with a shrug.

"I'm fucking dying of dehydration." johnnie finally grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge.

"goodnight you guys." you walked back into the living room and laid on the couch.

it was hard to sleep. your mind was plagued with thoughts of Johnnie. how his hands would feel around your neck, how he'd taste in your mouth. sleeping was useless at this point. it was 4 am by the time you got off the couch to run home. you dragged yourself off of the comfortable couch and slipped on your shoes.

you snuck out the front door in attempt to not wake anyone up. the journey to your house and back was quick. you took a 5 minute shower to wash the drunk look off of your face. then, you got dressed, ate breakfast, and left again.

whenever you got back, you found Carrington scrounging around the kitchen. "hey, Carrington."

"oh, what's up, y/n. where'd ya go?" he pulled a box of Twix cereal from the cabinet and poured himself a bowl.

"just ran home real quick to shower and shit. can't be looking homeless on the internet." you leaned against the counter.

he took a bite of his cereal. "true that. want some?" he asked between smacking lips.

you scrunched your nose. "i'm good, i already ate."

"i know i've said this a million times," he rolled his eyes, "but you need to make a move on Johnnie. that boy is head over heels, choking on his own feet for you."

"first of all, what does that even mean? second, i don't think he likes me like that, i think we just have a unique friendship." you flailed your hand around to make your point.

"unique? yeah, that guy is always undressing you with his eyes, you do the same." he smirked. he wiped a droplet of milk from the corner of his mouth.

"yeah, whatever." you rolled your eyes before turning. you walked back into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

carrington wasn't far behind you. he sat on the opposite side of you. he didn't say anything, just sat and munched on his cereal. you snapped a picture, thinking it was funny, and posted it on your story after tagging him.

"we're recording around 7 ish, right?" you asked him, checking the group chat to double check the details.

"actually, me and Jake were talking last night about making it earlier. Tara wants to go to this party tonight and wants us to come with." he shrugged, "we were gonna talk to you and Johnnie 'bout it whenever you were both up."

you raised your eyebrows. "i'm more than down. i'm sure Johnnie will be too. i mean, i don't wanna answer for him, but you know."

"well, duh."

you and Carrington sat in the couch talking and watching a movie while you waited for everyone to wake up. he mentioned planning on going back to sleep, but he stayed up with you instead.

it was a few hours before everyone had came downstairs. Jake was making a smoothie, which ended up waking up Johnnie. Carrington brought up the idea of going to that party later that night, which Johnnie agreed to.

the last few hours before recording went by fast, as well. you spent most of them with Johnnie.

you had asked Tara to bring you one of her dresses, since you didn't want to leave Johnnie and run home. she obviously agreed. Tara loved seeing how her clothes fit you.

Jake set up the camera in the living room. "you guys ready?"

everyone said some form of yes. Jake started the camera.

recording the video felt long whenever all you wanted to do was go and party. it was truth or drink with everybody. of course, Carrington asked johnnie about me and him. he asked of Johnnie had feelings for me. he took a shot for that one. you knew the fans would be all over that clip.

the video was finally done an hour later. it was about 1:30, so you had time to kill.

you helped Jake and Johnnie with chores around the house while Carrington and Tara ran to get lunch.

you were working on making Johnnies bed for him whenever he spoke up. "y/n?"

"What's up?"

he stuttered, "You excited for the party?"

"Yeah, I guess so. they're always fun, especially when you go. we get to be introverts together." You turned around and smiled at him.

he didn't respond. his eyes flickered from your lips back to your eyes. there was a moment of silence before he spoke up. "Yeah, I'm glad you'll be there."

"Are you okay?" You stepped closer to him.

"Yeah, I just -" he began to lean in closer to you.

"We're back!" Tara yelled up the stairs. it startled both of you. you quickly backed away from each other.

"i-" you began to speak.

"Let's go eat." he shot you a soft smile before leading you back downstairs.

you followed johnnie and sat next to him on the couch. everybody was already in the living room. Jake was scrolling on tiktok while the other two were emptying the Chipotle bags.

"the fuck were you guys doing? making out?" Tara smirked.

Johnnie shook his head. "we were cleaning, tara."

she hummed, "right."

-

everyone ubered to the party together. Tara was hyping all of you up, but we didn't really need her to. you were all pumped up as it was.

you locked your arm with Johnnies as you walked inside. Tara immediately started singing along to whatever 2000s pop was blasting. it didn't take long for Jake and Carrington to get into it.

you watched as Johnnie followed their lead, bopping his head along and singing some of the lyrics. you giggled, which caught Johnnies attention. he smiled at you, and you smiled back.

everyone got at least one drink. you sipped on a hard seltzer while dancing with tara. you couldn't keep your eyes off of Johnnie.

"y/n!" Tara whined, "why are you so distracted tonight?!"

"it's just johnnie. I don't know, like, what's going on between us anymore."

"it's obvious you two like each other, just go for it!" she scolded.

"But I'm not sure! what if I make a move and I get the wrong idea so... I don't even know!"

"Trust me, y/n. he likes you." she rolled her eyes.

you looked towards Johnnie again. he was already looking at you. he shot you a smile and a wave. you felt your face heat up, and you looked away.

"See? come on!" she laughed. "we both know you need some dick, and Johnnie has had this huge crush on you for so long. I know you like him, too. it's obvious."

"Okay, fine. i-" You felt a tap on your shoulder, making you jump. you turned your head to see Johnnie. he let his hand rest on your shoulder. "Hi."

"Hey, im pretty bored. wanna come with me? I'm going home."

you glanced back at Tara, and she winked at you.

"Yeah, I'm down. this shit is pretty boring." which was a lie on your part, and you knew he was lying too.

you waved bye to everyone and followed Johnnie out of the party. he had already called an Uber, which was waiting by the curb.

he opened the door for you, and you climbed in. the whole ride home was silent.

as Johnnie began to unlock the front door, he spoke up. "I noticed you staring." he pushed the front door open and walked in.

you followed close behind him. "Sorry." You responded, flustered. you shut the door behind you.

Johnnie turned around, stopping you in your tracks. "Don't be. I'm just- fuck. I need you so bad, y/n."

"What? can you repeat that?" You smirked, backing yourself into the door as he followed.

he gripped your hips, placing his head in the crook of your neck. "I said I need you so bad. it's unbearable."

his grip on you was tight. he himself closer to you as he began to kiss your neck. your hand tangled into his already messy hair. he bit your neck gently as he sucked dark hickeys into your neck. those would be hard to explain to everybody.

"fuck, I think I need you more." you whispered into his ear.

he pulled away from your neck and smashed his lips onto yours. his lips were soft and glided with yours perfectly. you had been waiting for this kiss for so long, too long.

as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, he slid his hands up your dress and gripped your ass. he pulled it up, so it bunched around your waist. he massaged your ass with one hand while the other stayed on your hip.

"johnnie, please." you pleaded, trying to pull him closer by the collar of his shirt.

"Please what, mama?" he pulled away, his eyes locked on your lips.

"God, fuck me."

he grabbed your hand and dragged you up to his bedroom. you slammed the door and locked it, just in case.

his hands were immediately on you once more, attempting to pull the dress off of you. once he got it, he threw it somewhere on the floor.

he led you back to the bed. your knees caught against the bed, and you fell back. he crawled up on top of you and teased the rim of your bra.

you clawed at his shirt and eventually pulled it off, leaving his pale skin and tattoos there for you to admire.

you quickly unbuckled and pulled down his jeans, revealing his hard member in his underwear.

you palmed him through his undwear, making him quietly whimper against your lips. he rushed to take off your panties, to impatient to worry about your bra at the moment.

he stuck two fingers in your mouth. "spit for me, baby."

you complied, licking and sucking his fingers before spitting on them. he pulled his boxers down and kicked them off. he rubbed your spit all over his dick.

"Please, Johnnie. need you so bad." You begged.

"so impatient, pretty girl." his hand caressed your cheek before gripping your hip.

he aligned his tip with your entrance before thrusting inside of you. he bottomed out, making you moan loudly. he gave you a moment to adjust.

"fuck, please fuck me." you whimpered.

"yes, ma'am." he smirked and began thrusting inside of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

he let out a soft grunt with each thrust. he leaned down and placed his lips onto yours gently.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, begging him to go faster. he did so, speeding up his pace just enough. you moaned into his mouth.

you reached for his hand that was pressed into the bed beside you. you took it and moved it up to your neck. "fucking choke me." you instructed him breathlessly.

you felt his cock twitch inside of you. "You'd like that, Mama?"

you nodded eagerly as he wrapped his hand around your throat. he gripped it tight, cutting off some of your air flow. your moans became raspy and breathless, and he thrusted faster.

"fuck," you moaned out as Johnnie tightened his grip on your throat. your eyes rolled back as the sounds of skin slapping together filled the room.

"you're taking me so well, baby." he praised as he was breathing heavily. "so fucking good."

he pulled you up by your neck to kiss your lips. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.

he pounded into you, making you moan loud as you felt his cock twitch again.

"fuck, I'm close, Johnnie." you whimpered before pressing your lips against his again.

he let out a small giggled followed by a moan. "cum on my dick."

your walls squeezed his cock tight as you moaned his name. you felt a coil build up in your stomach as you moaned and cursed under your breath. your walls spasmed around him as you came hard.

Johnnie helped you ride out your high before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. he whimpered as he covered your lower stomach in his cum.

he collapsed on the bed next to you. "thanks for making my bed, but now it's all fucked up." he joked.

you hummed. he jumped up and grabbed a small rag from his closet. he cleaned his cum off of your stomach and the left over juices off of your pussy.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. you curled up against him. "that was amazing." you muttered, closing your eyes.

he wrapped his arms around you. "y/n?"

"hmm?"

"will you be my girlfriend?" he leaned his head against yours.

"of course I will, stupid."

[bunnysbrainrot]

Back Seat

Kinktober prompt: Car sex

Relationship: Dean Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual scenes, (essentially) PWP, quickie, creampie, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, don't be like Dean), pet names

Summary: Quick! You and Dean only have half an hour before Sam comes back, and he needs you. Now.

You leaned forward and wedged yourself between the two front seats of the Impala, listening intently to Sam and Dean recite their plan for tonight. It was Sam’s role to head into this building to scrounge up files.

“Shouldn’t take more than, let’s say, thirty minutes?” the younger brother estimated. Dean nodded and stitched his brows together with a brotherly worry as always.

"Thirty minutes, if you're in there longer than that, I'm coming in."

Sam nodded to you both and stepped out of the car, checking each of his pockets for extra items he toted with him. You watched as he snuck into a dilapidated entryway and slunk into the building. Dean shifted in his seat to your left to help him settle into the more private setting. He stared at his phone in hand and checked for notifications; finding none, threw his phone to Sam's empty seat and let out a long sigh.

"You okay, Dean?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looking you over out of his periphery and smiled.

His tone was surprisingly teasing, "More than okay, baby. Thirty minutes is a tight squeeze, but I can manage."

"Well, Sam can handle himself, and I'm sure that if he were in trouble he would let us know," you replied innocently. Dean's smirking lips widened into a devious smile.

"Ain't what I'm talking about, sweetheart," Dean said, turning himself in his seat to face you. You tilted your head in confusion. "Mind if I join you back there?"

You looked worriedly out the window toward the building, your anxiety anticipating Sam to burst through that door at any second. Turning back to Dean, you arched your eyebrow at him while his eyes scanned you from head to toe, an excited glint in his eye.

"Dean, are you sure we have enough time?"

"Well, if you keep asking me if we have enough time, you're just wasting it, sweetheart."

With a beat of silence Dean took it as an opportunity, patting your shoulder to have you move to the side and grant him some room. He eagerly crawled over the middle console and collapsed in the back seat next to you, immediately hovering his face in front of yours. You laughed at how quickly he dashed back here to kiss you, but you melted into his kiss nonetheless.

Knowing there was a time limit, Dean worked efficiently on you. His hands found your throat, your tits, your thighs, all of the precious spots that had you gasping through the kisses in a matter or seconds. Dean's hands shifted under your thighs and tugged toward him, flipping the two of you into position in one swift movement.

You straddled his lap, your thighs clenching around Dean's hips as he deepened your kiss, gliding his tongue at the seam of your lips. You granted him entry and allowed yourselves to explore one another. After all the times you'd shared a kiss, the both of you knew the other like the back of your hand. You'd spent time getting to know every inch of the other's body, finding the spots that had you sighing each other's names in pure ecstasy.

Dean's fingers fumbled with your pants, tugging you up to lift your hips so he could strip you from the waist down.

"Sorry," he breathed against your lips, "wish we could do the whole nine, but we gotta go with efficiency here."

You chuckled into the kiss, pressing your lips harder into his own. A low growl roiled through his chest as he tugged your pants down your thighs. You shifted your legs until Dean could peel them off of you, now leaving your bottom half bare and exposed to anyone who'd happen to walk by.

But you couldn't care about that right now. Dean needed you, badly, and you weren't going to let this chance pass by, or let him down.

Dean lifted his hips to shove his pants to his knees, bringing his boxers along with them. His heavy cock sprung free from the fabric and slapped against his stomach, ready and aching to stuff itself into you. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, purely in awe of it each time Dean presented himself to you like this.

He pressed a hand to your back and pulled you toward him, scooping his hands under your thighs to help you back into place, now hovering over his length. You lowered yourself down, settled his cock along your slit, and began to grind your hips, coating his shaft with your sick. Dean let out a deep sigh at your warmth, but still remained insistent on picking up the pace.

"Goddamn, sweetheart, soaked already," he muttered, gasping when you passed over the head of his cock. You smiled devilishly down at him as his eyes fluttered shut, and his head fell back against the seat.

Your lips had found his neck when Dean had had enough.

He needed to be inside you. Now.

Lifting your hips up, Dean tugged you flush with him as he notched the head of his cock into your entrance. You hitched a breath as a moan escaped him, now enveloped by that sweet warmth he loved. It didn't matter how many times he'd done this - that first stroke was unforgettable. He watched your expressions change when he pressed your hips down, pushing you lower onto him.

Your eyes flitted shut as you inched yourself lower and lower, your walls being stretched to accommodate him. Dean leaned you back and kept a hand on your shoulders to keep you steady. He wanted to watch the way the girth of his cock stretch your tight hole.

"Oh, fuck yes," he groaned, totally entranced by the way your pussy warped with his size, swallowing his cock into your soft walls. He bucked his hips on instinct and struck you deeper. You cried softly against your hand, trying to quiet yourself when the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix.

With Dean's coaxing you began to grind your hips, sending shockwaves through your cunt, and stretching that familiar band in your abdomen to the point of snapping.

Dean cupped your ass and bounced you lightly along his length. Paired with the hypnotic grinding you started, the additional stimulation had you shuddering around his cock. You were already getting close to your release, and Dean recognized it every time.

"Come on, baby girl, that's it," he cooed, now humming his words against your neck, "cum for me."

With another set of thrusts you became undone around him, clenching down onto Dean's cock, letting out a high-pitched moan as your orgasm flowed through you. Dean hissed through his teeth at the warm, fluttering sensation, satisfied at your soft moans falling out of your slacked mouth.

"Attagirl, just keep goin'," Dean said sweetly, pulling and pushing your hips in the same rhythm as before. The overstimulation took you over and left you whimpering, sending soft pleas of slow down, it's too much, to Dean.

"You can take it, babydoll, I know you can. You can handle that, right?"

You nodded as he slowly fucked you through your cooldown, gasping with each deep push of the tip of his cock. Even if you deemed it was 'too much', you loved the way Dean kept you on edge. Hell, over the edge, and it spurred both of you on even further.

"We're running... out of... out of time, honey," you warned.

Dean pulled you flush with his chest and lifted your hips slightly, positioning himself to brace his feet on the floor.

"Guess we better hurry, then."

He rammed himself up into you, snapping his hips into yours at a rapid pace. You cried out against his neck while he held you snugly against his body. His embrace trapped you here, being pounded relentlessly by his thick cock. The head of him crashed against your cervix, and a familiar soreness ached inside of you.

You paid no mind to the pain of it. In fact, you relished in it for days after, when your pussy throbbed after being used to Dean's great satisfaction. At this rate you were sure you'd be sore tomorrow, and in desperate need for some TLC.

That band in your tummy stretched once again, sending you over that crazed edge of an orgasm, clenching your slick walls around Dean's cock, crying his name into his collarbone. Dean's breath turned into a frantic panting next to your ear, uttering obscenities as his own release followed behind yours.

"We won't have time for cleanup, honey," muttered Dean, "guess I'm gonna have to fill you up, huh?"

His voice flowed through you like fresh rain, cascading over you like a rush of cold water. You melted into him at the thought of him spilling himself inside of you, coating your walls with his cum until you were leaking his seed out of your tight cunt.

"Please," you whined, "please, Dean. Please fill me up. Fill me up. Please, please, please, please."

That eagerness you had was a surefire way to overtake Dean's senses. Your perfect little mouth muttering pleads for more, for him, and for his claim over your body in the most delectable way.

Dean's thrusts faltered as his own orgasm chased him, bringing his high up to match your own. His cock twitched inside of you as he came, shooting warm ropes of his cum into your drenched pussy. You both let out a long, drawn out moan at the warm feeling, as Dean's cum spilled out of you around the base of his cock.

There was little time for the usual aftercare Dean provided you. The two of you worked together to lift you of of his cock. You paid close attention and clenched your walls around the sensitive head of him, making him gasp against your ear.

"Now that's just mean," he prodded.

"I'm fully aware."

He rolled his eyes playfully. You rose higher until his cock left you empty, your tight pussy now leaking his cum onto his abdomen.

"Sorry," you muttered. Dean replied with a soft laugh before helping you situated yourself, handing you your pants and underwear.

"You don't gotta apologize, baby. Haven't had anything in a few days... had a lot in me that time."

Your reply was a swift kiss to his cheekbone before you shimmied your legs back into your pants, shifting uncomfortably at the new wetness of your underwear. Your own juices mixed in with Dean's, as one, serving as a reminder of how you'd been claimed as his.

"Wanna do a movie night when we're home?" Dean posed, ,climbing clumsily over the console and back into the driver's seat of the Impala.

Leaning forward between the seats you replied with a smile, "Another cheesy romcom?"

His guilty pleasure, and also yours, especially when you were snuggled up with him under the covers. Dean smiled, "Hell, yeah."

Hi y’all! I’m sorry this one was shorter than the last, but I hope you liked it! I don’t wanna burn myself out since I’ll be writing every day this month, so some of the fics might be short.

But hey, at least I’m building up the master list!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price prepares for his first date with Nik. 141 rib him.

CW: none.

Price stared into the mirror above his sink and wondered when the fuck all those lines on his face had arrived. Last time he’d looked, he could have sworn there were fewer, and there had been no grey either, but now he saw traces of his old man in the reflection and that made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

In all fairness, he didn’t really have much reason to look–really look–at his own face. Even when he was smearing camo around his eyes and down his cheeks, he was only looking for areas of shine that might draw an enemy’s eye. He never really considered why else someone might be lookin’.

Why Nik might be lookin’.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed as he began gathering up his shaving bowl and the badger-fur brush he only got out on special occasions; medal ceremonies, weddings, funerals and now, apparently, bloody dates. Why the fuck he had even agreed to it in the first place he had no idea, but Nik was surprisingly romantic given what Price knew about the rest of his life, and it was difficult to say no when he turned on those eyes. The word ‘no’ felt like booting a Labrador in the face.

Price stashed his shaving kit away and turned back to the mirror to check the rest. He had been pretty sure the shirt he had scrounged from the bottom of his paltry wardrobe hadn’t seen the light of day since the early noughties, and that had been confirmed when he’d pulled it around his shoulders and the buttons had gaped over his chest. Twenty years ago he’d been a lot leaner, but two decades of focused gym sessions, hard graft and being battered in the field had left him with a lot more heft. He’d pulled on a white t-shirt underneath and left it open, hoping he didn't look too much like someone's dad trying to look ten years younger.

Hair waxed into place, beard conditioned, aftershave and cologne–but not enough to register as chemical warfare–and he was as good as he was gonna get. He had never been asked on a date, only ever done the asking, and even then the sum total of his dating efforts as a young man had ended in disaster. Cold fish and chips on the riverfront and getting your leg over in the nearby park, only to fumble that too, wasn’t exactly peak romance, even at fifteen years old, and somehow he didn't think Nik had anything similar in mind.

Fifteen years old. That had been--

Oh, fuck. He was not equipped for this in the slightest.

Price’s phone beeped and a glance at the message confirmed Nik had arrived on base to pick him up. Bang on time too. Price took one final look in the mirror, grimaced, shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck it. It would have to do. Nik had seen him looking like the arse end of a donkey, so this… jitter in Price’s chest felt bloody stupid.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he murmured to himself as he snatched his wallet and keys from his bed and shut the door behind him. Unfortunately for Price, the rest of 141 were eagerly awaiting his appearance in the rec room and all looked up when he closed the door. He immediately regretted not exiting through the open window in his room.

“Well, well, cap, don’ ye brush up nice. G’ies a twirl,” Soap said, leaning forward with a wide grin that informed Price he was about to endure a good five to ten minutes of focused ribbing.

“Watch it, MacTavish,” Price replied, but without heat. He felt like a prize twat and this was Soap’s roundabout way of helping.

“Och, c’mon noow,” Soap spread his hands and turned to Garrick for support, “Gaz, back me up…”

Garrick looked up from his phone and tilted his head to the side, clearly evaluating just how much he wanted to chance Price putting him on the worst details for the next week. Apparently, he was feeling pretty fucking lucky that evening. “Pretty sure my dad owns that shirt, Tav. Very… uh, early noughties chic. What d’ya think, Ghost?”

Price could count on Simon to fight his corner against these two reprobates. Or so he thought. Simon leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and examined Price for a beat before choosing violence. “Pretty sure I saw it last about ten years ago,” Simon said, and then shook his head. “Happy to drop a pony on a new striker xt gen 2 so you can have the ranger green as well as the steel grey, but couldn’t cough up a few quid on a new shirt, sir.”

“You’re all bastards, and I you’ll be shovelling the shit next week once I get back to my desk,” Price growled.

A round of groans followed, and Soap rolled up to his feet. “C’mon, sir, we’re just jossin’. As my ol’ nan used tae say: a pritty face suits the dish-cloot.”

“Dish cloth chic,” Gaz said, grinning.

“Ah mean he looks bonnie, right? ‘Side, we need to cut the ol’ man some slack. When was th’ last time ye got tae let yer hair doon, sir?”

“Not long enough,” Price said, pinching the bridge of his nose and planning to beast the trooper delaying Nik at the checkpoint.

“I reckon the last time was when Usher was in the charts. What was the song? Ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, shit, what was it called?”

Price decided that Garrick would be organising a mock dawn raid for the freshest batch of recruits. He would make sure the weather forecast was grim.

“Wait, wait, lemme get it up on Spotify. We c'n get cap in the mood tae drop tha’ thang. Reckon Nik’s an animal on the dancefloor, aye? Ha! Found it. ‘Yeah’ by Usher.”

Soap would be joining Garrick. Full weighted kit.

Price watched as the two sergeants bounced around enthusiastically to a song from 2004 that was, by Price’s estimations, only a year older than the shirt he was currently wearing. Fucking disaster. He looked at Simon, who was watching Johnny with that far away look he always did when he thought no one else would notice.

“You have started the party without me, I see,” said a familiar voice at the door. Price looked over and nearly choked on his own tongue. Nik looked fucking good. White button down open at the collar, black slacks, polished shoes, with his hair freshly cut. Simple, but classy. Price tugged at his sleeve and rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the heat he felt under his skin hadn't translated into a flush.

Nik appraised Price with those same soft eyes that had implored him from the cockpit of his damn helicopter for a date. Price cleared his throat. “You scrub up good, Nik.”

“I could say the same. But you are always the prettiest thing in any room to me, captain.”

Price’s face burned to the very tips of his ears.

“Ah, Nik! Watcha mate, how're you doin’?” Garrick bounded over and threw his arm around Nik’s shoulders for a half hug.

“Ye better have him home by ten!” Soap called from where he stayed slouched on the sofa.

“Of course, sergeant.”

“Nik, let's go, and you lot, get an early night. Pay back's a bitch.”

Nik smiled and stepped aside with what was definitely a bloody half bow to let Price out of the rec room first to a chorus of groans and entreaties for mercy from the two sergeants. Price and Nik emerged into the night air and had almost reached the car before Nik took Price's hand and drew him to a stop. “You are nervous.”

Price cleared his throat, sniffed, and did his best to come off as nonchalant. “Nah, I'm grand, just realised I’ve not got the clobber for this kind of thing, or the, uh… expertise. I'm worried you'll be disappointed.”

Nik looked at him blankly.

“Ah, sorry, my… clothes. It's been a long time since–”

Nik took his chin and lifted his eyes from where they had drifted to the ground. The kiss he placed on Price’s lips was tender, fleeting compared to their first shared under the downdraft of spinning helicopter blades, but it made Price's heart stutter just the same.

“You look good…” Nik released his chin to push both hands into Price’s hair, mussing it out of its careful arrangement. Next, he reached around the back of Price’s belt and tugged his t-shirt free. “Hm, now better.” Price swallowed hard, trying not to be too obvious about inhaling Nik’s scent as he pressed in close.

“Scruffy more like.” Price was still getting over the feeling of Nik’s fingers in his hair, brushing the skin on his back. Nerves had been replaced by the soft thrum of something warm in his chest.

“Nyet. English country boy with rough edges and blue eyes. You are honest, John Price. And a good man. It is what I have always loved most.” Nik opened the car door as Price gawped at him with wide eyes. When his senses had returned, Price realised Nik had rented a nondescript BMW for his stay, with leather interior and a fully digital media system. Plush. “After you.”

“Where’re we goin’?” Price asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Is surprise.”

“Bloody hell, and here I was thinkin' we’d go out for a movie and a pint.”

Nik grinned, tapping the beemer into ‘Drive’. “I will have the captain back before he turns into pumpkin, or the lieutenant mounts a rescue mission.”

Price chuckled as Nik pulled away into the night. Thankfully, Usher didn't feature in the evening‘s itinerary.

[wttcsms]

nothing, just thinking abt pro hero bakugo x world class thief reader. he's begrudgingly recruiting you to help him take down a massive drug ring that's manufacturing an addictive substance that supposedly enhances someone's quirk. in exchange for your help, he promises you don't leave this conversation in handcuffs.

you’ve got this total cat woman-esque vibe going on. like a black cat, you're agile, fast, and with the way you narrowly avoid death, you probably have nine lives, too. like a black cat, you bring nothing but bad luck to everyone around you. from the second you were born, misfortune followed. your mother nearly died during childbirth, the entire hospital experienced a blackout despite no storms or external issues being present, the backup generators took a suspicious amount of time to regenerate, medical machinery started malfunctioning. the hospital staff shrugs it off as just a really bad day.

growing up, accidents keep occurring all around you until your parents finally get it confirmed: you're bad luck. and no offense, but no one really wants to hang out with the girl who causes a five-car pileup just because she happens to pass by the traffic while walking on a sidewalk.

no one wants to be around you, and honestly, you start to think that you shouldn't be around other people, either. all you'll do is cause them trouble. so the minute you're able to strike it out on your own, you do.

and you tried to make an honest living, really! it's just... it's hard to hold down a job when mistakes happen most frequently on your shifts. one night, you're hungry and you wonder if you can scrounge up enough change to grab something from the convenience store. the next thing you know, the security cameras in the store goes offline and the cashier is fumbling to fix it, too preoccupied to notice you. you plan on paying! but the cashier is struggling with getting the cameras back online and the automatic sliding doors of the store are opening up for you, beckoning for you to just exit with your stolen dinner, and when you walk out, you realize that this stale piece of stolen milk bread just might be the best meal you've had in ages. for once in your life, your quirk works in your favor. and it's a snowball effect from there; you pick your targets accordingly. uptight owners of a jewelry store who rip off customers, jacking cars from rich boys who get aggressive with their dates. you move on to bigger things, actual heists. you gain notoriety in the criminal underworld. you make a name for yourself.

such a big name, in fact, that pro hero dynamight is waiting outside your apartment for you. you're tough to track down, he'll give you that much.

"so big, bad dynamight wants to what? arrest me? you don't have the authority."

he's scowling at you. "i'm not here to arrest you. i'm here to recruit you."

he refuses to disclose any details. all he does is offer you an ultimatum: either you agree to go along with his plan (the plan that he has told you absolutely nothing about!) + help him with some "hero work" or he takes you to law enforcement and people who actually do have the authority are going to put you behind bars. your choice.

when you agree to helping him with what he needs, he gives you a time and place to meet him. you activate your quirk, and let him know that the zipper on his pants is acting up and that his fly is down.

katsuki bakugo knows that you're nothing but trouble, but you'll keep on reminding him that it's because of all the trouble you cause that he wants you around.

(just !!!! slowburn with bakugo + a cocky antihero!reader <3 you irritate him and he gets on your nerves, too. your personalities and egos clash. but... he hates to see you hurt, and he worries about you when he sends you out on your own, and he's never let anyone say a single bad thing about you. when katsuki takes a fatal blow on your behalf, you immediately rush to his fallen body. even in complete agony and facing death, he still has the nerve to crack a joke. he looks at you and finally smiles. "must be my lucky day." because he got to see you. he always wants to see you.)

[dinozarr]

⠀ “f-f-fuckk~ please fuck me harder.”

𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐒 . . . who was obsessed with you from the moment he saw you. the way you flaunted yourself to the rest of the class, impressing your professor from your sheer intelligence. he could never take his eyes off you, always stealing longing glances your way anytime you took the notion to sit next to him. he always found himself pushing his glasses up high, gripping his pencil tighter, and shifting in his seat whenever you were around. the affect you had on him was like no other.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it didn’t help the fact that you were top of the class either, so he couldn’t use the stereotypical excuse of being your tutor in order to just talk to you. he had to go a different route. it wasn’t something he was proud of; dumbing himself down for the sake of one’s attention, yet he didn’t necessarily care since it was with you. he found himself purposely failing the quizzes and discussion boards your professor would post, expressing evident irritation at his forced grade.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀much to his dismay, after scrounging your socials, he discovered that you had your own “tutor sessions” up on a particular website called OnlyFans. he hadn’t a clue as to what it was, yet didn’t mind all of the sexual ads he continued to get when looking at your “tutor prices”. he was utterly oblivious to the fact it was a porn site, messaging you like some sort of professional customer. it was cute, you gave him that. his profile being himself with his adorable little black-framed wayfarer glasses.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you thought he would’ve changed his mind the moment he stepped foot into your loft apartment, seeing your setup and alas realizing your tutor sessions weren’t what he was expecting at all. however, when revised of the terms he initially agreed you, giving him an op-out, he remained persistent and gave full consent; practically begging for the session to start. you were startled by his assertion, not expecting to see such a side of the quiet boy that sat in the back of your mathematics class.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀nor were you expecting for your viewers to absolutely adore him. they loved watching you ride his over-average erection that had your walls practically begging for mercy with how his veins raked along them, his tip kissing your cervix beautiful with every hip roll you gave. you were unaware of how large he was, bottom lip being crushed between the brim of your teeth as you adjusted to his enlarged size. just from being halfway down his dick you could feel your lower abdomen forming a heated knot, eyes squeezing shut instantly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his eyes were literally a sight for sore eyes with how cutely he sat beneath you, trembling hands not knowing where to go as they roamed you body freely. his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, fog coating the frames with both of your breaths fanning against them. his face was on full display for everyone, thanks to the overhead camera you had. the likes and money continued to roll in the more you kept the camera on him, your viewers loving every second of it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you had your hands slightly resting on his shoulders, fistfuls of his shirt clenched in your grasp to guide you along him. it was adorable how his eyes were coaxed in tears, the dazed glint that swirled within his irises causing a snarky grin to mar your features. he looked utterly fucked out, lost in nothing but raw euphoria. his mouth was barely open ajar, whimpers and cries being the only noises to fill the wide-spread apartment. aside from the sounds of your squelches on his dick of course, your sopping cunt sucking him in farther with each thrust.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was no surprise that you were each on your third orgasm by the time it hit one hour into the session, you couldn’t get enough of it despite him being balls deep in you. and, to reward the man of such behavior, the minute he reached his climax you were already on your knees before him. he hadn’t a clue as to what you were doing until you shoved the entirety of his drenched erection into your mouth, gargling back your gag reflex with small eye rolls.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your actions had the man melting into the chair, the feeling of your cold, silver-lined tongue piercing that dragged across his base sending bone-crushing chills down the man’s back. all he could do was cry out moans of pure ecstasy with his head thrown back against the top of the chairhead. the rest of what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you kneaded with your hands; hollowing out your cheeks with your tongue gliding through the slit of his tip. saliva drooled from the sides of your mouth, coating his dick even more and causing even louder noises to extrude from the situation.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ “please let me cum, please o-oh fuck, ohmygod.”

⠀⠀⠀ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ARMIN ARTLER. ARAN OJIRO. EREN JAEGER. suguru geto. aki hayakawa. connie springer. kento nanami. NORITOSHI KAMO. CHOSO KAMO. AOI TODO. sae itoshi. shidou ryusei. OLIVER AIKU. imamura yudai. SHOUEI BARO. kuon wataru.

NOTEZ : was notttt expecting this to lead into a camgirl!reader but ay fuck it we ball

© TAKST4Z 2023 — all rights reserved. mature discretion. please do not plagiarize or steal any of my works or graphics.

[leighsartworks216]

Red String of Fate

Sylus x gn!Reader

Spent like an hour talking to my roommate in the middle of posting this. Not proofread (even tho I really should) Takes place in the Raven universe

Warnings: red string of fate, birthday, past trauma, past character death, fluff, kissing, crying, presents

Word Count: 3,082

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“You ask-”

“No, you-”

You snap your fingers. The loud click shuts up the twins in an instant and draws them from the shadows of the doorway into the room. They look decidedly anxious, midway between shoving each other forward. You raise a brow at them.

They look at each other. With a shared nod, they stand side by side in front of you. “When’s your birthday?” they both ask at once.

… Really? All that fuss just to ask when you were born? You give them an unimpressed stare. Interrupting your alone time was really worth this?

“It’s just that we-”

“Were wondering since Boss’s birthday is in April-”

“And if yours is before-”

“Or after-”

“His then we can start preparing right now!”

You tap your finger against the armrest. Your persistent silence unnerves them, even after you’ve been here for almost a year at this point. It’s nice, especially now that they’ve had time to adjust to it. It took a lot of confidence to ask you such a stupid question, after all. Too bad you don’t have any interest in answering.

You turn back to your book, signaling the end of the conversation. The twins look at each other, shrug, and leave. Once they’re safely past the open doorway and down the hall, you set your book down.

A birthday growing up sounded like some magical, wondrous event. Candy, games, cake, presents. How many nights had you dreamed of them? How many times had you seen a group of kids in cone hats in the park, parents trying to round them all up so they could blow out candles and dig into the carefully decorated cakes, with cursive writing on top wishing the special one a happy birthday?

The best you managed to scrounge up was when you were maybe 10 years old, give or take a few years. A new soup kitchen opened up. You lined up on the block with the other homeless, starving people of the city. The promise of hot food was always worth the pitying glances and disgusted glares.

When it was your turn in line, after waiting all morning until your legs were just about ready to give out, the person working there had dug through a crinkled brown paper bag to give you a squished brownie wrapped in cling film. That night, an older man you’d known well, had you blow out his lighter to make a wish. You’d split the brownie with him.

When he died less than a week later, something in you died with him. You hadn’t had a brownie since, or much else in the way of sweets, for that matter. As soon as the Devil picked you up into his business, they were off the table completely. The only real thing that improved was how frequent your meals were, without the anxiety of never eating again. But not the quantity; you had to stay thin for the stage.

You don’t even remember what day that soup kitchen opened. Well, there’s no reason to look into it now. Enough bad memories have been dredged up today.

Your phone buzzes with a message.

The twins are asking me when your birthday is. I assume they already tried asking you?

They left just a few minutes ago.

There’s no response for a minute, as if he knows he’s stepping on a thin line between things you do talk about and things you’ll never talk about.

Do you want to celebrate it?

You have to take a moment to think, to consider what he’s offering here.

You have no idea when your birthday is, and he probably gleaned as much. That’s not what he’s asking, though. If you could stare at a calendar, at every single day of the year all perfectly laid out, when would you pick to celebrate your life? It wouldn’t be a celebration of your birth, but it could be so much more. You’re not even sure what adults do for their birthdays, so separated from the concept that you stopped paying attention entirely. But you could choose to do anything - everything.

Your thumb hovers uncertainly over the digital keyboard, before finally typing out a message.

I think I would.

Just say when, sweetheart.

-

The second the twins are told your “birthday” is just a month away, on the day you agreed to work alongside Sylus, it’s all they seem to care about. Huddling together to excitedly whisper about it during missions, probing questions into what you like (mostly to Sylus, but sometimes they get so excited they ask you before realizing you won’t answer), hiding packages delivered to the mansion, and so on.

Sylus is much better about containing his excitement, if he is excited at all to celebrate your special day. He asks first if there’s anything special you’d like to do - dinner, shopping, traveling - you name it and he’s on it. When you admit that you have no idea what people do on their birthdays, he’s all too happy to list out things, without judgement. If he’s honest, he doesn’t do much to celebrate his own birthday either.

You think about the parties you watched as a kid. Piece by piece, you break it down into things you think you’d like.

First and foremost, you wouldn’t mind a cake or some other dessert. Sylus is right on it, suggesting that you both visit a cake shop to figure out what your preferences are before the twins go overboard with a flavor you don’t like. The owners think you’re planning for your wedding. Neither of you correct them.

Second, the games. Whether it’s Kitty Cards or Texas Hold ‘Em, you think it would be fun to play a game or two with Sylus and the twins. Gambling may or may not be involved.

Third, you remember one kid in your youth who was all dressed up in a suit by his parents, all to visit some cheap arcade. You would like to dress up. Sylus chuckles at this one, not because he thinks it’s silly, but because he’s always prepared to have a custom wardrobe built for you. He promises to have a tailor discuss your ideas with you.

As far as birthdays go, it’s nothing crazy outlandish like some of the things Sylus told you people do. At the end of the day, all you really want is to dress up, go to dinner with him (alone), come back to play games with the twins, and have cake. You don’t want the world in the palm of your hands, because you don’t need it. You’ve never wanted it.

Once your desires are laid out, Luke and Kieran calm down a bit. They’re no longer trying to plan this whole big bash, but scheming up ways to win the games against you and Boss, the notorious cheaters that they are. (They’ll never win, but they’re not going down without a fight.)

Mephisto spends the entire time leading up to the day gathering trinkets and withholding them from you. Usually, if he sees something shiny, he brings it straight to you for wordless praise and chin scratches. You know right away what he’s up to. You pretend not to notice for his sake.

Your outfit is ready in less than a week, the cake is baked with all the flavors you enjoyed at the shop, and you couldn’t be happier.

Sylus can’t tear his eyes off of you when you finally reveal your custom attire. Throughout the night, he can’t stop telling you how amazing you look, encouraging you to have more outfits made for future events. The restaurant he chose has a balcony that you two sit on, staring out over a stretch of beach. The ocean breeze carries the bite of salt, refreshing you for the rest of the night ahead.

You tell Luke and Kieran you’ll be home before midnight, but you drag Sylus out to the beach and get sidetracked. He can’t stop smiling as he holds your shoes and watches you run out into the shallow waves. The moon shines on the soft waves behind you, bathing you in an ethereal glow. By the time you do get back to the mansion, your hair is windswept and you have sand everywhere, but you don’t mind at all.

The games are so fun. Luke says you’re cheating by sitting in Sylus’s lap during Kitty Cards, but you gesture for him to sit on Kieran’s lap while he plays. Sylus doesn’t assist you in the game at all; Kieran points out moves and subtly switches the cards in Luke’s hand for the ones hidden up his sleeve. They don’t win a single game.

The cake is beautiful, decorated to perfection and topped with a few candles. You stare at the cursive on top for a moment. When they sing you the song (even Sylus), he notices the distance in your eyes. He kisses the top of your head when the song is over to snap you out of it. You don’t actually make a wish when you blow out the little, flickering flames. There’s nothing you want, and lingering too long trying to figure a wish out only draws the memories of the old man closer to the forefront of your mind.

You cut the first slice. Sylus cuts the rest. He’s not big on sweet things, but he finishes his thin slice anyway. You savor every bite. It’s paradise in your mouth. He has to cut off the twins from having any more, lest they make themselves sick.

Each of them has a present for you. Well, Mephisto has several. He flies to and fro for a while, bringing you little trinkets and shiny things that all pile up on the table. You take the time to look at and admire each one, even sorting them into different groups based on what they are. You wind up with a humorous amount of bottle caps.

Luke gets you a new pair of handguns. Kieran gets you a harness with holsters to hold them in on missions. Sylus gives you a photo album, full of photos from the year you’ve spent together. You sit pressed into his side on the couch and flip through it, page by page. You can see yourself relaxing with each picture. Just a few days after you start working with Sylus, you offer the camera a mischievous smile that doesn’t reflect in your eyes. In the last photo, from a few days ago, you look like a different person; you smile without fear, your guard is let down. The person you were at the gala a year ago has finally found someone to trust.

As the night comes to a close, the twins wish you happy birthday once more before heading off to bed. The mess is left for someone else to deal with. Your presents sit on the table and wait to be put away as Sylus leads you up to what’s become your shared bedroom.

You’re positively glowing. It’s all Sylus can think as you both lay perpendicular over the blankets. Your head rests on his stomach, his fingers trail slowly through your hair, and in just a few hours, the sun will be rising. Yet here you are, too happy to sleep just yet. You want to bask in this feeling a little longer.

You understand now why Luke and Kieran were so enthusiastic, why all those kids from your childhood couldn’t bear the thought of waiting another year for their next birthday, why adults continue to celebrate. You can’t remember the last time you felt a joy like this. It feels all bubbly in your chest, almost surreal, as memories of things that happened just hours ago draw out dopey smiles and lingering giggles. Sylus’s eyes are impossibly soft as he takes you in.

You’re still in the outfit you wore to dinner. He’s still in his suit, sans his jacket. Two pairs of shoes are kicked off carelessly beside the bed. Nothing else matters except right here, right now, soaking in the final vestiges of the night.

He brushes his thumb along your cheek, drawing your eyes to look up at him, that sweet grin still dancing on your face. His fingertips trail featherlight along your jaw, tracing your chin and brushing at your lips. You reach up to hold his hand in place as you kiss his fingers, eyes closing in bliss as you leave pecks down each one, only to leave a lingering kiss to his palm. You look back up at him. He smiles.

“I have one last gift for you,” he says quietly, as if speaking any louder would shatter every window and mirror throughout the entire mansion.

You tilt your head, curiosity drawing your brows together in a silent question. Your smile stays the same. He shifts, helping you sit up so you’re side by side, just facing opposite directions. You watch as his Evol reaches out to the nightstand drawer, pulling out a box and placing it in his awaiting hand. He offers it to you with purpose.

It’s simple, but beautiful nonetheless. Carefully carved wood, rich in color, with a domed lid and rounded edges. It’s about the length of your palm, and no wider than three fingers. A red silk ribbon in a bow ties it together, preventing the hinged lid from being opened. You glance back up at him. He nods toward it.

The silk slips softly through your fingers as you tug on one end of the bow. The knot falls apart, and the ribbon slides onto your lap. You lift the lid and-

You look up at Sylus, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He smiles broadly at your reaction. You look back at the present, emotion bubbling up in your chest once more. It feels even more powerful than earlier. Your eyes burn, but you fight back the tears.

Two rings perch side by side within the velvet-lined box. Red jewels decorate golden bands, shimmering in the dim lighting of his bedroom. A matching set. This is far more than just a pair of earrings or cufflinks, this is…

The first tear falls. You hold the box to your chest as you lean toward Sylus. He meets you halfway, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His broad chest shields you from the rest of the world, hiding the emotions you only allow him to see. Which is wonderful, because you feel so silly, crying over a present like this. He’s given you so much in your time together. Anything you could ever dream of and more - always more. Always trying to make sure you’re happy and comfortable. This is like him giving you the world. You can’t ask for anything greater than that.

“Read the engraving,” he whispers, gently pulling the box from your chest. He holds it while your shaky fingers, usually so steady and sure, pull the smaller ring from the cushion. It takes a minute to see, having to wipe your eyes several times to get rid of the steady flow of tears.

You are my new destiny.

You cover your mouth with your free hand, muffling the sounds that try to escape. It’s usually so easy to be quiet, even under the worst torture. It seems impossible to shut up now.

Sylus pulls your hand away from your mouth, abandoning the box on the bed next to you, and cupping your cheek to wipe away the tears. He kisses your forehead. “May I put it on you?”

You nod immediately. He takes the ring from your trembling fingers and holds your left hand. You watch, entranced, as he slips it onto your pinky. It fits perfectly. The red jewel glimmers, mirror Sylus’s eyes when you look up at him. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss over the ring.

You giggle, a soft and wet sound. You can feel his smile against your fingers. You’ve never felt so light before.

You turn to the box, using your free hand to carefully take out the larger ring. The band is a bit wider than yours, but the design holding the jewel in place is almost identical. You don’t need to ask or even gesture for him to give you his left hand; he offers it right away, still holding your left hand as he does. You slip the golden ring onto his pinky. Overcome with rapturous emotion, you hold his hand in both of yours and bring it to your lips, kissing the ring just as he had as a quiet, happy sob breeches your lips.

He wraps his arm around you, drawing you to rest against him, your joined hands resting over his erratic heart. His head is ducked down to rest against yours, kisses pressing over the crown of your head. His heart aches in the best way to be granted the opportunity to see you like this.

Your fingers play affectionately with his, thumbing over his ring and massaging his palm. When he returns the favor, brushing over your ring or gathering both of your hands in his just to hold them, you let out airy little laughs that burrow their way into his heart, where they will stay for the rest of time.

You use your right hand to finally wipe the last of your tears away, unwilling to let go of the bond that ties you together. You pull back just enough to look up at his face with a big, beaming grin. He leans his forehead against yours, your noses brushing against each other.

“I love you,” you whisper. It comes out crackly and hoarse, but it sounds like music to his ears.

“I love you, too,” he whispers back. “In every lifetime, I will find you. For the rest of eternity. Always.”

You tilt your chin up to capture his lips. It starts slow, a mere vessel for the vow he made, a seal that forces this change in fate he is creating. It doesn’t take long for it to grow hungry and desperate for each other. Not long at all until he’s cradling your neck, cold metal pressing against your skin, as he lowers you back into the bed, leaning his body over yours and supporting himself so all his weight isn’t crushing you.

“Happy birthday,” he breathes into your mouth, “my beloved.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[wayrad]

hiii number 15 on that prompt list would be delicious if u fancy it

omgosh yes anything for you legend <3

for prompt 15: “this is going to hurt, okay?”

Usually John’s the rash one, the on who jumps in over his head, doesn’t think things through. Prefers it that way, too; if he’s going off the deep end at least he knows Gale will be there to reign him back in. Get a hand on his nape and tell him knock it off, Bucky, always in that tone of voice that John needs.

That’s not how it happened today. Today, just another tick on the wall, and Gale woke up on the edge. He goes non-verbal, somedays, has got a storm brewing in him, and no seems to notice it but John. He knew today was a bad one, and not just for Gale; the Luftwaffe officers feel it too. The edge, like a knife licking up the spine. They hold their rifles a little higher, the chains on their dogs a little looser.

Gale had been so quiet. He’d never been the one they watch, especially not on days like these, but. But.

And John should’ve known. Should’ve.

Now, perspiration gathers on Gale’s severe brow bone. He looks pasty as a ghost, sounds like one too; the air in his lungs is rattling about like it’s slipping through the cracks of him. He looks drunk- but that’d be a mercy in here.

“Gale,” John says, tries, for what seems like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes. “Gale, baby. Baby can you hear me?”

The pain’s making him delirious. He’s in shock, too, up to his head in it, shivering, muttering all incoherent. And John hasn’t been able to look at it, not for long- Gale's sleeve, pulled up, what’s waiting there for them. It’s still in the shape of a mouth, like the mutt was still hanging onto Gale’s tattered flesh, yanking, pulling as the German officer just watched and let it all happen.

John had ordered every man to stay out. He’d— handle it. He’d take care of Gale.

“I’m going to get your shirt open, okay?” he says slowly, taking the ruddied fabric between his fingers. When he shifts it experimentally Gale’s chest heaves, a wet sob breaking apart from his lips. It’s the loudest he’s been all day, loudest he's been since the bite took him.

John takes Gale's shoulders, hopes it's soothing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he lulls. "Ain't no doctors around, not yet. Just me. I'm doing the best I can, huh?"

To that, Gale says nothing. Just clutches at his shoulder like he's trying to keep his arm attached to his body. John gives up on getting Gale's shirt off the right way; he finds little dull scissors the guys use to cut out pinups and takes the sleeve right from the seam. Warm clothes are hard to come by, and Gale would say as much, if he could.

Without the fabric to cover the gash, John's faced with the gravity of their situation. Puncture wounds litter the purpling skin of Gale's forearm, blood tacked and dripping across his wrist. There are chunks of skin missing. Around it, a mottled bruise blooms purple and green over the entire thing, makes John think it really could fall off.

"Jesus," he mutters. They've got nothing to clean it with, nothing proper, but- and that's an idea. John cups Gale's jaw. "Hey. I'm not leaving, okay?" he says. Gale shivers against him. His skin is clammy and too-hot, but he nods, and that's something.

John makes across the room, below his bunk, to where a jar of contraband liquor is stashed next to the notebook he was able to scrounge up a couple weeks ago.

This isn't exactly the special occasion he'd been saving it for.

Rounding up on Gale again, John smooths his sweat-stringy hair from his forehead. "Gale," he says. "This is going to hurt, okay?"

Gale flashes John his eyes- blue and full of pain- and John almost can't do it. Almost.

He unscrews the cap and tips, takes Gale's wrist when he jerks, crying out in pain. Forces it down. He holds Gale's arm and doesn't stop pouring until he runs through the entire jar. "Shh," he says, and it isn't enough, nothing could be enough. "Shh, Buck, it's okay."

Gale's body kicks against his chair. Slumps, eyes shutting. He's hasn't got enough fight left in him to break John's grip: he isn't eating, isn't sleeping, and now this. John's never seen him like this before. Not once in his life.

"Did good, Gale, huh?" John says. Presses his lips to the fire-hot skin of his forehead, slumping too. "Did good."

[hauntdoesthings]

Vox x Reader: Afterglow

A/N: because this man is toxic as shit and im tired of pretending he's not(i will immediately be smothering myself in fluffy delulu to heal from this).

CW: implications of sex(fic starts during aftercare), toxic/unhealthy behavior, vox is sweet as hell then ice cold

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was always so sweet in the moments after. Insisting on staying inside you for "just a few more minutes," Vox loved holding you close as you both came down, savoring the feeling of your heartbeat against him. After a while, he'd pull himself away for just long enough to grab a warm washcloth. "Lean back, sweetheart," he'd say in that low voice you only heard during these moments, the one that heaped praise upon you for listening as he took care of you. Any fluids were wiped away, bruises and markings kissed gently before finally, he leaned up and cupped your face. "You did so well. You're so perfect, darling, just for me." One last gentle kiss and an almost lovestruck smile, and he was tucking himself into bed next to you.

This was were the tender touches ended. You curled up on your side of the bed while he laid back on his, screen going dark. Sleep came easy after your time together, but unfortunately, your unconscious mind didn't know the rules as well as you did.

You awoke to Vox's hand on yours, though not in any way similar to last night. He was peeling you off of his arm and, upon noticing you were awake, glaring at you. Realizing the situation, you quickly withdrew and scrambled back on the bed. "What did we say?" "I-I'm sorry, Vox, I must've just- in my sleep, I-" He doesn't wait for you to finish as he pulls back the covers. "It's time to get up anyway," he says more to himself than you. "Your shift starts in a few hours. You know the way out that'll keep you out of sight, right?" "Yes, sir." "Good." That's all there is to say before he leaves the room. As you scrounge up your scattered clothes and belongings, you ponder how long it'll be before you end up here again, going through the same wonderful, exhausting routine neither of you dared to change.

[reds-writings]

the first of many and the start of something new

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: heyyy! another fic in the jealousy, jealousy universe! this is based on the mention of when the reader's left without a car after an accident and rust offers her a lift for the time being. just some more background building between the two and giddy feelings! hope you enjoy!

word count: around 2.8k

warnings: a smidgen of workplace sexism and mentions of reader having longer hair. that and cursing.

Today had been one shit day. Shittiest of shit days you’ve had the displeasure of encountering in a while actually. The power had gone out sometime in the night from some short burst of a storm so your alarm clock had gotten reset, resulting in you waking up nearly an hour later than your usual start time. It also meant that the dryer hadn’t finished drying all your work clothes for the week ahead leaving you to throw on whatever attire you had on the day before from your hamper that was decently wrinkled come this morning. The best you could do for your messy tresses was throw it up haphazardly into a banana clip you rummaged for in one of your bathroom drawers. You barely managed to slap on some blush to look a bit more lively and wipe any remnants of caked mascara from beneath your eyes you hadn’t bothered taking off last night. 

God, you were gonna be so late. 

You managed to keep a clean attendance record at work, rarely allowing yourself the opportunity to slip-up knowing you’d get chewed out more than anyone else by Quesada just cause. Yanking on your work boots and grabbing some of your gear you nearly managed to eat shit on the way out, not bothering to grab a bite to eat or even scrounge up some coffee. You prayed today was one of those days where Rust carried out his ‘secret’ routine of setting out your coffee before you’d show up to work. Your weathered bronco was low on gas but you’d have just enough to make it to work and hopefully back to whatever gas station nearby on the way home. Peeling out of the driveway like a bat out of hell and settling yourself on the main road your eyes kept flying nervously to the dashboard’s clock. Each ticking minute caused the buzzing anxiety in your gut to sink deeper and deeper. 

You checked your frazzled appearance in the rear-view mirror, failing to notice the intersection coming up ahead. Your heart just about leaped into the next state over when you barely managed the time to notice the rapidly closing gap between you and the car stopped in front of you. Slamming on your brakes, your car tires squealed to a stop and your front bumper found itself barely a hairsbreadth away from ramming into the vehicle ahead. Your relief was short-lived when the car behind you, unfortunately, didn’t have enough leeway to break at your sudden halt and collided with your car, causing you then to bump the car in front of you. The force of it had you near-whipping forward like a ragdoll, making you bump your head on the steering wheel. The separate trilling of respective car horns only added to your steady-growing headache. 

You could just about cry. 

By the time you actually made it the department after the mess that was trading insurances and getting your car towed to whatever repair shop that was in close proximity to the area of the accident you looked like you’d been dragged to hell and back. On top of taking one of the worst bus rides of your life, someone managed to spill their coffee across your lap at a harsh stop. The defeat weighing on your poor bones was apparent to everyone on the floor that took in the sorry state of your figure. You mustered up a mumbled greeting to the receptionist, feet dragging their way towards your desk. The small bruise on your brow throbbed increasingly, especially when that prick Geraci decided he’d make a snide pass at you as you trudged in.

“You’re gonna give folks around here a mean fright walkin’ around lookin’ like that, girl.” 

“Do me a favor and go dine on some dick, Geraci.” You snapped without even looking at the now angrily flushing man. Rust and Marty sat in their respective spots, one eyeing you with slight shock and the other with something unreadable as per usual.

“Now just what happened to you, missy?” Marty started in on you as you tossed your stuff down. 

Eyeing the anticipated presence of the daisy mug on your desk, you reached for it to take a sip of your awaiting coffee only to grimace at the realization that it was well cold and stale by now. Price of being late. Before you could grumble out a response your other consequence in the form of Quesada barked out your name to order you into his office. 

You just couldn’t catch a damn break. 

Closing your eyes and exhaling slowly to steady your spiking nerves, you set the mug down harshly before turning on your heel and stalking over to the Major’s office. The door promptly slammed shut behind you both, leaving everyone on the floor frozen for only but a moment before they resumed their individual tasks.

Marty let out a low whistle, shaking his head before turning back to some files, “Guess we should head on out now. She ain’t going anywhere anytime soon.” 

Rust didn’t say a word as he sat fixated on you getting reprimanded to no end by your fuming superior. 

The dusky hues of oranges and violets had long since burned in the sky by the time you finished with the deskwork Quesada had relegated to you for being late as well as your snappish attitude aimed at him while he had lectured you. The most grating forty minutes of your life that you’d never have the luxury of getting back. Your spine ached from being hunched over for hours on end and your retinas stung from overused strain. The slow steps of Rust's shoes sounded on the linoleum floors of the department, causing you to glance up and notice that Marty wasn’t by his side. Your gaze flew to the clock to see that it was nearing 7:40, shit, it was time to get going.

You’d have to walk back if there weren’t any other buses in service. Fuck. 

“You done for the day?” Rust rasped out as he fiddled with a cigarette. 

“Just about. Have half the sense to wanna throw these all over Quesada’s office for him to have to organize his damn self but that won’t do me no good after today.” You leaned back to release a few cracks in your vertebrae. 

“Probably not, no.” He eyed your tired form.

“You guys find anything useful today?” You came back forward and got up to collect all your things. Mind busy with hoping and praying there’d still be a bus around this time. 

“Just a whole bout of nothin’. At least for right now that’s what it’s seeming like.” 

“Bummer. Sorry I got held up and couldn’t come with ya.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

A pause. Then,

“Your car ain’t out front.” His acute observation caused your shoulders to slump.

“Yeah. Part of the day's neverendin’ woes. Got into one hell of a fender bender.” 

“Reckon that was the causation of that nasty bruise. How’re you gettin’ home?” It came out more as a slight demand than a curious question, making your head snap towards him. Your face was starting to feel hot in embarrassment.

“I was just gonna see if there was a bus or somethin’. Seems Marty rushed on home otherwise I would've wrangled his ass for a ride. I might just have to walk I guess…I dunno.” You shrugged, feeling yourself shrink under his calculating gaze. 

“You ain’t walkin.” 

Rust grabbed his keys and waited for you to finish fixing up your desk. It took you a second too long to realize he was implying you’d be getting a ride from him. The thought of being with him in his truck alone had you feeling all sorts of funny. You’d never really spent time together one-on-one and you were terrified of acting like some bumbling fool in his presence without Marty there to break the ice. 

You wordlessly gathered up the rest of your things and made the move to follow him out of the building. The balmy air did nothing to ease the growing tension you felt in your body. You smiled at him shakily in gratitude as he opened the passenger door for you. Once you’d wobbled your way up into the truck he shut the door then rounded the vehicle to get in on his side. The rumble of the Ford’s engine was the only saving grace of the awkward silence that had settled between you both as he drove the somewhat lengthy distance to your house. 

“Thank you. For drivin’ me. You didn’t really have to.” Your unconfident tone broke the quiet. You cringed slightly at how you sounded. Most people didn’t have you as nervous as he did. Whether that be because of the sheer power he carried with him at all times or the sharpness of his personality you didn’t know.

“It wouldn’t necessarily be wise to have you out walkin’ in the dark for some odd amount of miles. I wouldn’t trust anyone around this wasteland to leave you be.” 

It did feel silly now thinking you’d be able to make it however many miles out by your lonesome. At night no less. You would’ve been a walking target and then some.

“What happened today? You don’t strike me as the…unorganized type.” Rust continued, gaze flitting over you in slight caution. If you had half the mind you’d be plenty self-conscious to be caught looking this unkempt around him. Your raging exhaustion just so happened to save you from the ridiculous notion as you rubbed your bleary eyes. 

“That storm last night had my power go out so my alarm clock was fucked this mornin’. Same is to be said for my dryer that didn’t finish its job with what was supposed to be all my work clothes for the week. Then the accident. Banged up my car pretty good so it’s gotta sit in the shop for God knows how long, they couldn’t give me an estimate. I took the bus then got shit spilled on me. The rest of the sad third act you saw yourself.” 

“Can’t say it wasn’t amusin’ seeing Geraci’s punk ass go bright as a tomato.” His chest vibrated with a dry chuckle and it had you feeling even warmer. 

“I ain’t ever liked him. Ass kissin’ piece of shit. Likes shittin’ on me every chance he gets just like most around there. I could’ve thrown somethin’ at Quesada’s thick ass skull with the way he spoke to me earlier.” You huffed,  

Rust shook his head slightly, “If it’s any consolation he don’t like me much either.” 

“For different reasons. You’re more…prickly- forgive me for sayin’. I bust my ass and I ain’t ever gonna be respected like I should.”

“In a place like this, can’t say that’s much of a promised future.” He didn’t seem to take offense to the ‘prickly’ comment. 

There was another pocket of silence before you sounded again.

“I’m gonna be honest, if it weren’t for your truck parked outside everday I wouldn’t think you were able to drive.” 

His responding look was that of slight incredulity but let you go on anyway, “I’m only sayin’ because anytime you, Marty, and I have to drive out somewhere you never really get behind the wheel. I was convinced you couldn’t operate a vehicle the first month or so in.” You snickered at the ridiculousness of the previous thoughts you'd conjured up involving the man next to you. It was far-fetched that one as serious and experienced as him just couldn’t drive. 

“Glad to see how little faith you had in my capabilities.”

“Nawww, it wasn’t like that, don't worry.” You grinned at him.

“It’s my synesthesia mostly. Why I don’t drive. Sometimes it’s too overwhelmin’ to where I don’t always trust myself behind the wheel.” He gave his explanation and you felt that familiar twinge in your chest you’d had been feeling in his presence over the passing weeks. You weren’t too familiar with his condition but from what he’d mentioned here and there it didn’t sound all that pleasant. 

“Makes sense. Seems scary to have from what you’ve said.” 

“You find yourself getting used to it after a while. I’ve built up the sense of knowing what’s really occurrin’ versus what ain’t.”  He sniffed, sounding nonchalant at the confession. It fascinated you just how we went about handling the cards he’d been dealt so far in life. If it were you in his shoes you were sure you would’ve gone AWOL by now. As you pulled up to your address, you felt the sting of disappointment that this had all swiftly found its end. It surprised you at how quickly time flew by during the car ride, realizing this was the most semi-lighthearted and continuous conversation that had ever flowed between you two. It wasn’t much of a chore to listen to him speak as Marty made it out to be. The difference could also be found in the fact you just regarded Rust in a different light than others happened to. 

The engine cut and the only sounds offered were that of the cicadas and frogs somewhere out in the lush foliage surrounding your house. 

You brushed some hair from out of your face and met his eyes again, “Thanks... again. I appreciate it a lot.”

He just nodded, “What time d’ya usually head out of here in the morning.”

You froze. Was he really offering up himself again? Completely and willingly? For you?

“You don’t have to! I’ll bug Marty about it or see if my sister can help me out-”

“What time?” The finality of it had you even more stunned. It was a disorienting sensation to think that Rust Cohle just might tolerate you more than he did most.

He more than just tolerated you but you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“6:30ish. I can pay you for gas o-or-”

“Just be up and ready to go.” Was all he said and that was it on the matter. After a moment or two, you brought yourself out of your awe and collected your stuff. You opened the door to head out of the truck but not before turning to him and placing a hand on his forearm lightly, the first time you’ve ever acted on any affectionate inclinations in regards to him. He stiffened almost imperceptibly but didn’t jerk away. 

“I’m serious. Thank you.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.” Steel blue stayed focused on the windshield ahead. 

“That ain’t like me. Coffee or breakfast’s on me tomorrow. Whatever my savior wants he’ll get. It’s the least I could do. My poor legs and I can live to see another day thanks to the benevolent nature of Rustin Cohle-” You were cut off by the scoff of your partner, inciting a small fit of laughter from yourself. 

“Sorry, can't keep things too serious. You could use that every once in a while, y’know.” You patted his shoulder before hopping out.

His sights were then set on you as you shut the door and you let yourself bathe in the feeling of it for just a hair longer than you should’ve. Yeah, you were beyond flustered from the day’s events. Hair in a severe state of frizz, bruise having bloomed a bit further along your browbone, and clothes in a state of mess he’d never seen on you before. But it just made you all the more endearing. Especially with that ever-blooming smile of yours. It was becoming more evident that there was little you could do that would have Rust judging or turning you away. He didn’t know what to make of it but he's sure now that he’s offered up himself as your chauffeur for the time being he had to settle with the fate that things wouldn’t be getting any easier for his withered soul. 

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow mornin’.” 

“That you will.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

“G’night, Rust.” 

The turn of the engine had the spell you’d been enraptured in dissipating and you stepped away from the truck. He lifted a palm signalling his departure before making his way back down the road and out of sight. A heavy exhale escaped the tightening prison of your chest as your mind swam at the whole interaction. Every little detail about him had you becoming increasingly attached much to your distaste. A cold shower and ridding the smell of his addictive cologne from your memory sounded like more than a good idea right about now. Anything to run these thoughts of your very emotionally unavailable coworker out of the recesses of your brain. 

This was going to be a lot of work. 

[itsabouttimex2]

Primal Moon: Three

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

(This fic has a paired Character.AI bot!)

Twice a year a verdant moon rises to bring the bestial instincts of non-humans to light. Celestials and demons alike struggle to keep hold of themselves, something ancient welling up within them and subtly shifting their thoughts and feelings.

Today, you are one such soul.

And you don’t know why everyone wants you out of the nest you’ve built. It’s warm. It’s safe. The walls are narrow, allowing for pillows and blankets to be stacked more easily. All around you is plush comfort. You’ve even got a few snacks packed away in here.

But still, people are trying to coax you out.

As a rather promising member of the Celestial Realm, you often had many eyes on you, barely allowed even a minute alone. It seemed as though the hopes for your future were so high that you were not afforded time to potentially be led astray or stolen from the court by enemy or foe.

Not that their interest or intent mattered when the viridescence hit.

You had shooed away cleaners, incense-bearers and maidservants alike, turning them all from your overstuffed shelter one by one. Even when guards and knights were scrounged up and sent to retrieve you, their mission had ended in abject failure.

So now the task fell not to servant or soldier, but to a prince.

“Y/N,” calls the Third Lotus Prince, Ne Zha. His sash sways gracefully behind him, floating as though caught in a gentle updraft. He’s chosen not to bring his spear, perhaps as a sign of goodwill. “Enough of your hiding. You will remove yourself from the closet, or I will remove you by force.”

You’ve known his for a very long time- he’s practically your sibling by now. There’s a decent trust established between the two of you, born of his constant care during this bestial haze.

His command beckons you a few inches forward, the bottom of your face peeking from the blanket pile.

Fangs peek from your mouth, already. Usually they wouldn’t grow in few days, and he’d be left consoling you as the bestial growths broke through the old teeth and took their place.

“Come now, Little Petal,” the prince further beckons, using an old nickname from your youth. His voice has softened, noting the more drastic change. “I will not allow you to be harmed. Allow me to soothe your aches, little one.”

You pull further from the scrap-built nest, allowing him to catch sight of the numerous tear tracks across your face.

“Poor little kit,” he croons, hoping to mollify you as he would a non-bestial child. “The moon has been unkind to you, has it not? Come and take shelter in my arms.”

On unsteady hands and knees you crawl, edging closer still to your surrogate brother. Eventually, your top half scrapes free from the thickly-packed nest. The fluff of your pointed ears has grown thick and bushy, doubling in size just overnight. The scruff all around your neck is similarly fluffed, swallowing your chin and neck.

“Come now,” he calls, patting the floor in front of him. “Let me hold you. You’ll feel safer in my arms, won’t you?”

Were you not plagued with maddening viridescence, you might have snapped at the prince for treating you like an animal or cooing like he were in the presence of an infant.

Instead you cower and whine, fixated on his coaxing hand.

Ne Zha is aware of the inherent strangeness of all this. This constant urge to coddle and protect- it's not like him. But then again… he does care about you. You’re the younger sibling he never had. So it can’t be wrong to care for you- it can’t be.

It’s just…just that doesn’t know how to cope with the instinctual urge that this brings on, that’s all.

It’s wrong to treat you like an animal. It’s wrong to take advantage of this state just to spend a little more time with you. It’s wrong to indulge in his fantasies of being your older brother, the beacon which guides your way and dictates your every step forward.

He knows that.

But every man grows weak eventually, in heart or body or mind.

If this is the prince’s opportunity to have an obedient little sibling who does as he commands and stays out of trouble?

He’d simply have to take refuge in the fact that other people could do far worse.

For all anyone knew, without him you’d be hunted and then torn to shreds for your fur. Or captured as an exotic ‘pet’ to someone who viewed you as no more than a base animal. Or sold as… gods, he didn’t want to think of it.

By the Celestial Realm, all the horrible things that could have happened to you by now, if he hadn’t sworn himself to your safety.

With a mind stuck on such awful possibilities, Ne Zha’s fears and worries promptly magnify.

“Come now,” he beckons again, gesturing you forth. “I’m right here, my little lotus. I won’t let anything hurt you.” His hands continue to wave, drawing you nearer and nearer. The sight of red fills your vision, silk gracefully flittering.

You recognize it well. What could it be but then armillary war sash that he’s never far from? It ambles eagerly through the air, mirroring the prince’s internal emotions.

And then goes stiff with shock at the sight of something new, a feeling that his face mirrors- though to a much lesser degree.

“Little kit, you’ve grown a second tail! Come here and let your elder brother see!”

Ne Zha ushers your form to his arms, binding your arms and hands with the sash in case of any squirming. Ignoring your panicked yips, the prince examines the new appendage without delay, burying both hands deep into the fluff.

For a minute or two he strokes and untangles, thin fingers working out any knots he can find. In spite of how you’ve been restrained, Ne Zha maintains a gentle touch- he knows (though not from personal experience) it can be agony to endure the Primal Moon. New growths or sudden bouts of extreme shedding are quite common, often paired with a dose of crippling pain.

“You must’ve grown this only just today, I suppose. Does it still hurt, my little petal?”

A strangled howl sounds when he touches the base of your new tail, answering his question a few times over.

“Shush, shush. There’s no need to fuss, kit. Let’s get you something to drink, shall we?

Lotus root carried a sweet taste, even when ground- in great enough amounts, it could easily disguise a splash of… ‘herbs’.

Anything to make the pain you endured more compliant and bearable. As long as you relied on your big brother (by choice or not), he’d ease your pain and coddle away your tears

The Third Lotus Prince undoes the binds created by his sash, them lifts your freed form to the metal of his chestplate.

Off he goes to the kitchen, intent into grinding up a very special tea blend for you.

And he speaks-

“I won’t allow anyone to harm you now, little one.”

It seemed as though you’d have to get used to hearing those words.

[intoanotherworld23]

The Neighbor II

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY DNI, no sex in this but there is loads of fingering, sexual tension, mentions of sex, swear words, drinking

Summary: Your incredibly handsome new neighbor Chris Evans moves in across the street, and he’s holding a secret that he doesn’t know if you’ll be able to handle

Part 1

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"Bitch you really need to calm down." Pacing the room as you took a big swig of your drink. "It's not even nine yet."

"I don't know why I'm freaking out." Exclaiming feeling like an idiot for getting this worked up.

"He's an incredibly attractive guy and you were wishful thinking there would be a connection." She told you which wasn't far from the truth.

"It's just he could have said he couldn't make it instead of making me think he's going to come." At this point you were just ranting at his lack of appearance.

"Well you need to at least look like your enjoying yourself people are starting to notice." Taking a quick glance to see people side eyeing you with a weird look.

Telling yourself over and over again that he wasn't going to come, and you just wasted good makeup. Constantly glancing at your phone every five seconds, and looking over the fence to see if you could see him walking over. For some reason you were nervous, and felt like your heart was racing so fast.

For making up a pool party at last minute she was able to scrounge up a lot of people. You'd never even seen half of these people, and yet here they were. Watching as some couples danced provocatively, and some others were making out in the pool.

"This bikini keeps riding up the ass." You tried to whisper in her ear and she just laughed at you. "My ass is practically hanging out."

"That's kind of the point." Shaking her head at you as she watched you struggle to adjust the flimsy material.

"He probably doesn't even like women who dress like this." The feeling of insecurity washing over you thinking about his reaction to what you were wearing.

"Please he's a guy he'll be drooling over you once he sees you." Cocking her head at you in bewilderment. "He'll wanna rip that thing off you with his teeth."

"There's so much prettier girls here than me." Looking around taking notes of all types of skin being shown, and bodies being shown off.

"Now you and I both know that's not even true." Looking straight into your eyes with a serious look. She hated when you talked down on yourself like this.

"And slow down on the tequila you know what it does to you." She warned as she watched you pouring yourself some more liquid courage. Completely loosing track of how many cups you've had.

"I'm partying aren't I?" You sarcastically sneered at her taking another big gulp. You couldn't even feel the burning down your throat as much.

"That's now what I meant Jose Quervo." She joked as she grabbed your arm and pulled you inside.

"I don't think he's coming." You drunkenly confessed to her feeling sad now. Hating when you drank and let your emotions take control.

"He'll be here he probably just got busy and lost track of time." She was trying to make you feel better, and it really wasn't making a difference. "Or he's probably nervous just like you."

"Nobody could get more nervous than me." You scoffed as you started munching on chips and dip. "I'm pathetic."

"Bitch now is not the time to be moping over someone you just met." Sitting down next to you as she placed a hand on your knee. "If he doesn't show then oh well you were too good for him anyway."

"Now he probably won't ever talk to me again." From now on you'd probably have to watch him from out of your window. Looking like some kind of heart broken, scorned ex.

"I swear to god if you don't stop whining I'm gonna have Josh and Steven throw you in the pool." She wasn't kidding either her tone was somewhat threatening.

Turning your head to look out the glass doors you noticed a very familiar face. Straightening yourself up as your eyes went wide with excitement feeling so giddy to see the one person you were literally just about to bawl your eyes out over. Your friend noticing your change in body language and looked out the doors as well.

"Ah see Bitch I knew he was going to show." She lightly shoved your shoulder. God he looked really good too.

"What should I do? Should I go out there and talk to him?" Firing question and question as you stood up and looked into a mirror to make sure you didn't look too much of a mess.

"Actually why don't you hang in here and make him look for you." She smirked to herself at her genius idea.

"Oh you're right that's a good idea make him come to me." Nodding your head as you grinned to yourself. "Can you stay with me?"

"This isn't middle school you don't need a chaperone." Her words making you sigh loudly knowing she was right. "I'll just be right outside."

"Fine." Groaning as you stood by the kitchen counter fiddling with your fingers.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She winked as she walked out the door back to all the party goers.

Trying to avoid looking outside and giving Chris the impression you're basically stalking him. You wanted him to think you could really care less about his attention. Repeating in your head to make him come to you, and fight for your attention.

Placing the cup on your lips getting a whiff of the strong liquor then putting it down. The last thing you wanted was to get too drunk, and throw up all over him or something. You at least wanted to be alert when you were talking with him. Blinking your eyes rapidly hoping it wouldn't make you look as drunk.

Your back facing the door now as you heard it slide open. Closing your eyes for a brief moment as you let out a big exhale. The room was silent as you stood there, and you heard footsteps quickly approaching you. Even though you couldn't see you knew exactly who it was.

"There she is." Chris spoke hearing the amusement in his voice. Turning around to face him taking note he was shirtless.

"Here I am you caught me." Waving your hand by you making him chuckle.

"Sorry I'm a little late I got caught up in something." He apologized which made your heart warm up. "I wasn't going to miss this."

"I'm glad that you could come I was getting nervous you wouldn't show." You admitted to him mentally smacking yourself for saying that out loud.

"Don't be nervous sweetheart." Feeling yourself melting at pet name. "I said I would try to make an appearance and I'm a man of my word."

"This party was starting to get a little boring anyway." It was kind of a true statement you were just glad to see him.

"It doesn't look that boring to me." He chuckled referencing to the couples making out and grinding all over each other.

"Did you want something to eat or drink?" Breaking the silence of you two just staring at each other.

"Oh no I'm good." He waved off your offer as he stepped closer to you. "Your bikini though."

"Does it look bad?" Looking down at yourself wanting to cover yourself up with your hands now.

"Absolutely not you look incredibly ravishing and sexy." You could feel your ears burning at his choice words. "Thank god to whoever made that bikini."

"It's not mine anyway it's my friends." You really needed to stop opening your mouth and saying the first thing on your mind.

"Well I'll have to thank her for being a good friend." Chris smirked as his eyes slowly roamed your body taking every inch of you trying to take mental pictures.

"Oh yeah she's something." You joked making him laugh. He could note the sarcasm in the tone of your voice.

"So a beautiful woman like you has to have a boyfriend." It came out more as a statement than a question. Blinking at him as you thought about what he said.

"Nope no boyfriend." Shaking your head back and forth watching as he was stepping closer to you. "No guys want me."

"Bullshit I bet you've got a line of guys just waiting to get with you." He scoffed playfully not believing what he was hearing. "I know if you were mine I'd be fighting guys everyday."

If you didn't know any better you would say this man was flirting with you. The way he was looking at you had you feeling a little flustered and overwhelmed. He was holding himself back as best he could not wanting to scare you off or something. It was getting hard for him though not to bend you over the counter.

The room was starting to become thick with tension that it was getting harder to breathe. The way Chris was hovering over you now felt like a lion having caught his prey, and was waiting to devour it. You could feel sweat forming on your back, and you needed to freshen yourself up a little bit.

"I'll be right back." Lifting up your finger to him as you turned around and headed to your room. Feeling his eyes watching you swaying your hips a little bit just to entice him.

Practically sprinting to the bathroom once you knew you were out of view. Splashing some cold water on your neck to help cool yourself down. Inhaling and exhaling to calm your nerves a little bit. Staring up at yourself as you prayed you weren't about to do anything stupid. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him.

Grabbing your favorite body lotion lathering your arms and legs in it. Wanting your skin to be smooth if someone's hands were to touch it. Fixing your makeup a little so it didn't look as smudged. Applying your favorite glass to your lips to give them a little shimmer. Who knows maybe you two might end up kissing, and you at least want your lips to look and taste good.

"Come on you can do this." Whispering to yourself as you paced back and forth in your room. "He's clearly interested in you."

"What if he's just being nice though?" You thought immediately your worst kind of fear coming to light. "Or he's just looking for a hook up."

Not that there would be anything wrong with sleeping with the man. It's just you didn't want to be another woman in his books. You wanted there to be something between you two. Wanting to get to know each other and form a relationship together. You weren't really into flings or one night stands.

This was the kind of man that could get any girl that he wanted to. He probably had no trouble in the bedroom or finding someone to entertain him for the night. He was oozing with confidence and sex. Lord knows he's probably had more experience than you've had.

"Just go out there and have a good time." Ending your little self pep talk as you opened your bedroom door only to be blocked by a massive body.

"Thought I lost you for a minute." Chris spoke as you stared at him wide eyed. Hoping he didn't hear you talking to yourself.

"Nope not lost." Was all you could say as he moved towards you and you automatically moved backwards. He was pushing you in the room without even touching you.

"Was starting to get nervous you had abandoned me." Repeating your words from earlier with a knowing smirk.

"I wouldn't do that to you." Responding back your voice a little louder not wanting him to get the impression you weren't interested. Which you so very clearly obviously were interested.

"Do I make you nervous?" He asked as you gulped standing there frozen now.

"No." Shaking your head slightly your voice just barely above a whisper.

"Really?" His chest almost touching yours as he bowed his head down so his lips were directly in front of yours. "Cause I think I do."

Glancing briefly down at his lips then back up at his eyes. He caught your look his lip twitching up in a smile. His eyes doing the same thing as both of you waited for the other to make a move first. You could smell the mint on his breath, and you just hoped your breath didn't reek of tequila.

His lips softly pressing against yours putting more pressure once he noted you weren't backing away. Your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck as his hands gripped your hips. Pulling you flush against his body as his kisses became more hungry.

This is not at all how you pictured your night to go. You figured you and Chris would flirt a little bit, and that would be it. Now here you were making out with the sexiest man you have ever met in your bedroom while there was a party going on outside.

Your lips moving along with his loving how well meshed your mouths were together. Feeling his hands moving around to your backside gripping your cheeks giving them a quick squeeze. Squealing into his mouth as his sudden action taking that opportunity to push his tongue inside your mouth.

You've never been told if you were a good kisser before, and judging by his groans he was enjoying this so much more than you thought. Feeling your skin under his fingertips was driving him crazy, and he needed more. He wanted to feel more, but didn't want to push you into something you didn't want.

Moving you backwards until the back of your legs bumped into the bed. Leaning a hand back as you slowly sat down so neither you or Chris had to remove your lips from each other. It was like you two were glued together, and you couldn't find it in yourself to remove him from you.

"I've been wanting to do that all day." He confessed as you smiled against his lips. Pressing your chest forward so your breasts were sticking out.

You knew this was going to become more than just making out. The way that your bodies responded to each other, and how your skin tingled with every touch. If it wasn't for the tequila you'd been drinking you wouldn't be acting like this.

"I need to feel you so badly." Mumbling against your lips as he felt his erection painfully pressing against his trunks. "Can I?"

Staring up at him as he looked all over your face for consent. He could tell you were nervous, and didn't know what to say. Hoping you would say yes since he's been driving himself mad since he spotted you in your bikini. There was something about you that had him wanting to peel back your layers.

"I don't know." Leaning back on your palms wondering if he was trying to have sex with you.

"How about I just use my fingers?" Leaning his body back as his hands were soothingly running across your thighs.

"Okay." Soon as you gave him the green light he practically growled leaning forward pushing your body fully back attaching his lips to yours again.

His body was pressed up against yours gently rocking himself back and forth. Just enough to where you could feel him over your bikini bottom. A wet spot forming on the inside of the material that he was soon to discover. It amazed you how quickly you became horny for this man you just met.

His hands moving up your body to the edge of your bikini. Pressing his fingers under the material as he slid them inside. The tips of his fingers applying pressure to your core making you moan. Cupping you with his hand as his lips moved down your cheek and to your neck.

Chris taking his middle and ring finger and slowly pushing them inside of you. Hands reaching out to grab onto his arm gripping it as he thick fingers stayed still inside of you. Opening your mouth wide as you tried to steady your breathing.

"Got a tight little pussy for me huh?" He mocked you as his fingers pulled back only to push back in. "And so fucking wet."

All you could do was just whimper and moan unable to find the words to say anything. His fingers were starting to pick up pace and rhythm. Leaning your head back as his mouth was devouring your neck and collarbone. Lifting your hips up so he could get a better angle. Chris smirking against your skin when he knew what you were doing.

"That's it pretty girl." He whispered praise in your ear as you started to grind your hips up and down with the motion of his fingers. "Such a good girl for me."

The feeling of Chris's scruff brushing against your skin had a shiver running up your spine. You were having sensory overload, and you didn't want it to stop. This man knew exactly what he was going, and knew which buttons to press. It's like he knew your body better than you do.

"Oh god." Crying out when you felt him curl his fingers up deep inside of you moving them back and forth.

"Just wait till you feel my cock." Rolling your eyes in the back of your head hearing him speak.

Lifting his head up so he could watch your facial expressions. His mouth parted slightly when he saw the absolute bliss and pleasure you were feeling. Looking down to your chest lifting your top up completely exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes.

His mouth attaching to a nipple sucking on the bud till it was erect and hard. Moving his tongue in circles as you felt his teeth bite down making you squeal. His eyes glancing up at you sensing you were getting close.

"Fuck you've got me so hard right now watching you." The palm of his hand rubbing against your incredibly sensitive clit causing your back to arch.

His free hand gripping your leg to keep them pushed apart when he felt them squeezing around him. Your mouth wide open as little whimpers and moans left your lips. It was like music to his ears and he wanted to hear more. Thrusting his fingers harder your body rocking back and forth.

"Shit right there." Screaming when he starting poking your sweet spot.

"That's it sweetheart just feel my fingers." He encouraged when he felt you squeezing your core around his fingers. "Clench that little pussy around my fingers."

Chris was straining himself so hard to not pull his trunks down and rip your bottoms off and push his cock inside you. He could tell you were a shy type of woman, and didn't want to pressure you. Judging by how you were reacting to his fingers he knew no man has ever put your pleasure first.

"You look so god damn sexy right now." Your hair and makeup probably a mess as you laid underneath him covered in sweat, but to him you couldn't look more tantalizing.

Your entire body was on fire as you felt that familiar feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach.  Leaning your head back as Chris didn't let up his thrusting keeping his eyes on you. It was the hottest thing he's watched in a long time, and he felt he might cum just from watching you.

"Shit cum for me baby." Leaning forward attaching his lips to yours as your orgasm rocked your entire body.

His lips silencing the scream that left your mouth as you released all over his fingers as they slowly pushed in and out of you coaxing you through your orgasm. Comforting you as your body shook and your legs trembled. You couldn't believe that you just let Chris finger you in your bed while tons of people were just outside.

That was the best you've ever felt, and you didn't even notice how much you needed that. The man only used his fingers and he had you panting like a dog in heat. Not only was this man painstakingly attractive but he knew his way with a woman's body.

"Shhh sweetheart just relax." His tone gentle and soft as he talked you through your euphoric state. "There you go baby."

"Holy shit that was amazing." You spoke your mouth completely dry Chris just laughed at your response.

"Like I said just wait till you have my cock inside you." Opening your eyes at him as he winked your cheeks burning up.

Pulling your bikini top down now feeling the sting from his bites. Sitting up straight as he sat next to you waiting until you got comfortable and were able to wrap your head around everything that just took place.

"Nobody's ever done that to me." You confessed looking down at your hands in your lap. You've been fingered before but not good enough to have you cumming in minutes.

"Not until now." He said proudly as you shook your head a smile on your face.

"You sound very sure of yourself." You teased back as you nudged his shoulder.

"Sweetheart it was written all across your face." He argued back playfully damn well knowing he was right.

"I guess your right." You tsked at him trying to be nonchalant but he would see right through you. Right now you needed to change the subject before more things ensued. "I wanted to ask what do you do?"

"Oh ummm." His response was weird and awkward almost like he didn't want to answer it, and he had this uncomfortable expression on his face. "I'm an inspiring actor."

"No way that's so cool." You exclaimed wondering why he seemed almost ashamed. "Ever been in anything I've ever seen?"

"Nah I haven't had any luck landing anything yet." He looked away from you and down at the ground.

"Well I'm sure you'll be in something soon." Giving him a warm and comforting smile as he returned yours with a weak smile.

"Yeah." He chuckled awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck looking down at the floor.

There was something off about him now. Almost kind of like he was upset and or worried. Maybe you were just reading too much into it, but he definitely didn't like telling you what he did. Maybe it was a sensitive subject that he didn't like to talk about.

"I should probably head out." He stood up you following suit now wondering if you said something wrong. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Your welcome." Following him out of your room as he headed towards the front door. Awkwardly standing behind him like a lost puppy dog. "I'll talk to you later."

"Could I have your number so we could hang out some more?" His request had you beaming with hope and optimism.

"Yeah of course." Chris handing you his phone as you typed it in them handing it back to him.

"Perfect I'll call you." He smiled as he waved goodbye and shut the door behind him. Watching as he walked across the street back to his house.

Well this night turned out way better and different than you expected. Now you were kind of glad your friend invited Chris to your last minute pool party. Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten to be fingered by him, and then end it with giving him your number. Smiling to yourself at the thought of where your relationship with each other would go.

"What in the hell happened with you two?" Your friends screeching voice startling you as you turned to face her. Here we go.

[sugurusluts]

Zuko x mercenary!reader -part one

Do people still read Zuko x reader fics?

Mostly for my own amusement bc Zukos adorable- longer than my usual stuff! ♡︎

Warnings: none

————————————————————————

They had followed our little gang around the world, so it wasn’t hard to imagine they’d track Aang here, but they didn’t seem in any mood to strike.

I couldn’t help but feel defensive of the kingdom, even if the two were doing nothing but serving tea. I worked as a mercenary for whatever town seemed to need assistance. Despite not knowing any form of bending, I had connections, and that made me an asset.

Having worked around this place more times than I could count, I knew almost everyone. Most of everyone around town were good people, the type to invite you over for dinner just for giving them a hand in the fields.

Knowing someone like Zuko was around them made me uneasy, that was until Iroh approached me.

“Ah, a mercenary! What mercenary wouldn’t want to help a poor frail old man?” He whined dramatically, from behind me.

“Iroh” my hand tightened on my sword, I assumed there was an unspoken rule that neither group would bother eachother if they truly wanted to live in peace. Maybe I misread this dynamic?

“Good to see you too Y/N, you can losen your grip, im not here to fight you. I couldn’t care less about the Avatar, you know that”

I tilted my head in confusion, what else would he be here for? I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was now a hard working humble business man.

“Would you mind talking to me for just a minute, I’ll make it worth your while” he grinned, holding out a few gold coins he scrounged out of his pockets.

I caved from curiosity, following him as he walked me through a crowd, far away from his new little shop, leading me to a small alley.

“So..why did we have to go to an alleyway for this? Are you gonna mug me?”

“No such thing, I actually have a job for you”

I scoffed, the fuck made him think I’d want to take work from him? I turned on my heel, disappointed at the lack of information he gave me.

“Zuko’s lonely!”

I stopped in my tracks, turning back to Iroh, dumbfounded.

“Zuko’s lonely?”

“Painfully so, you know how hard it is to watch my nephew be such an introvert at his age?”

I rolled my eyes, “what does any of this have to do with me exactly?”

“Well, you could possibly help the poor boy out, couldn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking you to ask him on a date”

“…”

“…”

Jesus fucking Christ he can’t be serious right now.

“You want me to ask the guy who’s tried to kill my friend more times than I can count on a date?”

“Precisely!”

“…Iroh, I’m not a prostitute, I’m not asking Zuko out for cash. He wouldn’t even agree to it either, he’d recognize me.”

The man sighed, pulling out a fabric bag filled to the brim with gold coins. God Zuko was a lost cause.

“Lay on the charm, and maybe he will!”

He dropped the bag in my hand, holy shit was it heavy..

“…fine”

I never thought I’d end up asking Zuko, the fire lords son out on a date, but here we are.

I sauntered into the tea shop, greeting locals as I made my way to where Zuko was pouring.

Carefully filling the cup, he didn’t notice as I leaned against the counter he was behind. I rested my chin in my hands, looking him up and down.

It has been quite a while since I saw him last, longer hair suited him.

When he finally noticed me, he took a double take, stumbling while trying to hold the cup steady.

“…Y/N..?” He asked almost timidly, as if he didn’t want to believe I was standing infront of him.

“Hey, you remember my name, aren’t you sweet?”

He went quiet, still staring at me as if he was seeing a ghost. He pushed past me, going to deliver tea to a table. What a good little worker.

He returned to where I was standing, starting to wash dishes, ignoring my presence.

“What’s your name?”

“..what?”

“Your name, you’re not still going by Zuko here are you?”

He flinched as I used his real name, his eyes flicking between mine and his dishes.

“..Lee. Why are you here?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite prince?”

He stiffened at the praise. “…are you planning on fighting me?”

“No, the opposite actually”

He furrowed his eyebrows in a surprisingly cute fashion.

“Going from Avatar hunter to waiter must be a real boring change of pace for you, huh?”

He didn’t answer, still washing dishes.

“How about you let me make it more interesting for you?”

“..what?”

“I’m asking you out Lee”

He didn’t say anything to that. He simply blinked comedically, his eyes wide.

I gave him time, I wasn’t going to rush him. Iroh did not have the same curtsy.

“Ah welcome to our Shop miss, what tea do you fancy?”

“..I’m not the biggest fan of tea, I’m here because I fancy something else”

Zukos face turned an impossible shade of red, I thought steam may come out of ears if I kept this up.

“Oh? And what are you referring to?” Iroh couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Your nephew of course”

“Oh! Well a night out couldn’t hurt, right Lee?”

He whipped his head back and forth between his uncle and I in disbelief.

“Uncle, you know who this is don’t you?!”

Iroh studied me up and down.

“A humble mercenary looking for a date?”

“You’re exactly right” I smiled knowingly at Iroh, despite him technically being my enemy this exchange was a little fun.

“I don’t see why not Lee! Aren’t they cute?” Iroh gestured to me as if this was completely normal.

“Yeah Lee, aren’t I cute?” *i lean over the counter, invading his personal space.

Poor thing was absolutely floored as he whipped his head between me and Iroh trying to figure out if he was the weird one for being suspicious.

“If this is some sort of ploy to-“ he glares me, but it’s hard to take him seriously with such a red face.

“-I’ll pay for dinner, alright? All you have to do is have fun and look pretty. How about I come back at 7?” I didn’t know I had this much game until now. Why wasn’t I using this power for good before?

“The Shop will be closed by then, no reason to decline” Iroh looks up at his flustered nephew. How long would it take for the poor boy to crack?

“..fine..if you’re not here by exactly seven, I’m not going”

What a brat.. this was going to be an interesting date.

“I’ll be on time, don’t worry your pretty little head. I have business to attend to, I’ll be seeing you Lee” I wink at him, amused at how..affection starved he seemed.

He spun back around, his back facing me, but I could see the blush on his face starting to reach his neck..

Iroh was going to owe me much more than a bag of coins for this.

[ateriblewriter]

Butterflies (t.z)

Continuation of I’m Here

TRIGGERS: self harm, self worth, hinting at other things (if you or anyone ever needs help please do reach out)

a/n: sorry this a year late. but here it is! read with caution.

Enjoy?

"Do you have any sharpies? Or a permanent marker or something like that?" Trevor untangled himself from around your body when he felt the time was right. He didn't wait for your answer before he started to rummage through the drawers of junk that were in the kitchen.

Trevor wasn't about to act like he all the answers in world or like he was going to be the one to fix you. Because in reality that would be impossible, you needed someone trained in that field to help you long term. But that didn't mean that he couldn't help in the moment or at least try.

And he had an idea, something that he had seen when he was younger. A reminder for when your feelings got a little too big for you to handle by yourself. It also a place holder until he was able to help you find the correct help you needed. Because he wasn't going to leave you alone to deal with this on your own.

"Um. I think there might be one in the cup next to the sink." You mumble trying to remember where they were. You knew you had some. "Or else it's in with my art supplies. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey now. There is nothing to be sorry about y/n." Trevor carried you over to your couch and making his way to your art corner to start scrounging around for that marker.

It took him a minute to find your collection, it turned out they were with the art supplies that hadn't been touched in months. He picked out two colors, purple and blue, your favorite color along with one of his.

Returning to where he had left you, he made himself comfortable. He snagged a blanket from the bin and laid it across the both of you. Trevor wasn't

"Give me your arm" He said, not asking. You didn't have the strength to question what his motives were, so you presented him with your wrist full of healing scars. He grimmaced seeing them, wondering how long this had been going on and why he didn't notice earlier.

Trevor took the purple marker starting to draw something. He started off with the body, adding some sort of antenna to what was supposed to be it head. He then took the blue marker and made wings on either side of its body.

"A butterfly?" You question rubbing and tracing over the temporary tattoo with the tip of your finger.

Your friend nodded and explained the simple rules: you want the butterfly to live by letting it fade naturally and reapplying it when you feel that certain urge. Oh and if you do act on those urges the butterfly dies.

You could do that. Or at least try. It seemed easy enough.

"You think she's gonna like it?" Trevor asked peeling off the bandage that once covered his newly acquired tattoo that laid on his right shoulder. He was looking to get something new to add to his collection of art in his body and he chose a butterfly design.

"A butterfly?" Mason scratched his head. He was a little unimpressed and a bit confused. But that's because he didn't know the significance of the creature. "I don't know man, it just seems kind of-"

"Perfect, right?" Trevor finished his sentence. He had grabbed a warm wash cloth to clean the remaining goop off.

"I was gonna say weird. But whatever floats your boat." The younger man shrugged. He didn't care what Trevor decided to put on his body.

Trevor groaned, quickly finishing up his tattoo care so they could go meet up with you. You would like the new ink, he was pretty positive of it. He just needed to show it to you know.

You weren't paying attention to what you were doing. Sometimes you do things and it just sort of happens and you don't really remember it. It was almost like you were in some sort of trance. A trance that had you acting upon some of those heavy feelings that had been plaguing you lately.

"Shit" You mumbled when you heard the knocking on the door. You had completely forgotten that Trevor and Mason were coming over. There was a fresh mark on your arm that you needed to take care of.

You hurried to the bathroom in search of some sort of bandage for your arm. Maybe you could play it off as an accident. You didn't need to tell Trevor what had happened. It would be fine right? Oh god you hoped Trevor wouldn't notice.

You just found a bandage, when you spotted the butterfly you had just drawn on your arm the day before. You panic a little, the drawing didn't have a purpose anymore and had to go. You drop the band-aid to reach for a nail scrubber and start to get rid of the butterfly.

"Come on, Y/n, open the door!" Trevor banged on the door again.

"You think she forgot?" Mason crossed his arms. It wouldn't be the first time it slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang.

"No we were talking about it earlier. I highly doubt she forgot so soon." Trevor frowned unsure what to do. Should he wait for you, maybe you were still getting ready. But he had a sinking suspicion that wasn't the case.

Trevor fished the key you had given him out of his pocket and opened the door. He suggested Mason stay there. Mason had no idea what Trevor had walked into last time something like this had happened, so he agreed to stay put.

Cautiously he entered your apartment and started to look around for you. He found you in the bathroom scrubbing away. He notice the red on your arm and put two and two together.

"Hey, Y/n?" He called out. He wasn't fully sure if you had completely heard him so he tried reaching you again. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" You continue what you were doing.

"Hey. Listen to me. You're okay. It happens. I'm not mad." Trevor wanted to grab onto your wrists to get you to stop scrubbing at the butterfly that had already been cleanly washed off, but you swore you could still see a piece of it. Instead he grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you to face him so wrap his arms around you and pull you in close. "It's okay. Wanna draw a new one?"

Let me know what you think! Anything is appreciated!

[0kayblue]

Need You

Need You 

You and Leon have been a little more than friends with benefits for awhile and he struggles with what he wants it to be. 

Word count: 3k (almost 4) 

Mentions of alcohol, slightly possessive Leon, over protective Leon, angst, fluff (??kinda??), happy ending, not proofread very well if it all.

A/N: HELLO!! How are you all doing? Good I hope. I’ve been gone for more than a hot minute. It took me a lot longer than what I thought it would to get back into the groove of things. With that being said, this is not that great. Kinda boring, but hey, sometimes things are boring. This is just kind of to get me in the groove of uploading and writing again. 

Part three and request are in the works. They are coming!! I just need a little practice before I start actually going at it again. 

With all my heart, I hope you are having a fantastic day!! Enjoy!! 

Time had never moved so slow as Leon anxiously bounced his leg underneath the cheap break room table. His tired eyes glanced to the clock and then back down to the untouched styrofoam cup of coffee. 

Leon hated a lot of things about his job, but at this moment debriefing was his least favorite. He detested having to explain everything that happened on missions before he officially had time to process how they happened to him. Not that he ever truly enjoyed thinking about the things he had to do in order to survive, but he liked to have an understanding on why he did this or that. Why he chose to go left instead of right. 

He had just spent nearly three days fighting his way through the deep Rocky Mountains; B.O.W’s at every turn, and he didn’t even get the information he was expected to return with. The whole thing was a waste of his damn time. He was sent to follow a lead that only set the operation two steps back and whatever up and coming supervillain, or want to be Umbrella Corporation, or extremist cult one leap forward. All while defense was wounded and information scrounged for a thread to pull to loosen the seam on the shit show they were currently trying to clean up. 

He was annoyed and beyond frustrated with everything. On top of the emotional stress he also was not in the best shape physically- it wasn’t anything major all things considered- but, broken ribs, internal bruising and external bruising causing almost his whole torso to be a  deep purple almost gray hue, and the bandaged up gashes on his limbs and slight cuts on his face only kept adding straws to the camel's back. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he snapped, he felt like he could only sit here for a few seconds more before he stormed out the door and out of this damn stale sterile building that was too clean. 

He took a deep breath before adjusting himself to sit up straight in the deep blue plastic chair. As he exhaled he closed his eyes and saw the face he’s seen behind his eyelids since he landed, desperate to see it in person. To touch the soft warm flesh of someone he could never get enough of, regardless of the fact that he tried so hard not to get addicted to. Each hit of you more potent than the last, each high allowing him to forget for a little longer, each graze of his skin against yours permitting him to daydream of a life he has always ached for. Even if you didn’t long for the same things he did, he saw you with everything he had ever wanted. It was cruel and yet he continued to do it to himself. 

He had bought you a burner phone with his number and his alone. You were not to use the phone for anything other than to communicate with him. He had asked you to carry it with you at all times, lying and saying he didn’t bug it. He told you that with his line of work that it would make your meetings more secure, that it would keep you off the radar. In a lapse of poor judgment you took the phone and him up on his proposal to make him an official fuck buddy. Who could blame you? It was a scene  straight out of a movie and boosted your ego. It made you feel special that someone so important took such an interest in someone like you. Someone who lived such an exhaustingly normal life. It kept you on cloud nine for at least a week and a half after receiving it. 

It was a purely physical relationship that didn’t require any emotional attachment regardless of the deep emotions that sunk into the both of you too quickly for comfort. Each rendezvous lasted longer than the previous one. Him staying at your place for days, while you both interacted like domesticated adults. Not quite like a married couple, not as casual as friends, and nowhere near as uptight as roommates; it was such an odd relationship, but it wasn’t  uncomfortable. Oftentimes by the end of his stay he left you with more questions than answers. Your knowledge of his life was barley skin deep and you were left to piece it together from fragments he dropped you. 

He on the other hand knew everything about you. He couldn’t help himself. All your information was at his fingertips; your past, your present, and a vague idea of your future. In hindsight he should have left it alone and maybe if he did he wouldn’t be stuck in this current predicament. Maybe wouldn’t be digging in his pocket for the phone that held only one contact number, a phone number that he had memorized even though he shouldn’t have. He leaned forward in the chair as he typed only two words. 

‘Need you.’

He didn’t think about the impact they could have, he didn’t think of the weight they carried, he just sent the message. Not a part of him even considering the fact that you would think it was the truth. He needed you. Rather you are below him or watching some low brow television show that networks pumped out to dumb down the population. He just needed you within reach, he needed the comfort of your presence to ease the buzzing of the world he lived in. 

He sat the phone on the table as he crossed his arms and sat back, anxiously awaiting a reply. He didn’t get a chance to glance at the clock before the phone buzzed against the table. 

‘Busy.’ 

The message read and he couldn’t help but to scoff as his hand ran through freshly washed damp hair. 

‘With what?’ 

He asked in his reply as he sent it. His jaw tightening in annoyed agitation. What part of need did you not understand? He took a deep breath and reminded himself of the nature of the relationship. As he went to follow up his demanding question with a meeting time and place the break room door opened and he shoved the phone back into his pocket. 

“Mr.Kennedy,” A rather thin man with tired eyes and a disheveled navy blue suit sighed out, “I’m sorry, we know you are exhausted, we just have a few more questions. Can you stay for another thirty minutes? No more, no less.”  

Leon forced a polite smile as he stood, “Lead the way.” 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy.” 

“Please, call me Leon.” Leon insisted as he took the door from the man and just like that he followed the man down the hall and into an elevator; leaving behind a hot cup of coffee to grow cold on a cheap linoleum covered piece of wood where it would eventually be washed down the drain by night janitorial staff. 

It had been an hour since Leon set foot in that room and not much of anything had come out of his answers. He was out of the building now and almost free as his hand found the handle of his car door, but a buzz in his pants pocket caused him to let go of it immediately. As he unlocked the phone he noticed he was left with a voice memo and not a message, which he found odd but not alarming. He couldn’t help but to smile, ready to hear your voice. He pressed play and heard the hustling of feet and an unrecognizable song in the background. 

“She said she was busy, Le-on. Take a hint.” 

A low masculine voice came out of the speaker as he gripped the phone. He pulled it away from his ear with a snarl as he looked at the phone screen. It took every fiber of his being to not shatter the phone right there; it took every remaining ounce of sanity that he had to not let this red hot anger consume him. This little voice in his head pleaded for him to think rationally. 

He opened the car door and slammed it shut behind him as he got in, it was a miracle the car door window didn’t break from the force. He was quick to pull up your location and an airy laugh left him as he knew the location too well. A dive bar on the outskirts of the city, the same exact bar he had found you in. It was tragically comical. 

He didn’t bother with a seat belt as he backed out of his parking spot and hit the gas and drove off after you. The speed limit was a mere suggestion as city lights passed him just as quickly as they appeared. He was livid as his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. He was angry. He was angry that you had the audacity to be out with someone at the bar that he met you at. He was furious that you were busy with some asshole who had the nerve to address him by his first name. He was livid that he didn’t just leave work and go to you as soon as he landed. He was heartbroken because even though he was lost in this haze of consuming rage he had no right to feel this way. You weren’t his, but he was yours. 

As Leon quickly pulled into the parking lot he parked his car with no regard to the faded white lines that were supposed to indicate parking spots. He left the car running as he slammed the car door shut, making a bigger scene than the screeching sound his tires made against the asphalt when he parked. He could feel the eyes of smokers burning a hole in his frame as he took quick strides to the front doors of the bar. 

“Nice ride-.” A voice started but was cut off by the beep of Leon locking the car. Normally Leon would nod politely, but he didn’t bother to spare a glance to whoever made the comment. His brows furrowed and a glare that could kill adorning his face as he stepped into the warm bar. 

“Hey!” Zack yelled, the bartender was shouting as Leon watched him scurry from behind the bar and over to a crowded table. Men and some women of varying ages were crowded around the table cheering. “Give that back! How did you even-?” Zack tried to reason as some guy held him back from the table. Leon proceeded with some caution as he approached Zack. 

“Let it go, buddy. He’ll give it right back and pay for the shots as soon as he’s done.” A stranger said as he tried to keep Zack back. “He’ll even pay extra if this chick handles her liquor the way she says she can.”

That got Leon’s attention faster as he pushed his way closer to the front of the table. His eyes locked on your frame laying on the tabletop with your head leaning off the end as another guy poured vodka down your throat. 

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” The man screamed before putting the bottle to his mouth and taking a shot straight from the bottle.

Your laugh rang through the bar as you began to try and sit up, but the man was quicker than you were as he bent down to meet you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you in place. His lips graze yours as he spit his shot into your mouth. Your throat burning as you tried to push him off of you. For a second you thought your weak  effort was successful as his lips left yours, but when you gained some composure you heard the shattering of glass and saw people back away quickly from the table. 

“Get the fuck off of her!” A voice yelled, that voice, you knew that voice all too well. You sat up as your eyes found Leon’s frame. His shoulders tense as they fell up and down with his labored breathing. His fist clenched and jaw tightened as he threatened in a deep low growl, “Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking spine.” He was in no condition to fight, he was barely standing. He was utterly exhausted and his limbs ached, but the angry adrenaline that coursed through his veins kept him upright.

“Leon.” You dryly got out as you sat up on the table. You repeated his name but he didn’t even glance in your direction. 

“Leon? Jesus Christ. Look, she already-.” The man spoke and Leon recognized the voice immediately from the voice message. Leon’s eyes darkened with rage as he looked at this pathetic excuse of a man. 

Busy. 

“Where is her phone?” Leon asked as he roughly grabbed the man by his shirt collar, “Where is her damn phone?” 

“Here, here! Take it!” The man shook as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to Leon. Leon snatched it from his hand before pushing the man roughly to the ground. Leon towered over him as the man shook, Leon’s unbridled rage causing the bar to grow freezing cold. 

“Stay away from her.” Leon turned from the man and his gaze softened only slightly as it landed on you. Your eyes locked with his for only a moment before he avoided your gaze and approached you. His hand found your arm as he helped you off of the table. He wrapped an arm around your waist as the crowd parted like the Red Sea. All eyes were on the both of you as you walked out of the bar. 

“I can take it from here.” You said agitated as you tried to push yourself away from Leon. 

“I don’t care. I’m taking you home.” Leon said as he unlocked his car. That aggression he felt still resting on the tip of his tongue. He opens the passenger door and with a deep sigh you get in his car. After he just opened the door you took a deep breath before running your hand through your hair. A bottomless pit settled in your stomach before you sat back against the seat. 

“Seatbelt.” You heard him say as he got in the car, pulling you out of your thoughts. You compiled as he started to drive out of the parking lot and turned right out of the parking lot. 

You raise an eyebrow before looking at him and confusingly confront him, “You were supposed to turn left.” 

“I said I’m taking you home. I know where I’m going.” Leon glared ahead and for once wished you wouldn’t say a damn word. He was heated. 

“How did you know where I was?” 

“Can you not ask questions right now?” 

“No, because you’re freaking me out. First, you know where to find me and second, you hook a right when you know my place is left. Where are we going?” You stated in a matter of fact tone as you crossed your arms. You could tell he was angry, but you didn’t care because you were angry too. You never disclosed your location to him, he nearly started a fight, and he continued to treat you like you were something more to him regardless of the fact that he made it clear that you would never be anything more. 

“My place. It’s closer and I’m too tired to drive further than what I have too.” He admitted as he sent you a quick glance. 

“Your place?” You rolled your eyes, “You’re telling me that your place is closer and we’ve spent all this time at mine?” 

“Yeah.” Leon sighed with irritation. 

“How is that fair? How is it fair that you know all this shit about me, but I know nothing about you?” You asked flat out and annoyed. Normally after going an extended time without seeing Leon you didn’t ask any questions, you just tended to him until he was ready to talk. He loved that about you, you never pushed him. Leon grunted knowing that it was the alcohol and a mix of unconfronted emotions made you bold. 

“We talked about this-.”

“Yeah, we did, but you tracking my location wasn’t in that conversation.” Leon took his eyes off the road as the car came to a stop at a stoplight and he looked at you. He opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but you cut him off. “Cut the shit, I know it’s a bugged phone. I had it looked at and your sudden appearance tonight only proved it.” 

“It’s only bugged for your protection.” Leon got out through gritted teeth. 

“My protection? What the fuck are you even talking about? If anything it’s so you can keep your whores straight and away from your wife.” You spit at him with venom. You knew Leon wasn’t the type of guy to run around town like that, he was a one woman type of guy. You were just angry and confused at why you would be enough to protect but not enough to be his. 

Leon’s face turned up in pained disgust and he went to say something, but the blaring of a car horn called his attention back to the road and a green light. You huffed as you turned away from him and he continued to drive onward to his place. 

The rest of the car ride was silent, giving you time to feel bad about what you said and how you said it. Your face falling and your anger simmering out as your eyes felt heavy with the weight of fresh tears threatening to spill. You refused to cry though as you sniffed and he pulled into his driveway.

A two story house that was too big for just him, but old enough for you to believe that it was a house that was left to him in some family members' will. Or he could’ve bought it himself easily with the way you’ve seen him treat money; like it was something that grew on trees. He was a complete and utter mystery to you and it drove you insane that you could still fall for someone who you knew so little about. At this point you were more mad at yourself than you were at him. You knew of his interests and hobbies, his likes and dislikes, you saw his heart; but you didn’t have a clue about his day to day life. It was like he existed only to you and no one else. No criminal record, no traceable family; he seemed to have nothing. All you had were snippets of an article about Raccoon City that left you with more questions than answers. 

“Don’t worry, the wife’s not home.” Leon muttered through gritted teeth and you winced as he got out of the car. You went and got out of the car alongside him as you followed closely behind him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He opened the front door and you followed him in, shutting and locking it behind you. Your body now shaking as his focus remained straight ahead. He was so cold and you knew you deserved it. “I know that’s not you. I just…” you hesitated as you could feel your throat beginning to clog, knowing that your voice was going to waver and your next words were going to come out broken if you didn’t get a grip. 

“I’ve got a guest room, but I haven’t found time to clean it out so there is a bunch of junk and shit in there. You can take my bed and I’ll take the guest room.” Your heart broke, thinking he didn’t even want to be near you and you couldn’t blame him.

“I think we should call this off.” Your voice still broke as you said it and Leon quickly turned to you. His gaze softened immediately as soon as he saw your big glassy doe eyes. He stood frozen as his heart shattered. He was losing you and it wasn’t to some unforeseen force, he did this. His refusal to let you in completely had pushed you away. 

Leon was a fighter, it was his job. He stood up for what was right, he fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves, he fought so people who weren’t fighters never had too. But did he ever fight for his own selfish desires? At the end of the day was he willing to fight for the first good thing he’s had in his life for a while? At the bar he was ready. He was ready to push his exhaustion aside and fight the object that stood between him and you; but now? Fighting you, the person he desired the most. 

“Look, it’s not anything personal…I just…this isn’t working for me.” You nervously blabbered out, the silence killing you. You took a deep breath as your hands found your hips, “I mean the Pretty Women aspect of it was fun, I had fun. I don’t know, I guess, I mean…” you stumbled over your own words. 

“Alright.” He said and you looked away from him as your arms wrapped around yourself trying to comfort yourself. The floodgates of your tears threatening to spill as your eyes darted around the room. 

“Okay. Good. I’ll sleep on the couch and grab a cab and be gone before the sun comes up.” You voice low as you head to the couch but Leon catches you by your elbow. The sudden connection of your bare skin against the palm of his hand sends a chill up his spine.

“I want to start again. I want to make it right.” He said as he slowly looked at you, his own eyes glassy. You study his face now and how exhausted he looked. “I’ll tell you everything. Let me start over. Let me make it right.” Your brows knitted together as you relaxed slightly and your other hand cupped his cheek. Tears fell from your eyes as you stifled a pained groan. “Please.” He begged and how could you say no?

Your lips found him in a hesitant kiss that he returned with desperation. The moment your lips sparked against his he was ready to fight again. His hand trailed down your arm and before it found your waist. He pulled you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. Sweet desperate kisses turned into feverishly hungry ones.

“Need you.” He admitted softly against your lips; hoping that you understood. Hoping that the feeling was returned. Hoping that right now that he said enough, that those two words meant enough. As you melted against him he knew that you understood. 

For the first time in a long time Leon was ready to give his all to something besides work. 

[ghost-bxrd]

Hi! I was wondering how Talon! Dick would react to Jason getting hurt during patrol or maybe getting sick and leaving him unable to talk, or when he does it's super raspy and quiet, and he can barely make his own noises too? 🦉

Okidoki let’s go with him being sick! (Cuz, you know, him being hurt and unable to talk… at all, is gonna happen in about… oh! Thirty days!) If it’s the first time it happens, Dick absolutely assumes Jason is dying and panics accordingly.

You know that stupid cold where you wake up one morning after feeling completely fine the day before but suddenly your throat feels like you swallows razors and any sound you try to make is like a crow on crack? Yeah. Like that.

Dick absolutely loses it and starts going straight into hardcore survival mode. Jason gets squirreled away into the most remote place in the manor with dozens of blankets and pillows. Food and water vanishes from the kitchens, along with whatever kind of first aid meds and utensils he can scrounge from the cave before Bruce comes back.

When Alfred and Bruce return from a gala… the manor is quiet. Too quiet. And Bruce immediately heads to Dick and Jason’s rooms only to find them both empty. Cue: Bruce and Alfred start panicking because the place looks like a tornado blew through it. The nests are gone, everything is in disarray, and the boys are nowhere in sight.

Conclusion: a kidnapping must have occurred.

So while Batman inspires the fear of god in every small time criminal and rogue on the streets by being MUCH MORE violent than usual (by the end of the night everyone knows to stay indoors if you’re crooked cuz the Bat’s gone crazy looking for his birds) and some of the more sensible rogues band together to find out who took Talon and Robin (nobody), Dick is still freaking out because he’s sure Jason is dying (he’s not, calm down Dickiebird).

Jason just lays back and allows the smothering (and is very happy when he finally manages to get Dick to bring him a pen and notepad for communication), Dick calms down considerably once they’ve established Jason is just a little sick (“Yes, cuddles actually help. No I’m not shitting you, they do! Btw get me some ibuprofen pls”) and not, in fact, dying. (Dick doesn’t fully believe it but Jason is still snarky so it can’t be too bad quite yet right?)

Alfred ends up finding them while Dick is down in the kitchens searching for the ibuprofen and very nearly starts yelling before thinking better of it (he was very worried okay cut him some slack).

Thirty minutes later Bruce is also back at the manor (after nearly causing several head on collisions) and hovering anxiously, torn between lecturing his kids and just— holding them and never letting go.