#Hand stitching around the Corner

[frogaroundandfindout]

Dead on main au where

1. Danny wears a 1/2 face mask as a ghost to make sure his parents don’t find out who he is

2. The decision to start wearing the mask was a spontaneous thing that happened at school and he stole the mask from his high school’s theater department

3. Danny moves to Gotham as soon as he turns 18 on a scholarship but it doesn’t include dorm fees.

4. Danny hides out in an abandoned theater (the attic is surprisingly well insulated!!!!) and spends most of his time there as a ghost because he can’t anywhere else in Gotham.

5. An injured Red hood limps his way into one of his favorite old hideouts (the theater obviously), and promptly passes out from blood loss with the hazy image of a masked glowing spector as the last thing he sees.

6. He wakes up enough to hear soft reassurances of safety and feel cool hands carry him with no noticeable strain.

7. Jason comes to in a giant nest of blankets with his wound neatly stitched up, a killer headache, and a sticky note wishing him well/ promising the writer didn’t leak under the helmet (a fact Jason is well aware of considering his head is very much unexploded)

8. Jason tries to leave but he passes out again and is honestly too tired to try again when he comes back around. So he just…falls asleep.

9. Jason wakes up again to warm food on an old silver tray and an empty room, not knowing Danny is watching him from the corner to make sure he doesn’t fall again. Not that Danny wouldn’t catch him again, but he’d prefer it didn’t happen at all.

In short, Danny plays elusive nurse to the dangerous red hood while Jason sees a literal ghost that lives in an abandoned theater wearing a phantom of the opera mask and decides he’s found a keeper. Clearly he appreciates the drama.

[deunmiu-dessie]

a paralysis demon plays with you at night, this time you're finally awake to see it.

you're not sure how it started. just that one day it did.

you'd wake up with sticky inner thighs and ruined sheets; the familiar pulsing of your clit, begging for attention almost overwhelming, and your muscles ached as if you had run a marathon the day before. tentatively you'd dip your hand into your panties, nimble fingers finding the hood of your engorged clit, eyebrows pulling together at the almost painful feeling it brought; then they'd drift lower, immediately sinking into creamy, wetness that pooled from your entrance and smeared your labia.

this perverse ritual had become your waking nightmare, weeks upon weeks of waking up to ruined panties and an insatiable hunger that couldn't be sated alone. frustration and tears intertwine, as your lithe fingers desperately caress and coax your clit but to no avail. it'd leave you cranky most days and unapproachable the rest.

what the hell was happening? at first, you believed it to be mere wet dreams, lost in the recesses of your mind. but the inability to find release, even with your touch or the mechanical hum of a vibrator, defied all reason. your sanity teetered on the edge, the constant ache and unrelenting wetness between your thighs, the demands of university, and the grueling hours at the fast-paced coffee shop on campus only exacerbate your torment.

breathe; you had told yourself. you just needed a day to sleep, in order to get back into the groove of your usual hectic life. and so, you make the decision to abandon your responsibilities, forsaking work and classes, seeking solace within the confines of your bed.

but that day you saw it.

as the night grew later, you found yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep your eyes open, you clung to the last shreds of wakefulness, determined to finish the movie that had lured you in with its promises of thrills and chills. the laptop, perched on your chest, emitted a faint glow, casting eerie shadows across the room. but despite your best efforts, the battle was futile. with a heavy sigh, you surrendered, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

that should've been it, you should have gone to sleep and woken up the next morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no longer raging and horny, stressed and tired— just your normal self. yet, as if possessed by an unseen force, your eyes snap open, jolting your mind from the peaceful slumber you had so eagerly embraced, but not your body.

the room was cloaked in darkness, save for the feeble glow of a night light by the door. the time couldn't have been later than two in the morning, leaving you with ample hours until you needed to start getting ready for the day…so why were you up?

grunting you attempt to reach across to your desk and grab your water bottle, your throat suddenly dry and scratchy. but you couldn't move. in fact, your whole body felt numb, as if you'd been submerged in an ice-cold lake. you could feel the hair on your arms standing on end, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage, desperate to escape from your chest and out the window just above your bed. frantic, your eyes darted around your room, flitting over the darkened corners and further on before subconsciously gazing upwards. it gazed back at you.

it was inky black, as if a void had materialized on your ceiling. barren of any discernible features, a foreboding presence emanated from it, sending chills down your spine. its limbs, neck, and torso twisted unnaturally, giving it a grotesque and elongated appearance. tears welled up in your eyes upon witnessing it, and you attempted to scream, only to find your mouth was sealed as if stitched with needle and thread.

the creature descended from above with erratic movements, settling above your figure and menacingly bringing its face closer to yours. this couldn't be happening, it must be a dream and in a desperate attempt to escape, you tightly shut your eyes and began counting backward from ten, gasping for air with each haggard breath.

however, a phantom graze on your thigh startles your eyes open. the creature was still there, its taloned, inky black hand slowly trailing along your clammy skin. even without a face, you could feel its gaze upon you, sinister and scheming. swallowing thickly, goosebumps follow in the wake of its touch, like tiny flames igniting your skin.

and almost as if accustomed to its advances, your body ignites with a dizzying heat, pussy weeping and your clit throbbing eagerly, readily despite your heart skipping and restarting all in one second with fear. its touch is tantalizing and deliberate, momentarily vanishing underneath your oversized night-shirt before returning to the heat of your thighs, talons pricking your flesh.

the creature's game finally comes to an end as it finds your fattened clit, which eagerly presses against the fabric of your panties, craving any form of touch. its assault is steady but firm and the touch immediately sets you off. your body, needy from weeks of being unable to orgasm, finally reaches its limit. you can feel the knot tightening in your tummy, a sharp, zinging pain in your lower abdomen, and the tensing of your thighs.

however, just as you approach your climax, the creature abruptly stops, shifting its touch to your slick inner thighs, face pressing closer to yours, leering and mocking. without the constant stimulation, your orgasm subsides, leaving you with a throbbing ache in your hips, cunt drooling with your arousal profusely.

your eyebrows cinch together, tears staining your cheeks before you're hit with a realization. the constant feeling of never being satisfied and not being able to cum, was because of this…creature.

its pitch-black visage suddenly splits into a sinister grin, revealing rows of serrated teeth gleaming with viscid, thick saliva. its voice is otherwordly deep, it's guttural, and raspy; fingers returning deftly to your clit to rub circles. "do you remember now?"

[wolfies-toys]

I've been sitting on this pattern and tutorial for a while now! so time to finally share it with you! I was lamenting that the jellycat pip and sugar mice were long retired and difficult to get your hands on unless you are willing to pay much more than they retailed for each mouse, so i decided to try and eyeball a pattern and make some myself! they're not exact as i only used constructed visual references but they're close! please note that this pattern set is intended for personal use only. Rough tutorial under the cut!

This pattern is for printing onto A4 but you can check your scale with the measurements I've provided or just play around with how big or small you want to try and make them! i didn't really get any wip photos of pip mouse but it's method is largely the same with the nose being the major change, which i will detail in text in the instructions below.

for sugar mouse i would recommend using polar fleece as it will act the right way for the ears to do their squishy marshmallow looking thing. but minky should also work or other similar fabrics! for pip mouse if you can find a similar curly looking fabric with a thin backing that'll be ideal but fleece will also work well, you just wont get the furry texture, you want a fabric with a little bit of stretch to it. i however would not recommend fabrics like felt or non stretch cotton for these guys as it's likely to not take shape the same as there's no give to the fabric.

once you have printed out the pattern and cut the pieces in your fabric, you'll want to sew the ears up and turn them inside out, then put them aside for later. just leave them as is for now but here you can see i was playing around with pinching the turned through ear into shape.

Then moving on, sew the back pieces together along the spine and front of face. you then want pull the bottom open ends apart gently and place the open sides flat up against the base piece so that they're aligned, it can be good to pin this in place so it doesn't shift.

then, get your tail rope, and tie a knot at either end, placing the base of it inbetween the seam at the butt so that it'll sit in the right place, then sew the seam up directly with the tail in place, make sure you sew through the rope to secure it and make sure it doesnt shift. Sew around the bases seam leaving a hole in one side so that you can then turn your mouse through.

once turned through you will want to stuff your mouse with polyfill quite a bit so it takes shape! i like to put weighted beans in mine for extra effect, you can use dried rice or wheat too, just sew a little circle pouch a bit smaller that the mouses base with scrap fabric and fill and seal! then insert into the turning hole while you stuff. once stuffing is done you can sew the hole up with a ladder stitch. the weight from the beads will allow your mouse to sit up quite well.

next you will want to get those ears you put aside, take each corner and bring the ends together in the middle. then sew them gently together at the ends with one or two stitches in about the same spot. you want them to look 3d so dont sew the ends to the back of the ear, just end to end so they meet in the center.

Then pin the ears in place on the head

then you need to ladder stitch the ears in place while they're pinned so they dont shift around, go all the way around the outside edge of each.

now you're almost done! next they just need a face! sugar mouse only needs embroidery by way of a french knot for both the eyes and nose (you can find good video tutorials on how to sew a french knot online), pip mouse will also need a french knot for the eyes but has a separate process for it's nose. (for the pip mouses nose you will need to leave the marked nose hole open and then stitch the nose fabric to the square nose backing in line with the dotted direction on the pattern, (it should look kind of baggy when it's unstuffed) sew it up completley with no hole, then cut a tiny slit in the backing and add polyfill there before closing with a basic stitch, then you ladder stitch the nose directly to the marked nose hole)

in order to hide the embroidery anchor knots i find the best way is to start by going down through the middle of the ears and then coming back up where you want the eye to be, and then going back down and up through the ear for the finishing knot, as it creates a very easy cover for them and looks nice and clean!

then you have yourself a little buddy!

haha they're great to squish! if you use this pattern i'd love to see your results!

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

~

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

~

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You tend to Alastor's wounds after the fight with Adam. The weight of almost losing him nearly breaks you.

☒ Warnings: gn!reader, hurt / comfort, implied established relationship, descriptions of injuries and stitching them up, mentions of anxiety, the reader cries a bit, comforting!alastor, and also soft!alastor, one kiss, non-sexual undressing, soft touches

☒ Word Count: 1,010

All you could think of the moment the battle ended was Alastor.

The last you saw of him, he was going head-to-head with Adam. But witnessing Nifty stab the lowly man made you worry something terrible happened to Alastor.

The moment you had a second to breathe, you rushed toward the Radio Demon's tower. A trail of blood leading toward his sanctuary sent a wave of fear down your spine. Your steps quickened at the sight, and all the worst-case scenarios flooded your mind. 

When you swung the door open, the view of Alastor blanketed your body with a cold sweat in the weight of a moment. He was doubled over the control panel, ears pinned flat to his head as the crackle in his voice echoed through the space with each breath he took. 

"Alastor!" You cried out, rushing over to his side in an instant. The sound of you calling his name caused his head to whip around. You wasted no time assessing his injuries, scanning your anxious gaze over his frame. 

"Worry not, my dear," Alastor coughed, blood spilling down the corner of his mouth. Your eyebrows knit in concern as you began raiding his radio tower, frantic to uncover a first aid kit. "Of course, I'm going to worry- you're bleeding all over the place!" You exclaimed, letting out a breath of relief as you found the emergency medical kit. 

Hastily, you began pushing Alastor's torn overcoat past his shoulders. The injured man simply gazed down at you, a weary smile decorating his visage. "Darling, I can handle this myself," Alastor clamored through gritted teeth, stopping your hands with his own before you could start unbuttoning his dress shirt. 

You shot your head up to meet his gaze, frustration evident on your face. "No, you can't! You need to let others help you when you need it! Stop trying to handle all these battles on your own. Please, Al," Your voice softened toward the end of your sentence. You didn't want to shout at him while he was wounded so badly, but Alastor's stubbornness got under your skin. Especially now. 

Alastor closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in a shaky breath before releasing his grasp around your hands. "Alright, my darling... I won't stand in your way any further," His voice was barely above a whisper as he presented you with an apologetic look. You offered him a weak smile in return before undoing the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. Peeling it off his frame with great gentleness. 

Your eyes widened in fear as you finally saw just how gnarly the gash across his torso really was. Your hands shook ever so slightly as you began threading the needle you uncovered in the first aid kit. "Tell me if it hurts too much, and we'll take a break." You expressed softly, eyes meeting his crimson ones. Alastor only nodded at you as he gritted his teeth harsher than before, bracing for impact. 

Alastor's grip on the edge of his desk tightened, leaving deep claw marks in his wake. You tried to make the stitching process as painless as possible, but there was only so much you could do. "I'm almost done, my love. You're doing so well," Alastor endured the grueling treatment, letting out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding as you finished patching him up. 

You generously applied ointment before wrapping gauze all the way around his frame. Alastor let out a hiss as the bandage came in contact with his gash. "I know, my love... just hold on a little longer for me," You snuggly secured the gauze before bringing your hands down. You grasped his hands. Clutching his large palms comfortingly as you beamed up at him. 

"There, now you're as good as new." You quipped, massaging the pads of your thumbs into the back of his palms. Alastor grinned wearily, his crimson eyes holding much adoration for you. "Thank you, my darling... I reckon I should apologize for being so uncompromising before," A slight chuckle escaped his lips as Alastor squeezed your hands right back.

You let a laugh of your own fill the room as you leaned in closer. "Ah, don't be... I'm just glad you're okay," Before you could catch up, your head came flush against his shoulder. The adrenaline finally wore off, leaving your body shaky and weak. Alastor didn't miss a beat. He gripped your hips to stabilize you instantly. "My dear, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, radio static crackling out ever so slightly.  

Tears began brimming in your eyes before you could stop them, and a lump formed in your throat. One that you couldn't seem to swallow down. "Sorry, I just..." A hiccup shook your body as your hands came up to his chest, being careful not to graze his injury. "If you would have died... I couldn't bear it!" 

Alastor felt his heart ache at your sorrowful cries. Your solemn words only added fuel to the fire. One of his hands unhurriedly came up to the back of your head, cradling your neck as Alastor cooed at you. "Oh, my dear," He allowed you to sob into his shoulder for as long as you needed, only releasing his grasp around your head when he heard your cries fizzle out. 

You slowly pushed yourself back against Alastor's chest, sniffling softly as you looked up at him. Before you could process it, Alastor captured your lips with his. Pouring all of his love into the chaste kiss. Your heart fluttered as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips. Your worries seemed to melt away from his embrace. Alastor was your everything, and the fact that you nearly lost him today scared the fuck out of you. 

Alastor pulled back unhurriedly, still keeping his face close to yours. He nuzzled his nose against your own before he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, my darling. You're stuck with me for all of eternity. I expect you haven't forgotten that already!"

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

[littlelamy]

rafe x reader ; the one where you take a bath with rafe

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼𖡼.𖤣

It was a friday night, and instead of indulging in his usual activities rafe decided to stay in with his princess. he might have been a bit annoyed about skipping his usual run to barry for some powder, but he knew his girl needed some attention tonight.

“y/n, baby, come get in the water before it gets too cold,” rafe called out, his voice smooth and tempting. he was already lowering his naked body into the warm water, the steam rising around him. “and bring a towel with you. you left mine soaking wet the last time you showered,” he added, his tone a mix of annoyance and amusement.

you could hear rafe’s impatience in his voice, but it only made you hum in playful defiance as you peeled off your clothes. you tossed them into the hamper, grabbing two neatly folded monogrammed towels with a big ‘R’ and ‘Cameron’ embroidered on them.

“rafey, these towels are so cute,” you giggled, admiring the stitching. “my mom has monogrammed towels too, but she thinks they’re too cheap—she prefers the family crest.”

rafe rolled his eyes at your random comparison. "didn’t I tell you to hurry up?" he said, his voice dripping with impatience, though you could hear the underlying desire.

as you turned the corner, rafe’s frustration melted away when he caught sight of you, your naked body illuminated by the soft light. his eyes roamed over every curve, and he couldn’t help the slow, appreciative smile that spread across his face. “i sure know how to pick ’em,” he chuckled, watching as you approached.

you grinned at his comment, but as you reached for his outstretched hands and slipped into the warm water, you shot him a warning look. "no funny business, mister," you said with mock sternness, though the way your body melted into his embrace suggested you didn’t mind his touch as much as you let on.

rafe pulled you against his bare chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively. "we’ll see," he murmured into your ear, his voice low and teasing. his breath was warm on your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the heat of the bath.

you sighed contently, leaning back into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. "we can do something later, but right now, i just want to relax," you whispered, closing your eyes as you let the warmth of the water and the comfort of his body wash over you.

rafe’s hands began to wander, slowly and deliberately, tracing the lines of your body under the water. his lips brushed against your ear, his voice husky as he whispered, "who says we can’t relax and have a little fun at the same time?"

a soft laugh escaped your lips as you squirmed slightly in his grasp, trying to maintain your resolve. but with every touch, every whispered word, you felt your resistance crumbling. you bit your lip, considering his proposition, feeling the heat of his body against yours, the water lapping around you both.

[lady-djarin]

on my radar

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: edited very little so sorry! dual pov, jackson era dark!joel, SMUT (oral fem receiving, p in v), stalker behavior from mr miller, age gap (50s/20s), joel is kind of a creep but reader is kinda into it, murder off screen, cannon typical violence, men harassing women (a guy is gross with reader/unwanted touching etc) NO R*PE, possessive talk and nicknames (mine, love, my girl, good girl etc), reader can be lifted by mr big man joel but otherwise no really specific details about readers body other than the usual fem. 18+ minors be gone!,

word count: 5.8k

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

YOU

You almost dropped it twice, your gloved fingers slipped around the smooth metal of the gun as you fumbled to pull the trigger. The clicker was quickly stumbling toward you even on its one and a half limbs. You and your patrol partner got separated when a small swarm of the dead caught you both off guard in a densely wooded area . As you were trapped in a corner of a hunting shed by the crawling thing, you felt your heart rate begin to rise and the feeling of dread set in that this might be your last moment.

You saw the blood hit your gloves before you even heard the blade hack into its head. Then the body hit the floor.

You looked up to find your patrol partner standing there with a machete clutched in his hand. He was looming over you with a look very close to anger creasing his brows and his chest heaving in exhaustion. He grabbed the gun out of your hand and grabbed your arm to pull you away from the writhing body. He hacked the large blade into the neck to fully decapitate the head then stabbed into the ear to finally kill it.

“Do you even know how to use this thing?” His voice had an edge to it, like he was mad, or scared as he held up the gun in your face.

You looked at him with tears brimming your lash line, the cold was seeming to freeze them before they tried to fall down your cheek. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Have you ever been on patrol?” His eyes narrowed as they scanned your face, then your body.

“No.” Your mouth was so dry.

“Who sent you on patrol!? What the hell…,” he grumbled as he turned away. “I asked you a question.” He shot another nasty glare your way when you didn’t answer.

His statement kind of shocked you, not a lot of people are blunt like that.

“Uhm, I asked Tommy, I wanted to help.”

“Fucking Tommy, sticking me with a kid.”

“Hey I might be new to this but I'm not a kid,” you chased after him and that didn't help your defense.

“Jesus…,” he was grumbling again and marching away, toward where you hid the horses. The two of you set out on patrol a couple hours before, your first time outside the gates in Jackson. You had heard rumors about Joel, people said he was ‘rough around the edges but good people’. You had seen him around the community and wondered if he was someone you could get along with. He seemed like he was an outsider, kind of like you. When you learned you were partnered with him you figured it was going to be difficult, but this was a little much.

You were on your way through the state trying to get to where your dad lived in Sundance when you ran into some trouble near their camp and they took you in until you recovered. They stitched you up after they found a nasty gash on your ribs when you were discovered fighting off a pack of stalkers. After arriving at the Jackson community, you learned that Sundance was completely overrun. The sparse community there hunkered down in their homes after the outbreak but with the large swarms that came through the area, pretty much everyone fled and went their own ways. You could barely stand the thought that your dad was caught in the middle but he was strong, he could find his way out.

He had to.

So you remained in Jackson, becoming a part of the community, and everyone in the community had to help out somehow. You felt indebted to Tommy and the community for helping you and making you feel at home here after your recovery. That's why you wanted to go on patrol, you felt like you could help. Joel clearly didn't agree.

That last fucking thing he wanted to do was teach some rookie how to handle themselves on patrol. He was pissed and you could see it in the tense bunching of his shoulders as he rode on in front of you. You felt kind of bad for having Joel take care of you back there but he didn't have to be such an ass about it.

“Hey,” you rode up next to him. “Look I know I'm not who you wanted to be on patrol with but just give me a chance ok? I'm just trying to do a job here.”

He barely looked your way, he just kind of grunted before urging his horse over the final path into Jackson.

Alright then.

You didn't see those broad hunching shoulders for a couple days after, though he clearly had been talking about you. Tommy took you off patrol so Joel obviously made his concerns clear to his brother. When you did see him it was from across a room or passing in the street, but even in brief passes it felt like a tension was always present. His brows would bunch in the middle as he scanned you. It always felt like a judgment maybe, or some kind of disgust the way he would observe you. You quite honestly thought he hated you.

JOEL

You looked cute when you were mad, actually to Joel you always looked cute. Your cheeks were pink with the morning cold, your breath steamed in the air as you huffed through your nose. You were mad because he was ignoring you, and he was ignoring you because he was scared shitless when he came into that hunting hide and found you cornered by one of the dead. It scared the living shit out of him to think about how you were almost torn apart.

He doesn't remember the exact day that he started to care a little too much about you, it was a slow thing. It took over his life, watching you as you became integrated into the fabric of the town. The people of Jackson welcomed you and you welcomed them right back. People loved you and you got along with pretty much everyone. He started to notice you when he saw you and Ellie chatting about something girl related in the mess hall. He noticed how you seemed to genuinely invested in your conversation with Ellie, hanging on to her every word. Next thing he knows he's thinking about you every waking hour, and you haunt most of his dreams. It feels like you are a presence in his chest that he can't carve out and he has tried.

Joel had tried to occupy himself by relieving the tension himself, trying to dissolve the desire he had for you. It didn't work, of course, but he couldn't help himself.

He refused to actually make any kind of relationship with you, he felt like it would look inappropriate. He was a grumpy gray haired man and you were young and bright, he felt like he would be too rough for you anyway. He was a broken man, his hands were dirty with death and guilt and blood. He could see the innocence in your eyes, the way you smiled with your whole heart when talking to people, especially someone he cares for.

Maybe those were the moments he truly started to have real feelings for you, seeing the way you cared for Ellie. Everytime he would see you it made his heart skip a beat, it almost confused him at first, like his heart was waking up from a decades long nap. His chest hurt with how intensely he was starting to ache without you near, it only ever stopped when he saw you or felt you close or smelled your shampoo as you walked by. It was the same as everyone else as there was a lady in Jackson who made everyone soap but still when it lingered after you it smelled like heaven to Joel.

All that to say, Joel still felt like it was wrong to pursue you. You were and always will be the one that got away.

He needed to stay away.

YOU

It had been a couple weeks or so, maybe longer since you saw those grumpy brown eyes. You had started to miss him, as painful as it was to admit. Even though he was barely a colleague, definitely not a friend, you were missing the way… he was mean to you? No, that can’t be right. Why would you miss a man that is anything but nice around you?

Tommy had found you another job working at the local watering hole/dining hall, as the patrol thing clearly wasn’t going to work. He was walking you around the hall, introducing you to the people you would be working with when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey Tommy, you here?”

“Yea Joel, in here.”

Shit.

“Oh hey Joel…” You wanted to keel over and die.

”H-hey.” He seemed… odd.

They chatted about something security related and you were introduced to the hall supervisor. As you talked on one end of the room, Joel and Tommy were on the other and it felt like neither of you could look away from the other. Your eyes kept finding each other, each time it felt longer and longer, like the world was falling away. It felt much different than the last time you spoke, like he might not actually hate you. It was an odd feeling, having his eyes on you, he was almost predatory.

Even as he looked over what felt like every couple seconds, he still had this pinched, angry look on his face.

But it was hard to look away. Joel was mesmerizing but you knew deep down he could never be interested the way you would want him to be. He was a grumpy older man that wanted nothing to do with the new young girl in town.

You didn’t see him for a while after that.

JOEL

Joel Miller was by no means a good man. A good man wouldn’t be watching you like this, following an unsuspecting woman around town. A good man wouldn’t watch you as you walked around the Jackson streets, minding your business, talking to your new found friends.

Ever since seeing you again at the dining hall he couldn’t rid his mind of you, as hard as he tried. He knew he would ruin you if you let him, if he even got one taste he would be addicted. Not like he wasn’t now, leering at you talking to patrons at your job. He felt dirty in a way, like he wasn’t allowed to look, not allowed to have the urge to bash in the head of any man who looks at you wrong. Like the guy you were helping now, Mike, every time you turned away to get him what he asked for, he could see his slimy gaze caressing your curves.

He felt like he was going crazy, not being able to be near you like he truly wants. He wasn’t sleeping well, barely eating enough to keep him upright and almost missed patrol on more than one occasion. His mind was playing tricks on him, he would find you in dreams, wake up to find you cooking breakfast in his kitchen or walking hand in hand down the streets of Jackson. The cruel reality that he would never have that always hit him hard in the morning when the sunlight came streaming over his bedspread.

He often found himself turning over, searching for you.

Sometimes they were nightmares, visions of you being attacked by the dead or one of Jackson’s very own.

That’s why he was here, making sure you were safe from the dangers of this world. It was his job.

He was there until you got off work, gathering your belongings and heading out the door when Mike popped around the corner. Joel was immediately on high alert, watching the man’s every move as he advanced on an unsuspecting you. He stalked after the two of you, staying just out of sight. His blood boiled when he saw Mike call after you.

She’s mine, he thought.

He stayed across the street, just in case things went sideways. In case he put his hands on what didn’t belong to him.

“Hey! Saw ya leaving work, how was your night?” Ok, nice enough but Joel knew he was clearly waiting for you to leave work.

“It was ok, just tired and ready to go home.” You were being polite but clearly trying to convey that you were going home, alone. That’s my girl.

“I’d like to talk to ya though, ya know i’ve seen ya ‘round and think you’re real cute. Come on, please? One chance?” He’s persistent, that's for sure. Walking the line there, Mike.

“That’s sweet but I’m not really looking for anyone right now, I just got here a few months ago…” You kept walking and you kept your eye contact away from him, smart girl.

“If you give me a chance I’ll show ya I’m worth it. I promise baby.” You were not his baby.

“I’m not your baby, Mike. Please, I just want to go home.” You turned towards him now with determination in your tired eyes.

Mike clearly wasn’t hearing you, or just not caring because as you tried to turn away he grabbed your arm and pinned your back against a wall.

He’s dead.

YOU

I’m dead. This stupid asshole is going to kill me. Your mind was racing as you looked for ways out. Mike’s front was almost completely pushed against yours now as he trapped you against the brick wall. You could now smell the alcohol on his breath now that he was on top of you. You tried to break free, maybe he was drunk enough where you could shake him off. You could tell that wasn’t the case when he groaned in delight.

“Mhmm, keep doing that baby. I like feeling ya move that pretty body.” You wanted to puke, his greasy beard and sour breath was assaulting your space. You froze your body in an attempt to get him off you but he leaned in, trying to capture your lips. You whipped your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut trying to block out whatever he might do next. Only, when you expected his lips or something on you, there was nothing. His entire weight was gone and you almost slumped to the floor in relief. When you opened your eyes, there was nothing, no one in sight, not even a sound. Mike was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone else. If you weren’t so relieved that the creep was gone, you’d be freaked out. It felt like one of those eerie horror movies you watched before the word turned into one itself.

You weren’t really sure what else to do other than go home. You walked the quiet streets towards your small house and barricaded your door that night, just to be safe.

…..

“Have you heard?! I can’t believe it!” Angela’s voice shook you out of your tired daze. No matter how you tried to occupy your mind or sleep last night you couldn’t shake what Mike did to you. “It was Mike! That’s who it was that was found behind the dinner hall.”

Mike? Did you hear her right?

“Wait, Mike, like creepy Mike?”

“Yes!” Angela never learned how to not raise her voice.

Mike was dead. He was dead behind where you worked after he assaulted you. That seemed… convenient. Did that make you a bad person?

“They are calling everyone to the town hall for an announcement.” This was the only time they have done this in the short time you’ve been here.

Everyone walked over and filled the hall wall to wall. Tommy, Maria and a few other members in charge of running Jackson stood on the stage of the building that looked to once be a school auditorium, including Joel. Your eyes caught him up there as soon as you walked in, recognizing his brown curls anywhere. Tommy walked up to the top of the stage and everyone immediately quieted down, they clearly respected him.

“Hey ya’ll… Uh, unfortunately it's not good news that calls us together today.” He was clearly nervous. “One of our own is gone, Mike Walton. Now I know in this world losing someone happens more often than we would expect but this one is different. It happened in our walls and we think, committed by one of our own.”

Murder. He was killed. Fuck.

The crowd was starting to murmur and quietly panic. You felt responsible somehow, like you being the last one to see him, you think, meant… something. You had to tell them what happened last night, if only to make sure they know now instead of finding out some other way. So they know you're not hiding anything.

You stayed after the crowd cleared, listened to Tommy assure everyone that they are safe and he is putting security measures in place. You went up to the stage and caught Maria’s attention, you felt comfortable with her and maybe she would be more understanding. She really helped you assimilate when you recovered and felt kind of like a sister in a way.

“Hey sweetie, how ya doing?”

“I need… I need to tell you something.”

She took you to a more private area and you told her what happened the night before. She listened dutifully as you recounted your story and it really made it strangely better to talk about it. It was by no means easy to forget but knowing someone was listening helped. After you finished and she gave you a reassuring hug, she brought you back to Tommy… and Joel.

“Ok hon, I will need to tell Tommy about this, I’ll only include the necessary things.” You nodded knowing you could trust both of them with the news. “Joel, would you be able to walk her home? I don’t want to take any chances here.” Maria did say to you privately that she was going to treat this as if you were in danger in some way, in case this turned out to be about you.

He only nodded in your direction, extending his arm, signaling you to lead the way. You walked the streets, the silent tall man trailing behind you. You stopped so abruptly that Joel backed up in surprise.

“I don’t need you walking behind me like a bodyguard.”

“Where should I walk?” His voice dripped with something dark.

“W-well…I don’t know, next to me like a normal person?”

All he does is silently walk up to you and nod forward urging you on. You kept walking, feeling Joel’s arm brush up against yours and the tension was building before either of you said anything. You arrived at your building in silence and he walked you up the steps, more than you were expecting from the distant man. You paused as you opened the door and realized something, if Maria is right and someone is after you, they could be in your house.

“Y’ok?” His voice was low and rough.

“Uh… actually, no. Joel, would you be able to come in… and uh, check it out? Just to make sure, I don’t know…someone’s not— not in there?”

You swore his eyes softened at your nervous request, maybe he felt bad. He followed you inside and had you wait by the door as he surveyed the rest of the house. He came back within only a few minutes and you were relieved it was quiet in the house.

“You’re all good here darlin’,” he stood by the kitchen counter almost like he was avoiding leaving.

But you didn’t want him to leave.

JOEL

He knew no one would be in your house, there was no one after you. Except him. He saw Mike put his hands and other parts on you and something flipped in his brain. He went feral and had been looking for an opportunity to take this guy out. He was a menace to the community but Tommy said there was no legitimate reason. Usually he wanted a blatant offense to take action or even exile someone. Mike was sneaky, that was the problem, he was good at hiding his deplorable behavior towards women behind being friendly with most of the male Jackson population.

Joel was so sick of it, and he likes to pretend that’s why he was there that night, not that he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. For weeks now he had been everywhere you were, coincidence of course. He needed to make sure that you were safe, that someone would be there for you. Even if he couldn’t have you, he needed to watch over you. You had completely consumed his life, every waking and sleeping hour he had his mind on you.

The worst of it he thinks was a few weeks into his obsession, he found himself across the street from your house, crouched in the bushes like a maniac. He watched your silhouette as you turned about the room, picking things up, gathering our belongings and just generally going about your home life. It was so magical to him to see you living your life unencumbered by the burden of how cruel people can be. He had to make sure no one took that from you.

He was pulled from his thoughts by your sweet voice. “Joel? You ok?”

“Y-ya sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted a drink.”

“Oh, uh- sure sweetheart.”

He watched you go over to a cabinet and pull out a dwindling bottle of something dark that made his mouth water. You had good taste.

That's my girl.

You slid over the glass with a small amount of whiskey and you each sipped it slowly.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem darlin’, but I'm sure you’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt ya.”

“Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

YOU

“I promise you, no one will ever…ever hurt you again.” The way Joel said it, it was like he had murder in his eyes. He was so intense that you believed him, like he would protect you. You felt a thrill pass down your spine from his gruff voice. He was always a rugged man with his height, his broad shoulders and intimidating dark eyes but now, he looked downright deadly.

For a minute you worried that Joel could be responsible— no he would never. Even if he did, could you really be upset at him making this community safer? Did that make you a bad person?

He was looking at you like prey he wanted to devour. It made your pulse race, it made your core throb. The tension had been growing since the walk back and it was evident to both of you. Joel circled the kitchen counter to come right in front of you. Both your glasses forgotten, he caged you in with his hands on the counter bracketing your hips. Without a word he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his calloused skin caressed your skin much lighter than you were expecting. The only sound in the house was your heavy breathing as he stared down at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about Joel. Not necessarily bad but just something sharp and scary, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as he slowly leaned down to hover his lips over yours, asking for more.

Even if Joel was a bad man, fuck it.

You leaned up slightly to meet his lips and all self control went out the window. His hands were all over you in a second, hips pressed into yours as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your head spun as he licked into you and nipped at your bottom lip causing a whimper to escape your lungs. It all became very frantic as he lifted you up onto the counter and bit and kissed his way down your neck. You knew there would be evidence of it the next morning and it kind of excited you to know you’d have Joel’s marks on you. His greedy hands were groping and squeezing every inch of you and you couldn’t get enough. With your own shaky hands you tried to unbutton his shirt but Joel stopped you.

“R’ya sure baby girl?” You swore you felt slick dripping down your inner thighs. “Jus’ gotta tell me and I’ll stop, ’k?”

All you could do was nod.

“I need words.”

“Y-yes,” you practically moaned.

“Good girl.” Fuck, his voice. Your hips rolled forward on the counter, trying to gain any friction. Your clit was pulsing with need and both of you were getting impatient. “Thank god, otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He mumbled it almost to himself.

You gasped as he pulled off the counter and led you up the stairs in silence. Any other person would think he was angry but you knew, he was anything but. He led you to your bedroom and it briefly dawned on you that he was leading you there, he knew where your bedroom was. There was always something intense about Joel, you knew that from the start, it's one of the reasons you were drawn to him. But due to recent events you were starting to question just how depraved he might be. You hated to assume anything but you somehow knew deep down that he was the one who… saved you from Mike. That’s what it was, he saved you from being killed, or worse.

Once in your bedroom Joel turned and pushed you against the wall, attaching his lips to your neck.

He hummed deep in his throat, almost a moan. “Mhmm, darlin’ you are so sweet. Y’smell so good.” He was mumbling into your throat, half kissing, half biting. You were each pulling clothes off the other, desperate to feel skin. When Joel had you completely bare for him, you tried to cover yourself, mostly out of habit.

“You… you are perfect baby.” His eyes dark with desire as he pulled your hands up his mouth and kissed your knuckles. “Don’t cover up, I wanna see ya.” He pulled your hands away as he backed you up to the bed and gently pushed you back onto the soft quilt. You stared up at him, taking in his form, he was still in his jeans but bare from the waist up. You admired his graying hair that led below his belt, mouth watering at the bulge underneath. Before you could reach for his belt, he looped his strong arms under your knees and pulled your butt toward the end of the bed. With cracking knees he knelt in front of the bed and his face became level with your dripping core. His eyes were locked on you, his lips almost matching the way you drooled between your legs.

“Joel—,” you were unable to form words, the breath perpetually caught in your throat.

“Shhh, I know hon, I gotcha,” his voice was lower than you ever heard it, something dangerous simmering below the surface.

“Joel, wait—,” he moved up your body at your request. “I just… I’m confused,” you were shaking and out of breath but you needed to ask him. “I thought you didn’t like me… it’s just every time we would see each other you seemed to avoid me at all costs and now…”

“The only reason I was acting like that was because I liked you… too much.” His eyes hovered directly over yours, deep pools of obsidian overtaken with the desire. “I thought I was protecting you, from myself. But I… I,” he almost seemed nervous in a way, but there was still the underlying grumble of anger in his chest.

“What?”

“I see now that I have to protect you from everyone else.” He said it with such a darkness settled over his face, and it took you a minute to register what he was admitting.

He killed Mike. Holy shit.

Your whole body froze and you felt your eyes widen and breath pick up. But you also had this deep feeling in your gut, was that arousal? Were you attracted to this? That dropping feeling in your stomach told you that you were. Jesus, did that make you a bad person? Fuck it.

You grasped your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to you as you attached your lips to his.

JOEL

You were a vision, puffy lips wet from kissing, eyes blown wide as your chest heaved. “You protected me?”

Oh, fuck me.

“Of course baby girl,” he needed you to know this was all for you. He was yours and you were his. “No one will take you from me.”

He worked his way down your body, kissing and nipping his way to your center again. He spread your legs and stared into your dripping folds as he got onto his knees again. You whimpered and moaned his name and he relished the sounds, he loved hearing and seeing you react to his touch. He wanted nothing more than to hear you scream his name.

“I wanna feel ya’ cum on my tongue darlin’,” he loved the way your pussy drooled for him. Joel felt like a man starved, like he was finally seeing water after a year in the desert. He licked a broad stripe up your folds then sealing his lips around your clit and sucking. You screamed and he felt your thighs wrap around his head only spurring him on further. He pulled your legs in front of him and pushed to the mattress, opening you up further for his enjoyment. When he worked two fingers into you, he knew you were close based on your shaking and whimpering.

“I-I’m so close baby,” you sounded so cute, so desperate. “I need— please Joel.”

He wanted you to fall apart, speeding up his movements he knew it wouldn’t be long now. He curled his fingers while lapping at your clit, he felt your walls flutter and tighten around his fingers.

“Cum for me angel.”

You broke. Joel’s fingers were covered in your juices and you screamed his name as you came. He kept up his movements to prolong your pleasure, he reveled in the way your legs shook with overstimulation.

“Oh… my god,” you sighed as Joel crawled his way back up to your face, slotting himself between your legs.

YOU

He entered you slowly. You could feel every vein and edge of him and you were thankful he readied you with his fingers because Joel was not a small man. He started slow, presumably for your benefit, but soon his pace picked up and the crown of his dick was hitting a spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fuck— You feel so good,” he puncuate each word with with his hips, each time driving you up the bed. You grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to gain leverage but you were unable to do anything except take his brutal pace. He was past holding himself back now, you swore you felt him in places you never thought possible. You recognized somewhere in the back of your mind that letting the man who… murdered someone for you fuck you into your mattress might be a bad move. Too bad he was too good at it for you to care. You felt the coil of your orgasm tightening in your lower stomach as Joel leaned back, looming over you like a dark angel.

“I want you to touch yourself,” he pulled one of your hands towards your clit. “Cum for me baby.”

You pressed and circled your fingertips into the bundle of nerves, your pleasure just seconds from cresting. Joel must have felt it because he gripped your hips and pulled you into his lap, picking up his pace and punching into your g-spot.

“Oh fuck!— I’m gonna cum baby…plea—,” you couldn’t even get the rest of the word out as your orgasm crashed into you. You think you might have blacked out as your vision went blank for a moment and you think you heard yourself screaming. Joel kept up his pace and rode you through it all.

“Mmm that’s it, that’s my good girl…,” his voice was low and gravely in your ear when he leaned over, pushing almost all his weight on top of you while he chased his high.

“P-please Joel, cum inside m-me,” his harsh movements made it hard to talk, hard to breathe. You didn’t care though, you were desperate to feel him finish inside you.

“Inside you baby? Ngh, tha—that’s my good gi—,” he didn’t finish his sentence either as he almost collapsed on top of you. You wrapped your legs around his hips and held him there as he filled you up. He grunted and groaned in your ear as he came down, he pulled out slowly making sure you were comfortable and kissed his way down your neck and chest. “Stay here baby.” You laid there unable to move and watched his naked form as he found your bathroom with ease and came back with a warm washcloth. As he cleaned you, you recalled his words, ‘my good girl’. His.

“Joel?” He didn’t respond with words, only hummed at you to continue while he cleaned your inner thighs. “Did you mean it? I’m…,” you were hesitant to speak it, what if you were wrong? What if it was something he said in the heat of the moment. You felt the bed dip and he settled beside you, towel discarded.

“Use your words honey, what’s on your mind?” He moved a bit of hair out of your face and waited patiently for you to continue.

“I’m yours? Not just tonight.” You met his gaze with timid eyes.

“Yes, of course. Y’have been since I first saw you.” He kissed you deep, lips prying yours apart. “I protected you, remember? I wasn’t gonna let anyone hurt you, especially not him.”

He looked at you with nothing but truth in his eyes. He really did kill Mike, holy shit. He did it for you. In this world maybe you could rest easier knowing you had someone to protect you like that. Joel may be a scary man, but you had nothing to fear for yourself with him around. You slept that night more soundly than you had in ten years. wrapped in the strong arms of a man who chased your nightmares away.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Care for You

Sylus x Y/N - drabble - 688 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: reader is injured, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries and medical stuff, Sylus being amazing, a real grade A+ guy, sweet af, fluffy

------------------------------

You stumbled through the doorway, clutching your abdomen. Your right shoulder was limp, bobbing beside you. You whimpered when your arm nudged the door frame accidentally. As you limped further into the penthouse, you saw Sylus sleeping on the couch. You felt awful waking him up but you needed him now more than ever. 

“Sylus…” you said, your voice hoarse from crying and screaming.

He didn’t move.

“Sylus…” you said, nudging him slightly with your foot.

His face scrunched up but he didn’t wake.

“Sylus!” you cried, your voice breaking.

Sylus jolted awake. The second his eyes landed on you he was instantly at your side. “Sweetie? What happened?” he said, rushing you to the bathroom. He used his evol to gently sit you on the counter. He couldn’t help but stare at you for a moment, taking in your injuries. A gash across your abdomen and your shoulder popped out of its socket. Sylus shook his head, quickly grabbing the first aid kit Luke and Kieran insisted he keep in the house. Sylus worked quietly, focusing on making you better.

“Hold still,” he whispered. He used the paramedic scissors to cut your shirt off completely. You didn’t have it in you to feel bashful. The wound on your stomach wasn’t deep enough to perforate any organs but it was still bleeding deep crimson blood. 

Sylus put a washcloth between your lips, “Bite down on this. I’m sorry in advance… there’s no time to numb you…” he said with a sigh as he threaded the suture. 

You bit down hard, groaning and shaking as he stitched you up agonizingly slow. You counted each stitch, 10… 11… 12… After the 15th stitch you finally felt him still while he clipped the remaining thread. 

“This’ll sting…” he said before quickly splashing your fresh stitches with iodine. 

You sucked in a sharp breath letting out a squeal as the liquid scorched over your wound. You writhed in pain, Sylus’ hands holding your hips to prevent you from falling off the counter. ��I’m so sorry baby…” he said as he used his evol you yank your arm, your shoulder sliding back into its socket. You screamed, letting out a heart wrenching sob from the pain. You slumped against him, ready to pass out from the pain.

“It’s over, it’s done… you’re ok…” he said, rubbing your back soothingly. 

Your eyes slipped shut, finally succumbing to the dark. 

---------------------------------------

Your eyes fluttered open, you tried to sit up but instantly laid back down as your wound screamed at you to stop moving. You sighed, looking around for Sylus. You spotted Mephisto in the corner, “Pssst… get Sylus…” you mumbled. Typically, Mephisto would be ornery. But today he simply obeyed. Within a moment, Sylus was next to you, his evol scattering a few feathers around. 

He kneeled down, his hands aching to touch you but hovering above you out of caution. “Honey…” he breathed.

You managed a small smile for him, cupping his cheek as you tried to calm his erratic heart. “Wanderer… got me on the way home…”

Sylus nuzzled his face into your neck, kissing you gently. You leaned your head against him, “I’m fine baby, honestly. I had a wonderful nurse.” you smiled.

Sylus finally let out a small chuckle, “No more walking home at night without me. It’s my job to protect you.”

“And when you’re busy?” you said, fiddling with the end of his sleeve. 

“Luke and Kieran. Or Mephisto. Just somebody to help keep you safe.” he said, kissing your cheek.

You nodded slightly; your eyes felt hazy and your mind was foggy. “I gave you a little something for the pain. You should rest.” he said, standing to leave.

You grasped his hand gingerly, “Stay?” you asked softly. 

Sylus immediately nodded, pulling his shirt off before slipping into the bed with you. He nuzzled back into the crook of your neck, lacing his fingers through yours. “Sleep, kitten. I’ll be here when you wake up.” he kissed your cheek.

So you slept, the most perfect sleep you’ve had in a while despite the injuries. Sylus had that effect.

--------------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Sylus... what a guy

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXO

[punkshort]

Night Shift

Thank you anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x nurse!reader

Summary: It was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room until a handsome contractor gets admitted and adds some excitement to your life.

Warnings: language, descriptions of wounds/injuries/blood (typical hospital junk), needles, drugs (the medical kind), fluff, flirting, rom-com vibes, soft!joel, just a little smut (18+ MDNI)

WC: 7.3K

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I'm fully aware some things I'm about to describe is probably incorrect (medically) but let's suspend that disbelief for a fun, fluffy story, shall we?

"Dr. Fisher wants you in room 504, but if you're too busy, I would be more than willing to go," Lily said, leaning over the counter with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I haven't had anything to do other than charts for the past two hours, how on earth could I be too busy?" you asked, standing up and draping your stethoscope around your neck. Then you froze, realizing Lily never tries to take a patient off your hands. "Wait... why are you offering?"

She grinned and flopped down in the swivel chair next to you, crossing her legs. "The guy is smokin' hot," she whispered with a wink. "I just got a glimpse when I brought Fisher the computer cart, but..." she exhaled loudly and fanned her face. "Even with all the blood, you can tell he's a fox."

"Blood?!" you exclaimed, jogging around the nurse's desk, "why didn't you tell me?"

"He's stable, it's not-" Lily began, but you were already hustling down the hall. When you skidded to a stop outside room 504, you were relieved there wasn't a flurry of staff running in and out of the room, indicating whatever was waiting for you wasn't life threatening.

As you entered through the open door, you rapped two knuckles on the wood to announce your presence. Dr. Fisher, standing at the patient's bedside and blocking your view, glanced over his shoulder and nodded while you washed your hands. You heard him talking to a man with a deeper southern drawl than you were used to, and by the sound of it, he was in pain. You plucked two gloves from the box on the wall and snapped the latex on, turning around with a practiced smile right as Dr. Fisher introduced you by name.

Lily was right. Your eyes landed on a painfully good looking, dark haired man sitting up in the bed with one leg draped over the side, as if he was getting ready to bolt. You tried to not let your gaze linger, but the way his thighs stretched out his worn, bloody jeans and his shoulders filled out his ripped flannel held your attention longer than you expected. He first glanced over at you right when you noticed the laceration on his forearm and you went into autopilot.

You began to pull various instruments from a cabinet without instruction, already anticipating what the doctor would need before he began to rattle off requests, which you mentally jotted down and nodded in acknowledgement when he was finished.

"I'm gonna give you a local anesthetic and then clean and stitch this up. Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Miller?" Dr. Fisher asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still stuck on you as you worked. "Call me Joel," he added, his eyes flicking up to the doctor once he realized he was staring. Tommy smirked from the corner of the room and tucked his chin to his chest.

"Only thing he's allergic to is askin' for help," Tommy joked. You startled and glanced over your shoulder. Somehow you had missed the second man in the room when you first walked in. Joel scowled in his direction.

"Ignore my brother," Joel muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you prep him and give him 20MLs of the local? I'll be right back, I have another patient waiting to get discharged," Dr. Fisher said to Joel, who nodded and lifted his leg onto the bed, resigning himself to a long night.

Your gaze drifted over his clothes, ruined by all the blood that had gushed from his arm. "This looks pretty nasty. What happened tonight, Joel?" you asked, using your typical distraction technique while you worked unwrapping instruments and lying them out on a tray. When he didn't answer right away, you met his gaze and smiled, assuming he was squeamish and doing to do your best to reassure him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Um, got hurt at work."

You frowned, your eyes roaming over his face now that you were closer and hoping he didn't notice the way you stared a moment too long at his soft looking lips. "What do you do that you're working so late?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, mesmerized by the way you effortlessly moved around, probably just going through the motions but to him, it looked so impressive. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster and he glared up at it, angry at the heart monitor for betraying him.

"Lots of things need to be built at midnight?" you teased, making him chuckle.

"I'm behind on a project and my daughter had a sleepover tonight so I figured I'd do a little extra work," he explained, wincing when he moved his injured arm.

You nodded, latching on to the new piece of information. You loved it when patients had kids. It was a great way to keep them talking and calm. But right as you were about to ask her name, the second man chimed in.

"Yeah, 'cause otherwise he'd be home alone," he said, making the both of you stop and stare at him. His eyes bounced back and forth between you both. "'Cause he's single," he added after a beat, making both you and Joel blush.

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel muttered under his breath, and you forced out a polite laugh before switching gears.

"Alright, let's see," you said, gently lifting his arm and peeling back the sleeve of his flannel. You made a face and Joel tensed.

"What is it?"

"I wish I had better news," you sighed, locking eyes with him. "I'm gonna have to cut the sleeve off this shirt," you said solemnly.

His face broke out into a huge smile, one that reached his beautiful brown eyes and creased his tanned skin, and you giggled before reaching for the scissors.

"It's alright, darlin'," he said, still smiling as you began to cut through the fabric, "ain't got no fashion sense, anyway."

"'Cause he's single," Tommy said again from across the room. Joel swiveled his head and mouthed something angrily in his direction but you just grinned and stayed focused, pulling the sleeve away and making sure not to brush up against his wound.

"Okay, Joel, how are you around needles?" you asked, turning your back to him and blocking his view while you prepped a syringe with local anesthetic. "Do I need to call someone in here to catch you if you faint?"

He scoffed. "Hell no, I'll be -" you turned around with the needle in your hand and he gulped, "-fine."

You eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, so you decided to just make it as fast as possible. Cleaning the skin with some alcohol, you slid the needle into his arm near the laceration and injected the medicine. After, you pressed a piece of cotton against the injection site and hid the needle behind you on the tray.

"All done, you did great," you said, and he looked at you in surprise.

"That's it? Hardly felt a thing."

You smiled and shrugged. "I've been doing this a while," you said. You always loved when patients commented on how gentle you were. It made you feel proud and good at your rather thankless job.

"Yeah? How long?" he asked, watching as you pulled out another vial of medicine.

"Almost five years," you told him, filling another syringe and wiping an alcohol pad on his inner elbow.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the pain," you said, "it's mild but you might feel a little out of it for a couple hours. It will help you relax so the doctor can stitch you up."

He nodded and you quickly slipped the needle in and out, just like before.

"Okay, all done with needles, I promise," you told him, disposing of them both in a red sharps container bolted to the wall by the sink.

"Whoa," Joel said softly after a minute, and you looked up at him then smiled when you saw that familiar, spaced out look in his eyes.

"Feeling it?" you asked, and he slowly nodded.

"Reckon I am."

"That's good. Just try to relax, the doctor will be back soon," you said, turning your attention to the computer cart. You were typing in your notes and scanning the vials of medicine to log into Joel's chart when Tommy's phone rang.

"It's Maria, probably wonderin' what the hell's goin' on," Tommy told Joel as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said right before you heard him answer the phone and walk out into the hallway for some privacy.

Joel's head rolled to the side and he gazed over at you, smiling like a fool at the way your eyebrows pinched together as you focused on whatever you were typing.

"You're real good at this," he mumbled. You glanced at him, taking a break from the computer, and smiled.

"Thank you."

"How long you been doin' this?"

You stifled your laughter and answered the question again. "Almost five years."

He nodded, completely unaware. His eyes looked glazed over and he gave you a lazy smile. "You're real pretty."

Even though you knew it was the drugs talking, your heart still skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You must be feeling better, huh?" you joked, wrapping a blood pressure sleeve around his arm. He lightly took your wrist in his hand, making you pause and catch his eye. He looked so earnest and sincere that you almost believed him when he said, "it ain't the drugs. I mean it. Can't keep my eyes off you, darlin'."

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the two of you silently assessed the other. You searched his face but all you could find was a raw vulnerability while he waited for you to say something. And you really wanted to be honest, but you knew it was unprofessional and you had no idea what was even allowed but you had to assume your job would be at risk if you said what you really wanted to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to say anything at all because Dr. Fisher chose that moment to return, breezing into the room with his white coat fluttering behind him.

"How're you feeling, Joel?" he asked from the sink as he washed his hands. You stepped back and focused on the computer screen, still feeling the heat of Joel's gaze on your face as you typed.

"Much better," he said, slowly dragging his eyes away from you. Tommy reentered the room, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and dodging Dr. Fisher as he turned around to face Joel.

"That's good. Let's get you patched up and back home, how's that sound?" he said, and you abandoned the computer to stand at his side, your eyes cast down as you awaited the doctor's instructions.

Dr. Fisher worked quickly and had Joel's laceration closed up in under thirty minutes, the whole time checking in with him to make sure he didn't feel anything. You caught Joel staring at you more than once during the procedure and you had to bite back a grin, but each time he noticed and he smiled that same dazzling smile that reached his eyes.

Once the stitches were done, Joel - but mostly Tommy - listened to Dr. Fisher's instructions on how to keep it dry and clean and to follow up with his own practitioner the next business day to schedule an appointment. Then he left, bidding the brothers a good night after he explained you would wrap up the wound and process his discharge papers.

You were very gentle as you wrapped his arm, quietly asking if it was too tight or if anything hurt. He would shake his head and continue to just gaze adoringly at you while you worked, completely unbothered by his brother just a few feet away witnessing his utter captivation.

"Okay, Joel. Let's get you out of here," you sighed, turning back to the computer cart.

"Already?" he asked, and you had to hold back your laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"It's a slow night, we were able to get you in and out much quicker than normal," you explained, hitting the print button on the computer screen.

"Well, but..." he trailed off, looking back and forth between you and Tommy as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm single!" he practically shouted when you gave him a pen to sign his papers. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Tommy laughed from his chair in the corner of the room.

"I know, your brother mentioned it a couple times," you replied as your face grew hot once again. "Um, can you just sign here, and-"

"Are you single?" he asked, cutting you off. You looked up from the papers to find his beautiful brown eyes all wide and hopeful, completely ignoring the clipboard in front of him.

"Yes," you finally answered, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Great!" he exclaimed, throwing his good arm up in the air with a huge grin. Tommy cleared his throat and stood up.

"I think what he's tryin' to do is ask for your number," he said. Joel nodded, not even sparing a glance in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, sorry," Joel said sheepishly, then he rubbed his face like he could make the brain fog dissipate. "Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now from excitement. You bit your lip and glanced over your shoulder at the open door before turning back to Joel.

"I don't know, I might get in trouble..." you began, and he quickly sat up in bed.

"I won't tell anyone," Joel said, and his voice was so serious that you couldn't help but laugh. Tommy grinned and pulled out his wallet.

"How 'bout this. What if I left Joel's business card, in case you ever needed a contractor?" Tommy offered, holding out the card between two fingers. You gingerly accepted and briefly glanced down at it. "That's his work number but this one is his cell," Tommy continued, pointing to each number respectively, "you're better off gettin' ahold of him on that one. Y'know, for any projects you might need done."

Joel gave Tommy the most grateful look. "I love you, Tommy."

"Alright, that's enough. I oughta get you back home," Tommy said with a crooked grin. You laughed and pocketed Joel's card, standing by in case he needed any assistance getting up. But before Joel and Tommy exited the room, Joel turned to you and reached out for your hand. You hesitated for a moment before stretching out your arm and allowing his thick fingers to wrap themselves around your hand.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told you, his tone deathly serious. You fought back a smile and instead gave him a firm nod.

"You're very welcome, Joel."

His business card stayed folded up in your scrubs pocket for a week, your fingers occasionally brushing up against it like a talisman as you worked.

You never told Lily about that night but you did try to sneakily look into the legality of potentially dating a former patient, but you got too nervous someone would see over your shoulder and didn't get very far.

One day, a fellow nurse who had been working at the hospital for nearly fifteen years made a comment about a patient saying something suggestive to a male doctor and she thought the doctor in question didn't handle it properly.

"What do you mean?"

"He laughed and said something along the lines of I'm too old for you," she had scoffed. "He should have shut it down right away. If the wrong person heard it, he could get into serious trouble."

That was all you needed to hear to put you off from the idea.

That evening, you took Joel's business card out of your pocket and threw it in the trash, then went to take a shower. But afterwards, when you had poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate the start of three days in a row off from work, you found yourself hovering over the garbage and staring at the folded up piece of paper, sitting right on top of a napkin.

With a sigh, you plucked it out of the garbage and stuck it to your fridge, then forced yourself to leave the room.

There was nothing wrong with keeping the card if you weren't going to call. Right?

It pained you to go so close to the hospital on one of your well deserved days off, but you couldn't resist the chocolate croissants sold at a café around the corner. They were baked fresh daily and always served warm and after a grueling four days in a row at work, you felt you deserved a treat. So that was how you found yourself waiting at the counter for your usual order, surrounded by various professionals hurrying to grab their coffees before chaining themselves to a desk for the remainder of the day. It was busy, but the barista who usually took care of you made sure to prioritize your order, shooting you a quick wink before she slid your croissant and coffee across the counter. You mouthed thank you and turned to leave, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

When you stepped outside, out of habit you glanced towards the hospital, then froze. You blinked a few times, your coffee halfway to your lips as you stared at the familiar looking man pacing back and forth on the sidewalk with his head angled toward the ground. You began to walk in his direction, squinting against the sun and wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you, but it really was him.

"Joel?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, your eyes drifting around to see if he was with anybody.

"Huh?" he asked, then immediately shook his head, "yes, I mean... no, everythin's fine." He nervously jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "I, uh, came to see you, actually," he said, glancing down at your clothes, noticing you weren't in your scrubs. "Are you workin'?"

You looked down at your jeans before meeting his gaze again. "No, I have the day off, I was just getting coffee," you jutted your thumb over your shoulder, back towards the café, and you realized how bizarre the conversation was so far. "Why are you here to see me?"

He gave you a nervous smile and looked away, watching as an ambulance veered noisily into the parking lot. "I came to apologize. 'Bout the other week. Tommy told me what I said and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Wasn't my intention, I guess it was all the meds." He finally dragged his eyes back to you and watched as something flickered across your face.

"Oh," you managed to squeak out. Even though you assumed as much, it still stung to hear he didn't mean what he said. "It's fine. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It comes with the territory," you told him with a soft laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. He nodded and looked behind you, trying to think of something else to say but when the silence became too much, you took a step back.

"I should go, but it was nice to see you. I'm glad the arm-"

"Wait - uh," he scratched his beard and took a deep breath. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, why didn't you call?"

You blinked rapidly and thought about it for a moment before frowning.

"I thought you said it was the drugs talking?" you countered, avoiding his question with one of your own.

"I lied."

"You lied?" you repeated, raising your eyebrows. He nodded.

"More like I panicked," he added, then raked his fingers through his hair with a dry laugh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this, ain't I?"

You giggled and his face brightened at the sound.

"A little, but it's okay. It's cute," you told him, feeling your cheeks warm at your own admission. He grinned.

"Alright, then why didn't you call?" he asked again.

"I panicked," you replied, then after a pause, the both of you burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"Goddamn, reckon we don't stand a chance, do we?" Joel said, tilting his head to the side, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that. Why don't we find out?"

He immediately pulled out his phone.

"It's the least we could do. Y'know. For research."

"Research, huh?" but you couldn't keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

"Yeah. Can two panicky individuals who can't seem to properly flirt their way out of a paper bag make it work?"

"Sounds like a tagline for a terrible book," you teased while simultaneously snatching his phone out of his hand and typing your number into a new text. "How could I resist?"

"I promise this is where the cheesiness ends," he chuckled, pocketing his phone.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in that?"

Joel thought about it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful what you wish for, little lady, or else we'll be havin' a picnic in the park and watchin' the sunset for our first date."

You laughed heartily at that. "Pulling out all the cheesy stops?"

"Absolutely," Joel winked, making your heart flutter.

"Alright then. Do your worst," you said, a stupid grin still plastered across your face as you took a step back the way you came.

"I'm plannin' it all out already," he said, tapping the side of his head. You giggled and gave him a little wave goodbye before turning around and heading towards home.

Joel didn't waste any time.

He had texted you within an hour with just a link and nothing else. You clicked it and immediately grinned when a website to a paint and sip place in downtown Austin opened up.

You: starting off strong - Painting with a Twist?

Joel: Get it? A twist? Because they serve alcohol there.

You laughed out loud alone in your living room. You thought the meds made him funny but you were delighted to discover he was still just as funny all on his own.

You: I got it, thanks. Very cheesy :)

Joel: So when can I take you? I want to see you paint the next greatest masterpiece.

You: I'm off the next two days and then I work the following four

Joel: You feel up for it tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?

You: tomorrow is great!

Joel: Looking forward to it, little lady.

To keep up with the cheesy theme, Joel picked you up the next evening with a singular red rose, which he had hidden behind his back so he could reveal it to you with a flourish, immediately making you laugh. He offered his arm as he led you down the driveway to his truck while commenting something about the weather but you weren't entirely certain because you couldn't stop staring at his hair, which was slicked back a bit since the last time you saw him and the longer you stared, you began to think he might have trimmed his beard, as well. You bit back your smile at the endearing effort he was putting into your date while trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that still wondered if this was going to get you in trouble at work.

When you arrived at the painting studio, you quickly realized the two of you were the youngest ones there, and not only that but Joel was the only man there. You stifled your laughter as you grabbed a couple drinks and picked your seats. Once behind the safety of your easels, you cupped your hand over your mouth and giggled into your palm. Joel chuckled and ducked down so nobody would overhear him.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

You began to laugh even harder, drawing the attention from some of the older women. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you shook your head.

"I don't know!" you wheezed when you finally got ahold of yourself. You took a deep breath and wiped your eye. "You couldn't have planned this any better." He laughed and rubbed his palm over his mouth when he began to get looks.

The painting that evening was a bouquet of white hydrangeas in a wide vase. Simple enough, or so you both thought. It became quickly apparent that Joel didn't have a creative bone in his body, and while you thought you weren't much better, when you glanced over at his and noticed his vase and flowers were beginning to take on a decidedly more phallic shape, you completely lost it.

He grinned when you had to drop your paintbrush so you could clutch your stomach while you doubled over, doing your best to keep as quiet as possible, but you were failing miserably. A lady nearby cleared her throat to convey her irritation so you slid down from your stool and told Joel you would be right back, then disappeared into the bathroom to collect yourself. By the time you emerged, the teacher who was leading the class had jumped in to try and help Joel create more distinguishable flowers, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

Once the class was over, the teacher went around to take pictures of everyone holding up their paintings with the people they came with that evening. When she got to you, Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you close. Right before she took the picture, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush and his smile to reach his eyes.

When he dropped you off at home, he walked you to the door.

"So I was thinkin' for our second date we can either do bowling or trivia night," he said with a little smile. You cocked your head to the side as you thought about it.

"Both are excellent options. You can tell a lot about somebody by the way they handle winning and losing," you mused. He grinned and leaned his shoulder against your doorframe as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to decide. "Let's do bowling," you finally said. He gave a firm nod and straightened up.

"Bowling it is."

"After tomorrow, I work four nights in a row," you reminded him.

He shrugged. "So let's do it tomorrow."

"Really?" you asked, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Are you sure? What about your daughter?"

"I'm sure Tommy can watch her. And even if he can't, she's old enough now to stay on her own for a few hours."

You nodded and glanced down at your hands, clutching your painting at your side.

"What does she think about you dating?" you asked nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing back up at him.

"She's all for it. She's fourteen now, practically kicks me outta the house every chance she gets," he said with a chuckle.

You nodded again and tried to sound casual when you asked, "are you seeing anybody else, or..." You trailed off as you felt your face warm up, feeling slightly vulnerable, but he quickly put your mind at ease. He stepped forward and pinched your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him through your eyelashes.

"No," he said softly, "are you?"

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to lose his touch just yet. "No."

He smiled. "Good."

He tilted your face up a bit more then swooped down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine even though it was rather innocent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little lady," he murmured before dropping his hand from your chin and taking a step back. You bit your lip and smiled.

"Can't wait."

While Joel wasn't a very good painter, he turned out to be a rather good bowler. Better than you, at least, which wasn't saying much. So after a couple beers, you flirtatiously asked him to help you with your form, to which he eagerly agreed. He walked you up to the lane and stood behind you, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet just so while the bowling ball dangled at your side with a stupid grin on your face.

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna swing this leg back," he said, tucking his chin into your shoulder and reaching down to tap the front of your thigh. You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, which just caused him to do it even more. You laughed harder and tried to squirm away but he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you back against him, nuzzling into your neck enthusiastically. You twisted your head towards him, trying to protect your neck, but it was no use, so instead you pressed your lips against his, finally stopping his assault. Both of you were well aware of the public setting, surrounded by families, so you fought the urge to deepen the kiss but you did linger a little longer than was necessary before breaking away with a sigh. He smiled down at you, his cheeks a little pink, either from the alcohol or the public display of affection.

"I like you," he said earnestly.

"I like you, too," you whispered, watching the way his eyes sparkled. Even if it was only two dates, you could tell the connection you had was strong. You had to make it your mission to figure out the policy at work before things went any further.

"Hey, Lily," you said the next day, getting the other nurse's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever dated anyone from here?" you asked as quietly as you could. She grinned and leaned against the counter.

"Oh, yeah. A few," she said mischievously before glancing around and leaning forward. "I went on a few dates with Dr. Adams last year. When I first started, I was hanging out with Richie, the pharmacist downstairs, but I swear when I found out he was married I broke it off. I felt bad about that one," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh! Then there was that one resident who worked here for a few months... Mike? He was tall with brown hair and had that tattoo-"

"No, I mean like, patients?" you tried again, and she pursed her lips.

"I've had a few ask me out but I never took them up on it. Why?"

"No reason," you said quickly, "but if you were interested, could you? Like, would we get fired or get our license revoked or something?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Once a patient is discharged, it doesn't matter. If we worked in a doctor's office and it was a regular patient, that would probably be a different story, but we see so many people in the ER it's impossible to enforce something like that."

You breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "That's great."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So are you gonna spill or what?"

"Me?" you squeaked, shaking your head innocently but Lily saw right through you.

"Who are you seeing?" she pressed, smacking her gum between her teeth. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the heat from reaching your cheeks.

"Remember that guy last week? The fox with the arm laceration in 504?"

Lily gasped. "Shut the fuck up!"

You smirked and nodded. "We've just been on two dates, nothing serious, but before I continued to see him I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble."

"I'm so jealous!" she groaned, stomping her feet dramatically. You laughed and turned back to your computer. You began to get back to the chart in front of you but she pulled up a chair and got a little closer so nobody would overhear. "How is he in bed?"

You gave her a look. "We haven't slept together. Did you not hear me say we've only been on two dates?"

She scoffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything. If I went on two dates with a man like that, I wouldn't waste any time climbing him like a tree."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles before the phone rang, warning you to get an exam room ready for a broken arm.

Waiting four days to see Joel again was a lot harder than you expected, but lucky for you, on your last day, Joel surprised you at work with a coffee and chocolate croissant from the café you liked.

"You remembered!" you exclaimed when you opened the bag. He shrugged sheepishly but you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

"'Course I remembered," he said, glancing around when Lily walked into the waiting room to call back a patient. Her eyes locked on the two of you and she gave you an exaggerated wink before leading an elderly man to the back. Joel grinned and looked at you.

"Friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately," you said sarcastically, making him smile. You glanced down at your watch and made a face. "I'm so sorry, I gotta get going but this was so sweet of you," you said, motioning towards your coffee and pastry.

"I just really wanted to see you again," he admitted, "it was a completely selfish move."

You giggled. "Well, thank you for the selfish coffee and treat."

"You're welcome. Still on for tomorrow night?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Picnic and stargazing. You're really checking things off that cheesy date list," you said with a laugh.

"You asked for it, don't you forget now," he replied before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss.

After he left, you made your way back to the nurse's station so you could deposit your goodies and pull up the next chart.

"Third date tomorrow?" Lily asked, rounding the desk. You nodded.

"Yep," you answered distractedly, reading the chart of a young boy with a minor head injury from a fall.

"You know what typically happens on the third date?"

You felt your skin heat up at the insinuation. "I'm going to regret telling you about him, aren't I?"

"Sure are. That was so close to being me, I'll never get over it."

You laughed and shook your head, leaving her question unanswered as you made your way back to the waiting room.

As it turned out, a picnic and stargazing was incredibly romantic. Joel packed a simple meal: some cold pasta in olive oil, a light salad and some fruit. He had found a spot off a highway that overlooked downtown Austin, which was by far the cheesiest part of the date.

"Did you used to take girls here back in high school or something?" you teased as you sat on the hood of his truck, leaning against the windshield so you could see the stars.

"Me? Never. I was very respectable in high school. Never got into trouble, never skipped class and definitely never took the captain of the cheerleading squad up here after prom," he said with a grin. You giggled and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"You're trouble."

"Yeah, but you like it," he said, turning his head to the side so he could look at you. You tried to give him a stern look but you weren't selling it in the slightest.

"Okay, maybe I do," you admitted.

He smiled and laced his fingers together with yours, dragging his thumb over your knuckles for a minute, staring at your entwined hands while you continued to gaze upwards, the stars twinkling in the nearly clear, black sky.

"Can I tell you somethin' without you thinkin' I'm crazy?"

You rolled your head to look at him, your first instinct to tease him but his soft tone made you stop. "Sure."

"I keep waitin' to wake up or the other shoe to drop or whatever," he said, his gaze studying your face. "You just seem too good to be true," he added with a little grin.

"That's funny, I could say the same about you," you told him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I mean it. How don't you already got a boyfriend?"

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "I don't know. It's always been a little tough with my work schedule. I work so many overnights and it's hard for guys to understand that and work around it. Eventually things just... die off because I never get a chance to spend any real time with anyone."

He frowned and inched a little closer. "Their loss," he said. You turned to smile at him.

"You're not like that, though."

He shrugged. "I get it. I'm no stranger to havin' a busy schedule. I'm always haulin' Sarah 'round town to soccer games or friends' houses or after school activities. Don't bother me none."

You squeezed his hand affectionately before impulsively leaning over and pressing your lips against his. You could feel his surprise but he quickly reacted and brought a hand up to cup your face. He licked at the seam of your lips and you smiled before opening your mouth a fraction, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The whole drive back to your place had you thinking about Lily's comment from the day before, and the closer and closer you got to home, the more nervous you felt.

When he walked you up to your door and kissed you goodnight, you reached up to hold the back of his neck, keeping him close. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you let out a small moan. He grabbed your hip and began kissing you harder, pushing you up against your door and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking your skin there. You tipped your head back, breaking the kiss, both of you panting for air.

"Do you want to come inside?" you asked nervously. His gaze darkened and he licked his lips, but then you saw a tortured look flicker across his face.

"I can't," he said, sounding almost like it pained him to utter the words. "I can't leave Sarah alone overnight," he explained, taking a step back and rubbing his palms over his face. He dropped them to the side and you quickly blinked the disappointment from your eyes.

"It's okay, I understand," you told him, then reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"I promise, I really wanna come inside," he told you.

"I know," you said, "maybe next time."

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Yeah, next time."

But it wouldn't be the next time. Or the time after that. Understandably so, Joel was waiting for a night where Sarah was at a sleepover to coincide with one of your free nights, explaining that he felt uncomfortable letting her know he wouldn't be coming home.

"Does she know about us?" you asked him one night.

"'Course she does. But it's just... awkward. At her age, she can read between the lines, y'know?"

"I get it," you had told him, trying to imagine what it would be like for you if at fourteen, your dad had essentially announced he wouldn't be home that night because he was going to get laid.

It made sense, but it didn't stop both of you from practically swallowing each other whole every chance you got, all your pent up sexual tension bubbling just under the surface with every glance and touch.

And finally, nearly two months into seeing each other, the stars aligned. Sarah was going on a school field trip to The Alamo, which coincidentally was scheduled on one of your rare weekends off.

Joel had every intention of taking you out to dinner and a movie, but when you opened the door and locked eyes, suddenly take out and a shitty movie on TV sounded much better.

You practically dragged him to your bedroom while shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, desperation rolling off both of you in waves as you fell into bed.

"Beautiful girl," Joel mumbled against your throat, sweat coating your skin as your writhed underneath him, his thick length slowly dragging in and out, making sure you felt every inch of him. "Wanted this for so long," he continued, then groaned when you clenched around him. "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," he whispered when your slick began to spread over his thighs.

"Only for you," you managed to say, too focused on how your body thrummed with anticipation as you got closer and closer to your release.

"Yeah, that's right," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "All for me."

When you came, you whimpered his name into his shoulder, clutching onto him as the heat of your orgasm spread through every vein, reaching every inch of you. He followed shortly behind with a guttural moan muffled by his mouth pressing feverishly against yours, then you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips and his body sag. You pulled him down and he nuzzled against your throat as he fought for air, still nestled deep between your legs.

Neither of you felt much like leaving the bed, so you didn't. You ordered Chinese food takeout and watched some action movie you didn't really care for but it didn't matter because it primarily served as background noise while you pretended to fight over shrimp lo mein and shared an egg roll, the cartons spread out over your nightstands and your plates balancing in your hands.

You fell asleep before the movie ended but when you woke the next morning, tucked safely into Joel's side, the cartons of food were gone and the TV was off. You pressed a little kiss against his chest, silently thanking him for taking care of everything while you slept, but the movement made him stir. He sleepily opened his eyes, then a lazy smile spread across his face when he saw you already looking up at him.

"Mornin', little lady," he said, voice all rough and gravelly. You felt a pull in your lower stomach at the sound.

"Morning," you mumbled, pressing another kiss in the same spot.

Joel sighed and wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer and kissing the top of your head.

"I want you to meet Sarah."

He felt your muscles tense under his hands and then you slowly tipped your chin up to look him in the eye.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Only if you wanna," he said quickly, but you shook your head and grinned.

"Y-yeah, I would love to, of course," you told him.

He planted a kiss on your lips, both your mouths curving into smiles.

"Good. Then it's settled. My two best girls are gonna meet," he said, sliding out from under the sheets to stand. You bit your lip, adoring the way he referred to you as one of his girls. "She's gonna love you. How 'bout a baseball game or the fair?" he offered, slipping his boxers on.

"Both sound great," you said dreamily, watching him saunter out of your bedroom. And as you ate breakfast across your kitchen table, sharing little smiles over eggs and toast, you couldn't help but feel hopeful and excited for what your future held together.

[dewwinchester]

stitches | d.w.

synopsis: dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

requested by: @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy

pairing: pre-series!dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: fluff, some angst, john winchester, blood, wounds/injury, stitching up wounds, typical spn series warnings. no use of y/n, no pronouns used!

a/n: if john winchester has no haters, i'm dead <33 also, it's currently 12am, so if the editing is a little wonky, pls forgive me

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as you navigated through the torrential downpour hammering down around you and your car. The rain was relentless, blinding you as it pounded against the windshield. The smell of wet asphalt filled your car as the tires slipped on the rain-soaked road. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – a mixture of adrenaline from trying to avoid a horrific car wreck and anxiety from the message still illuminating your car in a dim light.

I need your help.

It wasn’t a message you were expecting. Normally, in your line of work, pleas for help came in the form of a frantic phone call or a scream in the dark. They never came in the form of a random text message.

And they never came from Dean Winchester.

You were having a relatively normal night, working a case and staking out a couple of vamps, when your phone buzzed with several messages from Dean. First, he asked if you were busy. Then, he asked if you were nearby. Moments later, he sent you an address to a motel. Then, came the message that caused you to leave the stakeout completely and go frantically speeding down the road.

Your tires screeched as you rounded a corner. The neon light of the motel soon appeared ahead, its reflection dancing across the many puddles on the asphalt. You pulled into the first parking spot you saw and stepped out of your car. The rain immediately soaked you to the bone, wetting your hair and your clothes, sending a chill through you, but you couldn't find yourself caring as your eyes scanned for Dean's room number.

The motel was rather seedy-looking – more so than normal. The wooden palings were splitting, and the paint was chipping off the trimmings and walls. There wasn't any other car in sight. You wondered just how bad things were if Dean had found himself in a place like this.

Once you found his room, you practically ran over to the door and threw it open, not bothering to knock. Your eyes immediately landed on Dean, who sat on the edge of one of the beds, his back to you. A wave of relief washed over you – he was alive – but the sight of his tense shoulders and the untouched beer bottle in his hand kept your anxiety simmering.

You closed the door behind you and took off your saturated jacket, leaving it next to Dean's leather one.

"Hey," you said with a sigh, "You okay?"

Dean responded with a curt nod but said nothing more. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and you felt a pang in your chest. When you finally got close enough, you quickly scanned his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his normally sharp gaze was clouded with exhaustion. HIs hair was wet and spiky, and his lip trembled from the cold.

Your eyes continued to trail down to his side, where his shirt clung to his skin, dark and wet with blood. Three jagged and deep gashes spread across Dean's side. His shirt was torn.

Your eyes widened as panic once again surged through you. You frantically looked around for anything you could use to stop the bleeding. You grabbed the first towel you could get your hands on and pressed it to his side, grimacing when Dean winced in pain.

"Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?"

"Werewolf," he gritted out.

"I think you're gonna need stitches."

There was no first aid kit in sight, so your mind began running through alternatives. You could go to the front desk and ask if there were any supplies, but asking for anything more than a simple band-aid would cause suspicion, and the last thing you needed was someone knocking on the door asking too many questions.

You could use dental floss. You had known plenty of hunters that used it in the past and not had a problem, but you weren't sure there were any needles…

"There's a sewing kit in the bathroom."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You read my mind."

“One of my many talents.” 

----

Needle, thread, dental floss, tissues, water. You looked over the supplies in front of you, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Despite being a hunter yourself, you weren’t exactly a natural when it came to stitching wounds and performing first aid. In fact, the sight of too much blood caused your head to throb and your legs to go numb.

Dean had already taken off his shirt, leaving you to see the full extent of his injuries. The gashes started at the top of his ribs and curled around to his left shoulder blade. Blood continued to trail down his back, causing your mouth to go dry. Pins and needles tingled your toes, and the room began to spin…

You shook off your thoughts and shifted your weight between your two feet, hoping to get some blood flow back there. You put your thoughts and discomfort behind you and prepared to begin. 

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” you said, trying to control the shake in your voice. 

“Not my first time,” he replied. 

You grabbed the needle and thread, and – with shaky hands – tried your best to thread the cotton through the eye. You sat behind him, deciding to start around his shoulder. With a damp cloth, you tried your best to clean around the area, whispering apologies whenever Dean flinched. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly, using your gentlest touch to guide the needle through. 

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” you trailed off. “Where’s your dad?” 

Dean clenched his jaw, and you immediately knew you had touched on a rough subject. Throughout the time that you had known Dean, you had learnt his relationship with his father was far from healthy. John Winchester was not your favourite person in the world. In fact, you and Dean had gotten into plenty of arguments about him in the past. 

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, continuing your stitching. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Do we have to do this–?”

“--Yes.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. The anger and tension radiating off him was palpable, his shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy. You finished stitching the first gash, and tied the thread off with a neat little knot. Instead of immediately moving on to the next one, you moved around and knelt in front of Dean so you were eye level. You placed a hand on his right knee and traced gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a look that was simultaneously stern and empathetic.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

“We’d been stakin’ out the thing for weeks,” Dean began. “We finally pinpointed it to this boathouse. Dad was sure that it was in there, so he sent me in first to sweep the area.”

“And…?”

“Turns out it was a lot smarter than we thought,” Dean said, a dejected smile on his lips. “It was waitin’ there for us. Dad knew, but I didn’t.” 

“Then why did he send you in there?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. But the thing had me on the ground before I even realized what was goin’ on. Put it’s claws in me and ran.”

You shuddered. 

“Dad didn’t stay,” Dean continued. “The second he realised it jumped ship, he went too. Left me with my phone and wallet… I walked here.” 

“What?” 

If Dean’s anger was palpable, you were damn-near irate. You pressed your lips together, trying to control yourself from spewing all sorts of profanities. If you had it your way, you would have marched your way up to John Winchester and given him what for. You would have knocked his lights out if Dean had let you. 

You stood and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

"He – you? God!"

"Alright hot-head, calm down."

"No, I will not calm down!" You spun on your heel, turning to face him again. "Your own father left you for dead!"

"He's done worse."

You laughed bitterly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Alright," Dean sighed, raising a hand to stop your tirade. "I'm okay! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, you're the pinnacle of okay."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

You shook your head. Angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them fall.

"I just wish you would understand that you deserve better," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You could leave his ass behind any time you like -"

"Oh yeah? And then what?"

You paused, and looked down to your feet. 

"You could come with me?" 

For half a second, Dean smiled. “You and I would kill each other in half an hour.” 

He was right – but you’d never let him admit it. 

“Why’d you text me then?” You asked. “If we’re just gonna kill one another–”

Dean shot you a pointed look. 

“– I’m serious.” You said. 

Dean stood up with a groan and walked over to you. You stood with your arms crossed, a slight frown creasing your brow. Nothing could be heard but the rain that battered against the windows and the thundering of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Dean tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, “You’re the first one I thought of… The only one I wanted here.” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you shook your head fondly. “You’re fantastic at changing the subject.” 

Dean winked, but his smooth-talking was soon replaced by a painful scowl. 

“Let’s finish this up later, shall we? I’d rather not bleed to death.” 

You helped Dean back to the bed and prepared to finish stitching him up. You knew this was far from over – with Dean, it never was – but for now, you would focus on the rain that pattered against the roof and the relief that Dean was with you, safe. 

[g0dlyunsub]

stitch me.

you were assigned to negotiate with an unsub keeping a group of females hostage, or so you thought. turns out he has a partner and he’s determined to destroy you, all in front of spencer.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

warnings :: lots of physical violence, blood, mentions of murder, knife threats, biting, general criminal minds themes.

word count :: 1.8k

author’s note :: so… this is my first post, like ever. sorry if it’s poorly written, but i’m all for slightly (?) protective reid and just wanted to write about him :3 accompanying song :: savior by novulent

you knew something was more than just off the moment you were violently thrown into the room. the hostages were huddled near the left corner of the room, their eyes locked onto you as their shoulders shook in panic.

but the hostages were all supposed to be women. brunettes. young women in their twenties. so why was there a young man among them? there was no mention of a young man reported missing in the case files or when garcia had compiled the final list of hostages, so who was he?

must’ve been a gap in the reports, you shook your head and tried to get up, but your left cheek met the cold concrete ground once again.

“don’t move, sweetheart.” his knife was positioned at the nape of your throat, and you felt your breaths become more jagged, more erratic.

“listen, i swear i’ll make it up to you i never-“ your breath gets caught in your throat when the blade presses ever so slightly into your skin.

“shut your pretty little mouth. i know who you are, an undercover cop. if you think you’re so smart coming in here without your wire and gun, you should be prepared for the consequences.” he spits the words with a nasty drawl.

you barely have any time to respond as he lifts you up by the back of your shirt and drags you to an adjacent room. he grabs a fistful of your hair and throws you to the ground forcefully.

“all the other girls in there, they’re nothing compared to you. i’ll take my time with you, sweetheart”. he approaches you while cracking his knuckles and waving his knife around menacingly.

“who’s the boy?” your voice comes out with a slight quiver, but you’re determined not to sound scared. the man lets out a bellowing laugh in response, examining his knife in one hand.

“that’s my buddy jack. you cops surely would have done your research, right?” his hand is now gloved around your throat, and you struggle to loosen his grip with your arms.

this killer had a partner sitting right between the hostages and you and your team had completely missed the signs.

but the adrenaline must have kicked in at the right timing, since you manage to knock your head back into his face and quickly swivel to deliver a kick into his shins and bring him to his knees before he has any time to react with his knife. then you strike him unconscious with a swift elbow to his temple.

you barely have any time to recover, however, when a blow hits the back of your head and your world comes spinning down. before your eyelids slowly close, you manage to steal a glance at the perpetrator — the male hostage had knocked you with a bat and was now trying to shake his unconscious partner awake.

when you open your eyes, you can’t move. your arms are tied behind your back, and your legs are tightly trapped behind the legs of the chair with knots of rope. you were in the main room now with all of the other hostages, and the former hostage was on the ground, still trying to shake his partner awake.

“look what you’ve done, you stupid brat. i swear if you’ve killed him i'm going to SLIT YOUR THR-“ the crescendo of his voice halts with the abrupt ring of the telephone hanging on the wall. he huffs and makes his way to the phone, never losing his eye contact with you. you try to wrestle against the ropes, but your efforts are useless and your energy is at an all time low.

it was your team on the other end. they must have figured out that it was a team of two and not just one.

“your stupid cop knocked samuel cold and split his skin open. send me a medic and maybe i won’t kill all of them here”. jack’s tone is agitated, threatening, and also lost. now that his commander wasn’t in charge, he didn’t know what to do with the hostages, let alone you.

you can barely decipher hotch’s words as they filter through the noise of the phone. “release the women, and i’ll send you all the medical attention you need. we’ll make sure samuel gets the stitches.” his voice is level and controlled. you’ve always trusted hotch and you’ve always trusted your team, but you couldn’t help but let a sliver of anxiousness cloud your thoughts.

and oh god, spencer. how would he cope when you were gone? how would he react at the sight of your cold body, drowned in the blood of the other hostages? tears fill your eyes and you make a poor attempt to swallow them back.

just as you think of your boyfriend, you hear his name through the phone.

“we're going to send in doctor spencer reid to have a look at samuel, alright jack? i want you to let the women go first. the sooner you do this, the sooner samuel gets his help”.

no. no, no, no. NO.

you squirm in your seat, trying to divert jack’s attention.

“wait-“ you try to shout, before jack cuts you off: “SHUT UP! this is all your fault!” he rolls his eyes before he turns around. jack’s knuckles had turned white, maintaining a deathly grip on the telephone.

“fine. but the cop stays with me.” he slams the phone before he rushes back to check on samuel.

the women are released one by one, each frantically making their way out, and you can hear cops outside ushering them and retreating.

it’s only a few minutes later when you hear the familiar sounds of the leather shoes make their way inside of the room. it’s spencer, and he has no wire, no gun, no vest. he’s carrying a medical first aid kit and making his way toward samuel, but not before taking a glance at you.

your world collapses, right there and then. he’s made the same mistake you had by entering without his gun and vest, and you had to give him a signal somehow. if luck was on your side, spencer would make it out alive. but you? your chances are slim.

“hurry up and stitch him up. don’t fuckin look at the other cop.” jack points his knife at spencer, and you let out a hitched yelp. please don’t hurt him. hurt me instead.

spencer gets down to work quickly, examining and tending to the wounds on samuel’s face, and he doesn’t look up in your direction once. jack’s watching him the entire time, tapping his left foot in impatience.

“there. he’s all good, samuel just needs some time to recov-“ spencer raises his arms and turns his back against you, and faces jack as he speaks.

“shut- sit on that chair”. jack motions at spencer to sit down on the chair across from you. you shake your head fervently, yelling constant streams of don’t to him. but he obliges.

“put your arms behind your back,” jack orders, and spencer obliges. you make a desperate attempt and kick at jack to try and distract him. but jack only slaps you in the face with his backhand before aiming the knife at spencer. your boyfriend flinches, and his friendly facade is now masked with a deathly glare.

“don’t move.” jack grabs duct tape and moves swiftly to bind spencer’s hands together behind the chair. you hang your head down. it’s over.

“listen, let spence- let him go. it’s just between you and me, your partner said you only need me”. you shakingly drew in a deep breath as you spoke.

jack chuckles before he makes a step toward you. the next thing you know, he’s grabbed you by the hair and he’s delivering punches left and right, hurling screams of expletives and slurs. he’s lost it. and you were going to die.

he positions the knife at your chest, and you know he'll do it. you know he will drive that blade straight to your skin. straight to your heart.

“STOP. STOP! PLEASE!” you hear spencer rocking his chair forwards, and jack finally stops. you can’t breathe with all the blood pooling in your mouth, and you let the excess drawl out of your lips to land on the floor.

“jack, listen to me, please.” spencer looks at you with pleading eyes, silently signaling you to not move. to not agitate jack further.

“no. samuel said he was gonna kill her and i have to finish what he started for him”. jack leans forward and pulls the collar of your shirt outwards, and bites down on your neck. you let out a painful scream, tears running down your face just as more blood leaves the corner of your lips. spencer thrashes in his chair, trying to shift jack’s attention.

“but i stitched him up. samuel will live. let her go. you can take it out on me.” spencer’s voice is desperate, but there’s a tone of controlled execution, because his voice isn’t quivering like before.

at that instant, doors fling open and less than a millisecond later, jack drops to the ground, his knife toppling down to the floor soon after. the team of cops, along with hotch and rossi, make their way toward you and spencer, untying the knots.

between the yells of “we need a medic” and comforting words of “you’re going to be okay” being uttered left and right, you hear spencer’s voice. it’s seemingly amplified for some reason, and you can’t help but smile. your boyfriend rushes towards you, sweeping your hair and cradling you back and forth in his arms.

“you’re so brave, you’re so brave y/n.” his voice comes out stifled and hoarse, and you feel him grip your hand even tighter.

“i’m so sorry i let you go in there alone. i’m so sorry i let him do that to you, torture you and almost-“ his head buried into the crook of your neck, and he lightly kisses you right above the dried cut where jack had attacked you.

you turn your head ever so slightly to get a better look at spencer. tears coat his eyelashes and his mouth shakes as he talks. a soft groan rolls out from the back of your throat, and you snuggle deeper into spencer’s hold.

“keep… talking. i want… to hear… you.” you manage to let out, and spencer’s eyes widen.

“of course. i can do that. i’ll keep talking to you, y/n. focus on my voice, can you do that?” he asks with a slight squeeze to your palm. you give a slow nod in return.

that’s all he needs, because when the medics transfer you into the ambulance, he’s sitting right beside you, not letting go of your hand, and whispering nothing but bittersweet apologies.

his voice is the only stitch you need.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

[3.4K] title from ‘too sweet’ by hozier, just a stressed out steve, a willing girlfriend and a lot of filth. written in two hours and not edited in the slightest i’m sorry do not perceive me.

As sour as Steve had looked when he came home from work, he tasted twice as sweet.

He’d called you on his lunch, voice strained and low and you could picture the stitch between his brows, the downturn of his lips as he grumbled to you down Family Videos landline.

Robin was off sick, Keith was in a foul mood, two kids came in and stole a copy of a porno that was sitting behind the desk and the return pile sat at the height of Steve’s waist.

“Can’t wait to come home,” he had sighed down the line, voice rough and mournful and making your thighs squeeze together just right. “Wanna see you so bad, y’know?”

And you did know.

It seemed to take an age before you heard his car pull into the driveway, brakes squeaking slightly because the rent on the apartment came before any repairs to the BMW now. It’s why you’d poured a whisky for him, neat and no ice, no water, just the way Steve liked it. You considered dinner, home cooked and waiting on the kitchen table but something else took hold in your thoughts.

You could order pizza later.

So Steve came in the door with his shoulders slumped and his keys rattling from his fingertips, his green work vest already discarded and probably balled up in the backseat of his car. That frown was there, the one you’d wanted to soothe away all day for him, creasing at his brows, turning down the corners of his soft and pretty lips.

He thawed when he saw you, barefoot and in an old sweater that was too big for you, legs naked and your skin still warm from the shower you’d taken your time in. Steve held out a hand, groaning in delight when you stepped to him, all soft smiles and softer sweater, allowing him to pull you into his chest. His noises were doing things, rough sighs and low moans that made you think with what was between your legs, his purrs vibrating from his chest to yours as he curled his arms around your lower back.

It was easy to return the affection, pushed onto your tiptoes as you carded your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, the smell of his cologne that you watched him spray that morning barely clinging to his skin. You nosed at his throat anyway, everything about him smelling like home and when Steve let out a low grunt at your adoration, you used one hand to pull at his jaw, bringing his lips to yours.

It was more than an average kiss ‘hello’. In fact, it made his brows shoot upwards and his breath hitch, the arm still around your waist faltering before he caught up with the pace you had set and tucked you in tighter to his body. He let you lead, eyes fluttering shut as he sighed softer than he had all day, letting you steal the noise and keep it for yourself.

Steve fell pliant for you, pretty lips giving in to yours as you kissed him slow, needy, lazy. Your tongue traced the seam of his mouth, teasing, testing, his breath ragged when he opened for you, trying to catch up. You pulled away then, pleased with the rosy cheeks and blown out pupils that stared back at you.

“Go sit down,” you told him, voice soft, quiet. There was a spell cast, not to be broken, not until Steve did too. “I’ll be through in a second.”

If Steve knew what you were up to, he didn’t say. No questions asked, the boy blinked and stumbled into the doorframe before righting himself, heading for the sofa. You’d long switched the television off, the lamp by the armchair dimmed low, the candles you liked to collect all lit and scattered across the coffee table and the fireplace mantle.

You returned with his whisky, the glass glinting amber in the candle light, your smile too coy. Steve raised his brows as you handed him his drink, his gaze too caught on your bare legs. He reached out for you, warm palm travelling up the back of your thigh, wide enough to curl around it and bring you between his knees.

Exactly where you planned to end up.

“What have I done to deserve this, huh?” He asked, whisky on one hand as he leant his chin on the soft of your stomach, eyes wide and dark as he looked up at you.

You scoffed, soft and light, your hands carding through his hair. You pushed it from his forehead, nails scratching at his scalp, beaming when he closed his eyes like he couldn’t help it, lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks. “What? Bring you a drink?”

Steve hummed, distracted. “Was thinkin’ more along the lines of deserving you.”

Love sick, that’s what you felt. An awfully sticky thing that glued itself to your heart at his words. You didn’t know what to say, especially not when he was looking at you like that again, all brown sugar eyes, honeyed and soft. So you bent instead, nose bumping his before you stole another kiss, gentler than before, lingering and as sweet as him.

You let him take one sip of his whisky before you dragged his shirt from his body, hair wild as you pulled it over his head, cheeks flushed and eyes surprised.

“What—?”

You didn’t respond, merely dropping to your knees instead and popping the button on his Levi’s. Steve swore, a dirty, throaty sound that made your stomach flip because you knew that he knew where this was going.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Fuck. You don’t have to do that—”

The sound of his zipped caught in the air, the rest of the evening quiet. The closed curtains and the flicker of the candle light made the small living room feel even tinier, a warm bubble where you could hear every little noise Steve made for you. His hand travelled up your forearm, fingers curling at your elbow and squeezing. Steve looked half gone already, lip parted and shiny from your previous kisses and you knew he’d taste like cedar and smoke now.

“What if I wanna?” You told him, pouring, just a little. Because what man could resist a pretty thing like you on your knees, lips soft and begging? You pushed yourself up, leaning into the space between his hips, your mouth skimming along his jawline, tongue licking into the corner of his mouth all sweet. It was barely a kiss, but it was somehow dirtier. “What if I told you I wanna make you feel better? That I’ve been thinking about your cock in my mouth all day?”

Steve groaned, falling into you, head on your shoulder, teeth biting down on the junction of your neck. “Fuck— baby. Baby, y’cant, you can’t just say shit like that.”

You grinned, amusement hidden from him as Steve continued to mouth at your throat, nose nudging down the collar of your sweater so he could kiss more skin. “I can’t?” You asked.

“Gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind,” he mumbled. He lifted his head then, cheeks pink and eyes looking heavy lidded, pupils black and too big. He looked delirious on you. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed heavily, tongue licking at his lips. “You really been thinking about that?”

You nodded, making your eyes a little too wide, too innocent, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and it was a cheap shot, an easy target— but fuck, it worked every time. Steve’s hand slid to your ass, lifting your sweater out of his way and squeezing a plump cheek, only your underwear to be found underneath.

“So can I?” You whispered, mouth parted, brushing against his. You shared your breath with him, nose pushed to his warm cheek, hands coasting over his thighs as you prepared to tug down those too tight jeans.

Steve sounded too breathy when he answered but he still played your game, too far gone or not. He was watching your mouth when he spoke, transfixed by the pink gloss there, the way he could see your tongue between them. “Can you what, honey?”

You smirked.

Steve knew what you were asking. He just wanted to hear you say it again.

“Can I suck your cock?”

You heard it then, the hitch in his throat, the too harsh exhale. Steve looked at you like you were everything, like you’d hung each star and you were ever wet dream all at once. Lips pressed together to deal in his moan, his filthy words, he nodded, hair falling into dark eyes. And when he trusted his voice, albeit rougher and lower than before, he spoke.

“Yeah, honey, go ‘head.” He lifted his hips when you tapped them, jeans and boxers shoved down just enough for his cock to spring free, already hard and hitting his stomach. “You’re so— you’re so fucking sweet, y’know that?”

You smiled, all coy, faux shyness as you leaned your cheek onto his thigh, denim and coarse hair against your skin. Steve gasped when you wrapped a small hand around him, fingers barely meeting around his girth and you stroked once, twice. “I am?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer before your tongue followed, a lazy, wide lick from the base of him to his tip, already dark pink and slick for you. Steve’s hips canted up, head thrown back against the cushions and you adored the way you got to watch his jaw tense, neck straining as he calmed himself down.

“God,” he blew out a breath, eyes trained on the ceiling because if he looked down and saw the way you were kissing a line up his cock, he’d fucking lose it. “Yeah, baby. The sweetest, Jesus Christ.”

You took it easy on him then, easing him into it until his shoulders sagged and his head tipped back up, his pretty face more flushed than ever but Steve watched you as you took him into your mouth, his jaw unhinged as you sucked the tip of him, licking over his head.

His hand found the back of your head, holding but not pushing and he groaned something fierce when you scratched at his bare thighs, nails dragging over the muscle there. “Tha’ s’it,” Steve moaned, unabashed, totally gone. “Keep suckin’ me, honey, yeah— please. Can you take more, huh? Take a little more for me, please, baby.”

You didn’t need to be asked, begging or not, but it certainly made it all that sweeter. Steve’s hand was cupping your jaw, thumb stroking over the corner of your mouth as you widened it, tongue licking out over his cock as you took more of it into your mouth, inch by inch until he was touching the back of your throat. It made the boy go a little wild, gasping and panting, curses mixed in with praise that was filthy enough to make your own toes curl.

“Holy shit, jus’ like that, yeah,” Steve was slurring, words meshed together in a quick mumble, his breathes too heavy for him to care. “You feel me in your throat? You’re so fuckin’ good for me, babe, Christ— yeah, yeah, lemme see your tongue, yeah. Stick it out for me, honey, oh shit—”

You did as asked, pulling back with wet eyes and warm cheeks, your lips shiny from your efforts. You kept a hand around Steve’s cock, slowly pumping him as you stuck your tongue out flat. You knew what he wanted, it was why his cheeks were so pink, the tips of his ears too. Something he found too vulgar to ask for, always scared you’d shy away from it.

You never did.

You tapped the head of his cock against your tongue, the wet slapping sounds nothing but pure filth, your own breathy noises too much for him. Steve could barely keep it together, eyes screwing shut as he bucked upwards, swearing and groaning something awful as he watched his cock slide over your tongue. You let him move, hips thrusting as you held him to your mouth, parted lips slipping over his shaft, and warm tongue tracing the throbbing vein down the length of it.

“M’gonna come,” Steve gasped and he was shaking his head, hips pressing back down into the safety of the couch and he sounded overwhelmed, eyes glassy. “Fuck, no, no, no— I—”

“No?” You pouted, understanding. Pulling away, you leaned up again, wet lips sliding over Steve’s and he kissed you feverishly, tongue licking into your mouth to search for your own. He groaned, whining when you squeezed a hand around his cock. “Too much? You don’t wanna come yet, huh?”

Steve shook his head, hair falling into his eyes and his chest was heaving, his hands curling around your sides and he was pulling at your sweater, lifting it from your frame. “No, no— shit, not yet, please.”

You let him strip you, sweater discarded by his own shirt and your bare chest only made him swear a little more, eyes on your tits, your peaked nipples and suddenly he wanted nothing more than his cock between them. He felt drunk, delirious, suddenly too happy to care about how quickly he came.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he told you with a very serious expression. His hands travelled up, palms cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking over each nipple with careful precision. “M’gonna die and it’s gonna be because of you and your mouth and those tits and—” Steve choked on a laugh when you did, lashes fluttering as you took his cock back in your hand. “—and m’gonna be a very, very happy man.”

Grinning, you rolled your eyes at his declaration, as dramatic as they were. He was as hard as steel in your grip, his hips rolling up into your touch and didn’t want to wait much longer, his poor cheeks bright red with the exertion of holding back. So you gave him a kiss, light and sweet, too sweet for the current situation but it made Steve all the more wild. You were murmuring low and soft to him, holding his cock to your tits as you stroked him, words whispered between cute little pecks at his lips, his warm cheeks.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna come, handsome?”

“Mhmm.” A whine more than a word. “Please.”

“Where do you wanna come?”

A swear, guttural and hoarse. A twitch of his dick at the thought of his options. “Fuck, I— uh, I dunno.”

“Here?” You asked him sweetly, pushing his length between your breasts, rubbing your own nipple so he could watch it harden again. “All over here? Paint me nice ‘n pretty?”

Steve couldn’t form words now, which was exactly what you’d wanted.

Your mouth made its way to his ear, voice dropping lower than before. “My mouth?” You whispered. “D’you wanna come in my mouth, Stevie?”

A jerk of his hips, a whine and a grunt as his cock kicked up once more. He was so fucking close. Steve let his forehead fall to your shoulder, too hot and too helpless and too fucking desperate. He clung to you, hands wrapping around your bare waist and he didn’t know what he wanted more. He could sit back and watch you drop back down to your knees, pushing your pretty tits together as he jerked himself onto them, knowing he could watch the way he dripped down your body.

Or he could get you to open your mouth, pink tongue back out and waiting, you doe eyed and watching him. He always got dirty with that, asking you in the sweetest voice to let him see it all in your mouth, asking you to swallow it like a good girl before showing him your clean tongue after.

If Steve didn’t choose he was going to fucking explode.

So he tugged at your waist, gasping as he wrenched himself from you, falling back into the sofa. He took his aching cock in his own hand, pumping it once before squeezing tightly, willing away the need to come right there and then. He patted his knee, his eyes glassy and hooded as he looked at you.

“C’mere, baby, come sit.”

You did as told, happily, easily, willingly. Your own chest was thundering, excitement itching at your too warm skin because whatever Steve wanted you’d give him. Your thighs were slick, underwear sticking to your folds in the most obscene way because Steve’s sounds were too much to cope with without being touched too. He looked a riot, the prettiest kind. His hair mussed and cheeks flushed, lips pink and slick from your kisses, his eyes a little wild.

He helped you onto his lap, legs spread over his knees and his dick standing hard and to attention between you both. You waited patiently for his instructions, to hear what he wanted from you and Steve let his head fall back onto the cushions once more as he watched you from hooded lids. His jaw was flexing with each stroke he gave himself, hazy gaze roaming over your tits, your stomach and then lower.

And then—

“Lemme see you, baby?”

Your stomach flipped. A sweet voice, a prettily asked question, some filthy words. You smiled at Steve, lips twisting to hide your absolute glee because you knew what wanted, what he wanted to do and you were more than happy to give it to him.

You didn’t say anything as you hooked your fingers into the crotch of your underwear, gasping a little at how wet they actually were. You tugged them aside, white cotton stretched over your skin as you held the material away from yourself. With your spread thighs, you let Steve have the filthiest view, all glistening skin, a swollen clit between wet folds. You didn’t look down, you didn’t have to. You could hear the slick, fast sounds of Steve fucking his own fist, his frantic, hitched breaths.

“That’s it, yeah,” he sounded gone, drunk. “So good—”

Instead you watched him watch you, his eyes set on your pussy, gaze on fire as he enjoyed the show and when you swept your fingers over the centre of your folds, Steve swore, his free hand on your thigh clutching you tighter.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured, his teeth catching his bottom lip. He was close, you knew he was. “Such a pretty pussy, Jesus Christ, can’t believe I was gonna come without gettin’ to see her.”

You hummed, all delight and amusement. You cocked a brow even though Steve was still staring at your spread legs. “I’m dirty?” You cooed. “You’re the one who’s gonna come all over my cu—”

And he did.

Steve came with your name on his tongue, making it sound like the dirtiest, holiest thing you’d ever heard. He was gasping, choked sounds leaving his pretty lips as he fucked his fist, come spilling over his knuckles and onto your folds, leaving you and your underwear even stickier than before. His head fell back onto the sofa as he caught his breath, an impossible thing with his heaving chest but you curled into him almost immediately.

You let go of your stretched out underwear, your own breath hitching when you felt the warm, stickiness cling to your cunt. Steve pulled at you as you moved closer, your hands soothing over his jaw and cheeks, thumbs rubbing over his flushed skin as he kissed you, head lifting lazily, moaning at your touch, your lips, the feel of your bare stomach pressing his half hard cock to his own.

He was sticky with it all, with sweat, his own release, your affection and touch.

It was too much and entirely not enough, not of you.

Steve’s lips clicked as he pulled them away from your own, albeit grudgingly. You tasted sweet, like strawberry lipgloss and him. He was still panting when he spoke, his messy hand held away from you as he took your chin in his other. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, swollen from all your efforts and he watched the way it popped back into place, making you smile.

“M’gonna finish my whisky,” he mumbled softly, eyes searching yours. He was met with excitement, knowing, a whole lot of adoration and fondness that he felt for you too. “You’re gonna check my pulse—” you laughed, too bright and joyous for the gloomy light of the room. Steve grinned, cheeks aching. “And then we’re gonna go upstairs and I’m gonna return the favour.”

[dinogoofymutated]

Hey not sure if your currently taking requests but I just wanted to I soooooo stoked that you write for Remy! I've been starved for years cuz there's like no fan fics for him😭.

anyway I was wondering if you could do like a fic or headcannon where gambit somehow got hurt on a mission and is on bed rest but is also like really horny because you wont have sex with his since hes hurt.

If not that's fine I just thought it up and thought it would be hilarious 😂. Anyway luv your work, keep it up😘

NSFW!Gambit/AFAB!Reader

MMMMMHHHMMMMMM BESTIE UR MIND. ABSOLUTE GENIUS. I hope that you don't mind I did make it NSFW there at the end but the majority is just teasing our favorite gambler. Also, This is for the folks who were also really attracted to that one scene in criminal minds with the bulletproof vest. iykyk.

TWs: teasing, sexual innuendos, explicit smut, Handjobs, Mutual masturbation, PNV sex. Raw sex. (Wrap it bf you tap it yall) Creampie. Reader written with Fem! pronouns.

"Asolutetly not." You're quick to say it. Gambit pouts as the words leave your mouth, still on the infirmary bed with all the wires and doodads still hooked up to him. He's giving you those scoundrel puppy eyes that he knows you usually give in to, but you're not willing to budge this time.

"No, Remy. I will not be-" You take a quick glance around the room, leaning in a little closer as you begin to whisper-yell at him. "-I will not be having sex with you right now!" Remy sighs in a pitiful way leaning against the headboard in your direction. You can’t begin to look him in the eyes right now, instead lightly pushing his face away from your spot, sitting close to his bed on a chair that you had moved from the corner. His pout turns into an amused smile, as he instead takes your hand in his own, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm. You try not to blush at him. You’re supposed to be standing strong, dammit! 

  "Come on, Chère. S' not like it's gonna make Gambit hurt any worse-” You cut him off by lightly slapping his abdomen. Remy immediately flinches, curling in on himself with a pained groan. You feel a little guilty afterward, flattening your palm to rub the area soothingly.

    “Yes, it would. Remy, I could seriously hurt you. You heard beast, any vigorous activity could rip your stitches.” You say, moving to where you can sit on the bed, facing him. You cup the side of his face, gently moving stray locks out of the way. He rolls his eyes, not at you, but at the memory of the talking-to he got when he had woken up in the infirmary. 

    “Never stopped me before. Since I been with the X-men it’s like everythin’ become a big deal. So what if I rip a few stitches here an’ there?” Remy grumbles. You give him a stern look, before leaning in to kiss his temple. He melts into your touch.

    “It is a big deal, Remy. You need to heal. End of discussion.” You say gently. Remy thinks on it for a moment, before giving you a slight smirk. 

    “And by “end of discussion” you really mean “Until Gambit tempts me into bed”, Right?” He says. You roll your eyes at him before standing. If that’s the attitude he’s going into these next weeks with, you know for a fact he’s going to be insufferable.

    You were right. The incoming weeks were almost as much torture to you as they most definitely were to him. Wherever you went in the mansion, Gambit was sure to follow. He’d be in the kitchen while you would be cooking, unable to help due to doctor's orders, but no one ever said that he had to stay out of the kitchen. He’s come up behind you, snaking his arms around your hips as he’d “Give you pointers”. He’d lean close and whisper in your ear, sometimes giving it a nip or two. But one thing about Gambit is that every time you turned him away, or laughed at him and told him to sit down, he’d get pouty. 

    That was a trend that continued. He’d deliberately go out of his way to tease you, on movie night, in the library, in the showers even. And every time, despite how hot under the collar you might have been, you turned him away. The more bothered you seemed to be however, his pouts turned into smirks. Eventually, you got fed up with it. You were trying to be a good girlfriend and make sure Remy didn’t hurt himself, but if he was going to be a brat about it, you could be a brat too.

    You started off a little more subtly than Remy did. Lingering touches here and there, kissing him just long enough to leave him wanting. You’d wear just a tad less clothing around him, or wear slightly lower-cut tops. You were beginning to realize just how easy it was to get him riled up.

    One particular day, the tension was thick in the air, having coalesced into something barely breathable. Remy was lying back on the bed on his elbows as you redressed his wound, making sure to spread ointment onto the healing stitches and care for the skin. You frequently found yourself drawn to the sight of his lower abs, the large bruise having begun to yellow as it healed. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't seen his skin in a while, but the sight of him had you breathing a little funny. Remy was also a little quieter than normal, unable to look away from your gentle hands as you took care of him.

    Once you finished, you lingered by his side, a hand pressed against his chest. You look up to find him already watching you, but neither of you says anything. You purse your lips, debating on whether or not you’re doing what you think you’re about to do. Remy tilts his head at you questioningly. He opens his mouth to speak but fails to do so as your hand trails down to his waistband. He takes a shocked breath through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he’s looking at you again through a lustful haze. 

    “Thought you said-”

    “Shut up.” You sigh, cutting him off. Remy smirks at you, biting his lip. You roll your eyes, caressing the crotch of his pants a few times before you begin to slip them off of him.

    “Don’t get too excited.” You whisper, but really it sounds more like a needy sigh. “Just a handy, okay?” Gambit huffs a laugh at you, but doesn’t tease. He's practically bucking his hips into your hand when you finally take hold of his cock, stroking him to hardness. You can’t seem to look away from the sight, watching as his abdomen clenches with every stroke from base to tip. You twist your hand on the upstroke, listening as Remy lets out a curse and a sudden moan just as you thumb his head, collecting his abundant precum as you use it to stroke back down again. 

    “You’re really pent up, huh?” You ask in a heated whisper. Remy’s head is tilted back in pleasure, and he huffs in amusement as he cracks an eye open at you. His hand slides up your thigh, Your legs being pressed against each other tightly to find some friction. You gasp as he suddenly slides two of his fingers up the inside seam of your pants, and you can practically feel yourself get wetter at the touch. 

    “Looks like I’m not the only one.” Remy hums. You can’t seem to pull away from him as he continues to stroke you. The air is hardly breathable, and the burning in your chest and your core starts to become too hot to ignore. 

    “Fuck it.” You say. Remy is confused when you let go of him, only to break into a wide smile when he realizes you were beginning to strip. The shirt is first to go, before your bra, and then your jeans and underwear. Remy wolf-whistles at the sight, and you wave him off, embarrassed. 

    “Couldn’t stay away from the temptation of Remy LeBeau, Now could you Chère?” Remy muses. He’s such a goof. You try to hide your smile as you carefully straddle his legs, making sure to avoid his sore spots. One of his hands holds onto your upper thigh, the other making its way to your center. He strokes you languidly with his fingers before circling your slit and pushing two inside. You suck in a breath, careful to set your hands on his shoulders without putting any weight onto them. 

    “Looks like this pretty pussy missed me as much as I missed you,” Remy says breathlessly. His eyes flicker from your cunt up to your bare breasts, and then to your flushed face. You feel like you’re falling apart too quickly, already climbing that high as he fingers you with those hands you love so much.

    “Remy,” You call for him breathlessly. “ m’ not gonna last too long.” Remy can't help himself any longer, and pulls you closer to catch you in a passionate kiss. He drags his teeth across your bottom lip, letting go of the plush skin. He doesn't withdraw his fingers until your thighs begin to shake and you start to clench down on him. You whine as he does so, barely holding your composure. Remy takes your hand off of his cock, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before gently dragging your hips further into his lap. Your mind is hazy, but you know to be careful as he lines himself up.

    “If we're going to do this, we're taking it my speed, okay?” You say. Remy nods, barely taking in the information. He was ready to be inside you. After weeks of nothing- all he could think about was you. Your giggles, your smiles. Your body. The way you taste on his tongue. The feeling of your thighs clenching around his head.  Remy would do anything you asked of him at this moment.

    You take it slow as you lower yourself down on his cock. The stretch of him feels delicious against your inner walls. Remy leans in, kissing and sucking on your breasts as you take your time. He bottoms out with a wet sound, his hands resting against your upper thighs.

    Remy curses as you begin to move, bouncing on his cock somewhat slowly. Even in the haze of your lust, you're worried about hurting him. Remy, on the other hand, doesn't share the same sentiment. His hands clench around your thighs, and when he can't seem to take the slow speed anymore, he slams you down onto him.

    You gasp at the action, and apologies spill from his lips as he tilts you forward, knocking your balance so you're forced to lean onto him as he controls the pace, eagerly thrusting into your heat. 

    “Remy-” Your protests are cut off with a kiss as your favorite scoundrel begins to take exactly what he wants. His grunts and moans beneath you send another trickle of warmth inside of you. To be honest, seeing him take control like this was hot- almost hot enough for you to forgive the fact that he was certainly overexerting himself- but it was hard to be mad at him when he's fucking you so good.

    One thing about Remy is that he's a talker in bed. If anything, you were surprised he was as “quiet” as he had been the majority of the time. But once he started to get closer to his peak, Remy began to ramble. 

    "You think you're smart? -Ah! Teasing me like that.. mmh… expecting me to just take it?" You're not really paying attention to his words, nodding in response while only thinking about his steady grip on your thighs and ass and the peak you're reaching so quickly. Remy squeezes you harder, almost harshly as he begins to take you faster. His hips begin to stutter, thrusts starting to do him in one by one. 

    Remy lets out a loud groan as he reaches his peak, burying himself deeply inside you and thumbing your clit. He continues to thrust as he helps you reach that white-hot peak of pleasure, pressing kisses to your temple as you ride it out on top of him. By the time you're both fully finished, you're panting for air. You're fully collapsed onto Remy's chest, Remy being absolutely boneless as he rests against the headboard. 

    “You’re such an idiot.” You say when you finally have enough sense. Remy just chuckles, continuing to press kisses to every part of your face and neck he can reach. You sigh happily as he does so, pressing some of your own kisses to his shoulder.

    When you finally peel yourself off of his chest, the first thing you check in on is his bandages. You scowl when you see that they've been soaked through with sweat, but more concerning is the spot of red that has started to form. You look up at Remy with narrowed eyes, and he quickly looks down as well, before looking back up at you and simply shrugging with a gleeful smile.

    “Casualty of love, Chère.”