#I’m gonna stagger the rest of these throughout the next few days so I’m not spamming them lol

[sochilll]

Mirror, tension, doorway + expensive headphones

“Are you ready yet or not?” Rich huffed, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Five minutes.” Michael said for the thirteenth time. He ran his fingers through his hair again.

“Come on you look fine.”

“I don’t wanna like ‘fine’ though.” Michael pouted.

“Dude, you look hot. Come on.” Rich met his eyes in the mirror.

It wasn’t unusual for them to compliment each other, even boarder line flirt. But this felt different. There was a tension Michael could feel zipping through him as he held Rich’s gaze.

“Okay.” He said finally. “Let’s go.”

send 3 words and a pairing and I’ll write a five ten sentence fic

[eliemo]

Call Me When You're Sober

Summary: Remus tells Janus he loves him for the first time. Or at least...Janus thought he had.

TWs: alcohol usage in the beginning and talk about being drunk throughout, misunderstandings, hangovers

Notes: Human au, loosely based on a drawing from @underdog-arts their art is amazing go support their patreon.

Established romantic Demus/Dukeceit and background (very background) Prinxiety

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Janus frowned, something that could probably be considered a pout with how out of it he was. He chased Remus’s mouth as the other man pulled away, one hand still carded through Janus’s hair.

His frown was definitely closer to a pout judging from the way Remus laughed out loud, eyes softening in a way anybody else rarely got to see, and Janus felt his cheeks flush even further. They’d been tinged with pink since his second drink (Remus hadn’t stopped pointing out the color in his face all night, adorably smitten by it) but at this point there was no way to blame his blush entirely on the alcohol.

“I’m not gonna kiss you, Jan,” Remus repeated, grinning insufferably when Janus slurred an illegible plea. “Not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk,” Remus said, moving his hands from Janus’s hair to keep him steady on the bar stool. “You won’t even remember any of this in the morning.”

“I will,” Janus protested, tongue slow and heavy in his mouth. “I always do.”

“Alright then, party animal.” Remus smirked, standing from the bar stool to drape one of Janus’s arms over his shoulder, helping him stagger to his feet. “Let’s get you home. Pat bought us an Uber.”

“But--”

“You can have a kiss when you’re sober,” Remus said, waving at a blurred shape Janus thought might be Patton. “Ok?”

Janus couldn't even make out his own reply, stumbling and leaning heavily against Remus’s side. He felt weightless, floating through the air, and it took him a moment to realize it was because Remus had picked him up and carried him out of the bar.

It felt like forever since he’d let himself get this drunk at a party before, and even longer since Remus had been the one sober enough to take care of things.

It was...nice. Really nice. Even if what rational thought he had left knew for a fact he would feel like shit tomorrow.

He was vaguely aware of Remus gently putting him in the backseat of a car and carefully following in after him, their hands loosely intertwined.

The driver said something before pulling away from the curb and driving off but Janus couldn’t make anything out, overcome by giddy exhaustion, and focused entirely on Remus.

He snorted when he caught Janus staring, and Janus knew he’d never get Remus to admit to blushing at the attention.

Janus leaned into the touch when Remus carefully framed his face, running his thumbs along his cheekbones, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Nobody else got to see Remus like this, thoughtful and loving and gentle. It was rare, but Janus always felt honored in some way. Even if he was so drunk he could barely comprehend it.

Remus suddenly leaned closer to press a gentle kiss to Janus’s forehead, slow and careful, one hand still cupping his jaw. He pulled back, just barely lit up by the passing streetlights, gaze soft as he looked Janus over.

“I love you,” he said for the first time, and Janus’s heart soared. “And I know you won’t remember this tomorrow.”

His face was beginning to ache with how much he was grinning, replaying the words over and over again in his head despite the fog weighing him down. Janus fell into Remus’s chest and shut his eyes to the sound of the car’s engine, trusting Remus to get them home safe.

---

Janus unfortunately did remember the night before, blurred and distant as it was, and that last conversation with Remus was the only thing keeping Janus from swearing off alcohol for the rest of his life.

His head was pounding, the light filtering in from the window felt like someone was poking knives in his skull, and every time he tried to sit up every single bone in his body violently protested, stomach lurching dangerously.

But he couldn’t even be annoyed at any of that right now.

Remus had said he loved him for the first time last night, holding his face like the most precious thing in the world, and that was the only thing on Janus’s mind.

He’d known Remus loved him. Or at least, he’d assumed. Remus tended to show love every way except verbal. It had taken some getting used to, insecurities Janus refused to voice always making him doubt that Remus actually felt the same, despite them dating for months and being friends for longer.

But Remus had said it last night. Remus had kissed Janus’s forehead and looked at him with soft fondness and told him he loved him.

He loved Janus.

And he had assumed Janus would be too drunk to remember, which meant he got to mercilessly tease Remus for the rest of the day about it.

Janus forced himself out of bed, noting with a small smile the water bottle that had been left on the bedside table. He could hear some commotion from the other room, probably Remus looking for food in the kitchen.

He sipped at the water, untangled himself from the sheets and slowly stumbled to his dresser to get a change of clothes. As uncomfortable as sleeping in jeans was, he appreciated Remus not changing him into pajamas while he was passed out.

When he felt human enough to leave his bedroom, wrapped up in sweats and a flannel, Janus slipped out of his bedroom and padded down the hall where Remus was sprawled out on Janus’s couch with a half eaten poptart on the coffee table.

“You could have slept in the bed, you know.”

Remus grinned up at him, disheveled and probably a bit sore. “Yeah well, you smelled gross.”

Janus knew Remus would never admit he just hadn’t been sure he was allowed, if Janus would be comfortable with someone sleeping next to him without clear permission.

Remus had a brass sense of humor, he was forward and grossly affectionate in public, but he was always so careful with Janus. There were so many unspoken questions, silent searches for approval, and private check-ins.

“You’re cute,” Janus said, grinning when Remus stuck his tongue out. “Do I get my kiss now?”

Something unreadable flashed in Remus’s eyes, and Janus assumed it was the realization Janus hadn’t been drunk enough to completely forget the night before.

It was gone in an instant, and Remus pushed himself up off the couch to shuffle across the small room, gather Janus in his arms, pull him close and kiss him just like he’d wanted the night before.

Remus pulled away with a wink that made Janus scowl playfully, and made his way to the connected kitchen. “I can’t figure out how to work your coffee maker.”

“If you break anything else in my kitchen I’m killing you.” Remus had managed to break his old toaster when they’d first started dating, and Janus never planned on letting him live it down. “I’ll make you some.”

Remus jumped up on the counter, watching Janus refill the pitcher in the sink and grab the coffee grinds from the counter, eventually distracted by scrolling through his phone while the pot brewed.

“Hey,” Janus called when it was done, smirking when Remus hummed nonchalantly. “Did you tell me you loved me last night?”

Remus jumped and nearly dropped his phone, fumbling for a second before managing to put it down on the counter, hands ridiculously unsteady.

Janus expected the momentary surprise, but he didn’t expect Remus to bark out a panicked laugh and shake his head.

“What? No.” He scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the counter. “I didn’t say that. Jeez how much did you drink, Jan?”

Oh.

He’d been ready for a bit of embarrassed denial, some teasing and flirting that had become normal between them. Last night had made Janus stupidly happy- happier than he remembered being in months- but Remus had jumped straight to denying it, like it was the most ridiculous thing in the entire world.

He suddenly felt cold, and a little bit like someone had shoved him to the floor. He quickly averted his gaze so Remus wouldn’t see how much that had hurt.

“Right,” he said, sliding Remus his mug of coffee. “Yeah, duh. Sorry. I was...super out of it.”

“It’s cool.”

Janus didn’t know what he was supposed to say now. There was a lump growing in his throat, something a little more crushing than simple disappointment weighing down on his chest.

“I’m...gonna make some food,” he said after a few seconds of unnatural silence. “We still have those frozen waffles, you want any?”

“Sure.”

Remus was being abnormally curt and dismissive, and Janus could practically see him searching for an excuse to escape the tense atmosphere that had never existed between them before.

“I, uh, have a change of clothes in my bag,” Remus said, waving a hand at the hallway. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

Janus nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he went to rummage through the freezer to hopefully distract himself with making breakfast once Remus disappeared.

This wasn’t a big deal. He could blame his suddenly blurry vision on the hangover.

He’d...really thought he remembered last night. He could still feel Remus’s hands in his hair and that stupidly sweet smile on his lips when he refused to kiss him when he was drunk.

He remembered the pink blush on his nose when he’d said those three words, quiet like they were in their own little world that night. The scene had been replaying over and over in his head until he fell asleep, and had picked right back up when Janus had woken up.

It had felt so real. He’d thought...he’d thought it was real. He thought he’d finally be able to say it freely without worrying about moving too fast for Remus.

It was possible it could have all been a dream, but...

But Remus had answered so quickly. He’d been so adamant about how he hadn’t told Janus he loved him. Like he would never even consider doing such a thing.

Which...which was fine. Janus wasn’t going to hold Remus’s feelings against him, and he certainly wasn’t going to make a big deal about it.

He’d just been mistaken assuming he and Remus wanted the same kind of relationship. Janus loved Remus and Remus...didn’t. Janus wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, but he’d made his feelings on the matter pretty clear today.

Janus had just been too blind to realize it after months of spending nearly every waking moment together.

That was fine. It was a stupid misunderstanding. Janus wasn’t going to cry like a heartbroken idiot just because Remus didn’t love him back.

He hissed out a curse under his breath when almost immediately there were tears slipping down his cheeks, and Janus pressed a hand firmly to his mouth to muffle the sobs that tried to escape.

He was so stupid. It wasn’t like this was the first time this had happened, Janus figured he would have been able to see the signs by now. People just didn’t want him like that.

He’d just...really thought Remus was different.

He didn’t think he would ever laugh off the idea of loving Janus.

Janus wrapped his free arm around himself, swaying slightly in the middle of the kitchen as he stared blankly at the toaster, trying and failing to get himself to suck it up and stop crying.

He was being ridiculous- shaking with the force of trying to hold back his sobbing, blinded by endless tears gathering in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks- and he needed to get a hold of himself before-

“Woah, what the fuck?”

Janus jumped, refusing to look at Remus standing in the hallway as he quickly tried to wipe his tears away with the palms of his hands. “Do you want syrup?”

He heard Remus move closer and kept his head down, staring resolutely at the kitchen tiles until he could see socked feet step into the room.

He still didn’t touch Janus, still so focused on his comfort (was any of it even for Janus’s comfort? Maybe Remus just hadn’t wanted to touch him this whole time) but he moved as close as he dared and lowered his voice.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Janus said automatically, choking on another hiccuping sob. “I just...have a headache. Stupid hangover.”

“Oh.” Remus hesitated, and Janus could feel him staring. “Did you take an ibuprofen? I can get you a couple from the bathroom. And like...gatorade. You still have some, right?”

Janus nodded and took a shaky breath, hating the way the tears still wouldn’t stop falling. “Yeah. In the fridge.”

“Good,” Remus said, and Janus still couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want you hurting.”

“I’m fine. Just drank too much.”

“You were pretty drunk.”

“I don’t remember last night at all,” Janus said, more bitter than was probably necessary. “Clearly.”

It was enough to give Remus pause, plunging the kitchen into heavy silence. Janus crossed his arms and risked a glance up when he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Anyways, gatorade—”

“I can get it.”

“No, I got it,” Remus said, and Janus watched warily as he pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit down.”

Janus hunched his shoulders, tears still sliding down his jaw just as fast as before, but he did as Remus said and shakily made his way over to the table, lowering himself carefully until he could curl up in his chair.

Remus returned almost immediately with a bottle of blue gatorade from the fridge and two painkillers from the bathroom medicine cabinet. He handed them over silently, standing awkwardly by the table while Janus took them.

Janus did his best, carefully swallowing the pills and sipping the gatorade with shaky hands. But he couldn’t get himself to stop crying, or even slow his tears, wracked with seemingly never ending sobs no matter how hard he tried to get a hold of himself. Remus standing there just made it so much worse.

He saw Remus crouch down to Janus’s level, breaths only coming out more frantic when Remus frowned and moved to hold Janus’s face in his hands.

“C’mon,” Remus said softly, brushing Janus’s cheeks with his thumbs. “What’re you crying for?”

Janus couldn’t answer. Remus sounded so gentle and adoring and it only made him cry harder, choking on a pathetic whimper as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok.” Remus kept wiping Janus’s tears, his touch light and grounding. “It’s just me, Jan. You can tell me.”

Janus shook his head, weakly clutching at Remus’s sleeves. “N-no, I’m just...I’m being an idiot. Go get your waffles.”

Remus didn’t move, and Janus could practically feel him staring. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m being stupid,” Janus insisted, because he was. He knew he was. “I sw-swear I just...you don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“I’ll be fine, Jan. Tell me what happened.”

Remus kept brushing his tears away, warm and gentle, and Janus couldn’t catch his breath. Maybe there was a way he could fix this, get Remus to change his mind, or at least understand how he’d misread everything so horribly.

Janus finally managed to take a shaky breath, loosening his hold on Remus’s arms. “Did...did I do something wrong?”

“Wh- no?” Remus frowned, straightening a little to try and look Janus in the eyes. “You didn’t do anything.”

“You just,” Janus hesitated, wondering if it would be easier if he just gave up and dropped it. “You answered really fast when I asked about last night.”

Realization dawned on Remus’s face, and Janus’s heart dropped when he suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Oh.”

“I get it,” Janus said quickly, because now Remus was the one refusing to meet his gaze. “I do, it’s fine. I just...didn’t know if I had done something, or—”

He cut himself off when Remus suddenly pulled back, taking his comforting warmth with him, leaving Janus feeling frigid and empty.

He curled in on himself, wondering if at this point it would be a better idea just to kick Remus out of his apartment so they could start over and pretend none of this ever happened.

“It’s not...you- you didn’t...” Remus was stumbling over his own words, shuffling uncomfortably where he stood, and each attempt to explain only crushed Janus further. “It isn’t—”

“Yeah, no I get it,” Janus snapped, any venom overshadowed by the misery in his tone. He was hurt and tired and he just wanted to go back to bed. “It’s fine, Remus.”

“No, I’m—”

“I said I get it! It’s ok, I...I shouldn’t even have asked.”

“I lied.” Remus wasn’t looking at him, his back turned to Janus as he pulled and fiddled with his chain necklace. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” Janus...suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. “That you...loved me? Or that you didn’t say it.”

“That I didn’t say it,” Remus confessed, and Janus’s tears started to slow. “I, uh...I did. I said it.”

Janus didn’t move, terrified that he might somehow break the illusion and Remus would turn around laughing again, waving off any silly ideas of love or commitment.

“Did you mean it?” he asked carefully, hating how shaky his voice was. “If you were drunk we can just drop it.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Remus said. He sighed, running a hand over his face, still turned away. “Yeah, I...I meant it.”

“Oh.” Janus expected to feel relieved, but now Remus was shaking too, and he still wouldn’t turn around, and Janus just felt scared and numb. “Why did you—”

“Because I wasn’t ready,” Remus blurted. “I don’t...I don’t know if I’m ready, and I don’t know if you...I didn’t think you would remember. It’s...it’s a huge jump, Jan. And usually I’m all for being impulsive, you know that, but you just...this is different. You deserve better than that.”

Janus wiped once more at his eyes, but something had loosened a bit in his chest at Remus’s words, the other man still tense and refusing to look up from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, rubbing his sleeve over his face until his eyes burned. “I shouldn’t have pushed, I just thought...something else.”

“What?” Remus finally turned to face him, but his confusion only lasted a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck I didn’t even...I didn’t think about your feelings. Shit, I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, Remus it’s fine—”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Remus pressed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I jumped to conclusions,” Janus said, trying to sound casual despite how his face was stained with tears and it felt like he’d just been punched in the chest. “It’s ok.”

Remus nodded, though he still seemed a little frantic. “We can just...ignore this. If you want to.”

Janus wasn’t sure how he felt about that solution, but he wasn’t going to push Remus out of his comfort zone any more than he already had today. “Is that what you want to do?”

“I don’t want to make you...uncomfortable,” Remus said slowly, and he smirked at the irony of his own words. “Not with this, anyway. Feelings are fucking gross and dumb and I know you don’t want any part of that, and I’m really sorry.”

“What?” Janus sat up a little straighter, wondering how he’d managed to find someone just as stupid as he was. “No, Remus—”

“I understand!” Remus kept going, barrelling over whatever Janus had been about to say. “Like, obviously I understand. I’m awful but I’m not gonna—”

“God, you’re such a dumbass.” Janus scrubbed a hand over his face, smiling into his palm. “I was upset because I thought you didn’t love me.”

Remus froze, staring with wide eyes like Janus had just said spoken in a foreign language. “Oh.”

“You answered so fast when I asked you,” Janus explained. “I thought I did something to fuck this up. Or that I’d just...misunderstood your intentions.”

“You didn’t,” Remus said. “I was- you know. Just scared.”

Janus nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath and look Remus in the eyes. “I know. I...I know. I love you.”

Remus’s head snapped up. “You do?”

Janus actually laughed outright at the shock on Remus’s face, like a child that had just been told he was getting his first puppy. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah of course I do, Remus.”

“For real?” Remus asked, even as a huge grin began to take over his face. “Like no joke? You’re not fucking with me?”

“Well, I did think it was obvious,” Janus said, and he couldn’t help but match Remus’s smile. “I love you, you idiot.”

“Me? Shit, Jan, you need higher standards, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Janus took another sip of his gatorade to hide his obvious smile. “I literally just confessed to you.”

“You confessed to having horrible taste.”

“I love you,” Janus said again, because Remus was blushing and he was absolutely using this to his advantage. “Obviously. I’m sitting here crying at ten in the morning because I thought you didn’t.”

Remus had the decency to look embarrassed, another thing almost no one besides Janus got to see. “You could have been crying because you were hungover.”

“No. I was heartbroken, dumbass.”

Remus made a face like he’d tasted something sour. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Janus scoffed, capping and pushing away his drink. “You said you loved me first.”

“Gross, don’t bring it up,” Remus said, and Janus smirked as he pushed himself to his feet. “I sound like a sap.”

Janus laughed, moving to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s (Boyfriend? They’d have to talk about that one later) waist and rest his head in the crook of Remus’s neck. “You told me you loved me. While I was drunk.”

“You cannot tell anyone.”

Janus scoffed, having no intention of honoring that wish. “Why not?”

“Because,” Remus said. “It makes me sound gross and gay.”

“You’ve always been gross and gay.” Janus pulled back, just enough to grin at him. “Besides, you’ve been teasing Roman about Virgil for months.”

“He deserves it,” Remus declared. “He needs to get over himself.”

“At least he doesn’t confess to people while they’re drunk and then lie about it the next day.”

Remus’s blush deepened and Janus finally relented. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Remus’s lips- which quickly turned into something deeper when Remus moved to capture the rest of his mouth and pull him closer.

He only pulled away when he realized he'd started crying again, the relief that Remus loved him, that he hadn’t been wrong, that he wasn’t losing what they had, hitting all at once.

Janus shuddered and struggled to catch his breath, his breathing coming out in quick gasps again, and he clung onto Remus’s shirt like a lifeline.

“Oh, shit.” Remus’s eyes went wide in panic, and Janus found himself laughing around the tears. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“You’re ok,” Janus assured him, leaning forward again to rest his head on Remus’s shoulder. Remus didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around him. “I just...really thought I was losing you.”

“You’re not. I’m still here.”

“I know,” Janus said. He was overwhelmed and exhausted and he’d never been awake this long with a hangover. “The ibuprofen didn’t help either.”

Remus had one hand carding through his hair, the other cupping his jaw as he pressed a kiss to Janus’s forehead. Just like he had last night when he’d told Janus he loved him.

When he’d told Janus he loved him and meant it.

“We should get you back to bed,” Remus said, every bit as adoring as he’d been when Janus was too drunk to stand. “How about I bring you your waffles and we can put on a movie?”

“You’re going to get crumbs in my bed again.”

“No I’m not.” Janus didn’t even get a chance to protest further before Remus had his arms around his waist, hoisting him into the air and over his shoulder. “And you’re too hungover to stop me.”

Janus couldn’t argue with that, relaxing into Remus’s hold as he carried him down the hall and back into the dimly lit bedroom, the darkness already soothing his pounding head.

Remus set him down on the bed, kissed him again for good measure, and returned a moment later with the waffles Janus had left in the toaster. He put the plate on the nightstand beside the half empty water bottle, and settled in beside Janus.

He didn’t even pay attention to Remus’s laptop opening, or the waffle that was offered to him. Janus just wrapped his arms around Remus and rested his head on his chest.

“You’ll stay with me?” Janus asked, already drifting off to the smell of waffles and the clicking of Remus’s keyboard.

“I never planned on leaving,” Remus said, muffled from where he’d pressed his nose into Janus’s hair. “And I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Janus muttered something even he couldn’t make out, letting his eyes slip shut, breaths steadying in sync to Remus’s own.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when he must have thought Janus was already asleep, that Remus began running his fingers through Janus’s hair again, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his temple.

“I love you too,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I love you, Janus.”

Janus smiled, content with letting Remus believe he’d fallen asleep before he could hear the words. Just this once.

People who asked to be tagged for this one:

@self-taught-mess @hannahdra-ws

[letaliabane]

Last Connection

warnings: MAJOR spoilers for last of us 2!!

pairing: joel miller x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2K words

prompts (If you would like to request a prompt, please include the name of the list and the number of the prompts)

21. A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company (50 Types of Kisses Prompts)

27. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap (50 Types of Kisses Prompts)

‘I still can’t believe that bigot Seth said that in front of everyone! Couldn’t just keep to himself could he?’

Leaning against the open doorway, I watched Joel as he paced across the back deck. He had only just returned from the small get together Tommy and Maria had put together in the main hall. 

I had skipped out due to the queasiness in my stomach that I had been feeling for the past few days. But it wasn’t too long before I heard shouts of disdain erupt from the area, watching from the bedroom window as Joel made his was back to the house, silent as many of the other men of Jackson yelling after him.

‘So he called Dina and Ellie a-’

‘A dyke, that's what he called them.’

I shook my head, scoffing in disgust. Many people in Jackson weren’t as modernised as the young groups within the settlement, and many of them were just plain old bigots.

‘Well, in that case he deserved what he had coming to him. I’m glad you knocked some sense into him.’ 

Joel just huffed, collapsing against the chair resting against the wall, running a hand down his face.

‘Y/N ... Ellie wasn’t happy. She was quite forward with me, told me to keep out of it.’

I sighed, remaining silent. 

I knew why there was so much tension between the two. When they had returned to Jackson, Joel confessed to escaping with Ellie from the hospital where she was to be operated on, explaining how he couldn’t just give up the girl he came to see as his own daughter. I didn’t question his motives, only took him into my arms, and hugged him tightly.

However a few months ago, when the two were on the lookout, they returned a week later than promised, both silent, and Ellie ignoring Joel at all costs. That’s when I realised and was later confirmed, that she had found out the truth about why they had left the hospital.

He glanced towards me, sighing heavily before tapping his thigh. I made my way over to him, sitting on his lap and wrapping my arms around him, allowing him to lean his head against my chest.

‘Just give her time. I know that’s the last thing you want to do but just allow her to come around.’

He hummed against my neck as I ran my fingertips through the ends of his hair. I looked down as Joel pulled away, squeezing my cheek gently, ‘You have any idea of how much I love you?’

I smile at his words, pretending to think, ‘Well, I think I have some idea.’ 

He chuckles, quickly pecking me to quiet me down, pressing an even firmer kiss barely seconds later, pulling me close against his chest, his hand gripping the back of my head and waist. 

It was only when the distant knocking upon wood rang through the rest of the house that I pulled away, Joel groaning as I did. ‘No, just ignore it-’

‘But darling that would be impolite,’ I say with a giggle as he rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he reached for his guitar that rested against the wooden railings. Quickly, I crossed the house, opening the door to find Ellie, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. 

‘Hey Ellie, how you doing this evening?’ 

She smiled gently, walking forward into my open arms, squeezing me tightly. 

‘Hey Y/N, I’m alright. Um-Is Joel back? I noticed he left early tonight and I just wanted to check in on him.’

‘Of course, come in, he’s just out back.’ She nodded, making her way in, but as I shut the door, I noticed she wavered, nervously picking at the skin of her nails.

‘What is it El?’

She looked up, wide-eyed before sighing, ‘I may have snapped at him at the dance. I’m guessing he told you.’

I nodded, still smiling, ‘He did indeed. But I think you two need to talk more than anything else. He really wants things to be good with you El. I just hope you know all he has is good intentions towards you.’

Ellie nodded, giving me a weak smile before I nodded towards the back door where the strumming of the guitar could be heard, ‘Go on.’  

I groaned as I was shaken awake gently at the shoulder, sighing as Joel’s lips grazed my ear, ‘Sweetheart I’m heading out.’

‘Already? It’s not even light out yet,’ I murmur tiredly, barely peaking my eyes open as I glanced towards the bedroom door where Tommy stood, his gun over his shoulder. 

‘Sorry to pull him away from you Y/N, but watch just sighted a hoard of infected and we’re the next on duty so I thought we should take care of it as quickly as possible.’ 

I waved him away. ‘No, no! Duty calls Tommy. Just bring him back in one piece and I’ll spare you.’ 

He chuckled, giving you a nod, ‘Will do.’ 

I looked back up to Joel, cupping his face gently with a sleepy grin, ‘Come back to me, alright cowboy?’

‘Always,’ He said with a small smirk as he gave me a chaste kiss, pressing one more to my forehead before following his younger brother out of the room. 

I couldn’t help but wrap my shawl around my shoulders as I padded towards the window, watching as the two mounted their horses before disappearing into the thick smog. 

A few hours later, after completing a few chores around the house, I sat on the front porch, embroidering blossoming carnations into the satin Joel had found spare in one of the knitting baskets left behind in one of the houses he had scoured through on duty. 

I sighed softly as I paused, taking a look over my work with a smile when I heard shouting and cries in the distance. I peered up to see people moving towards the entrance of the settlement, discarding the embroidery ring to also follow the crowd.

As I grew closer I could hear gasps of horror, crying and yells of anguish. Pushing through I made my way to the front, stopping at the sight of Ellie. 

Blood and bruises painted her face, helped by Dina and Jesse shoulder to shoulder, barely standing on her feet. At the sight of me, a sob left her lips as she threw herself at me, clinging to me as she cried uncontrollably. 

'Ellie? Sweetheart what’s the matter?’ 

When she continued to cry, I looked towards her friends, their heads turned away with tears filling their eyes. It was only when my eyes fell upon Tommy that I noticed the wrapped up body on the back of his horse. 

‘Tommy?’

It felt as if the air had left me as I pulled away from Ellie, stumbling towards Tommy as he laid the body down in the snow. 

‘Tommy who is that?!’ His eyes flickered up towards me, rimmed red, swollen as I stood before him, my chest rising and falling quickly as he just shook his head. 

‘I’m so sorry Y/N.’ 

I pulled away from him, shaking my head as I looked down once again at the body, the cloth that was tightly wrapped around it stained with patches of blood. I fell to my knees, my hand shaking as I pulled the sheet away, only for a choked gasp to leave my lips. 

The man’s face was barely recognisable, face bloodied, bruised, and crushed. It was only for the small brooch that was on the coat that I recognized instantly. A blue carnation. 

The tears fell fast as I grasped Joel’s face ever so carefully as if he was made of porcelain glass. 

‘Joel? God no please ...’ I whimpered, pressing my forehead to his cheek, ignoring the fresh blood that painted my face as I press kisses to his cold skin, gripping his lifeless hand to my chest. 

‘Darling please open your eyes. Please, please ...’ 

The cries that left me where loud, the words that left me almost inaudible as I struggled to breathe, my hands roaming Joel’s body, shaking him as if he was in a deep sleep. 

I staggered to my feet, taking a mere few steps backwards before collapsing, someone clambering to grab me, eyes slipping shut as Ellie distantly called my name. 

A WEEK LATER

I awoke suddenly as knocking echoed throughout the house, whimpering softly as I unwrapped Joel’s large coat from around me. I couldn’t help but sigh heavily, pressing the material against my cheek, inhaling the smell of wood, pine, his strong cologne- 

I flinched when a second round of knocking erupted through the house, and slowly, I made my way out of bed, pulling on the coat as I made my way through the silent house. 

Opening the door, I paused at the sight of Ellie and Dina, giving them a very tired smile. Both had dark circles under their eyes, drained and emotionally exhausted.

‘Afternoon ladies, come on in.’ 

Ellie nodded quietly, walking straight inside. Dina on the other hand, paused to embrace me, just as quickly pulling away as she squeezed my hand, leading me inside. 

‘How are you Y/N?’

‘As best as I can be Dina.’ She nodded with a smile, not pushing any further on the subject before following me to the dining room where Ellie fidgeted, once again playing with the skin at her nails as she had weeks before. 

‘The things are upstairs El, I’ll get it for you.’ 

She nodded, ‘I’ll come with you.’ 

I made my way up, distantly hearing Dina explain she’d remain downstairs. Reentering the bedroom, I made my way over to a table. As I took up the box, I glanced over the photo of Joel and Sarah, and the second of him and Ellie. 

A great sadness filled my chest as I turned once more to Ellie who stood not too far away, taking in the many carvings Joel had completed recently, some unvarnished, some half painted. 

‘Here is what I found after clearing his clothes, I think he would like you to have these.’ 

She took the box carefully, opening it with a gasp as she sighted Joel’s gun as well a pair of his jeans and jacket that I knew still had his smell. Ellie looked up at me, lip trembling as the tears filled her eyes. 

‘Y/N I’m going after Abby. I know Tommy probably told you and wants you to stop me but you can’t I’m still gonna go after them because I can’t let them get away with this-’

‘Ellie,’ I stopped her, placing my hands on her shoulders, ‘I will not stop you. And I know that even if I tried you would still go. And Tommy and Maria will completely disagree, but I would do the same thing.‘

Her eyes widened, almost hopeful, ‘Then come with us! Y/N we can do it-we can take her together-’

‘I would Ellie ... if I wasn’t pregnant.’ 

‘W-what?’ Ellie said, the box falling from her grip, slamming against the floor. I sighed softly, taking her hands into mine, ‘I found out a few days before he-you know. I was waiting to tell him when he returned from patrol.’ 

‘Oh Y/N ... why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because you have enough on your plate sweetheart. I’m sorry for keeping it from you I just didn’t want to stop you from your journey. I would come along, I really would, but this is our last connection to Joel, and I’d hate to throw it away. But Ellie, know that I believe in what you’re doing, and always know that I will be here for you if you decide to come home because you were always mine and Joel’s baby girl.’

The loud sob that erupted from the young girl’s throat tore my heart, her arms wrapping around me, holding me tight to her as she cried into my shoulder, tears staining Joel’s jacket. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, my own tears falling against her hair, squeezing her tighter.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPER LONG I APOLOGISE. But I’ve had this idea in my head for ages I thought I’d write it. I think I may make an epilogue? We’ll see. ALSO PLEASE DON’T COMMENT SPOILERS, I HAVEN’T ENTIRELY FINISHED THE GAME STILL FINISHING IT! 

Requests are open for Last of Us Requests! You can also request with prompts just remember the list(s) and number(s) you wanna include. 

Masterlist

[tardisheart134]

(x)

"Let me look at you." Cas said after letting Dean down onto his bed. Castiel went about the work of taking inventory of Dean's wounds. 

"Here Cas - " Sam set down the bunkers first aid kit. Cas opened Dean's sleeve to see a deep gash that had been bleeding through his shirt. 

"That's gonna need stitches." Sam said. "Here, let me."

"No. I'll do it Sam." 

"Are you sure?" Sam had watched Cas heal Dean countless times - but without his grace he figured that he would be the expert here. 

"I said I'll take care of it." Cas bit sharply. "I may not have my grace, but I'm not entirely useless." Cas usually didn't take such a sharp tone, especially not with Sam, but he was mad. He hated not being able to heal Dean with a simple touch. 

Dean gave Sam a look letting him know that he would be okay. He'd been injured far worse in his life and had even on occasion given himself his own stitches. He would be able to walk Cas through this, if needed.  Sam turned to leave the room to retrieve of whiskey for Dean.

"I am sorry." Cas said without meeting Dean's eyes. "I didn't mean to snap at Sam. I just hate being so damn useless." Cas readied the kit before he threaded the needle. 

"Cas-" Dean waited until Cas finally looked at him. "You're not useless.  You are more than just your grace." Cas looked back down at the kit avoiding Dean's gaze and not allowing the words to sink in.  " I need you to hear me." Dean was urgent. "You were never just an angel to me. You know that,  right?" 

"I know." Cas dropped his eyes again and returned to his work, as he meticulously went about prepping the wound and disinfecting the skin around the gash in Dean's forearm. "I just hate seeing you in pain and I hate that I can't fix it." 

"With you here Cas - don't you know - I can't feel any pain?" Dean was trying to ease the tension and flirt a little. Sure Cas had confessed his love and Dean was sure to let him know that he felt the same way after they saved Cas from the Empty - but they hadn't really done this part. 

It had been mostly a few desperate hugs right after the rescue mission. There had been that one chaste kiss when Dean told Cas that he loved him back and they'd held hands once while watching a movie. But Dean's whole body ached for more. More Cas. He just didn't know where to start. There was a part of him that still worried that he and Cas didn't mean 'I love you' the same way. Dean had never doubted that Cas loved him throughout all of their friendship. And he had known for a long time that he loved him back. But what if Dean got it wrong? Dean was only human and he wanted things, physical expressions of that love. He wanted to flirt. He wanted to tell Cas how attractive he was and tell him how much he wanted him and watch the angel blush and smile. He didn't know if Cas felt that way about him too. 

Castiel's eyes briefly darted up to meet Dean's but he didn't return the smile. "Stop distracting me." Cas said flatly as a blush crept up his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip to stop it from quirking up into a grin. Cas tugged Dean's forearm up until it was resting in his lap. Dean let out a staggered breath as Cas started with the first stitch and he immediately felt the pang of the deep breath in his side. He must have a bruised a rib too.  "I'll be quick." 

Dean was impressed with Castiel's precision as he threw stitch after stitch. Their Netflix binges of Dr. Sexy must be paying off. Sam returned from the kitchen with a full tumbler of whisky and a bag of peas. Dean swallowed the whiskey down in several successive gulps before exchanging the glass for the peas. 

"That looks bad." Sam said as Dean opened one side of his shirt to ice the deep purplish bruise on his abdomen. "How's your breathing?" Sam asked with that pinched clinical concern. 

"It hurts when I laugh or breathe too deep, but it's nothing a few days of rest won't fix." 

"There - all set." Cas said as he tied off the last stitch. 

"That's actually really good stitching." Sam tried and failed to hide the surprise in his voice. 

"Thanks." Cas wrapped gauze over the stitches before beginning to apply antiseptic to Dean's other cuts and scrapes. "Can you get him  some Advil and a water? I know that whiskey is quick and probably Dean's pain killer of choice, but it doesn't do anything to help with the swelling and inflammation." 

Dean couldn't help but be slightly turned on by Cas playing doctor right now and watching him boss Sam around was just an added bonus.  He couldn't  hide the humor in his eyes as Sam rolled his and did as he was told. Cas moved closer and made Dean completely shrug out of his flannel shirt that was tattered shreds in some places. Dean had plenty of fantasies of Cas in his bed and taking his shirt off, but in those fantasies, he would have preferred not to have lost so much blood and he would have liked to have had full lung capacity.  

Cas addressed each wound with such urgency and gentleness. He was close to Dean's face as he applied ointment to the cut above Dean's eye. 

"You're getting a black eye." Castiel let himself cradle Dean's head in his hand. His thumb just caressing the outline of the swollen shiner. Their gaze lingered longer than necessary. Dean leaned into the touch hoping for more. Even if it meant he had to be injured to indulge, this touch was all he longed for.  Sam announced his presence by clearing his throat, as he stumbled upon the moment. He suddenly felt like an intruder in the awkward silence - well - awkward for him. 

Cas dropped his hand quickly as if he he'd been scolded. It was Dean's turn to pull a bitch-face. "I think we got it from here." Dean said dismissively. "Thanks Sam."  Sam put down the Advil and  water bottle on the bedside table and promptly exited the room. With all of Dean's injuries they probably wouldn't be getting up to any adult activities that Sam would need earplugs for, but he wanted to have them handy just in case. 

Dean brushed a hand over Cas' arm as if to quiet his frantic first aid work. "Thank you for fixing me all up. I am as good as new." Dean let his hand rest on Cas' arm. It was new and still felt a little forced - but god - he wanted to touch him. 

"You are hardly good as new." Cas' eyes fell again with a look that Dean recognized as shame. "It's my fault that you were injured in the first place and it's my fault I don't have my grace anymore to heal you. I'm just no good for you." 

"hey - hey - don't say that - " Dean's voice was stern - on the verge of anger as he shook at the angel's arm like he was trying to dislodge all the wrongness of his words. "Don't you know - you're the best thing that's ever happened to me?" Their eyes met again briefly and Dean could see the shy smile in Cas' eyes as he fought against his own disbelief. 

"Alright." Cas got to his feet and out of Dean's grasp. "Take two of these." Cas uncapped the bottle of water and handed it to Dean with the Advil. Dean obeyed. "I'll be back in a few hours to wake you up and take two more." 

"Cas - wait." Dean caught Cas' arm as he turned to leave. Dean held on because he knew the moment he let go Cas would be out the door. He could tell Cas was still beating himself up over all of this. Dean had done enough self-loathing to recognize it. "Stay." 

Cas gave him a look and was about to object, but Dean continued. "Look, I know we haven't worked out all this stuff." Dean gestured a hand between them both - insinuating that "this stuff" actually meant us. "I just want you close."  Dean smoothed his thumb over the inside of Cas' wrist silently imploring him for any small gesture of closeness. "Please."

Cas turned his palm over to hold Dean's hand back, his countenance softening as he locked eyes with him.  "I just need a little time to myself Dean, to get my head straight. I'll be back in a few hours." Cas gave a little squeeze before dropping Dean's hand and closing the door behind him. "Promise." 

Dean let him go. He stripped down to his shorts and burrowed under the covers and let himself drift into a state of no longer consciously existing. 

Cas paced in the library and then in the war room before he finally found himself getting a whole pint of ice cream from the fridge and heading to the tv room. All Dean wanted was to have him close, despite all of his failures and he couldn't even give him that. He flipped through the channels mindlessly while he ate ice cream until he was on the verge of a brain freeze. Numbing out with the tv and food seemed to be the coping mechanism of many a human who found themselves frustrated. Cas landed on a re-run of Dr. Sexy. He abandoned his own emotions and let the feelings of the characters on screen fill the void. A mother was trying to calm her terminally sick child. "Let mommy kiss it better....okay." Cas watched as the mother pressed a feather light kiss to her child's forehead. "All better?" the mom asked. Despite the child's illness still persisting, Cas was amazed to watch the child's tears dry up as they put on a brave face. "All better." the child confirmed. 

Cas had never heard that phrase before - 'kiss it better'.  He didn't  have his grace, but this seemed to be something that humans could do. A quick google search confirmed "Comfort a sick or injured person by kissing the sore or injured part of their body as a gesture of removing pain." 

Cas checked the time and realized it was close to the time Dean should have another dosage of pain meds. He clicked off the tv and left the remainder of ice cream on the tv stand to melt. He was going to wake Dean up and kiss it better. Cas turned on the bed side lamp and sat in the open space next to Dean. He didn't want to startle him awake knowing far too well how that could end up. In time, Dean woke up with a slight jolt. 

"Cas?" Dean said with the sleep and searching in his voice. 

"Can you sit up for round 2 of meds?" Cas handed Dean the Advil and water as Dean shifted around on the bed. "How do you feel?" 

"Like I've been tossed around by Bigfoot." 

"Can I try something?" Cas asked not being quite brave enough to meet Dean's eyes. Dean nodded. Cas scooted closer on the bed until he could reach all of Dean comfortably. He cupped Dean's face and bringing him close, he pressed a light kiss to the cut above Dean's eye and then another kiss to the shiner just under it. 

Dean drew in a ragged breath, wincing with the twinge in his abdomen. Moving slow and methodical, Cas brought Dean's forearm up close and pressed another kiss to the skin at the edge of the gauze. Dean's heart began to palpitate as his heart rate climbed. Cas kissed him with such tenderness, but he couldn't help but be a little confused with the sudden influx of affection. "Cas?" Dean licked his dry lips, searching for the right words. "What's - what are you doing?" "It's not working, is it?" Cas couldn't hide the disappointment. "I must not be doing it right." 

"What's not working?" Dean asked, still puzzled. 

"I'm trying to 'kiss it better'. I saw it on tv and the internet confirmed that you can comfort someone by kissing the injured part as a gesture of removing the pain. "Does it not make you feel better? I know it's not as good as my grace - but I just thought-- " 

Dean cut him off finally realizing. "No - No - it's working!" He said emphatically. "I just didn't realize you knew about this very-human remedy." 

"Well you should have told me sooner. I want to help." 

"You are helping, Cas. I told you - just you being here - with me - makes me better." 

Cas allowed the affirmation to wash over him without protest.

"Where else does it hurt?" 

If Dean had been standing up, he would have gone weak in the knees. He couldn't believe his fortune to have the love of such a selfless being. "Here." Dean pointed to a scratch at that top of his bare clavicle. Without hesitation, Cas pressed a kiss there. "...and here." Dean pointed to the bruise on his temple. "...and here..." Dean pointed to his split lip. Cas pressed a lingering, gentle, and off center kiss to Dean's lips. Dean caught him by the back of the neck - holding him close. "What about you, Cas? Where do you hurt?" 

Castiel's brow furrowed in thought. "I didn't get any injuries, Dean. I'm fine." 

"I don't mean physically, Cas." Dean watched as he thought through the meaning. "I know you've been in pain. You've not been feeling like yourself, since you lost the rest of your grace. I know it weighs on your heart." Cas nodded as he began to understand. "I do miss my grace. And I miss my wings. I just hate that I'm not of use to you, like I was before. I don't know who I am without being an angel. I don't know what my purpose is." 

"Can I try to make it better?" 

Cas nodded. 

Dean tugged him closer by his sweater, rubbing the material absentmindedly through his fingers. "Can you take this off for me?" Castiel removed his sweater, rucking up his hair in the process. "You'll always be my angel." Dean said as he ran a hand over Cas' chest. He leaned in kissing along the angel's neck, just under his Adam's apple where he'd seen so many angels lose their grace. Dean wrapped his good arm around Castiel's waist and pulling them flush against each other. "You make me feel so good, Cas." Dean trailed kisses down to Cas' chest right where he imagined the angel's heart to be. "I'm all better." Dean let himself lean into Cas' chest as the angel returned his embrace. "This is all I've wanted for so long." 

"Me too." Cas pressed kisses to the top of Dean's head. " I would like very much to stay right here - with you."  They barely let go of each other as they re-arranged themselves under the covers a few moments later, and comfortably fell asleep.

I hope you enjoyed the fic. I’m always open to feedback. This was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song Cardigan where she says the line “hand under my sweatshirt, baby kiss it better.” Here (x) is a link to the same work on AO3 where you can find some more of my one-shots. 

[kagstea]

daichi s. - a million thoughts

suwamura daichi x reader

description: daichi had a lot on his mind, but it bothered you that you could never figure out what.

warnings: angst, fluff

Sometimes thoughts were loud, to the point where they were the only thing you can hear in a crowded room. Not just your own, but you found that others’ often become too overwhelming for you.

“You should quit now,” Kiyoko tried to take the bottle from your hold, but failed yet again.

With pursed lips, you shook your head. “No. The night is still young.” To be more specific, the night was not young. In fact, it was nearing almost three in the morning, leaving both Kiyoko and Tanaka beyond tired.

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at you. “Y/N, I really think you should put it down now. You’re gonna regret it when you wake up.”

“Then I just won’t sleep!” The statement was funny to you. “Can’t regret it if I don’t sleep!”

With a sigh, Kiyoko turned to Tanaka. “Is Daichi almost here?”

Checking his phone, he nodded. “He should be here any minute now.”

After a few more minutes, there was a knock at the door. Knowing it was Daichi, Tanaka got up to let his friend in. Normally, they wouldn’t have a problem with you staying over, but it was obvious there was more to your visit than catching up. Having been in a relationship themselves, they were able to recognize the behavior of avoiding your relationship problems.

“Thanks, Y/N wasn’t answering the phone all day, I almost checked every hospital I could.” Daichi said while catching his breath. He had rushed to their apartment complex only to find the elevator was under construction, giving him no choice but to climb the seven flights of stairs after a long day.

“Of course. But honestly, what did you do? I haven’t seen Y/N this bad ever.”

“It’s just… been a lot, lately.” Daichi awkwardly explained. “Don’t worry, nothing too bad.”

Tanaka took a second before nodding. “I get it.”

Meanwhile, you frowned seeing your boyfriend. Instantly, you pointed an accusing finger at your friend. “Why did you call Mr. Stupid Pants?”

Kiyoko grabbed your shoulders. “I told him too. It’s time for you to go home, Y/N.”

Tears built up in your eyes for the silliest reason. You pushed Kiyoko away just to grab her yourself. “Shimizu, you don’t love me! Why would you send me away so early?”

“It’s damn near dawn, Y/N.” Tanaka muttered under his breath, stepping forward to rescue his girlfriend from you. “And she’s mine, back off.”

“Yeah right, baldy. You’re just a quick stop on the ride to Y/N-ville. Don’t get too full of yourself.”

Daichi hurried and stepped in before the two of you could continue. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get home-”

But you harshly moved back, denying him the ability to grab you. “Don’t… don’t touch me. I can get up- ugh- myself!” Standing up too quickly made you lose your balance for a moment. “See!”

All three of them watched as you staggered towards the door, slipping on shoes that definitely were not yours and walking out. Daichi turned to apologize to his friends, but thankful they kept his significant other safe so late at night.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Tanaka yawned. “Make sure you bring my shoes back too. Or I’ll personally report Y/N for robbery.”

Kiyoko slapped his chest before addressing Daichi. “Just be careful on the way home.”

He waved goodbye before chasing after you. You had already made it to the stairwell, holding onto the bar on the wall for support and mumbling random nothings.

Although he wanted to take you back to your shared place quickly, he stayed behind you as you got down yourself. As you both reached the parking lot, words from an earlier fight were recalled. 

You had started to sober up when you reached the car. Instead of letting him open the door for you like usual, you got in yourself, slouching in the passenger seat as he started the car. Neither of you spoke on the way back.

Daichi opened the door to let you in first. Even if it was late, the darkness and silence gave you an unsettling feeling. You slowly walked inside, your emotions suddenly raging inside of you.

He quietly shut the door behind you. “Let’s get to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

His tone was not filled with affection at all. You couldn’t blame him, though. He worked since the early morning just to spend the rest of his day looking for you. You knew he had every right to be frustrated with you, but you still hated it.

“You don’t even want to talk to me, anymore?”

Although it was a whisper, he heard it. And with the deep sigh he took, you were able to hear all the possible thoughts inside his head. It made your eyes brim with years and you bit your lower lip to keep you from crying.

Without responding to your comment, Daichi walked past you without sparing you a glance. He rubbed the back of his neck as he said, “I’m tired, Y/N.”

“So am I.” You said, breathlessly. He stopped in his steps with his back turned to you. Your hands moved your hair out of your face just to fall at your side right after. “Gosh, Daichi. You must feel good that you can sleep your tiredness away.”

He stayed quiet, not exactly knowing what to say to you at that moment. It only made you feel worse. You knew there were a million thoughts running through his mind. He was a loud thinker.

But like always, you couldn’t figure out a single one.

“Say something,” You tried. “Something, anything. Do you hate me, do you want to break up- I… I can’t tell.” Lowering your head, you choked out the next words. “Did you ever even love me?”

As soon as he heard that thought, he was wide awake. His body reacted faster than his brain as he pulled you into a tight, and desperate embrace. Daichi began to feel tears of his own as you held him back.

He swallowed before asking, “How long have you thought that?” And how could I not know?

It took a moment to respond. “I just can’t tell-”

“Don’t ever think that ever again. Damn it, Y/N. How did I make you feel this way?” Inside, he was beating himself up. Over the past years, he never purposely hurt you, but he forgot to make sure you didn’t get harmed by his obliviousness.

Daichi would admit, lately he didn’t put in as much effort in your relationship as he did before. But it was never due to lack of love. There were just new priorities added into his life and he had trouble organizing them. It was stupid excuse, he knew, but it was the only truth for him.

“You still love me?”

“Still? Damn, I can’t believe I even let you think I stopped.” Daichi buried his face in your shoulder as tears fell down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I love you so much.”

Daichi’s mind was full of a million of thoughts throughout the day. You could tell, of course, despite never knowing exactly what he was thinking. But he would now make sure that you knew one of his thoughts would always be about loving you.

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

I’m just gonna say Non-despair AU cause I want everyone to be happy. I freaking LOVE Gundham so much, he’s wonderful and I’ve been wanting to write him for a while (but stalling cause of his DIALOGUE. It’s so hard). Buuuut I decided to finally give it a shot. And to kind of vent a little cause he used to stress me out in his dark coat and scarf in tropical heat. With Kazuichi because I want them to be friends, and because I seem physically incapable of not putting Kazuichi in every fic. COULD be seen as pre-soudam if you prefer, I didn’t write it like that but it could be if that floats your boat. I do like that ship, I just like other ones with Gundham and kazuichi more. Anyway, hope you enjoy - Circle

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33543364

Warning: descriptions of overheating, sickfic. Nothing really bad here.

Kazuichi wasn’t shocked to wake up sprawled across a towel with sand in his hair and a dry mouth, completely alone on the beach. This wasn’t even the first time it had happened. When his insomnia was really bad he’d always doze throughout the next day - for some reason he couldn’t sleep in his warm, comfortable bed at night but could drop off in seconds with his head on the breakfast table or against Hajime’s shoulder. His classmates never bothered to wake Kazuichi if he was somewhere he wouldn’t be in the way, so the beach was a frequent napping spot. They always made sure to leave him in the shade with a water bottle for when he woke, so Kazuichi didn’t mind. It was normal.

What was very much not normal was waking up to Gundham grasping the front of his t-shirt, shaking him violently and yelling some weird gibberish that Kazuichi was still too woolly-headed to understand.

“Wha..?” he muttered, trying to wake up properly. For a second he wondered if he was having a weird lucid dream, because Gundham never usually touched people, especially him - though he was shaking him by the shirt instead of the shoulders.

“You’re gonna stretch out my clothes,” Kazuichi whined, sitting up and scrubbing his eyes.

“As if your tattered garments are a priority right now! Answer me with honesty, lest the demons tear your tongue from your very mouth. Have you encountered the wrath of my Crimson Steel Elephant?” Gundham cried, far too loudly.

“What?” Kazuichi mumbled. “Gundham, I can’t decipher your witchy language when I’ve just woken up.”

“Foolish mortal! This is a dire emergency!”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I shall repeat myself just once more, so listen well. Have you encountered one of my Dark Devas of Destruction? Maga-Z appears to be missing,” Gundham said. Despite the grandeur and fancy words, Kazuichi could see he did look pretty distressed, holding the three remaining hamsters in his hand as if he was scared they’d dash away too.

“Oooh, okay. You’ve lost a hamster. That’s all you had to say, Gundham. One single sentence and I would’ve understood,” Kazuichi said.

“Do not talk so disparagingly! My Devas are far more powerful than mere hamsters. And Maga-Z has an independent spirit and often attempts to cause chaos alone. I have my concerns for the safety of everyone on this island if Maga-Z wields his destructive power without my guidance.”

Gundham was completely serious, but Kazuichi had to bite his cheeks to stop himself laughing, picturing a hamster storming across the island in a tank, decimating everything. But Gundham was clearly frantic, and Kazuichi was trying to be nicer to him recently, so he sighed.

“Okay, I’ll help you look for him. We should try to get the others to help too.”

“Indeed. You were the first mortal I came across,” Gundham admitted.

“Right, what does Maga-Z look like?” Kazuichi asked, taking a long drink of water. He felt like he’d be running around in the hot sun for a while now and wanted to drink while he had the chance.

“Your memory is abysmal.” Gundham seemed irritated that Kazuichi didn’t know the hamsters by sight.

“Look, I’m not exactly on nodding terms with your ham- Devas, am I? How am I supposed to know which is which? I only recognise the chubby one.” Kazuichi pointed to Cham-P.

Gundham reeled back like he’d been slapped, spluttering in outrage. “How dare you mock his corporeal form! If Cham-P was not so patient, he would obliterate you where you stand for such cheek.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to body shame your hamster,” Kazuichi said irritably. “I wasn’t mocking. He’s just bigger than the other ones.”

“He is of the Golden variety, of course he is larger in stature. It has nothing to do with his nutritional intake.”

“Are we going to search or not?” Kazuichi snapped. God, talking to Gundham for more than five minutes was exhausting. “Do you know if Maga-Z has favourite places to go or something?”

Kazuichi let Gundham lead and did his very best not to talk to his strange companion as they searched through bushes and inside cupboards, asking any of his classmates they encountered to look too. Gundham muttered to the remaining hamsters, but didn’t try to talk to Kazuichi much either except to order him around - though his grandiose tone was quickly becoming softer and more anxious.

“Maga-Z has never disappeared from my influence for so long,” he mumbled, pulling his scarf to cover his mouth. “I cannot contain this feeling of dread.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Kazuichi said, surprising himself. “We’ll find him. He’ll be okay.”

Gundham blinked, then stood up straighter. “I assure you, I fear for the inhabitants of the island. Maga-Z will come to no harm.”

But he was worrying, and even Kazuichi could see it. His searching was becoming frantic, his usually careful hands clumsy, so he knocked things off their shelves and forgot to tidy up or close doors behind them. He started running between buildings and bushes, long coat billowing, calling out for his lost hamster.

“Gundham! Hang on a second,” Kazuichi gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

Surprisingly, Gundham did as he was told, leaning against a palm tree in the shade. He wrapped his arms around his chest, pale fists gripping his dark coat. His carefully styled hair was starting to droop in the heat, and his face was very pink. Kazuichi had never seen so much colour in his cheeks before. The three remaining hamsters cowered inside Gundham’s scarf, sensing his anxiety.

Kazuichi went to lean beside him, wiping the sweat off his own forehead. He didn’t know how Gundham managed in his black clothes every day.

“We’ll find him,” Kazuichi said again. “Ibuki and Twogami and Mahiru said they’d look. And Miss Sonia looked like she was going to cry when I told her Maga-Z was missing. She said she wouldn’t rest until he was found.”

“She has a good heart,” Gundham said softly.

“Yeah…” Kazuichi paused. “Hey, you didn’t say anything nice like that about me. I’m the one who’s been running around with you in the baking sun for hours.”

Gundham didn’t respond. He’d been talking a lot less in the past twenty minutes or so, though he’d originally been giving incomprehensible orders to Kazuichi every two minutes. Souda assumed he was just growing more concerned for Maga-Z the longer he was missing - so he was caught off guard when Gundham slumped over and fell limply against him, almost bringing them both to the floor.

“Dude!” Kazuichi managed to catch hold of Gundham. “What are you doing?”

Perhaps Gundham didn’t know what he was doing either, because he had a look of sheer bafflement on his face. He tried to pull himself upright, clinging to the rough bark of the palm tree, but each time he wobbled dangerously and Kazuichi had to grab onto him again.

“What is this..? I appear to be reacting negatively to your mortal world’s atmosphere.” His usually forceful speech came out laboured and slow, and Gundham placed a hand to his lips in surprise.

“What? You’ve been surviving in this atmosphere for ages already,” Kazuichi argued. “What’s up with you? You sound drunk. Can you tell me in plain English?”

“The temperature in this godforsaken land exceeds even the fiery bowels of hell,” Gundham hissed, having to cling to Kazuichi to stay upright.

Kazuichi took a second to disentangle Gundham’s web of fancy words. “Sooo… you’re too hot. I guess that makes sense. Who wears a black coat and a scarf in this heat? And I know you haven’t had any water since we started searching. I’d better take you back to your cabin,” he sighed.

“Unhand me this instant, you fiend!” Gundham growled, though he was the one using Kazuichi like a walking stick. “I could never rest while one of my Dark Devas of Destruction is unguided.”

“Well they’ll all be unguided if you get heatstroke and drop dead,” Kazuichi said. “Half the island is searching for Maga-Z - and I’ll go back out to keep looking as soon as I can, okay?” As much as Gundham might get on Kazuichi’s nerves sometimes, he didn’t want him to get really sick or hurt. He hoped Maga-Z had enough sense not to wander into the sea or something; Gundham would be crushed.

“Hmm.” Gundham didn’t look convinced.

“Your other three ham- I mean Devas probably need to cool down a bit too,” Kazuichi tried.

Another pause. “Very well,” Gundham sighed. “I shall retire to my artificially cooled domain until the effects of this oppressive atmosphere wear off. I trust you to ensure the search continues.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk on his own, staggering alarmingly.

“Hey, careful!” Kazuichi ran to steady him. “I told you I’d help you.”

Gundham slapped his hands away. “Fool! Have you forgotten I am cursed with poison?”

“Oh for God’s sake! Could you just give an inch for once! Why do you make everything so difficult?” Kazuichi cried exasperatedly.

Gundham stuck his chin in the air and started berating Souda again - but before he’d even finished the first sentence his words died away. He blinked several times, looking dazed, swaying where he stood.

“Gundham..?” Kazuichi said nervously.

Gundham didn’t respond. He took another few staggering steps towards his cabin, then crumpled as his knees gave way under him. Kazuichi cried out and hurried to catch him, their foreheads bashing together painfully. Gundham’s skin was clammy and damp, his face looking much more… alive than usual. Kazuichi realised it was because his pale makeup was running.

“Fucking hell, Gundham,” Kazuichi groaned, hauling one of Gundham’s arms around his shoulders. “Just hold onto me, okay? Try not to pass out.”

Surprisingly, Gundham nodded, staring down at his feet like it was taking a huge effort to make them move. It was clear he was trying to be helpful, but Kazuichi had to carry a lot of his weight and they were both breathless by the time they reached Gundham’s cabin. Kazuichi breathed a sigh of relief as the wall of cool air conditioning washed over them.

“Thank God for that,” he mumbled, dumping Gundham onto the bed. It was carefully made, which Kazuichi had never understood; why bother making your bed when you were just going to mess it up every night? The entire room was neat, though the giant cage meant it rather smelled like hamsters. “Right, get your coat and scarf off.”

Gundham glared at him viciously.

“Oh, that’s the thanks I get, is it? Well, no matter how annoying you might be, you’re overheated. No wonder, wearing that stupid dark coat. So get it off.” Kazuichi grabbed Gundham’s arms and yanked the coat sleeves off like he was undressing a sulky toddler. Gundham hissed a series of furious curses at him - one of which sounded like Latin, which was actually pretty impressive - and the three remaining hamsters hopped out onto the bed, startled.

“There. Was that so hard?” Kazuichi said silkily when Gundham was lying on the bed in his shirt and scarf, glaring. Kazuichi tried to take the scarf off too, but Gundham’s hissed threats became more vehement and he gave up. “Fine, keep it on then. Though I don’t think the gothic look is very sustainable in a tropical climate, man. Right, I’m going to get you something to drink.”

Gundham didn’t respond until Kazuichi had returned with a cup full of water from the bathroom. “I shall take advice from one with such abysmal fashion sense as yourself with a grain of salt, fiend,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster while tomato-red and damp with sweat on his bed.

Kazuichi had to fight very hard not to pour the glass of water directly over Gundham’s head, but he just about managed to help him drink it instead. Then he grabbed the little fan from the bathroom and placed it by Gundham’s bed, dampened a cloth and slapped it rather unceremoniously on his forehead. Gundham yelped and glared again, water trickling down his temples. Good. Serves him right for that earlier comment. “There. Keep your head back or you’ll smudge your eyeliner. And don’t move. I’ll try to find Mikan while I’m looking for Maga-Z, okay?”

Gundham turned his face away, cupping one hand over the Devas protectively. He mumbled something into the material of his scarf.

“What?” Kazuichi asked.

“I said I am grateful for your assistance…”

“Oh.” Kazuichi was surprised. He’d never heard Gundham acknowledge he needed any help before - though maybe that was Kazuichi’s own fault. He’d been the one to start up the whole stupid rivalry thing (which wasn’t ever a rivalry in the first place since the girl wasn’t remotely interested). Maybe this was a step towards a reconciliation.

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna leave you to die,” Kazuichi added awkwardly.

“You are far more tolerable when you do not echo the Dark Queen like a parrot. I once believed you had no real mind of your own,” Gundham said bluntly.

Kazuichi flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You made yourself an extension of the Dark Queen. You never disputed her or challenged her. You agreed with her every word.”

“Well… I wanted her to like me,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Look, you don’t need to lecture me about all this. You know I’ve left Sonia alone.”

“Indeed. But you still wish to befriend her?” Gundham asked. Even weak and overheated as he was, his eyes were burning into Kazuichi’s with such a fierce intensity he had to look away.

“That’s her choice. Why are you asking all this?”

“If you still seek a friendly companionship with the Dark Queen, you should not forget she is a mere powerless mortal,” Gundham said. “She does not wish to be treated like she is extraordinary. She does not wish to be around those who only agree to please her.”

Kazuichi stared at him. Was Gundham really offering advice? Was this a weird way to repay him for helping out? It was pretty embarrassing to be given advice on how to make friends from Gundham, who openly distrusted everyone - but he was friends with Sonia. Maybe even something more, Kazuichi honestly didn’t know. He’d tried to stay away from Sonia as much as possibly, partly because he wanted her to be more comfortable and partly because he was pretty fucking embarrassed by his past behaviour. But he would like to be her friend. Nothing else - he knew that wouldn’t ever happen - but friends was good.

“Now make haste!” Gundham suddenly cried, making Kazuichi jump. “Continue the search! I shall rejoin you as soon as I am able.”

“No, rest. Don’t move and especially don’t put your coat on again. I’ll find Maga-Z,” Kazuichi said quickly. He dashed outside before Gundham could protest, groaning as the sticky heat wrapped around him once more.

He started searching again, after taking a quick detour to Mikan’s cabin to ask if she could go check on Gundham and make sure he hadn’t gone out into the sun again. Almost everyone on the island was searching now, splitting off into little groups to cover more ground. Nagito was one of the last to join in - and Hajime and Kazuichi watched in astonishment as he shifted the very first box he touched in the storage room of the old building and pointed. “There he is.”

“WHY didn’t I ask him first?!” Kazuichi practically screamed.

“Ultimate Luck seems a pretty useful talent,” Hajime murmured to him, not wanting Nagito to hear. It’d only start him off on a long self-deprecating rant. “Go on then, Kazuichi. Get him.”

Kazuichi peered behind the box on his hands and knees. Maga-Z was cowering in the corner, fur dishevelled and standing on end. He didn’t look too friendly. “Why do I have to grab the stupid hamster?” Kazuichi whined. “You grab him, Hajime. I don’t like them. They look like they know too much.”

“What are you on about?” Hajime sighed. “It’s just a hamster. You can’t be scared of a hamster, Kazuichi.”

“They’re Gundham’s hamsters. They probably like… worship the devil or something.”

“Hamsters don’t worship anything. They’re just hamsters.”

“Can I go now?” Nagito asked, looking like he was losing braincells just listening to this conversation.

“Yeah, thanks, Nagito. Unless you fancy grabbing this hamster,” Kazuichi said. He looked hopeful, but Nagito left without another word.

“I’ll do it,” Hajime said, exasperated. He reached behind the box to ease his hand underneath Maga-Z, but as soon as his fingers brushed fur, the hamster made a mad dash forward. Directly towards Souda. He squealed and hastily cupped both hands around Maga-Z, holding him at arm’s length. “Oh my God, oh my God, I got him… Oh God, he’s gonna bite me, I know he is,” Kazuichi whined.

“Hey, good job,” Hajime said, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d catch him.”

“I’m not a baby, Hajime,” Kazuichi huffed. Then he whimpered in a very childish way. “Ugh, he’s wriggling around. Can I… put him somewhere? A bag or something? I don’t trust him.”

“Just shove him in your pocket and let’s go. It’s boiling in here. And Gundham will be stressing about Maga-Z. Do you know where he is?”

“I had to put him to bed because he nearly fainted. He was running around in his black coat all day.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Nobody on this island has any self-preservation skills.”

“At least Maga-Z is okay.” Kazuichi studied the little ball of fluff cupped in his hands. Somehow his little ink drop eyes did look menacing. “Hey, he really does look like he wanted to go off and cause chaos on his own, doesn’t he?”

Hajime gave Kazuichi a look. “I think you’ve spent too much time with Gundham today.”

Thankfully, Gundham was still in his room and looking a lot better, though still very visibly agitated. His colour had returned to ghostly pale (he must’ve reapplied his makeup) and his eyes were far more focused - they snapped to the door right away when Hajime opened it. When he saw Kazuichi, his hands still full of wriggling hamster, his brow cleared.

“Take him, quick!” Kazuichi said, hurrying over to the bed. “I’m sure he wants to bite me.”

“You fiend,” Gundham murmured, taking the hamster. For a second Kazuichi was offended, thinking Gundham was calling him names when he and Hajime had been nice enough to bring the hamster back, but then he realised Gundham was talking to Maga-Z. He spoke to them in exactly the same way he spoke to his classmates, no silly mushy voices like most people did with cute animals.

“I can only pray you have not caused too much destruction while unsupervised,” he murmured, smoothing Maga-Z’s fur. The hamster sat up to greet him like a little puppy, and Kazuichi noticed for the first time that Maga-Z’s cheeks were bulging.

“Did he really run off just to steal food?” Kazuichi groaned. “We’ve been so stressed and he was just eating!”

“Ah yes, a feast befitting the magnificent Crimson Steel Elephant,” Gundham said, gently placing Maga-Z with the other hamsters. They circled him joyfully, happy to be reunited too.

Kazuichi threw his hands up exasperatedly. “I give up. You’re all nuts.”

Gundham turned to Kazuichi, his face solemn. “I am deeply indebted to you, as is everybody who resides on this island. I cannot speak of the terrors that may have occurred if Maga-Z was without guidance. I shall spread the story of your triumph to every other mortal here so they can show you due gratitude,” he said.

“Oh… Thanks, man.” Kazuichi could see he meant well, but the thought of Gundham telling everyone Kazuichi saved the island from a hamster’s destruction was pretty embarrassing. He could already see Hajime smirking out of the corner of his eye.

“You should stay inside a bit longer though,” Hajime said. “Just in case. You need to make sure you’re totally cooled down.”

“Indeed. I have had ample excitement for one day,” Gundham said.

“Me too,” Kazuichi mumbled.

“If you’re feeling better, you can tell everyone about Kazuichi saving the island over dinner,” Hajime said, grinning. Kazuichi glared at him.

“Asshole,” he muttered as soon as they were outside Gundham’s cabin.

Hajime burst out laughing. “Maybe he’ll make you sound really gallant and fearless when he tells it.”

“Then everyone will know it’s a lie right away. And anyway, Nagito saw what happened. Even if you don’t give away the real story, he’ll definitely tell.”

“Probably. But you did save his hamster, even if you weren’t that fearless about it. Is there a truce between you two now?”

“I suppose so. He’s not so bad. Crazy and dramatic and difficult… but okay,” Kazuichi admitted. He paused. “I don’t know what half of the words he uses mean though.”

“Yeah,” Hajime agreed. “I don’t either.”

[damejudyhench]

Many thanks to @captastra @strangefable @jumpship90 and @kourumi for your writing prompts from the “touch” meme! They went together really nicely, so I’ve combined them into one fic. I hope you enjoy 😊

the prompts were:

2. Running fingers through hair

16. Massaging them

17. Holding the other’s chin up

32. Caressing the other’s back

34. Washing the other’s body

this is so indulgent to me, it’s sfw but I’m still sitting here like 😳😳😳

tags: canon-typical injury, blood, mention of corporal punishment, bathing kink, lying

Max took forever in the shower. It was a fact of life, a law of nature, as inevitable as gravity. Whether it was a trauma reaction to his time in Tartarus, his determination to prove that if cleanliness was next to Lawfulness then he was the most Lawful person on board, or simple vanity; once he was in there, it was almost impossible to get him out. Nyoka, the newest member of their crew, could pound on the door all she wanted; she might as well be cussing out gravity itself.

So Pearl let him be for longer than she might have, but eventually concern started to nag at her. Max was hurt; a larger than average mantis had caught them unawares while they were scavenging the canyon that lay outside of Stellar Bay. They’d all been left worse for wear, but Max had taken the brunt of it, and he’d staggered back to the Unreliable with his face pale, swearing through gritted teeth as he clutched his arm to his chest in the position of maximal stability that signified a fracture or worse. He might need her help. After a few cautious knocks on the bulkhead, followed by a few less cautious, Pearl used her Captain’s override and pushed inside.

Max rounded on her like a wounded animal cornered in its lair. Shirtless, his injured arm strapped against his chest, his other hand held his razor. His jaw was still more than half covered in shaving foam, and she could see a fine thread of bright red blood trickling down the skin of his throat.

“Yes, I am still using the bathroom! Architect forfend someone on this ship might actually possess any standards of decency…”

Screw him.

“Mind you don’t cut yourself,” she snarled back, and left him to his own devices.

Around five minutes later, as she lay on her bunk scanning through an old data pad, there was a knock at the door. Max stood in the gangway, his towel draped around his neck, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I apologise… and I would appreciate your assistance, Pearl. If you’re not too busy, of course.” His tone was courteous, but his face was tight and drawn, and she knew he must be in pain despite the strapping.

“Any time, Max.”

In the shower, she took the towel and the razor gently from his hand and set them on the sink, then turned to face him. His shoulder was bruised an ugly purple and red, fading to deep brown beneath his collarbone where it was dented and distorted. It looked sore as hell, and Pearl sucked her breath through her teeth in sympathy.

She pushed him gently back until he was sitting on the toilet, then took his canidfeather brush and applied a new coat of lather to his face. She shaved him with slow, even strokes, pausing occasionally to grasp his chin and tilt his head from side to side and then back so that she could check her progress. Max looked throughout as though he wanted to say something, but as in love with the sound of his own voice as he was, he kept still to avoid injury.

When she was done, she wiped his face clean with his towel and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Max got to his feet and shuffled toward the shower

“Of all the damned bones one might break, this has to be the worst… I can scarcely do anything by myself,” he grumbled.

“It’s the most commonly broken bone in the body,” Pearl replied mildly. Max had hang ups about injury, about physical weakness. He took it as a sign that he was straying from the path; or worse, that his path lead to destruction. Pearl knew because she’d been raised that way herself. Those who were meant to survive, survived.

That was how her job had worked. She’d treated those whose benefit to their corporation had outweighed the cost of their treatment. Of course, ultimately it was down to the Plan who survived and who didn’t, the corps were kind of a middleman, but the OSI said that was ok because the corps being in charge was down to the Plan too. It was a whole system based on a lie so obvious she couldn’t understand how she’d once believed it, or how so many people still did. Including the man in front of her, who was self conscious about asking for help when he’d broken his collarbone.

She locked the door, unfastened his pants and eased them down over his hips along with his shorts. She made a neat pile of his clothing, then reached for the sling that held his arm.

“You want to take this off or keep it?”

“I’d rather it remain dry.”

“Ok… you ready?”

She let Max brace himself, with his good arm supporting the other, then gently released the sling and added it to the pile. Max flinched, but nodded when she glanced at him. Pearl activated the shower, sending warm water streaming down over his body. She smiled at the sight of him. His hair fell forward into his eyes, and he gave a deep sigh of pleasure.

Pearl stepped back and frowned. It was going to be tough to wash him properly without getting herself soaked in the process. And Max hadn’t been able to shower for a few days, which would have been a torment to him. If she was going to do it, she ought to do it right. Besides, it wasn’t as though they hadn’t seen each other naked before. She undressed quickly, adding her clothing to his own, then bent to pick up the soap and the washcloth. Max’s eyes were wide, and whatever he’d wanted to say before seemed to have gone from his mind entirely. He saw that she was watching him, and hurriedly looked away.

The air was warm and steamy; the water pleasant on her skin. She soaped Max’s shoulders, his chest, carefully avoiding the injured area, then worked her way down his arms. His muscles were tight beneath his skin, and she dug in a little and squeezed, working out the knots in his body. He had thick, strong fingers that were just long enough to be elegant, she thought as she washed his hands. She went to her knees to do his legs, and noticed that his cock twitched a little, but when she looked up at him his eyes were closed, and he seemed quite lost in the moment.

“Spin around,” she said, getting back to her feet. Max frowned, and he once again avoided meeting her gaze.

“I’ll be fine now. Thank you.”

“What? You’re kidding. There’s no way you can use that fancy stick with the sponge on it… I’ll do your back, I don’t mind.”

Max gave a pointed sigh and turned, but she noticed the droop in his neck, the way he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Strangely, he looked frightened.

His broad back was a lattice of scars, and Pearl brought her hand up to her mouth to avoid gasping or otherwise making a sound.

“I haven’t seen it in a while… is it still as bad as I remember?” Max said bitterly.

“They did this to you? In prison?”

“Where else? I can’t remember what I did to earn it. I was hardly a model prisoner, not at first anyway.”

“It’s just scars, Max. You’ve got those grazes on your chest, some on your legs… it’s not that different.”

“It is different,” he hissed. “Because they broke me.”

“They… broke you?”

Max looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You were in prison for heresy, right? And look what you did as soon as you got out. You went straight after the journal, just as heretical as you were before. They didn’t break you.”

On impulse, she hugged him. Her arms around his waist and her chest against his back, both of them slippery with soap.

“You’re stubborn, Max. They could drop Groundbreaker on your head and you’d get up and keep right on going after the Equation.”

He laughed, a sound that was rare and delightful in its rarity, and relaxed beneath her touch as she ran the cloth over his back.

“You have a way with words, Pearl. And you may have a point. Nevertheless, I must ask that you don’t tell the rest of the crew.”

“Your secret’s safe with me… now sit down for this last part.”

Max settled himself on the tiled floor, bracing with his good arm. He leaned back against her legs, a pleasant sensation with his warm wet skin and the solid weight of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, rinsing out the worst of the sweat and the dust, then reached for the elegant glass bottle she’d had her eye on ever since the first time she’d set foot in his cabin.

Max’s voice carried a tone of warning. “That one’s  expensive, you only need a purpleberry sized amount - a fucking purpleberry sized amount, good Law!” Pearl laughed and ignored him, pouring the rich, sweet smelling shampoo into her palm. She lathered his hair, breathing in the scent of lavender and nearmint and Max. His hair was thick and soft, and he groaned in pleasure as she alternated between running her fingers through it and massaging his scalp.

When he was clean from tip to tail she helped him to his feet, let the water rinse over him. Finally, with a nod that mixed pleasure and regret, he was done. She towelled him off and helped him dress and reapply his sling, ran a comb through his hair. She doubted it was to his usual standard, but it kept it out of his eyes.

“Good as new, Max. So listen… our field guide, Nyoka, she’s got something she wants to do that she needs a crew for. If we help her out, she’s gonna give us a big discount in return. So I figure we do her thing, let you rest up, then once you’re all healed we can head out. I’ll find my broker, you can find your… scholar.”

“My scholar,” Max murmured. He took her hand, and for a moment Pearl was again convinced that he was going to say something, but instead he squeezed her tightly. “Thank you, Captain.”

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (II)

Part 2: How You Reached Loch Lomond

 Here we go for a second part for my series for Harry Styles! The fake-dating is upon us, and it's gonna be a wild ride! For now though, it remains calm and rather sweet.

I've chosen the spot for Cassie's wedding (as the title of the chapter proves), if you want an idea for the lodge where the family is staying, here is one of the places I used as an inspiration.

For now, we're getting things ready and planting some foreshadowing, but the trouble will really start in the next chapter, so enjoy some calm before the storm hahaha! I hope you like this chapter! No warning of any kind to be applied here (except mentions of ashtma... can that be triggering for someone?).

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 3676

                                                             I

                                              Holmes Chapel, 2002

That was the scariest thing you had ever seen.

Even Gemma's costume as a zombie at Halloween wasn't as scary.

You had been running around the street for a while, playing with your friends. You and Harry were playing with Melanie, Amanda and Daniel. It had turned from a hide and seek through the street to playing tag.

You had been running like crazy, and maybe even a little too much. You yourself were out of breath, your lungs begging for air and your legs growing sore as they tired out. But you were also laughing to the point where tears were starting to gather at the corner of yours eyes, so you didn't want to stop.

But then Harry slowed down, and slowed down some more, until he was stopping altogether. And as you turned to him to encourage him to keep on running to avoid Daniel catching you, your eyes grew round. His breathing was more than uneven: it was shallow and raw and hoarse, with a high whistling sound that escaped his lungs with each intake of breath. He bent over, hands on his knees in an effort to calm down.

It wasn't the first time that you saw him having asthma to that level, but it was still so scary to you.

Sometimes, the attack stopped with a few seconds of deep breaths, so you came to stand by his side, and soothingly rubbed his back.

"Hey, deep breaths! It's gonna be fine."

But this time, even with a little time, it didn't get better. And the more time passed, the more Harry was growing scared, making his breathing become even shallower. You realized quickly that this attack wasn't simply going to go away.

But after being friends with Harry for three years, you knew exactly what needed to be done.

Daniel, Amanda and Melanie, however, didn't have your experience dealing with Harry's asthma, and they seemed properly terrified as they caught up with the two of you.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Why can't he breathe?"

"What should we do?"

"We should get his mum!"

Before you could stop them and reassure them that you could handle it, the three of them were sprinting down the road towards Harry's house. But you didn't have time to worry about them, your best friend needed you now.

"Do you have your inhaler?" you asked him with a voice that was much calmer than what you really were.

He shook his head no, so you reached for your own. You always had one on you. One day, Harry didn't have pockets big enough on his trousers, and he had asked you to keep his. He had forgotten to take it back, and you had been carrying it ever since. When it expired, you asked Anne if you could keep one for him just in case. It was agreed that it would stay at your house for when he came over – which was whenever you weren't in his house – but it wasn't as hard for you to reach the upper shelf in your kitchen as your parents thought it would be.

And it was coming handy now, for sure.

You reached for the inhaler in the pocket of your jacket, shook it, opened it and forced Harry to stand straighter again.

"Come on! On three, you take a deep breath. You can do it! One!"

You approached the inhaler from his lips.

"Two!"

You forced the tip of the inhaler in his mouth and pressed on the top just as you were counting.

"Three!"

Harry took a deep inhale just as the gas in the inhaler flowed in his mouth, guiding it directly into his lungs. He staggered backwards a little as he started coughing.

"You need to take another, Harry. It's a big one. You need two. Come on!"

As soon as he wasn't coughing quite as much, you did the same thing all over again, and with two full puffs of medicine, Harry's breathing slowly evened out. The high whistling-like noise stopped, his breaths slowly grew less hoarse.

You helped him sit down as he was starting to be merely out of breath again.

And slowly, just as Harry calmed down, your own heart slowed down as well, relief washing over you. There was really nothing scarier than seeing Harry unable to breathe, after all, it wasn't your fault if your heart had sped up so much.

Just as you were putting the inhaler back in your pocket, you heard people running towards you. When you turned around, your three friends were hurrying towards you along with both your and Harry's mother.

"Harry! Are you okay?"

But your best friend nodded, a weak smile on his lips. Anne let herself fall by his side.

"What happened? Do you need your inhaler? Can you breathe okay?" she asked in a rushed voice, her own breath uneven after running up the street, taking his face in her hands to force him to look up at her.

"I gave him two doses already," you answered, making both adults frown.

"How…? He left his inhaler at home!"

"I have the one you left for him at my place. He always forgets his. It's safer if I always have one on me."

"How did you get it from the shelf?" your mother blurted out, but Anne didn't seem to really mind, she was back on focusing on Harry, who's breathing had evened out more.

"Are you mad at me?" you asked your mother with a shaky voice.

Harry's attention was pulled away from his mum's eyes by your tone, and he turned to look at your mother.

"She saved me. Don't punish her, please."

"Harry, how many times have I told you that you need to keep your inhaler with you at all times?" Anne admonished, and he sheepishly looked at the dark pavement. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

"'M sorry."

"Can you breathe alright now?"

"Yeah, it's gone. I'm fine."

She pulled him into a hug, heaving a relieved sigh as she ran her fingers through his curls. Your own mother bent down to be levelled with you.

"I'm not mad, because you did the right thing today. But next time, when we take a decision, stick to it. You should have come to fetch me or Anne. Okay?"

"But I knew how to do it. I knew how to help him!"

"Yes, and you did fine. But what if you had made a mistake? Did you think of that?"

"It's not because I'm eight that I'm stupid!"

"No, it's because you're eight that you're not old enough to have this kind of responsibility with other people's lives. Now, I wasn't mad at you, so don't make me mad now."

You nodded, choosing to bite your tongue this time.

Harry was soon back on his feet, despite his breathing still needing to be deeper than usual, but he would be fine. He shot you a bright smile.

"Thank you, Y/N. You were really looking out for me."

You giggled at his remark, shaking your head before nudging his arm with your elbow.

"Silly! I'll always take care of you."

                                                            II

                                                 Glasgow, 2020

"Let me help you with that, love."

You let Harry reach for your suitcase on the conveyor belt, placing it on the ground next to his with a little huff leaving his lips.

"Let's get a car. We shouldn't be more than 40 minutes away from the lodge," you proposed after thanking him, as you started dragging your suitcase through the large airport of Glasgow, and Harry agreed with a nod.

You waited for him to get the car, enjoying the chilly air of Scotland while you kept an eye on your luggage.

It felt good to be back in Britain. Cassie and Amy had decided to get married in Amy's homeland, and as you saw the pictures on the websites of the venue they had booked for the ceremony, you understood why. Loch Lomond seemed absolutely stunning, and you felt giddy as you waited for Harry to come back with a car. You couldn't wait to see your family again. You hadn't been back home since Christmas of the previous year, the plane tickets being desperately expensive. Besides, you were way too busy at work, about to start writing your thesis to get your PhD, and giving classes at the university. Actually, you were hoping to get some work on your manuscript done while you were here. You could picture yourself already with a warm blanket over your shoulders, a cup of tea in your hand, writing while admiring beautiful landscapes.

Harry pointed at a black SUV as he finally reappeared by your side.

"It's all settled. Let's go."

You put your luggage in the car, and Harry was designated as the driver while you were in charge of the maps. After all, after studying how maps had evolved throughout history for one of your classes back when you were still studying for your degree, it seemed only logical that you were best fitted for the job. Besides, Harry couldn't wait to get the chance to tease you about it if you got the two of you lost.

The ride was rather quiet until you left the airport and started to drive on the main road leading to Loch Lomond. It was only a 40 minutes-drive North-West of Glasgow, and you hoped that over the coming week you would have a little time to go for some sightseeing in the town as well.

You reckoned that the hardest part would be to locate the lodges, that didn't seem to be in a town of any kind, but rather right upon the shores of the loch. But for now, you were driving on a large road, in the right direction, and would be doing so for some time. So, you allowed yourself to relax and watch by the window the fields and trees passing by in a blurred rush. The yellow and green fields disappeared one after the other under the blue sky, bushes and trees painting darker hues here and there over the peaceful landscape.

"So… let's run everything one last time, shall we?" Harry suggested.

You nodded, leaving your eyes rested on the landscape instead of looking at the man by your side.

"We've been together for four months. So far, all good," you said, letting him go on in your stead.

"We decided to take our friendship to the next level after we confessed that we actually liked each other on an evening where we had both had too much to drink."

"That detail is ridiculous though, I don't think people will buy that."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't get that drunk!"

"You've got properly drunk many times before, honey," Harry teased you, and you rolled your eyes at the pet name.

"We're not there yet, no need for that kind of names."

"I'm practicing!"

"You call me 'love' or 'darling' all the time already. You don't need to call me any differently."

"I call everyone that. I wouldn't call you like that all the time if we were together. I would call you 'babe', 'honey', 'my love', 'my darling', 'dove', 'lovie'…"

"Yes, okay, I get it."

Harry chuckled at your annoyed expression.

"Well, you'd better get used to it, because my mission is to shower you with love for a week."

"Pretend, Harry," you corrected him. "Pretend to be showering me with love. And you don't even have to do that, actually. You just have to act normal, and say that you're my boyfriend."

"If we were together, I wouldn't act the same when I'm around you," he replied after a short silence, his voice quieter.

"Whatever."

"They're gonna figure out we're lying!"

"Of course, they won't! Anyway, back to our little backstory. Which is ridiculous, by the way."

"Why is it ridiculous?" Harry protested with a deep frown and a pout. "It's completely plausible, on the contrary."

"If I had feelings for you, I wouldn't confess everything while drunk. I wouldn't let you kiss me while we were both drunk either. That's just not me at all!"

"Oh, yeah? And how would you do it, then?"

"I don't know…"

"Well, as you don't have a better story to sell, let's stick with the drunk theory."

You heaved a sigh, but had to agree.

"Then, we talked about it seriously, and we found out that we both felt like this."

"If your parents ask, we didn't spend the night together when we got drunk."

"Why not? We said we kissed."

"Your father will cut off my balls if he thinks that I've slept with you while we were both inebriated. Besides, I thought you knew me better than this, I would never sleep with someone who's not able to be certain they really want to do it. And if we did sleep together, I would want to make sure that you remember it the next morning."

You wanted to argue, but couldn't. Harry was right. Your parents would get mad at him for that, and you needed the three of them to get along as well as usual. You also didn't doubt any of his arguments.

Which reminded you of a tiny, wee detail that you hadn't yet presented to Harry…

"By the way, uhm… I… I might have not… told my parents… that you were the one coming with me…"

"What?! Y/N!"

"I know!"

"You were supposed to be the one telling them! You were supposed to get them to wrap their minds around the idea before we actually got there!"

"I know… but I… I couldn't…"

"We're fucked," Harry groaned, facepalming.

"No, we're not! It's gonna be fine. It will all be fine! We're going to have a great time, my cousin will get married and it will all go as planned."

"Why did I let you drag me into this?"

"For my grandma's cherries. It was easier to lur you here than for the wicked witch to fool Hansel and Gretel."

"Knowing that they both get devoured at the end of that story, perhaps that wasn't the best analogy you could come up with."

"The White Witch and the Turkish delights?"

"Edmund betrays his family!"

"But he doesn't get eaten!"

Harry couldn't refrain a laugh as he shook his head at you.

"You really have a special talent to get me into trouble, huh?" he laughed.

"You're the one who's always had a bad influence on me!"

"Who are you kidding?"

It was your time to laugh, resting your head against the seat while your smile lingered on your lips.

Despite all that you had to worry for, you felt happy. Happy to be in Scotland, and happy for your cousin, and happy to see your family, and happy to enjoy it all with your best friend.

Your next words passed your lips before you could think them through, but they were earnest, so you didn't regret them.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you're here with me."

A tender smile formed on his lips, and he reached for your hand resting on your knee, giving your fingers a warm squeeze.

"I'm happy to be with you too, lambkin."

"Y/N!"

"CASSIE!"

You got almost tackled by your cousin the second your feet touch the ground as you climbed out of the car. Harry could only quietly chuckle at the scene, a fond smile on his lips.

"I've missed you so much!" she pouted. "Why did you have to go all the way to California?"

"I know. I've missed you too."

"I'm so glad you could come this week though, it wouldn't have been the same without you."

"I'm so happy to be here. It's gonna be amazing. And you're soon going to be married!"

"Dear God, don't remind me," she pulled away with a grin on her face. "Actually, please do remind me, cause I love the idea."

You both laughed, before she would turn to Harry, giving him one of her bear hugs too.

"Harry! You sneaky little thing! I knew you had a crush on Y/N, always had one! It was more than time that you made a move!"

Harry and you exchanged a quick glance, while he blushed and let out a nervous giggle.

"Well, you know me. I'm a slow one."

"Just took you… how long? Twenty years?"

"Give or take a few months, yeah, I guess," he ran his hand through his hair and let his fingers slip down to grab on the back of his neck.

"Well, look at you two!" she cooed, " you look so cute together! But you must be exhausted after your flight. Come on, I'll show your room!"

The lodge was set on the shores of the loch, and it was breathtaking. All around the quiet water, hills were covered with trees and forests. The blue sky matched the colour of the water it was reflected upon, a few clouds drifting leisurely far above. The leaves of the trees all around had just started to change their colours, green, yellow and timid orange shades mingling in an autumnal patchwork. There were a few tiny boats sailing across the loch, some people fishing during the clear afternoon, and if the air was chilly, the bright sun was enough to make it pleasant to stay outside.

From your room, you had a beautiful view directly on the loch. If you opened your window, you would only have to take but a few steps to dip your toes in the cold water.

It was magical.

"Cassie… this place is perfect for your wedding," you told her with a bright grin as you enjoyed the view of your bedroom. "You and Amy are going to have such a beautiful ceremony!"

"I know," your cousin nodded, with emotion making her voice a little shaky. "I'm so lucky to have found her. She and her family are arriving later this evening, I came ahead to get all my guests settled. We're so excited!"

You gave her another hug, before she would dry the tears that had gathered at the corner of her eyes.

"Alright, enough of that! I'm going to let you settle down, and then you can join us in the reception room. Your parents just arrived, Y/N, actually. They're getting ready too. Have you told them that you two are together now?"

Harry and you exchanged a glance.

"Not… really," Harry answered with a grimace.

"Oh… that… well, good luck with that." Cassie forced a smile as she spun around and walked out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Yeah, I reckon we're going to need some luck indeed, or a miracle, at this point," Harry mumbled under his breath, sitting on the foot of the bed.

"Don't be like that," you nudged him as you let yourself fall by his side.

He heaved a sigh, taking a better look around the room, which was rather spacious. A large queen size bed was set at the centre, with a TV right in front of the large windows revealing the gorgeous sight over the loch. A door on the right side of the room led to the bathroom, the rest of the wall covered with a closet. On the left, there was a little table, a sofa and a couple of chairs. All the room was painted in deep blue and cream shades, that complimented perfectly the wall covered in driftwood around the windows.

Harry stood up to explore the closet, finding with ease some extra blankets. He grabbed a pillow and put it on the sofa with the blanket, making you frown.

"What are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow, answering as if his actions were obvious.

"Well… I assumed that I would be taking the sofa. You want to leave me the bed?"

You hesitated for a couple of seconds, but then shook your head at him.

"Harry, we've been friends for over twenty years. I think we can share a bed."

"You sure?" he asked, visibly surprised.

"Wouldn't be the first time," you chuckled. "Try not to kick me out of it this time though, would you?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"We were fourteen when that happened…"

"Still…"

"I mean… we haven't done that in a very long time," he went on, his tone wary and full of hesitation. "We were… we were much younger, then. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I won't. It's alright. You sleeping on the couch would be ridiculous. Besides, the last time we did that, we were twenty, we were fully grown already," you laughed at the memory, remembering how you had both felt sore the next morning after sleeping in your tiny bed in Oxford. You hadn't minded your painful limbs though, Harry coming to visit you while you were busy studying at university was all that mattered.

He grinned as he remembered the night as well, and he tried to hide the blush that blossomed over his cheeks.

"Yeah… my back remembers it!"

"Would you feel uncomfortable if we shared the bed?"

"I don't think so. I mean… it's a pretty large bed. There's room for both of us."

"Come on then, bring back your pillow. As long as we both wear pyjamas, I don't feel like it would be awkward."

"I did not plan on sleeping naked with you in the room, even if I stayed on the sofa," he replied, rolling his eyes at you.

"And I'm grateful for that," you laughed at him.

After unpacking some of your belongings, you were ready to step out of the bedroom.

Harry took a deep breath, reaching for the doorknob.

"Are you ready?" he asked you in a tender tone.

You gave him a warm smile.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's face my parents."

With a nod, Harry opened the door, and you walked across the building to find your family, about to announce who your mysterious boyfriend was.

********************************************

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[neon-junkie]

The Great Escape

Summary: If there’s one thing Sheriff Gray can’t resist, it’s a pretty outlaw on their knees in his jail cell.

Pairing: Leigh Gray x gn!Reader

Word Count: 2109

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Rhodes, BJ’s, Strangers to lovers, Drinking, Dirty talk.

Notes: I’ve already posted this, but Tumblr deleted the whole thing?? so yeah, here’s a repost lol 

Leigh staggers into his office, drunker than he was when he left a few hours ago. He's probably been at the Saloon, leaving his office completely unguarded whilst he spent his shift getting drunk. One of the deputies did pop by here and there, but only to grab a couple of items and leave. Surprisingly, they're all not as stupid as they look, as you saw them take the cell keys when they left. But that's about as smart as the people around Rhodes are.

Leigh takes a seat at his desk, attempting not to fall off his chair as he kicks his feet up onto the surface, a small amount of dust spilling onto the wood that he's trailed in from outside. He rummages through the draws until he finds a small bottle of gin, pulling the cork out and taking a swig. His eyes meet yours as the bottle is removed from his lips. He keeps his gaze on you as he licks the gin from his lips, putting the cork on and placing it on his desk.

You're sat back on the cell bed, head pressed against the cold brick wall, watching him purely for entertainment purposes. Him and his boys were a strange bunch, and every time they appeared, they did something that'd leave you forcing back your laughter, not wanting to risk being told off. They were odd, but Rhodes was odd, so it was no surprise.

"You been watchin' me?" Leigh asks.

"Sure," you shrug.

"Why?"

"It's funny watchin' a man such as yourself get drunk on duty," you reply.

"You tryna disrespect me?" he questions.

"Hard to disrespect someone who disrespects the town he swore to protect by drowning himself in moonshine," you mock, enjoying the way his cheeks turn even redder than before.

Leigh frowns as he takes his feet off his desk, slowly standing up and making his way over to your cell. He places one hand on the bar to prop himself up, tilting his head slightly as he speaks to you with that awful southern drawl.

"You can't tell me nothin' about disrespect when you ain't even the one followin' the law," Leigh tuts.

"Ain't gettin' drunk on shift also not following the law?" you question.

Leigh opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it again. He stands there for a few moments, the cogs in his head slowly turning as he decides on a reply. With a small wave of his hand, he moves off the topic, quickly changing it to something else instead.

 "You know, for an outlaw, you're far too pretty. Why'd you turn to a life of crime when you could have married any fella you wanted 'n' lived a life of luxury?" Leigh asks with a few cracks to his voice that you try not to giggle at.

"Those fancy men ain't as pretty as I am," you joke.

"And them outlaws are?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, Sherrif..." you begin as you stand up from the bed, slowly pacing over to him. "Them outlaws are far more fun and unhinged than you civilized folk, or folk pretending to be civilized. Ain't you tempted to a life full of pleasure and enjoyment?" you ask, stopping in front of him.

Leigh's eyes momentarily look you up and down, but he remains in the same position with one ankle crossed over the other, and one arm leaning against the bars above his head.

"I already got a life full of pleasure and enjoyment right here, darlin'," Leigh tells you.

"You sure? Cause I don't see no ring on that finger," you jokingly pout.

"You tryna ask if I'm available, Stranger?"

"I know you're available, Sheriff," you smirk. You enjoy the way Leigh's face drops, letting out a sigh as he shifts his weight to stand upright, his arm moving away from the cell.

"You bitch," Leigh frowns, "you tryna insult me?"

"I must have if you're gettin' worked up over this," you continue to smirk, enjoying the way Leigh's face continued to drop. "What's a matter? You sad cause you can't get no pussy?"

"You're temptin' me to enter that cell and give you a spankin' for talking down to an enforcer of the law," Leigh reply, resting his hands on his gunbelt as he puffs his chest out a little.

"That just sounds like a good time for the both of us."

"Is that what you like? I ain't surprised that you're the rough type," he says.

"And I'm going to assume from the way a bulge is forming in your pants that you're into it just as much as I am," you grin as your eyes flick down to his crotch. You'd noticed his hard-on growing throughout the conversation, but you felt like now was the perfect timing to point it out.

Leigh's face continues to drop. He straightens his back and takes a step back, debating on turning around and walking away, or attempting to cover himself up with his hands. Both are embarrassing, just as much as this situation that he's accidentally walked himself into. So instead, he faces you and smirks as his hand returns to resting on the cell bars above him, leaning forward to speak against them.

 "Now how's about you do us both a favour and get on them knees?" Leigh orders.

"Else what, Sheriff?"

"Else I'll turn around 'n' walk out," he shrugs. "I ain't takin' anythin' by force."

You study his expression for a second before slowly dropping to your knees, pressing them against the cell bars as you look up at Leigh and bat your eyelashes, waiting for his next order.

"Good, real good," he says as he begins to unbuckle his belt, swiftly chucking his gunbelt to the floor far from your reach, still not trusting you to behave yourself.

His eyes are on yours as he pulls his length out, slowly stroking himself in his hand. His cock is just as pale as he is, with a soft red tip and the faint outline of a few veins. He's more than enough to satisfy your needs, and your mouth instinctively falls open as he pushes his length between the cell bars.

"That's it," Leigh says as you slip his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and lowering your head on him.

He lets out a soft moan, eyes half shutting as he grips onto the cell bars tightly. His forehead rests against them, eyes watching you as you begin to bob your head along his length, trying not to giggle at the way his voice continues to crack even when he's moaning.

You press your tongue against the underside of his cock as you move, feeling his veins run along your tongue. Leigh moves one of his hands off the cell bars, reaching through and tangling it into your hair. He doesn't push at you, simply resting his hand there as he enjoys you taking the lead.

"Shit," Leigh sighs, his eyes finally shutting as he lets out a choked moan. Either this man was extremely sensitive on a normal day, or the alcohol had heightened the nerves on his cock. You can feel his length twitching and throbbing more as every second passes, and he doesn't hold back on his moans, letting them escape his lips freely. It was late, and you'd be surprised if anybody was out at this time, but surely a few townsfolk would be walking past every so often as they trickle out from the Saloon.

"Shame about these bars," Leigh sighs. "I'd like to put it in you, but you just had to break the law, didn't you?" he tuts, his eyes slightly opening to meet yours.

"You don't trust me, Sheriff?" you ask as you pull off his length, replacing your mouth with your hand.

"Not in the slightest," he replies, shaking his head.

"But you trust me to put my mouth around your cock? Ain't afraid I'll bite it off?" you question as your hand pumps him.

"I know you won't do that, not unless you want a real punishment," he replies. "And I don't mean just a spanking," Leigh adds.

"You wanna tie me up and fuck me whilst I'm defenseless? Is that your form of punishment?" you ask as you bat your lashes.

"Oh, now that's tempting. I'll save that for next time though, seeing as you'll be here a while whilst we sort out transporting you to Sisika."

"Well, I'll look forward to that," you smirk, moving your mouth back on his length as your hand pumps the parts of him that your mouth can't quite reach.

 As you begin to work up your pace, you reach your hand through the cell bars to grip onto the belt loops of his pants, pulling his hips forward until they're pressed right up against the cell. Leigh lets out a moan at your eagerness, his eyes falling shut as he takes a tighter grip of your hair, his other hand gripping onto the bars, tight enough that his knuckles turn white.

He continues to moan heavily, eventually having to lean his weight against the cell to stop his knees from buckling under him. You're making this man see stars as you continue to bob your head along his length, your hand working at his base, your tongue pressed firmly against the underside of his cock.

Leigh lets out a choked moan and half opens his eyes, quickly telling you "I'm gonna cum." The sight of you on your knees tips him over the edge as he spills his load down your throat, resting his forehead against the cold cell bars as he pants heavily.

You pull off his length, swallowing him as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Leigh opens his eyes fully to see you standing up, his mouth still parted and his cheeks redder than his hair.

"I can't believe I just let you do that," Leigh says as he fastens his pants up. "Gonna be a real shame to see you leave."

"Why don't you just keep me then, huh?" you wink.

"Oh, don't you tempt me. I'd break the law if it meant gettin' that treatment every night," he sighs.

"Some Sheriff you are then," you smirk, watching as Leigh moves his weight from the cell and attempts to stand upright, still drunk and hazy from your hard work.

"Now don't you say that," Leigh tells you as he slowly stumbles back to his desk, picking up his gunbelt on the way and after many attempts, managing to put it on, though it sags a little lower than usual.

Leigh takes the already opened bottle of gin on his desk and makes his way to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he tells you as he exits, not locking the door behind him. You assume another deputy will be switching over with him soon, but after about ten minutes, nobody has arrived.

 Nows your chance. You take the cell keys from your pocket that you had managed to unhook from Leighs belt when he was far too occupied. There was a reason why you grabbed hold of his belt and pulled his hips against the bars, and it seems Leigh hadn't clicked on to that.

Leigh's eyes suddenly go wide as he reaches behind him to take his house keys off his belt, only to find the usual metal loop with all of them on it was missing. For a lawman, he was stupid enough to keep everything on there - cell keys, house keys, office keys, etc.

Shit.

Leigh attempts to run back to the office, stumbling the whole way, only to find the door wide open and an empty cell inside. His keys are sat on his desk, at least you were kind enough to do that, but his draws full of liquor had been emptied, along with a few boxes of bullets and some snacks for the road.

Leigh shakes his head as he leans back on his desk. How was he stupid enough to fall for that? Sure, it felt good, real good, but what story is he going to tell the others when they ask why you were missing from your cell? That you gave him a blowjob whilst he was drunk on the job and managed to swipe his keys from his belt whilst his cock was down your throat?

He's going to have to think of a story quick since he can see one of his deputies approaching, ready for their shift.

[handlewcaare]

When one read the comic books, being a teenage hero was a helluva lot easier than it was.

Spiderman didn’t have to watch his grades gradually plummet with each “emergency” meeting the Avengers set up for him. Nor did he have to turn in half finished homework because he forgot to do it when he ran off to handle a Behemoth of a beast. It was smooth sails for the likes of some friendly neighborhood vigilante.

Badd wished it was that simple.

He couldn’t complain it was all that rough. Kids at school knew of his devestating strength, so much so that a few would text him about a monster nearby. At times, he’d handle a monster in exchange for a free tutoring session for a class he was struggling in. It was a fair exchange, a life for a decent test grade.

Some people at school would greet him, but he was hardly popular. If anything, he was just as good as company as a cardboard cut out. Someone to briefly pause what he was doing to stoically pose for a photo-op. Though, some people just assumed he wasn’t as friendly as the stature he put on.

“Badd, right?”

His brow arched, momentarily breaking the signature snarl he naturally adorned (it wasn’t a scowl, it was just his face). The voice came from a girl who’s face was speckled with a constellation of freckles. He knew of her, that she was a new transfer student from H-City, but he never got to know who she really was.

“Ya know anyone else that looks like me?”

“Yeah,” the girl remarked, “hate to say it but a pompadour isn’t exactly a unique feat of yours.” Despite his frown, she went on to resume, “I was gonna ask if you had a spare hair tie.”

Out of all the things she could have asked him to do, she asked for a meager hair tie. She might as well have asked a practical mountain of a man to do her makeup. What an odd thing to ask, “how the hell do ya know I even have one??”

What should have been a snide remark about how he always had a spare hair tie for his little sister was accented with a shrug, “The girls in my track team say you do. I don’t mind using my shoelaces though—!”

“Ya can do that??” He implored as he surrendered the hair tie that was nestled within his pants pocket, “wouldn’t it be flying out of yer hair or somethin’ ?”

“You just have to know how to tie it,” after she briefly gave her thanks, she secured her dark hair within a high-ponytail. After a beat, she made a full presentation of the bun atop of her crown. “Ta-da! How does it look?”

“Like a pineapple.”

What insult would have made girls scoff or bark out a bigger insult at him only prompted a wrinkle from the girl’s nose as she laughed. Her grin radiant, almost contagious for a guy renowned for his intimidating glare. It didn’t take the girl long to skip back to her team—‘thanks Badd!’ She would chirp over her shoulder—and he offered a small wave of goodbye to her.

To say it had been the last time they spoke would have been a blatant lie. The girl, who’s name was revealed to be Hikari, would be variant in her greetings. Some days would just be utter small talk: ‘how are you?’ ‘Fine, you?’ ‘Could be better,’ and other days would be exclusively full of excitement. Most notably were they the days that she had just finished her track season or after practice:

“—what I’m saying is that Ayame started acting funny when she dropped the baton,” Hikari said as the two of them sat along the edge of the rooftop during lunch. Her brows furrowed as she plucked a piece of grilled salmon out of her bento box and set it over for Badd to eat.

“Ya still won though, right?”

“Yeah, but it was like something startled her? I can’t say what exactly, but she got a little frazzled after the tournament,” she hummed as she pursed her lips, “maybe ‘m overthinking it.”

“Ya gotta bad habit of that,” he quipped as he took a bite of the surrendered salmon, “she prolly jumped cus she dropped it.”

As it turned out, that wasn’t wholly the case.

The more he talked to Hikari throughout the months in school, the more exposure he got from Ayame. How she often would ask for one of her friends to come with her to the bathroom or how she would stay longer than an hour or two after practice. He wasn’t a psychologist, but Hikari’s concern became more understandable.

Once he was invited to eat lunch with Hikari and her track team, that was when he met Ayame.

As always, Hikari was rather jovial with introductions. Her excitability practically lightened the mood, even when some girls felt a little unnerved to be around a guy who could easily crush a monster’s skull with an indestructible weapon. Those girls he left very well alone for their comfort. The others were met with his gruff nature, he wasn’t sure whether Hikari told them he had a soft spot or not, but Ayame was the one who stood out the most.

The girl was kind and soft-spoken. She loved talking about her cat named Sakusa and she couldn’t help but find pictures of Tama to be an absolute delight. Though, Badd couldn’t lie, Sakusa was just as adorable.

The thing was she couldn’t afford to look him in the eye, nor could she barely manage a tone beyond a small murmur. When Badd would growl out a ‘huh??’ over a mean jest, she would flinch instinctively. Such a response evoked a small ‘sorry’ from the bat-wielding hero.

Lunch became rather awkward between them after that. Fortune came in Hikari’s emotional intelligence, otherwise Badd would have tried to make some means of dramatic compensation. He picked up a giant bouquet of roses for Zenko’s concert when he missed her piano recital once.

It wasn’t until school was no longer in session that he caught a glimpse of Ayame retreat to an older man. Her arms folded across her chest, though the heightened bark of the man made her flinch once more.

The man could have blended in well with the white collar types: nicely trimmed suit, slick back hair and an expensive pair of gloves that would have made Amai Mask green with envy. Their insignia was rather reminiscent to a bamboo lily.

He didn’t just have money, he had money to buy himself out of consequences.

By now, the grip around his signature bat became rigid in a white-knuckled grasp. His storm merely accented with a twirl of his instrument to rest atop of his broad shoulder.

“—and I told you to do the dishes!” The older man exasperatingly barked, “the hell were you doing??”

“I just...” Ayame paused as she shuffled closer to the masonry, “I h-had practice okay? It’s not a big deal—“

“It is a big deal!” His voice was now a tornado that swam tension within the air. His face was beet red and his fists practically quivered from the intensity of his own storm, “I had my fuckin’ brother over and—!”

Without a hint of hesitance, Badd rammed the hilt of his bat directly into the man’s diaphragm. The sheer velocity of his strength evoked a shriek from Ayame and a wheeze from the stranger. Had he known he shattered a rib or two, he probably would have offered a menacing simper.

“Do Yer own damn dishes next time,” when the man attempted to scramble to his full height, Badd hadn’t hesitated to step in front of Ayame. It wasn’t everyday he handled an abusive shithead, but they were marginally easier to handle than a stray papermache volcano come to life.

As the man scowled, his glare dripped over to Ayame, “this isn’t over—!” Once the threat had seeped, Badd simply let his metallic instrument slam into the concrete. A cobweb of weight bloomed under the strain.

“You bet Yer ass it is,”

This was a monster, no doubt, but he had heard from Daichi that some monsters liked to isolate their victims. Norte dam syndrome or something like that. As soon as the man retreated, Ayame began to present signs and symptoms of that.

“He wasn’t going to hurt me,” her voice was distant compared to the staggering man who retreated with a very polite warning. “He was just being an ass, okay? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know what bein’ an ass is,” Badd scoffed, “and that wasn’t it.”

Being an ass meant Hikari poking fun of Badd crying in the middle of Zenko’s piano performance or Badd poking fun of Hikari not knowing how to do algebra, but being able to chemistry. Neither of them would have dared to clench their fist at the other, let alone make the other flinch in response.

Ayame only shook her head, “no, he just... he didn’t mean it.”

“ ‘s that what he tells ya?”

“Of course not, I—“ she sighed, her small shoulders slumped when she practically hung her head, “look, I know you’re supposed to be a hero, but he’s just a guy. You must have bigger priorities, right?”

Bigger priorities meaning bigger monsters; nothing like the abusive asshole nextdoor. Badd couldn’t help but wonder if that was really what being a hero meant to these people, that they were just as fictional as their comic book alternatives.

Whether the answer was blatant or not, it didn’t matter, “I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt, so call Hikari and stay with her, alright?”

“W-What are you gonna do??”

Badd simply unbuttoned his uniform jacket and let it draped over his shoulders.“ ‘m gonna go be a hero.”

It was a slow day at the notorious deadman detective agency. The gentle hum of the fan being the only company the detective had, among the various files of cold cases he tried to decipher in his day off. He didn’t mind the breaks, rather he milked them as often as he could, but they could be rather tedious at times.

Fortunately, his answer came in the form of his phone vibrating against the table. The caller ID consisted of a simple “Badd”. Chances were that the kid needed someone to pick up his sister or ask about homework he didn’t understand.

“Well, good afternoon to you too,” Daichi hummed leisurely.

“Ay, real quick!” If Badd hadn’t been huffing so much, he wouldn’t have assumed the intensity of the situation required a running start, “ya know anyone who’s got a flower on their gloves?”

There was a pregnant pause when Daichi tucked the phone along his shoulder. What sprawled evidence files had been tucked into their respective cabinet drawers, yet there wasn’t anything that could have resembled a nondescript flower. Aside from the insignia a murderer had carved into the wood of his victim’s furniture.

“What kind of flower was it?”

“Iunno??” Badd grunted, seemingly vaulting himself over a fence from how the chains rattled under his weight, “like a Lily or somethin’ ??”

Had his blood not been lethargic like tar, it would have ran glacial through his veins. He never quite noticed how reminiscent it was to a lilac flower, only that it was scrawled and messy. Though, it would have been a bold assumption to make Badd would keep him alive, “You’re planning on going after him, aren’t you?”

“Yep!”

He figured.

Hastily did Daichi retrieve his beige coat and slid his arms through the sleeves, “don’t do anything like kill him. I’ve been looking into cases like—!”

“Ah, I gotta go. I think I see him!”

“Badd, wait-! Wait, did you hear—?!” When the line was cut off to evoke a triad of monotonous beeps, Zombieman hissed a curse under his breath when he rushed to grab his keys and head to C-City. He didn’t even bother to shelf his evidence back when he bolted out the door.

Kids, he swore...

[animetrashlord-007]

AHS ~ Haunted

Word Count;; 1.7k

Genre;; Suggestive, Humour 

Pairing;; Obito x Reader

Published;; 2017-10-22

My Masterlist

Akatsuki Halloween Special Masterlist

   “Damn this old house!”

   You flipped over onto your back, your eyes burning a hole into the ceiling while you tried to focus on anything else besides the moans echoing throughout the halls. The wind picked up and began to howl, branches slammed against the windows and the entire house began to tremble. According to the landlord who had been generous enough to loan it to you and your companion for a night, it was an old home with a long history, though you’d soon figured out that translated to ‘creepy and possibly possessed’.

   Leaning forward while scrunching the smooth bedding between your shaking fingers, you squinted at the dark corners of the room. As the minutes passed, your mind began to play tricks on you and your imagination offered up its most grotesque creations. You considered yourself to be tough, but it was an unfamiliar environment and you never could manage to calm your nerves when this late at night. With demons and wraiths materializing in the shadows before your very eyes, taunting you with their sadistic grins, your resolve weakened. Desperate times called for desperate measures after all, and you knew that falling asleep without his help would be no easy task.

   Turning to the sleeping figure next to you, you gave his arm a light squeeze before whispering his name in an attempt to wake him. Your words fell on deaf ears, but you weren't the type to give up without a fight. Using your other hand as well, you squeezed a little harder. Speaking a little loud, you called out his name two more times, yet he still didn’t stir. With an angry huff, you held his arm in a vice grip and shook it with a little too much fervor. His only response could be felt beneath your fingertips as his muscles tensed for a brief moment.

   Shock flooded your senses upon feeling just how hard and toned his arm felt. A small blush tinted your cheeks as you continued to hold his large, muscular bicep. You weren't expecting him to feel so buff; you hadn’t realised he took such great care of his physique. With your original concerns of ghouls and monsters all but erased, your mind wandered to places far worse. Images that no friends, let alone mere co-workers, should have invaded your thoughts. You could picture his skin glistening with sweat and his tight muscles rippling beneath his form-fitting tank top as he worked out, his body enticing you with its every movement. Every dip and curve of his body was visible as he stripped down, ready for a steamy shower after such an intense session. It was a sight straight from one of your best dreams and you wondered if you had fallen asleep at some point. A loud gasp slipped past your lips when you realised your hands were caressing his shoulders and, as if with a mind of their own, began to trail down to his lower back. It took just a second for your brain to process what you had done and for your hands to retreat from their conquest and return to your side, but the damage had already been done.

   “A surprise massage? Did I win the lotto?” The man beside you snickered. His eyes held a playful glint and no signs of fatigue as he gazed up at you. “How’s a man to sleep when all he can hear is the soft moans and pleas of his beautiful partner?”

   “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn't say anything, and there was definitely no moaning. Keep your weird fantasies to yourself,” you snapped, your embarrassment evident in your shaky voice and the scarlet warmth spreading across your stern face.

   “Really? Was it a ghost that was calling my name then, begging and pleading for me just moments ago? ‘Ohh, Obito. You're so handsome and strong, please protect me with your powerful body. I'll reward you in any way your heart desires!’”

   “What?! You're delusional! Just go back to sleep!” The room fell back into silence after your outburst, but it was uncomfortable and tense. You spoke up once more once it became too much to bear, your voice a low whisper as your eyes met his dark ones, “How long have you been awake? How much did you hear?”

   He chuckled, leaning forward until you could feel his breath on your skin, oblivious to your pounding heart as he replied, “‘Damn this old house! If only my prince was awake to protect me! Obito, my handsome, dark knight, please wake up and comfort me. I'm so scared and lonely! Oh… ooh, my... Your body feels so amazing, I just cannot resist the urge to touch you. Oooh, Obito, mmm-’”

   “That didn't happen! You were obviously dreaming.”

   “Maybe. Either way, lucky me,” he teased, flashing you a small smile before resting his head back down on his pillow. “Get some rest, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

   “I can't sleep.”

   “Well, I can. Good night.”

   Muttering a few swears under your breath, you flopped onto your side and stared at the wall. He didn't respond and soon his light breathing became snores. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes to hours, but sleep evaded you. Weariness drained the last of your energy and the overwhelming weight of lethargy smothered you but still you couldn’t sleep. On the brink of both dreamland and madness, you tried counting sheep and reciting a lullaby but it was futile. It wasn't until the sun peeked up over the horizon that you felt the sweet embrace of rest.

   The next morning, or rather, the next afternoon, you awoke with a start. Obito was nowhere in sight but at least the house no longer looked like something pulled straight from a horror film. Sunlight drizzled in through the small gap between the curtains. The attic had settled, no longer creaking, groaning and inducing childish fears. It would have been peaceful had you not been staying at this forsaken hell house for work. Instead, anxiety gnawed and clawed at your stomach. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as you glanced at the clock.

   “Fucking dammit all to hell!” Your enraged shout could be heard clear down in the kitchen where your co-worker was awaiting you with a coffee in hand and a large grin on his face.

   It was a mere five minutes before you stormed down the stairs, hair brushed but not styled and clothes clean but unkempt. You glared at Obito and his giddy expression which, for some reason, incited undeniable anger within the very depths of your soul. Each footstep was a miniature tremor as you stomped into the room and stood before him.

   “Oi, bastard, why didn't you wake me up? We're gonna be late!”

   “So?”

   “So? So?! I didn't spend the night in this weird ass house with your lame jokes and pathetic attempts at flirting just to be late to this meeting! I didn't spend the night sleeping in the same damn bed as you just to lose my job!”

   “It's too late for us to arrive on time. Might as well not go. Besides, I never said you had to sleep in that bed. You didn't want to sleep on the couch. That's all on you.”

   “That's a shit attitude, but I guess it suits you perfectly,” you huffed in resignation as you yanked the coffee cup from his hands.

   “Cheer up. Things could be worse… though, they definitely could be better.”

   “I hate you.”

   “That's not what you said last night when you were feeling me up. Have you no shame? Assaulting me while I was sleeping?”

   He snorted as you choked on the warm beverage, spurts of coffee dribbling down your chin. With flushed cheeks and a ton of regret, you staggered to your feet and reached for the napkins on the counter beside your asshole of a partner. A smirk played on his lips as he eyed your movements. You knew that look and nothing good ever came from it. Your suspicion was confirmed when he grasped your wrist within his large hand and dragged you down onto his lap.

   “Obito! What are you doing?!”

   “It isn't fair if you get to have all the fun. Besides, that's my coffee you wasted. Consider it retribution,” his voice was deep and husky as he purred into your ear, his tongue lashing out to trace along the curve of your sensitive earlobe. You clamped your mouth shut to hold back your startled yelp. Any sounds would only provoke him further and you didn't plan to give him the satisfaction.

   His lips grazed down the length of your jawline, stopping on occasion to focus on spots that earned even the slightest reaction, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive areas. Soon he found his destination and his tongue lapped up the droplets of coffee as they inched down your neck. Once he was decided that your jaw was clean, he moved down to the crevice between your breasts. Your cheeks burned a deeper shade of red as you watched him lick up the few drops that managed to fall so low. His eyes flickered with lust and a touch of danger and the sight sent a jolt throughout your body.

   Discontent with your lack of response, his teeth sunk down into the soft flesh below your collarbone. His obsidian eyes held no mercy and his smirk deepened, excitement written all over his face upon hearing your pained whimper. Without hesitation, his hands cupped your ass and after giving it a light squeeze, he pinned you down onto the table. Your eyes widened as his body hovered above you, his warmth clouding your judgement. All you could smell was his scent, thick and overbearing as he gripped your jaw hard enough to leave a mark, his mouth inches from your own. To your surprise, he didn't make another move, instead choosing to caress a lock of your hair and peer into your eyes with tender adoration.

   “What's wrong?” You asked, the words breathless and bordering inaudible, “Lost your confidence?”

   “Just admiring the view.”

   “Shut- shut up,” your light stammering earned a chuckle from him and you were quick to furrow your brows, “It's not funny!”

   “I can't help but laugh. You're just so cute. However, I've held back long enough.” The mirth disappeared from his piercing eyes, replaced with such an intense focus that you found yourself at a loss of words. His tone concealed none of his desire as he spoke, his voice low and seductive, “You’re mine, and I'll be having you here and now.”

[holographic-chogi]

Protector pt.18/?

Author: holographic-chogi

Pairing: fem!reader x skz

Warnings: swearing, abuse, violence, the cold.

A/N: So, I’m very torn on whether or not I want to do a sequel. I have another story I’m planning for sure, so there will be more content regardless. However, I kinda love writing these characters so if you guys want to see more, I’d love to continue with this universe. We aren’t at the end yet (we’re a few chapters away) but we’re approaching. Lol and to anyone reading all these author notes for the first time, I’ve been extending the story quite a bit, hence me saying we’re getting close to the end all the time. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!! Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: a virus has wiped out most of humanity, and society has collapsed. People survive in groups where they live in constant fear and a struggle to survive. Women were the primary victim of the virus, leaving few behind. You are one of the few, kept in secret since the beginning. However, you’ve just been caught.

Masterlist

The overwhelming soreness was the first thing you noticed.

You woke up on the floor, sprawled out beside the bed, back to the bare wooden floor. As you became more and more lucid, you became aware of the several points of pain spread throughout your body.

Your left shoulder, your right forearm, your neck. Your wrists. Not to mention, a nasty headache.

You forced yourself up, limbs shaking from exhaustion and overuse. Would it have killed you to crawl into bed before passing out? You guess you could cut yourself some slack this time.

You lean back, flinching as your back cracks in various places. Sore was absolutely an understatement. 

You flinched as your door swung open, a feeling of dread sinking in as it revealed Hyuk on the other side. He seemed very nonchalant as he eyed you and the room up and down. 

“Damn. He really did go to town.”

You don’t bother responding, choosing instead to continue stretching out your back.

He clears his throat, and you finally spare him a glance. He looks smug. “Taeil sent me over to make sure you weren’t still tied up.” he crossed his arms, licking his lips as he continues to stare you down. It makes you shudder. “I almost wish you were. I bet you’d like that, hm?”

You narrow your eyes at him. You feel vulnerable in your current state, especially with this man looking at you like you were prey.

He continued, kneeling down to your level. It was then you realized that his look was becoming one of lust, no longer just smugness.

“Strip.”

Your eyes widen and your knuckles go white from the grip they have on your forearms, completely ignorant of the pain it causes. You couldn’t handle another one of these sick freaks, not the way you are now.

You can’t hold back the exhale of relief once you hear the knock at the doorway.

“Hey, I’m here to pick her up.” Hyoseob’s voice, thank god.

Hyuk looks back lazily at the open door, before looking back at you. “Next time, then.”

He strolls out, as if nothing had happened. Clearly Jiho and Taeil weren’t the only people to fear in this place; you couldn’t be any less safe. 

Hyoseob walks past him, and the two don’t exchange so much as a nod before Hyuk closes the door behind him.

As soon as the latch clicks, Hyoseob’s visibly relaxes, before scanning you up and down warily, “rough night?”

You burst out laughing, unable to ignore the hilarity of that understatement. Your whole body radiates pain as your shoulders shake; your voice think with hoarseness as you use it for the first time today. “Yeah. We’ll call it a ‘rough night’.”

He snickers a little, “Yeah, you look like shit.”

You chuckle a bit more, before letting your laugh die down. “I bet.

He sits on the floor next to you, “any specific reason you’re on the ground?”

“I think I fell asleep down here last night,” you pause, “Or maybe passed out.”

He nods, holding out a hand to you, “ready for breakfast part two?”

No. You’d even rather have another date with Taeil. Just the thought of Jiho’s face made your entire body tense. “I’m guessing I don’t have much of a choice.”

He spoke solemnly, “you probably don’t.”

Luckily, he had grabbed your good hand as he hoisted you up, pulling you to your feet as you winced. You wobbled a bit on your feet as vision spotted black, gripping Hyoseob’s shoulder to keep yourself from keeling over. “Sorry, I’m just kinda lighthea-”

You freeze mid sentence, clutching your gut as overwhelming nausea radiated from your stomach, “I-I’m,”

You vomit again, doing your best to lean away from Hyoseob as you lose what little contents of food you had left. When you look back at Hyoseob, you see his face clouded with worry.

“What happened to you?”

“I’d rather not get into it”,  you croaked. Your voice sounded terrible.

He nodded knowingly, “You’ve obviously been strangled, from the bruises and vomit, and,” He raises your right arm, revealing the burn on your arm, “And you’ve been burned. Anything else I should know about?”

You look at him blankly, voice deadpan, “My other shoulder is dislocated. Pretty sure my wrists are fucked up from those ropes too.” You nod towards the ropes lying loosely on the ground beside your bed.

He slowly lowers your hand, “We need to see if you can walk on your own. If you can’t, we’re gonna need to push our plan backward a few days.”

You pull out of his grasp, determined, “Oh absolutely not, I can walk.” 

You start trudging towards the door, ignoring your body screaming at you to rest. “I can’t survive another day in this place.”

---

You were sitting back at the table from yesterday, nervously tapping your spoon as you were taunted by the empty seat in front of you. Hyoseob was beside the table again, eyes directly ahead of him.

You whispered under your breath, “What am I gonna tell Jiho about the bruises? You said they were visible.”

He looked down at you for a second, pointedly, as if to say ‘you know you aren’t supposed to talk to me in Jiho’s house’.

Then you heard the steps, and the familiar racing of your heart continued.

However, to your surprise, Jiho rushed past you, beelining for the door. “Sorry, can’t stay for breakfast. There’s been someone spotted nearby on patrol.”

You open your mouth to ask who, but Hyoseob notices and beats you to it, “Anyone we should be worried about, sir?”

He shook his head, “He’s gone now, but that Thai kid from JYP was spotted snooping nearby, so keep an eye on Y/N” He glared at you, “seems you can’t stop causing trouble.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. Bambam? What was he doing here? Did the others know something was wrong? You kneaded your hands together, smiling to yourself.

Little did Jiho know, you really, truly, weren’t alone.

Jiho scoffed at your expression, turning towards the door before adding, “He won’t get far.”

Sure about that? The man has some long legs.

As the door closed behind him, Hyoseob spoke from behind you. “We should leave now, nevermind waiting until tonight.”

You whirl around in surprise, “are you sure that isn’t too risky?”

He nods, “Everyone’s gonna be distracted with the intruder today, and no one will question us being alone, since I’ve been assigned to protect you.”

It makes sense. Excitement begins to bubble in your stomach as you stand from your chair, breakfast forgotten. “Then let’s get the hell out of here!”

He chuckled before gesturing to your plate, “Food first.”

---

Despite the hurry the two of you were in, you couldn’t deny how good the chilly air felt. The snow was obviously an obstacle, but it looked so pretty as it collected on the ground.

You had been “escorted” to your room to grab your things, and the two of you had traveled through the forest from there. The snow clouds above made it difficult to identify the cardinal directions, but you could still make do.

However, the pace the two of you were going at was fast. Faster than what was comfortable, especially in your condition. Your breaths were ragged as you tailed behind him, a familiar burning feeling returning to your lungs.

When you vomit the first time, Hyoseob stopped to cover it, making sure it’s untraceable. It’s a common after-effect of being strangled, but with each time you did it, he appeared more and more concerned.

You braced yourself against a tree with your good arm as you retched, fingers numb as they clutched the bark.

“Fuck, Y/N. Can you make it?”

You nod vigorously, wiping your mouth before staggering over. “I’m fine. Keep going.”

Could you? You weren’t sure. What you were sure of, is you would die trying before staying another second at that hellhole. You’d much sooner give your life to the winter before any of those men, any day.

And so you kept going. You tried paying attention to your surroundings, but Hyoseob just powered forward. What surprised you, is that beside your own fear, he seemed terrified too. He had seemed so calm and unmoveable before, but you couldn’t miss the trembling in his fingers as he pulled you forward. You’d blame it on the cold, if it weren’t for the look in his eyes.

Like wild game just before you shoot it between the eyes.

Suddenly, you hear shouting in the distance, and the two of you freeze.

You look up at him, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “It’s okay, it sounded far off.”

He shook his head, gripping your hand tightly. His breath showed in a cloud as he spoke, “Not far enough, and it’s in our direction. They’re tracking us.”

He released his hand completely, “I have to throw them off now. You’re on your own from here.”

You shivered as he rubbed your forearms, trying to warm you up before he departed.

“Stay traveling in this direction until you find a clearing, there’s usually a ton of rosehips there, but I can’t guarantee it because of the season.” He turned away from you, ready to bolt. “From there, there should be a path to the left that takes you to the farmhouse. It’s long, but you can make it.”

You smile at his retreating figure. “Rosehips can survive the winter just fine.”

“So can you.”

Taglist: @leetaemintrashnumber1 @peachescherryheart @lico-rice526 @claire4799 @lanie-is-a-unicorn @tottalbabe

[onthepageoftears]

Kill Your Darlings — Ch. 1 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: So this is the start to my first ever series (yeah im not nervous posting this at all). I’ll be posting one chapter each Friday! This is more of a prologue, but definitely worth the read for the background! Overall, I have to warn you, this story is a very slow burn. I haven’t finished writing it yet, but I know some ~things~ take a while to happen, so stick around!

Anyway, your comments and feedback are more than appreciated, so don’t be afraid to leave me some messages :)

Also, if you’re @ on the taglist is italicized, it means it wouldn’t let me tag you, so you might have to change your settings :)

Summary: Y/N, a skilled assassin, gets their newly assigned target.

Warnings: language, mentions of death/killing/murder, mentions of abuse and r*pe, alcohol consumption

Words: 1,996

Support me?

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Taverns were one of your least favorite places to meet. The stench of the unfortunate man’s breath wafted through the air, on top of the lingering odor of cheap alcohol. Men staggered around with their mouths wide open, yelling obscenities — women pulled down their dresses just enough to gain attention, glaring at anyone who passed. Everyone was way too loud, as if the sound of their slurred words were more valued over anyone else’s.

Your hood hung low over your head, just high enough to leave space for you to see. Your eyes immediately scanned the tavern — it was smaller than the usual ones you met at, but just as packed. The stuffiness of the room practically smacked you in the face as soon as you walked in, almost making you scrunch your nose. The smell was way worse than you remembered.

You kept your face stiff as your eyes stopped at a table near the back. Without a second thought, you made your way past the piles of people and towards the familiar head of hair you would recognize in a mass of a hundred people.

“I see you still have an impeccable taste for meeting places.” Your voice caused him to look up just as you sat across from him, removing the hood that covered most of your face.

“You know I do.” Rauf smiled proudly despite your obvious sarcasm. He gestured to the full cup of ale that was already in front of you. “A drink?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight.”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s just like old times.” Rauf was right. The length of the walls, wood of the tables, even the stench of the ale in your cup. It reminded you of the many nights you and Rauf would retreat to the taverns after training. A hard day’s work requires a hard day’s ale. It was what he said when he treated you to your first, and definitely not last, drink. You were pretty sure he just wanted an excuse to get drunk — which, you wouldn’t blame him for. Your line of work was never easy, not even for a veteran like him.

You picked up the drink with a sigh. “What’s the occasion?”

“Can’t I just want to have a drink with my favorite niece?”

“Only niece. And not by blood.” You reminded him every time, but it didn’t stop him from saying it.

Rauf was a family friend, always had been. You called him uncle, even when you were old enough to understand he had no relation to your family’s bloodline. Growing up, he was a common visitor at your parents’ home, frequently coming for a chat over some dinner. He would ruffle your hair on his way out, send you a wink every time. You always loved his visits, because it was the only time your parents stopped fighting; in those times, you felt like you had a normal, happy, family. Now, Rauf was the only one of your family that you had left.

You shook the memory from your mind and put the cup down. “You have a new target?”

Rauf was busy watching a woman drunkenly dance to the poor excuse of music, but he responded nonetheless. “When do I not?” He turned back to his own cup and chugged it down. After he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you. “People are shitty, Y/N, always have been.”

“My point exactly.” You tapped the table beneath you, trying to keep your patience. Sometimes, it was hard for you to imagine Rauf running an assassin’s guild. He was responsible, sure, but in front of you, he acted like any other man in the tavern. In this case, that meant being almost unable to tear his eyes from beautiful women. There was always a charm about him, though, like the charisma of a well-respected bard — without the annoying craving for attention. He was messy looking, but in a good way, and his smile was infectious. At a single glance, you wouldn’t think he has killed people.

You took another sip of your ale, though it didn’t taste like much of anything.

Rauf turned his gaze back to you, a playful smile on his lips. “Maybe you should learn to dance. Perform, act. You used to always put on plays for me as a youngster.”

“I’m acting right now.” You faked a smile when he quirked his brow. “Like I don’t want to kill you.”

Rauf leaned back, his smile growing wider. “We both know you don’t kill innocent men.”

“You call yourself innocent?”

“Point taken.”  He signaled the server to bring another round, eyes almost immediately trailing back to the dancing woman.

It was your job to assassinate those deserving, but you really felt like bending the rules right now. Rauf could be distracted, but tonight he was especially so. You clenched your jaw, urging your own patience to hold out a little longer.

It was understandable why Rauf would want some time off from talking about the job. As Rauf mentioned the last time you spoke, business was, to put it lightly, booming. He had been giving out more assignments than usual — our work finally paid off, he told you. It was quite exciting, to be honest. After years of working alongside Rauf and his trusted team, you all hoped the guild would reach a wider range of people in need. 

After all, your guild was different than most; rather than be paid to kill anyone, Rauf made sure there was an unjust act committed by the targeted party. Abuse, rape, murder, any of the likes. You were vigilantes, in a way — though even the most well-known assassins of your guild wouldn’t call themselves that. You all knew you were killing — it just helped you sleep at night to know the ones who were being killed weren’t…undeserving of the death.

The rise in work was great, but also taxing on Rauf. Even just looking at him now, you could see the weight he was holding on his back. His eyes were more tired, overworked. Of course, he would never admit to it, and neither would you. Complaining leads to laziness. It was one of his many scoldings throughout your training. 

So, Rauf needing a break from his work made sense. It just made you antsy knowing there were more people out there committing heinous acts — more people you needed to terminate.

The server returned with two new cups of alcohol. As Rauf continued to watch the woman dance her troubles away, you tapped your finger on the table, shifted in your seat, fought yourself from rolling your eyes, and finally cleared your throat. You spent enough time waiting around. “Rauf.”

“Hm?” He only slightly turned to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before answering, “The target.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Finally, his attention was brought back to the task at hand. You straightened your back, readying yourself for your next assignment.

Rauf’s eyes searched your own. Finally, he spoke.“He’s a loud mouth—“

You rolled your eyes. “My favorite.”

“I wasn’t finished.” He took a big gulp from his cup and set it back on the table. “A bard.”

“Even better.” You followed his actions and chugged the rest of your drink, putting it back without so much of a blink. “What’d he do?”

Rauf’s mouth twitched. The sarcasm was spilling from his expression before he even spoke. “You’re gonna love this.”

“I bet.” You had to hold yourself back from leaning forward in anticipation.

Rauf pursed his lips. Then, he let out a quick breath. “Raped. A bunch of women.”

You quirked a brow. “A bunch?”

“Twelve. So far.”

You shook your head. “Not ‘so far’. Just twelve. There won’t be anymore.”

“Not after you’re done with him.”

“Damn right.” You settled back in your seat, anger already filling your veins. If not for your years of training with Rauf, the anger you felt would overwhelm you, cause you to be irrational and slam your fist into whoever’s face was closest. But now, you learned to contain that anger and use it on your targets. And boy, did you use it.

A thought entered your mind, but you bit your tongue for a few seconds. As Rauf lifted his cup once more, you tried to sound casual. “Who put down the money?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know that’s anonymous.”

“Of course,” You shrugged. “But if it was one of the victims, I hope you gave them a reasonable price.”

Rauf studied you for a moment. “It wasn’t a victim. It was a… family friend of the victim.”  You narrowed your eyes at him until he groaned. “Yes, I gave them a discount.”

“Good.” You leaned back with satisfaction. Now that that was out of the way, you needed to figure out the details of the target. “This target got a name?”

Rauf tapped the edge of his cup with a finger. “Julian Alfred Pankratz. Goes by Jaskier. Not quite famous, but well-known enough.”

Your eyes glazed over with near boredom. “I haven’t heard of him.”

“You haven’t heard of anyone. Well, I suppose that’s partially my fault.”

You ignored his comment. He often tried to guilt himself for not teaching you more about things other than training, fighting, killing. No matter how many times you told him you didn’t mind, he brought it up anyway. Besides, you didn’t think you wanted to know of this bard, especially after what he’s done.

“Where is the target located?”

“He was in Oxenfurt two weeks ago, at the time of the most recent…incident. Payer said he’s now in Novigrad.”

“Not far.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two, allowing the noise of the tavern to fill in the gap. You noticed Rauf eye the same woman who had been dancing practically all night. This time, you allowed your eyes to make their way to her as well. She was so carefree, seemingly impossible to tire. There was so much life in her, but you wondered what she went home to. An empty house or a full one? An abusive husband or a loving partner? A loved child or one she wished she never had? These people, they each had their own lives that lead to either pain, anger, or devastation. Each and every person would have their own life, their own struggles, their own sins. Some of them wouldn’t even realize it, or care.

You shifted your attention back to the nearly full cup in front of you. You picked it up and swirled the liquid around before bringing it to your lips. Before every assignment, you felt the same nerves as you did now. It was a mix of eagerness and hesitation. In this case, you wanted to get the son of a bitch bard, no matter what it took. But an assassination in a city like Novigrad, for a somewhat popular bard? It would be tough, that was for sure.

Rauf must have noticed your clouded eyes, as he nodded his head towards you. “You think you can handle this?”

Despite the underlying nerves, your lips curved upward and you quirked a challenging brow towards him. Within a second Rauf nodded with a similar smile, silently understanding the uselessness of his question. Of course you could handle it. It would be tough, yeah, but the job was always tough. You were trained by the best, after all.

Rauf lifted his cup and spoke with the rim to his lips, “Meet me at the Novigrad guild when you’re done. You have the usual time to finish it.”

You took one last sip of your drink, then stood from the chair as you lifted your hood over your head, “See you soon, Uncle Rauf.”

After a single nod from him, you left the tavern and descended into the darkness, ready to eliminate your next target.

———————————————————————————————————

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[bebychangbean]

Strangers Ch.1

Demon! Han Jisung x Reader

First chapter of a 3 part series. This story isn’t gonna be lighthearted and fun btw. It’s based on a nightmare I had a few days ago,,, that should tell you enough. 

Warnings: minor character death, violence, heavy themes.

Next

Word count: 5k

Jisung had always known he was different. There was a voice in his head that had been there since he was a child. The voice told him to do horrible things: hurt his friends, run into a busy street, jump out the window. He had complained to his mom about it for the first time when he was four, but she had already known what was wrong with him.

Jisung had started showing signs of possession when he was five years old. It started with a flash of darkness in his eyes and his tiny hands scratching into his mother’s arm, leaving small red marks on her pale skin. It escalated quickly, Jisung’s body starting to float when he slept, whispering to himself unintelligibly, a different voice coming out of his own mouth.

His mother recognized the second voice and she knew that his condition was her fault.

He shouldn’t have been born.

Jisung became severely violent by 2nd grade, fighting with other kids and getting into trouble. Teachers thought he was just a troubled kid, but Jisung’s mom knew better. Jisung had explained to her the feeling he would get before a fight: blurry vision, involuntary movements and a foggy feeling in his head.

When Jisung was 8, the two of them moved to Malaysia where Jisung could learn to control himself as he got older. He went to school there, causing mayhem until he was eventually pulled out and homeschooled after beating a kid so mercilessly that they had to be taken to the hospital.

By the time Jisung was 14, he could control his impulses fairly well. The voice was still there, and he still talked to it in his dreams, but he was no longer in danger of hurting anyone.

He and his mother moved back to Korea, allowing Jisung to go to highschool and live as normally as possible. He graduated without a hitch, making tons of great friends that stuck with him into his first year of college.

~

School had just ended and Jisung was heading to a nearby convenience store to grab a snack with some friends. His head had been hurting all day, the voice inside just a little louder than usual, his fingers twitching, arms moving with a mind of their own.

Something was wrong.

He pushed those feelings to the side as he approached the counter, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket to pay for the orange juice and the bag of M&M’s he was holding.

His eye twitched, his vision blurring heavily, the edges tinted red. The girl behind the counter said something, but the ringing in his ears drowned her out almost completely. His head was spinning as something in his mind activated his fight-or-flight responses against his will. He staggered as his heart rate jumped.

Jisung’s arms reached out before he could stop them, one hand securing itself around her throat and the other on the side of her face. Hyunjin looked over just in time to see the commotion, letting out a shout of alarm and running toward his friend.

He was too late, the girl’s eyes rolled back in her head, a scream caught in her throat as Jisung snapped her head violently to the side, his own head mimicking the action mockingly. A disgusting crack resounded throughout the shop.

Hyunjin grabbed Jisung’s arms, pulling them away from the poor cashier who fell promptly to the ground.

The tall boy’s shouts alerted the rest of their friends who were scattered around the small convenience store and Chan ran over to see what was wrong. He dashed immediately behind the counter to check on the girl, alarmed at the awkward angle her head was at and the stillness of her pale figure. He lifted her by the arms into a sitting position, looking into her vacant eyes as he checked for a pulse and watching for even the faintest rise and fall of her chest. Finding nothing, he looked frantically up at Hyunjin.

“She’s not breathing!” he yelled, panic taking over.

Hyunjin was still holding Jisung by the shoulders, shaking him and trying to get him to respond.

“What did you do?” he screamed, eyes bulging, tears streaming down his face at his best friend’s actions, “Jisung what the fuck did you just do?”

Jisung’s vision was still cloudy, intrusive thoughts echoing in his mind. Everything was going too fast, Hyunjin’s shouts, the vicious movement of his already dizzy body.

Within seconds the rest of the boys were crowded around the counter to see what was wrong. Chan shouted for someone to call an ambulance as he continued trying to wake up the girl who was clearly long gone. Jisung covered his ears with his hands to block out the voices of his friends, but it only amplified the shrieks in his head.

“Run!” the voice said. “Get as far from here as you can!”

And Jisung listened. Ripping Hyunjin’s hands off his shoulders and shoving past Seungmin and Minho. He sprinted out the door and down the street, shoving pedestrians, running faster than he ever had, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Jisung didn’t even bother to look where he was going, his feet taking him wherever they pleased, whipping around corners and across streets. Cars honked furiously at him as he dodged through traffic, trying to get away from the police he knew would soon arrive.

Jisung was so in his head that he didn’t hear the heavy padding of the feet that followed him. Chan had jumped the counter to run after him as soon as Jisung left the convenience store, Hyunjin and Minho close behind.

Chan’s chest was heaving from the effort of chasing his friend–was Jisung always this fast?–he heard the sirens ringing out from the convenience store a few blocks away.

Hyunjin was having a hard time keeping up, but Minho grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along, the three of them not letting Jisung get away.

The four of them ran for at least 30 minutes, Jisung trying to get out of the city before the cops found him. He was sure that his face would be on the news within hours. He wondered what his sentence would be if he was caught. He thought briefly about his friends who had stayed behind in the store, selling him out to the police. He thought of the girl he killed. He didn’t even know her name, his eyes skipping over the nametag that was clipped to her shirt.

Jisung shook his head as he stopped to catch his breath, leaning against the side of a building on the outskirts of Seoul. The other three caught up to him there, Chan grabbing his arm to stop him from escaping again.

“What the fuck, Jisung,” he said, gasping. “Where are you going?”

Jisung looked up at him and Chan noticed the tears in his eyes and the scared expression on his face. He realized that Jisung’s life could never be the same after this. He also realized that he didn’t want his best friend of four years to go to prison and never be seen again.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jisung whispered, burying his head in Chan’s chest.

Chan wanted to push him away, still scared and disgusted with the younger boys actions. He would never be able to forget the feeling of holding the limp body of the girl who looked like she couldn’t have been much older than himself.

“I couldn’t control myself,” Jisung continued, “It’s like something took over. I couldn’t stop it in time.” He looked down, clutching onto Chan and attempting to steady his breathing and stop the panic from rising inside himself.

“We can’t stay here,” Minho said. “The police will find us if we’re out in the open like this.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at Minho’s words. Was he implying that they keep running and hide from the police?

Jisung wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, Minho locking eyes with him reassuringly. “I’m not leaving you, Jisung,” he said, taking his hand and pulling him away from the wall.

The two boys had known each other since they were children. They grew up on the same street, keeping in contact even during the six years that Jisung was in Malaysia. Minho was the only person Jisung had ever told about the voice in his head and the older boy was sure Jisung wouldn’t have acted this way on his own. He knew it wasn’t his fault.

Minho started to run again, a little bit slower this time, pulling Jisung behind him. Chan kicked off the wall next to them, getting ready to run after the two.

“You two better explain this later,” Hyunjin muttered, taking off as well.

They continued to run until they were just out of Seoul, then walking along a dirt road on the edge of Suwon. They didn’t forget to toss their phones in a nearby puddle, effectively killing them. They stomped on them, just to be safe, and buried them a few feet off the dirt road they were walking on. They weren’t taking any chances of getting caught. If they were gonna run away, they were gonna do it right.

The houses in Suwon were few and far between, farmland taking up a majority of the wide landscape. It was unlikely that they would be found here, so they decided they needed a place to stay for the time being.

“That patch of trees looks pretty nice,” Minho said, pointing out a relatively hidden spot a few yards off the road.

“We don’t have blankets,” Chan pointed out.

“Or food,” Hyunjin added.

“Well damn, I didn’t realize y’all wanted to be picky,” Minho shot back, rolling his eyes.

“I wouldn’t call basic necessities ‘being picky’,” Hyunjin argued, the two quarrelling like usual.

Jisung quietly kept walking along the road, clearly not content with sleeping outside in the middle of autumn. Chan caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Jisung didn’t say anything–he’d been eerily quiet since they’d left the city–and lifted his hand to point at a cozy looking house about half a mile away.

“You wanna stay there? What if someone lives there?” Chan asked, wary of showing their faces to strangers. The boys had pulled facemasks from their backpacks to hide their identities once they got out of Seoul, Hyunjin and Chan pulling up the hoods of their jackets to shield themselves from oncoming cars.

“I don’t care,” Jisung responded, his voice hollow and devoid of emotion.

Chan simply nodded and kept walking with him, Minho and Hyunjin still bickering quietly in the back.

~

The knock on the door startled you. You nearly burned yourself on the edge of the pan you were cooking with as you turned to look at the window next to the door, the sheer curtains showing the silhouettes of two boys holding hands nervously. You turned the fire down and wiped your hands on your apron, walking toward the door. Sure, as a young girl living on your own it was probably not wise to open the door for strangers, but the crime rates were low here and you were willing to take your chances.

Upon opening the door, you were greeted with four nervous faces, two smiling and the other two with shifty eyes.

“Can I help you?” you asked politely. You figured they were neighbors who had just moved in nearby.

“Um…” the boy with curly hair trailed off, trying to figure out how to word his next sentence. “We need a place to stay for the night and we were wondering if we could maybe stay here?” Chan asked, wringing his hands in front of him.

Your eyebrows raised, unsure of what to do in this situation. Obviously you shouldn’t let them stay. They hadn’t even told you their names. Then again, the sun was starting to set and it would soon be quite cold outside. You’d feel horrible if they froze to death.

You wordlessly stepped aside, letting the four boys into your home, slapping yourself mentally as you realized that you were such a stereotypical horror movie character. But they looked so tired, the least you could do was feed them and get to know them a little. They seemed relatively harmless.

You led them back to your kitchen, the space now a little more crowded than before. “Please, sit,” you said, gesturing to the dining table on the other side of the room.

The boys moved cautiously from the doorway as if they were worried about scaring you if they went too fast. You simply resumed your cooking, adding a bit more rice to the pan to accommodate for your newcomers.

“So what’s up with you guys? How’d you get out here?” You asked, thinking for a second before adding, “And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me your names.”

“I’m Chan,” the boy with the curly hair from before spoke up.

“Minho,” added another boy from his seat at the table. He nudged the boy next to him, silently telling him to go next.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he said. He turned to the final boy whose eyes were cast down at his hands as he played with his fingers. “That’s Jisung.”

You nodded and introduced yourself, “I’m Y/n.” You waited for them to continue talking as you turned back to your fried rice, still not knowing what the boys were doing showing up at your house at 7 pm.

Chan spoke up, “We’re on vacation,” he lied, “We came from Seoul to spend a week–”

“We’re on the run,” Jisung spoke up, cutting off Chan’s next words. You spun around and looked blankly at him. Those were the first words Jisung had said to you, and they weren’t reassuring your decision to let them into your house. “We’re wanted,” Jisung looked dead at you. “I’m wanted.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. Of course your life couldn’t be like some fairytale movie and you had to meet a band of criminals. You had half a mind to just tell them to leave and chase them out with a knife, but they’d been otherwise nice and harmless so you almost couldn’t believe Jisung’s statement.

“I don’t even want to know what for, do I?” you asked rhetorically. “Anyways, I hope you guys like fried rice.”

They did, apparently, the four of them ravenous after running for almost four hours. There wasn’t much talking during the meal, but Chan made sure to thank you for your hospitality, the other boys following suit. They expected you to kick them out once dinner was over and to be honest, you probably should. You already knew that they were criminals and you knew nothing else but their names, but it was still unlikely that they’d survive the night outside.

You had two spare rooms anyway and the couch was pretty comfortable. It was fortunate that the boys had come when you were the only one home, your parents living in Seoul for work and your older brother travelling overseas for school. You were taking a year off of college to focus on getting a job and making money so that your tuition didn’t put you in debt for life.

Chan stood up from his seat, bowing respectfully to you and thanking you again for the meal, Hyunjin standing up shortly after. The boys shuffled towards the door, Jisung the last one to move.

“Wait,” you called out. “You guys can stay the night.”

Minho turned around, shock riddling his features. You were actually going to let them stay? Even after Jisung blew their cover? He was almost going to question your decision before Chan cut in. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away, thanking you profusely and bowing.

You led the boys to your brothers room and upstairs to your parents room. You watched, amused, as the boys played rock-paper-scissors to determine who would be staying on the couch. The five of you didn’t talk much after that, the boys throwing their backpacks near the foot of the beds and passing out rather quickly. Chan had told you that they’d come on foot all the way from Seoul so their sleepiness made sense. He didn’t explain why they were hiding from the police, but you figured you’d have an easier time sleeping if you didn’t know. Ignorance is bliss.

You made sure they all had water and that Chan, who was taking the couch, was comfortable before slipping upstairs into your room.

You locked the door behind you, still not fully trusting the strangers, and you tossed and turned a little before finally falling asleep.

~

Jisung had never shared a bed with anyone before, so tucking up next to Minho in your parents’ bed worried him. Minho was his best friend and the only one who truly knew Jisung’s secret, but he was still wary of his sleeping habits. He prayed silently that Minho would sleep all the way through the night as he drifted off to sleep.

His prayers were apparently unanswered as he woke Minho up around 2:00 am.

The older boy fought for the blanket he was sharing with Jisung while they slept, rolling over to face him when he felt the blanket shift further off of his body, exposing him to the chilly air in the room. Minho slowly peeked one eye open to look at the small boy, confused for a second as to why Jisung was not there. Rather, the blanket was dragged upwards into the air and Minho’s eyes followed it to his friend’s levitating body.

Jisung was floating almost three feet above the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, blanket still covering the lower half of him. The boy was whispering quietly to himself, two distinctly different voices coming out of his mouth.

Minho listened, stunned, as they conversed. He realized that the second voice, the deep one that certainly did not belong to Jisung, was speaking a different language. It wasn’t one he recognized, but Jisung responded in Korean. Minho only understood bits of the conversation, but it seemed like Jisung was accepting praise from the other voice.

Minho slowly came to his knees on the bed, arms reaching out to hold Jisung and gently pull him back to the bed. He was worried that Jisung might wake and fall suddenly, so he was as gentle as possible. It didn’t take much effort to lower the boy back down, but as soon as he removed his hands, Jisung’s body would start to float back up.

Minho threw an arm and a leg over the sleeping boy to hold him down. Jisung’s whispering hadn’t stopped, but the voices were a little quieter than before. Minho didn’t know why he was so calm when faced with his levitating best friend, but he simply shut his eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

~

You woke to the quiet sound of your phone alarm going off at 6:00 am. You had set it early to make sure that you would be the first one up, not wanting to give the boys the time to wander around your house. You stayed in bed for a bit, scrolling through your phone, killing time until you heard quiet voices in the room next door. Jisung and Minho were awake, it seemed.

You kicked your feet off the side of your bed, pulling the hood of your soft sweater over your ratty hair and giving yourself a once-over in the mirror. You walked out the door and down the stairs, finding Chan wide awake on the couch. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all (he hadn’t), but he still greeted you with a charming smile before getting up from the couch.

He followed you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and watching you pull out ingredients for a large breakfast. You didn’t know what the boys liked, but you decided omelets couldn’t be too bad.

Chan helped you grate cheese as you sliced up some ham and mushrooms for filling.

“Hyunjin doesn’t like mushrooms, by the way,” Chan said, breaking the silence in the room.

You snickered quietly at how well he knew his friends and continued on to cut up some green onions.

“Hyunjin doesn’t like onions either,” Chan added with a laugh.

“God damnit, he’s getting eggs then,” you said, exasperated.

The tall boy walked into the kitchen behind you, groaning and dragging his feet. He also looked like he hadn’t slept much despite how tired he was last night. He collapsed into a chair at the table, closing his eyes as if trying to get just another minute of sleep.

“Hey, picky,” you called out to him. He opened his eyes slowly, raising his eyebrows at the nickname. “How do you like your eggs?” you asked.

“Just the whites,” he responded, sinking back into his chair comfortably.

“What the fuck,” you whispered to Chan. He rolled his eyes and pulled a frying pan off the rack on the wall while you opened a cupboard to get the oil.

You made Hyunjin’s awful food first, sprinkling some salt on his dish and handing him the steaming plate of scrambled egg whites. It looked disgusting, but he didn’t look phased as he thanked you and started eating.

You and Chan then got to work making edible food, pulling out extra plates for the other two boys who came down the stairs together, holding hands. You almost made a joke before you remembered Jisung’s words from last night, the sudden realization of who they were hitting you in the face.

You had seen an article on your phone about a murder in Seoul. Police said that a young boy had killed a girl in a convenience store, but there wasn’t much more information about the case. You wondered briefly if those were the boys in your house before turning yourself back to the eggs at hand.

Once you had served the boys, you took your plate and sat on the couch in the living room as the table in your kitchen only seated four. You turned on the TV, scrolling to the news channel. You needed to confirm your suspicions before you decided whether you’d be kicking the boys out of the house today or not.

The boys heard the news anchor before they could stop you, their ears perking up at the familiar story, Chan shooting up from the table, eyes widening.

“Han Jisung’s whereabouts remain under investigation after his murder of Kim Eunjung in a 7/11 in Dongdaemun-Gu yesterday,” the announcer said.

You stared, horrified at the picture of Jisung on the TV. Chan’s head peeked out of the doorway to look at the TV, eyes fixed on his friend’s face.

You glanced toward Chan, your eyes meeting Jisung’s who stood behind him as the announcer continued talking.

“His three friends have also gone missing after Han ran from the scene,” pictures of Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho flashed across the screen. “If you have any information on the location of these people please call 119.”

You pulled your feet up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees and hiding your face. This couldn’t be happening. Jisung had already told you he was wanted, but seeing the police report had solidified the truth.

“Y/n,” Chan started. He didn’t know what he was going to say. They couldn’t get out of this one. “I promise we’re not dangerous,” he said.

“Oh really?” you asked rhetorically, your brain falling back on sarcasm to hide how scared you truly were. “Then what the fuck did I just watch?”

Chan couldn’t answer. Truthfully, he didn’t even know what was wrong with Jisung. The boy was usually so sweet and innocent, he didn’t understand why he’d lashed out so suddenly.

Jisung stepped into the living room and turned off the TV, his eyes not missing the way you flinched away from him. It hurt him a little bit, but he understood your actions.

He sat down on the floor in front of you, sighing to himself as he realized that he would have to come clean to everyone.

“I’m not fully human,” Jisung said clearly.

All eyes shot toward him except Minho, who had heard this story before.

“My father is a demon,” he clarified. “Minho is the only one I told, but I have my pieces of my father inside of me, feeding off my energy. He always speaks to me, but I can usually control his impulses and ignore his thoughts…” Jisung trailed off. “I don’t know what happened yesterday, but he took over. I couldn’t stop it in time.”

‘This kid is fucking insane,’ you thought to yourself, eyes blinking incredulously at the ridiculous story Jisung had just told. Chan and Hyunjin looked just as skeptical and Jisung started to sweat under their doubtful gazes. Perhaps he didn’t expect you to understand, but he hoped for a little bit of sympathy from his closest friends.

Minho spoke up to defend him, “He’s not lying,” he said. “He floats in his sleep. I saw it last night. And there were two different voices coming out of his mouth when he talked.”

“So you’re both crazy,” Hyunjin said accusingly, backing against the wall of the kitchen, shaking his head at his friends. Your eyes darted around the room, studying the boys' expressions.

“I don’t think he’s lying,” Chan said. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, things clicking into place as he remembered little moments with Jisung that hinted to his confession. “He talks in his sleep. Two different voices. I remember it,” he admitted. “I don’t know about the floating shit though.”

“How do you know?” Jisung asked, his question not helping his claims, but he was always careful not to fall asleep around anyone. He was curious when he’d slipped up.

“You fell asleep in my car one time,” Chan answered. “I remembered thinking it was weird, but I didn’t ask any questions,” he explained.

“Your seatbelt,” Minho interjected. “It must have held you down.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Hyunjin said. You could tell he was starting to panic, his voice a bit shaky, breathing unstable. Chan moved toward him, but Hyunjin pushed him away. The younger boy continued speaking, his voice getting louder with every word, “You’re telling me I was tossing and turning in bed last night trying to figure out why the fuck my best friend had just murdered someone right before my eyes when the whole fucking time you had a demon inside you?”

“I couldn’t have just told you though, could I?” Jisung asked. “You’d think I’m crazy. You already do.”

You were silent this whole time, watching the boys try to understand Jisung’s predicament. Trying to think of what to do next. You had never heard of demons being real before, only ever hearing about them in books or on TV, maybe remembering the faintest story of them in church when you were a child. There’s no way that was real. There was no evidence online or anything.

“Are there more of you?” you asked, the boys suddenly remembering that you were there. “I’ve never heard of any real demons before.”

Jisung was relieved that you were finally believing him. “If there are then they certainly haven’t said anything. I guess it’s the same as me never telling you guys,” he said, gesturing to Chan and Hyunjin.

You didn’t know what to believe. If he was telling the truth, then you should certainly kick him out of your house right this instant. And if he was lying then you should still kick him out. You didn’t know what was more dangerous: a boy with a demon in his head, or a lying psychopath.

You stood abruptly from the couch. “I think it’s time for you guys to go,” you said, ushering them toward the door. Sure it was rude of you, but all formalities were out the window the second demon boy had revealed himself.

“Wait,” Jisung said, suddenly terrified at the prospect of being caught by the police. “They’ll find us outside. I can’t go to jail, please,” he cried. “It’s not my fault. The police wouldn’t believe me. I’d have to plead insanity and–”

Jisung was getting worked up rather quickly, fighting against your gentle push toward the exit. His feet were planted and he clearly wasn’t going anywhere, his strength not matching up to his small frame.

“I’m not housing murderers any longer,” you said firmly, “I’ve already done too much. What was I thinking? Feeding you all and letting you stay the night,” you let out a sigh, disappointed in your foolish self as you continued to push against Jisung. “You guys could kill me any second now,” you added, making sure they knew how uncomfortable you were with their presences now that you knew the truth.

“Wait. Please,” Minho said, looking at you with his big round eyes. “He’s not dangerous. He’s controlled the impulses for 19 years. Yesterday was the first slip-up. It won’t happen again,” he assured. He didn’t even know if that was true. Maybe the first murder would open the flood gates and Jisung would go on a rampage. He had kept so much pent up inside of him for so long.

Jisung nodded furiously, willing to do anything to prevent you from turning him out into the street. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison, especially for a crime he didn’t commit on purpose, but he knew the CCTV footage from the 7/11 would be impossible to fight in court. He and his father had talked about it all last night.

You shook your head. How the fuck were you supposed to just let them stay here in your house? But even you had to admit that it wasn’t fair for Jisung to be thrown in jail for something he couldn’t control. Besides, he was only 19. He would spend at least half of his life in prison if he got caught, worst-case-scenario being the death penalty. How could you do that to him? You would never wish that on anybody.

You dropped to the floor and gave up entirely. “What am I supposed to do?” you asked yourself.

“Please just let us stay a little bit longer,” Jisung begged. You looked up to see his big, brown eyes fill with tears, “Just until we find somewhere else to go.”

You nodded, not trusting your words. You knew it was a mistake. You knew it was illegal to hide criminals in your house. If they were found here, you’d all be in trouble.

You were in some deep shit.

[fanfictionaries]

Little Lamb - Star’s Follower Celebration Writing Challenge

Prompt: “If you need anything, just call me, okay?” 

Pairing: Steve Rogers X female reader

Summary: Being the newest member of the Star Spangled Singers hadn't been the easiest thing. After becoming the victim of a cruel joke by the rest of the dancers, you remember the kind offer a certain Captain America had given you earlier that day. 

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Fluff, smut, heavy petting, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Thank you to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ for this lovely challenge! 

***

You stared into the mirror, breathing deeply as you the applied lipstick. Careful strokes of vermillion paired well with your complexion, brightening your face. Black lined your upper lids to symmetric perfection. Your scalp ached from the numerous pins that held your curls into place. The blue velvet halter of your costume fit you like a glove. You were the picture of perfection, but only on the outside. On the inside, a shaky, apprehensive girl screamed at the top of her lungs. The atmosphere of the room around you seemed to match perfectly with your inner turmoil. Margret couldn’t find her skirt. Frances couldn’t find her shoes. Evelyn’s hair wouldn’t cooperate. Doris needed new makeup. Alice felt fat. Irene couldn’t get her steady back home to write her. Gossip, chit-chat, and laughter filled the air as the women of the Star Spangled Singers readied themselves for their first west coast performance. However, despite the buzz of chaos around you, the only distinct sound in your ears was the thumping of your own heartbeat.

Today was the big day. You’d finally gotten your big break and you weren’t going to mess this up. You hoped. Having been a dancer since birth, you were ecstatic to be the new member of the traveling USO show. It was unfortunate that the previous girl had to break her ankle in order for you to be there, but details were so trivial. No. You were just tickled pink to be there. To stand on stage in hundreds of cities, raising money for the war with your fellow dancers and Captain America.

Speaking of the star-spangled man himself; you briefly spied on the golden-haired Hercules through your mirror as he sat in the corner writing in his little book. He seemed to be the only semblance of peace and serenity in the room. The worn leather binding of his notebook looked butter-soft as it molded perfectly in one of his large hands; the other gripped a small nub of a pencil as he furiously scribbled. For such a fine specimen, he was surprisingly shy. Throughout the last week of rehearsals, he’d stuck to himself, only speaking when spoken to. Any time the more mugbug girls of the group attempted to lay it on thick for him, fluttering their eyelashes and pouting seductively, he’d merely blushed and found an excuse to extricate himself from the situation. Captain America seemed to have no time for pick me ups. You wondered if he had a girl back home. If he did, she was the luckiest gal in the world, what with a man who barely batted an eye at the daily encounter of half-naked women around him.

“Ready for the big day, honey?” Ruth asked as she stood over your shoulder, her words kind, but her tone taunting. That had seemed to be the only downside to your life-long dream. The other girls weren’t as nice as you thought they’d be. For all the kind and bright smiles, they wore on the stage, the façade of niceties quickly faded the moment they disappeared behind the curtain. Most of them were decent to each other, aside from Ruth, but none had seemed to take to you yet.

Still, you weren’t ready to accept defeat. You wanted to fit in, and you wanted them to like you. So, when you answered, it was wholly sincere, “Yea, I’m really excited. It’s gonna’ be killer diller!”

“Well, aren’t you an eager beaver,” said Ruth, rolling her eyes with a sarcastic smile.

“Oh, lay off Ruth. She’s just a lamb,” said Doris, walking past in a hurry as she clipped on an earring. “Isn’t that right Little Lamb?”

Little Lamb. A nickname they had given you your first day of rehearsals when you’d walked in wide-eyed and full of nerves. You weren’t sure if it was meant to be endearing or mocking and at this point you were afraid to ask. Smiling at Doris, who returned it tight lipped, you placed your hat just right over your curls and pinned it into place. With another deep breath, you stared confidently into the mirror, you had this.

An hour later, it was evidently clear that you had not had it. While the performance overall had not been a total disaster, you were acutely aware of all your slip ups. A paddle turn, in place of a step turn.  A step ball change, in place of a toe ball change. You’d been half a beat off for the last four measures and you’d missed your mark by a good six inches. Needless to say, you were a failure. Sitting heavily into the chair of your vanity, you let your head rest in your folded arms as the rest of the girls swirled around the room, removing costumes and once again talking up a storm.

“Hey.” The deep resounding tone of a male voice made you turn your head, to see Captain America himself, braced against the edge of the vanity top next to you. The mask portion of his costume had been removed, leaving his hair a bit sweaty and mussed. “Y/N, right?”

“You’d be correct. Captain America, right?” you joked, smiling up at him in tired defeat, never even bothering to lift your head up. He laughed, a deep, full sound that caused your heart to flutter.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly. Steve Rogers,” Steve held his hand out to you. You sat up, taking his hand in yours briefly as you tried to fight the heat creeping onto your face. Your throat became dry, tightening up on you as you shook his hand. You were far from a khaki wacky gal, but there was no denying the effect Steve’s bashful charm had on you.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Rogers,” you responded.

“Please, uh, call me Steve. Just Steve.”

The sentiment made you smile wide. Steve. You liked it.  

At the sight of your pearly whites, Steve shifted uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he got onto whatever he had come over to say, “I, um, well the other dames, uh dancers I mean. They all know that—I mean I’m not as bad as I was at first but—what I’m trying to say is—gosh, I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?” Steve let out a small exasperated laugh and it became very apparent why he never spoke. He was adorably rotten at it.

You laughed with him, light and airy. “You’re doing much better than you think,” you said. It was hard not to look at the man endearingly. Everything about him screamed genuine and sweet. “And don’t worry—” you consoled him “—you did swell tonight. Much better than I did. No matter what you were like when you first started out, it seems you’re quite the natural performer now.”

“You think so?” Steve asked, surprised.

You nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely. Hey, I think everyone was going to get some food after this. Do you want to come with?”

Steve seemed caught off guard by your invitation, “Oh, well that’s very kind, but I’m gonna’ have to rain check.”

“Oh, okay.” You were a little disappointed at his answer, but you didn’t push him.  

“I guess I just wanted to say that I know how hard it can be, being the odd man out I mean. So, if you need help with anything or just a friend, I’m at the end of the hall on our floor. Room 326. Just give me a call.”

“Thanks Steve, that’s so kind,” you answered, touched and surprised at his offer. You watched as he pushed off from your vanity and began to head towards the door, before spinning around to face you.

“Remember. If you need anything, just call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

You didn’t expect to ever take Steve up on his offer. Especially so soon. You were a big girl. You could take care of yourself. You didn’t need Captain America fixing your problems for you. But, a few hours later when you finally managed to make it back to your hotel, feet bloody and blistered, calves aching and sore, you realized you might be in need of a friend after all.

You had gone out with the rest of the girls. At first, things had been fine as you all settled into a plethora of booths at the small late-night diner. But then, Ruth had started in on you. Really busting your chops. A few girls weakly tried to calm her down, but they didn’t seem all that committed to defending you. Snidely, she picked apart every flaw of your performance. After a bit you excused yourself to go powder your nose before you snapped your cap. Once you’d cooled down and decided to not let Ruth’s cruel words get to you, you’d walked out of the powder room with as much moxie as you could muster. However, the rest of the Star Spangle Singers were nowhere to be found. They had left you.

It would have just been a cruel joke and nothing more, had it not been for the fact that you had all shared taxis there. You were in a strange city. You had no idea where you were. You had no idea how to hail a taxi. And you most definitely had no idea how to get back to your hotel. You walked for hours, up hills and down streets until finally, you found your hotel. But by that time, the heels you had originally deemed sensible, were anything but. Limping, feet and pride incontrovertibly in pain, you made the even worse realization that you were out of bandages. Sighing deeply in defeat, you staggered down the hall to Steve’s door.

You knocked, short and firm, conflicting emotions coursing through you. On the one hand, you didn’t want him to answer – the night was embarrassing enough. On the other hand, the pool of blood in your shoes said to hell with dignity. At first you heard nothing on the other side of the door. Maybe he was asleep. It was pretty late. Just as you were about to turn around and head towards your room, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled and sleepy looking Steve Rogers.

“Y/N, hi,” Steve greeted you, a light pink blush coming across his face as he looked down at his attire. A thin white undershirt hugged his impressive torso and a pair of khaki’s hung low on his hips, undone, revealing light blue shorts underneath.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” you said, looking up at him sheepishly.

“No, no. I was just—I was up. What can I do for you (Y/N)?”

“I was, um, wondering if you happened to have any bandages,” you told him, looking pointedly down at your feet.

Steve’s eyes followed yours, growing twice their size when he took in the sight of your bloodied feet.

“Geez! Yea, come on in. I think I have something.” Steve moved aside, opening the door to his room wider, allowing you to enter.

Tentatively, you stepped inside, sitting at the small desk in the corner as Steve disappeared into the bathroom. Your feet screamed relief as you finally took the pressure off of them. When he returned, bandages in hand, Steve knelt on the floor by your feet. Placing a hand on the bottom of one of your shoes, he looked up at you, silently asking for permission to remove it. You nodded, wincing slightly at the friction of the patent leather against the freshly opened wounds. First the left and then the right was removed, hitting the hard wood with a dull thud. Cradling your feet in his hands, he inspected the battered flesh reverently.

“Um,” another deep blush spread across his face as he stared at your feet, “I can’t patch them up with—I mean you might have to—do you want me to or do you—”

He stuttered as his thumbs stroked lightly at the stockings covering your ankles.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, understanding what he was trying to say. “Yea, I can do it.”

Steve averted his eyes, looking up towards the ceiling, as you rucked up the bottom of your skirt to unclip the top of your stockings and roll the thin material down your legs. You hissed when the fabric peeled off of your raw feet. Placing the bloodied stockings on the ground, you gingerly placed your feet back in Steve’s hands. He took the action as an okay to return back to his ministrations, reaching for the wet washcloth beside him first. His hands were gentle as he dabbed away the dried blood from your skin. It was quiet in the room. Only the sounds of your breathing and occasional sharp inhale of pain could be heard. Although your skirts had been pressed back down, you couldn’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes lingered for a second on the expanse of leg that was slightly more exposed than before.  

“You’re quite good at that,” you remarked, watching as his fingers moved lightly, but with a practiced ease over the delicate flesh.

“My mother was a nurse and I’ve, uh, had a lot of practice.”

“Really?”

“Yea, I’ve had the tar beat out of me more times than I’d care to count,” said Steve, grinning slightly, as if thinking back on it fondly.

“Well, see, that I can’t imagine.” At your comment, Steve’s demeanor seemed to change.

“Why’s that? ‘Cause of the way I look?” he asked, a bitter edge to his voice as he focused entirely on applying ointment to your opened blisters.

Sure, Steve was tall, muscular, strong. You’d personally seen him lift a motorcycle over his head – however he managed to do that. But that wasn’t why you couldn’t imagine him getting beaten up.

“No. I just can’t picture anyone wanting to hurt someone so sweet,” you answered honestly. Steve’s hands stilled, the gauze slackening a bit as he paused in the middle of wrapping it around the arch of your foot. You had clearly caught him off guard with your compliment.

“I was the little guy back in Brooklyn,” began Steve, ignoring your statement. It didn’t bother you however, instead you listened whole-heartedly as he opened up to you. “People always like to pick on the little guy; makes them feel bigger, I guess. And, I was never smart enough to walk away. Bucky was always—”

“Bucky?” you asked, wanting to know every detail.

“My pal from back in Brooklyn. We practically grew up together. Bucky was always looking out for me. He used to accuse me of liking to get beat up. But I just never had patience for bullies.” Steve finished his story as he finished wrapping your last foot, “There you are. All patched up.”

“Thank you, Steve. Really.”

Stretching your legs out in front of you, you carefully pointed your toes, surprised to find that, with the application of ointment and bandages, they already felt infinitely better. Steve stood, grabbing the bloodied stockings and washcloth before disappearing once again into the bathroom to discard of them. He came back just as you were attempting to stand. At first you were fine, but two steps in and the muscles of your calves twisted and clenched, and you were going down. Steve caught you easily, allowing you to brace yourself against his arms. You held onto him tightly, afraid that your legs would give out from under you at any moment.

“Whoa, are you alright?”

“Yea, yea,” you laughed shakily, “Just my calves cramping up. Don’t worry, these pegs have seen worse days.”

“Why don’t you stay for a little while longer? Just until you feel like you can walk again,” Steve suggested, concern evident across his face. You nodded, this time sitting down at the edge of the bed with a sigh. Reaching down, you took your right leg in hand and began to massage the muscle. You felt the bed dip beside you and glanced up to see Steve staring at your hands as you worked the muscle between your fingers.

“What? You want do the other Captain?” you teased him. However, your impish smile faded to a look of surprise when Steve answered.

“Sure.”

Shifting your body to face his, you placed your left leg into his lap. The sensation was painful, but oh so good as he firmly rubbed your calves. The tense, knotted muscle easily gave under his grip. You sighed, leaning on your hands and letting your head loll back.

“I think you’re sweet too,” Steve spoke up in the silence. Lifting your head, you found him staring intently at your legs.

“Really?” you asked dumbly, unable to think of a better response.

“Yea. You’re so nice to everyone, even when they’re real jerks to you. They’re just jealous of you,” said Steve resolutely, looking up at you with a genuine smile. The moment your eyes met you were unable to look away. The azure depth of them pulling you in like some magnetic force. You studied his face, the high cheekbones, strong jaw, kind eyes, plush lips. He was the kindest, handsomest man you’d ever met, and he thought you were sweet. Steve thought you were sweet. Your heart could just burst.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper. Deep and hesitant.

“Yes?” Your voice was breathy. High and anticipatory.

“Would you be insulted if I tried to kiss you right now?”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t Steve.”

Delicately lifting your leg and placing it back down on the bed, he shifted closer to you, leaning in towards you. His lips were soft, tentative. He approached you in a manner so gentle, it could have brought tears to your eyes. Large hands cupped your face feather light and you sighed into the kiss running your tongue along his top lip. Steve’s grip tightened at the warm, wet sensation and he opened his mouth to yours. In turn, his own tongue swept past your lips, exploring eagerly. It was when the tip swept across the ridged roof of your mouth that you moaned lowly, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Boldly, you used his heavy body as leverage to sit up on your knees and straddle his lap. Careful not to fully seat yourself, you kissed him feverishly.

You whined lightly when Steve pulled away from you, the heavy mix of your grasping breaths filling the space between you.

“Y/N…I’ve—I’ve never—”

Oh.

“Have you never touched a woman, Steve?” you asked, brushing the strands of blond from his forehead.

Steve swallowed thickly, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your body, poised on his lap like a present all his own. He shook his head.

“Would you like to?”

You watched a fire ignited behind Steve’s eyes, his answering coming in the form of a heated kiss. His touch was still gentle, but there was a firm bite to it that had not been there before. His hands still remained on your face – one cupping the back of your head and the other on your cheek. But you could tell from the way his thumbs twitched and fingers clenched that he wanted to move them. He wanted to touch you. Reaching up, you circled his wrists and pulled them down to your waist.

“You can touch me Stevie—” the pet name slipped past your lips as his hands flexed around your curved hips “—Touch all you like. I’ll let you know if you’re doing something wrong.”

As if all he had been waiting for was your permission, Steve became a man possessed. Gripping you harshly, he pulled you down until you were fully seated on his lap, causing a small gasp to leave your throat. His lips traveled from your mouth down to your jaw and then your neck—kissing, licking, sucking. Those hands, the same hands that had delicately patched your aching feet, reached up, deftly working the buttons at the front of your dress. Once unbuttoned, he pulled back, taking a moment to stare at you. His eyes worshipped you, looking at you with such reverence and awe that for a moment you questioned if you hadn’t been replaced by some divine figure. His fingertips brushed up and down the soft silk of your brassiere. Gooseflesh appeared across your body, your nipples pebbling before his very eyes at the teasing touch. Pupils blown wide, he focused on the hardened nub in front of him, glancing up at you.

“May I?”

“Yes. Please Stevie.”

Slowly, he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, his tongue swiping across it through the thin fabric. You mewled, back arching and hips bucking. He moved to the other nipple, hand coming up to cup your forgotten breast. Your breathing picked up speed, the pleasure coursing through you. Pulling harshly at the top of the silk material, a resounding rip rang through the room. The remaining scraps of your brassiere hung from the metal wire and Steve’s hands. You should have been embarrassed. He should have been regretful. But neither of you felt any emotion aside from pure lust. At the site of your bare breasts, Steve’s eyes lit up, and he dived forward once again. While he placed lavish kisses to your breasts, his hands traveled south, rucking up your skirt to touch the naked skin of your thighs. Higher and higher they traveled until one hand was placed on the swell of your bum and the other teased your covered center.

“Stevie!” you gasped, your head bent forward and arms wrapping around his neck.

Your head was spinning at the mixture of gentle exploration and rough eagerness that came from Steve as he took from you with enthusiasm. Another rip of silk and the delicious sting of fabric tight against skin and your panties were gone, leaving yourself open and vulnerable to Steve’s touch. His fingers stilled once again, stopping just short of your heat. Catching your breath, you extricated yourself from Steve’s body and pushed on his chest. Taking the hint, he scooted back, pulling you easily with him, until his back was against the headboard.

“Prop your knees up for me Stevie,” you said, patting his legs lightly. He obeyed, bending his knees and bracing his bare feet on the mattress behind you. You leaned back against his legs, unwrapping yours from underneath you. You splayed yourself across his lap, stretching each leg out fully on either side of him. Pulling at your already high-risen skirt, you pulled it higher until it was around your waist and you were completely bare to him. Steve inhaled sharply, unable to pull his gaze away from your glistening folds. Reaching forward, you grabbed his right hand and brought it to you. Guiding him, you showed him all your favorite ways to be touched. Steve listened with rapt attention, and when you released his hand, you were far from displeased at his ministrations. His fingers stroked and circled in all the right ways.

“Like that? Is this good?” asked Steve, his brow furrowed in concentration and jaw slack.

“Yes, Stevie. Just like that. So good,” you whimpered, reaching forward to the impressively large bulge in his already unbuttoned khakis. Dipping your hand into his shorts, you pulled him from his confines. Steve stuttered and paused as you wrapped your hand around the base of his erection.

“Y/N, oh doll.”

“Don’t stop Stevie. It felt so nice. I just wanna’ make you feel good too.”

Steve began again, breathing heavy as you stroked him up and down. He slid a single finger past your entrance, aided by the sheer amount of arousal dripping from you. The both of you keened, hips rolling and lifting as you worked each other towards your release.

“Y/N, I’m—I’m gonna,” Steve moaned, his hips moving more erratically as you gripped him firmly, twisting your wrist at the head of his length with each pass.

“Me too Stevie. Me too.” And you were. You could feel the sweet release building as his hands massaged you inside and out.

Steve’s lips found yours, bridging the gap between your bodies as you desperately worked towards each other’s finish. It wasn’t until you felt the hot, sticky release of Steve splash across your hand, that you found your own release. You moaned into each other’s mouth, tongues and lips and teeth clashing together as ecstasy took hold of you both.

It was shortly after Steve grabbed a washrag to clean the both of you, that you found comfortable sleep in each other’s arms. Wrapped in his warm embrace, head on his firm chest, you awoke in the early morning. Rays of first sunlight shone through the window, casting light on Steve’s handsome face. He looked so darling when he slept, his long lashes laying delicately on his cheeks, plush pink lips parted slightly as he breathed deeply. Silently, you slipped from his grasp, noting the sweet way he reached for you in his sleep before turning over and hugging the empty space you once occupied. You tiptoed to the door, pleased to find your feet barely hurt and your legs felt more like jelly than stiff dead weight.

“Well, well, well,” a feminine voice rang out as you slid into the hallway.

“Christopher Columbus!” you exclaimed, holding your shoes tighter to your chest as you turned to find Ruth, leant against the doorway to her room. Arms crossed, she appraised your debauched appearance and then the door you had just left from.

“Not such a little lamb after all.”

Squaring your shoulders, you looked her dead in the eyes before giving her a haughty smirk, “No. Not at all.”

Taglist:

@caffiend-queen​

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​

[desiraypark]

Photos...

One-Shot Characters: Clyde Logan x (Black) Female Reader Content: ADULTS ONLY | 18+ | N*FW - Sex, Begging, Toy Use, Overstimulation Word Count: 1807

You didn’t know why you were, but you were super horny. And on the Lord's day? What a shame. Even more shameful was the fact that your husband was at work. How dare he go off to that bar and leave you alone in your little ol' country house. You'd fix him. You took a quick shower, moisturized your body with lotion and avocado oil, and slipped into your silky, red baby doll lingerie. You even stepped into those Louboutins you'd convinced yourself you needed to have a few years ago, but couldn’t walk in. You fluffed your springy curls, sprawled across the bed, and posed for your camera like Naomi. Shots above your head, shots from below. Then, you sat your phone up on various objects, turned on self-timer and took a bunch of full body shots--lots of Megan Thee Stallion poses with hints of Rita Hayworth. Then, you decided to really make him suffer—you stripped out of the baby doll and got raunchy with it.

Clyde was busy serving up drinks to his Sunday night customers. Both men and women would fill The Duct Tape to capacity during NFL playoffs. He was never one to fiddle with his phone during work hours, but on Sundays during football season--it was nearly impossible. It was just an hour after the kickoff when he felt his phone vibrate--but he ignored it. Then over the span of fifteen minutes, it vibrated six more times.

When he finally got a moment’s rest, he walked off to the side and pulled out his phone. His eyes widened as they were suddenly treated to photos of you--your curvy body, your ample breasts, your round ass and its tiger stripes--and that sneaky, sneaky photo of you completely nude--breasts hanging free, but lower region covered. Clyde turned off his screen and returned to his customers.

You saw that Clyde had gotten your photos, but he didn't respond. You tried to be patient, but by 11 o'clock, you'd rabbited yourself into an orgasm, and fell asleep. A little bit after midnight, you heard the front door open. Your eyes opened, then closed again. Footsteps ascended on your bedroom. The door creaked open and the light switch turned on. You winced and flipped over onto your side to face the disturbance.

"Wake up darlin..." Clyde said. Cool as a cucumber, he walked to the chair in the corner of the bedroom and sat in it. "You okay, sweetie?" you asked, genuinely concerned. And oblivious. He just stared at you with those dark eyes of his. "It was a full house at the bar tonight," he said. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. "That's good, honey..." "It's good for business. But you wanna know what makes a night like that bad?" he asked. You leaned against the headboard and lifted your knees up to rest your arms and chin on them. "What?" "When your wife sends you sexy photos and gets your dick all hard. An' you can't do nothin' 'bout it." You blushed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Was that okay? Did you prefer I'd not do that?" "No, I didn't mind. But you're gonna have to pay for it." Your heart was pounding now. Your pussy clenched around nothing. "I am?" "C'mere," he said. You swallowed and rose from the bed wearing his Bob Seger T-shirt--your hair up in a pineapple. He looked you over as you walked toward him and stopped inches away. "Undo my pants for me, darlin," he said. You dropped to your knees and unzipped his jeans. Then, you fished out his dick--it sprung out at you--long and thick--causing your pussy to tighten again. You bit your lip and looked at Clyde--his dark eyes narrowed and staring straight at you. "Whatcha wanna do with it?" he asked. Your nipples hardened and chills went down your spine. You'd never seen Clyde act like this--and you bookmarked this in your mind. "Everything, baby..." you said. You grabbed his shaft and stuck your tongue out over the head, but Clyde gently grabbed your chin with his right hand. "You wanna suck it?" he asked. You nodded. "Yes." "Beg for permission..." Your jaw dropped and he rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb. "Beg me to let you suck my dick," he repeated. Boy, you were not used to this at all. "Can I suck your dick?" you whimpered. "Hmm?" he asked, daringly. His hand slid down to your arm and rubbed it. "Can I suck your dick, please?"    "Why do you wanna suck my dick?" His hand slid up to your neck and he rubbed the side of it--his fingers lightly touching your ear lobe. "Because I want to make you feel good, baby..." Clyde grunted--his hips lifted slightly. You bit your lip to hide a satisfied grin. "Make me feel good, baby girl." Clyde removed his hand and you licked a stripe up the shaft of his pulsing dick. Then, you wiggled your tongue over and around the head, curled your lips over your teeth, and sucked the head into your mouth. You didn't look up, but you knew he'd thrown his head back. You made a sloppy mess of your hands and his lap, and eventually, both of his hands made their way to your smoothed down tresses--flesh and hard plastic pressed into your scalp, and you moaned at his aggressiveness. You pulled your lips away for a break and stroked his dick. "Are you gonna cum in my mouth?" you asked, staring at him with a smirk. "No," he said, gently grabbing your wrist. "Get on the bed." You stood up, sat on the edge of the bed, and watched Clyde kick off his shoes. He rose from the chair and stood over you, tugging at the top band of his jeans.    "Open your legs." You obeyed and spread your bare legs--revealing an also bare crotch. Cool air hit your throbbing clit, and you reached down to rub it. "Mmph, mmm..." he said shaking his head and pulling his jeans off. "You're not allowed ta touch yourself." You whined and dropped your hand to your side. Clyde got down on his knees in front of you and examined your pussy. "Were you touchin' yourself when I was at work?" he asked. You bit your bottom lip and stared up at the ceiling. He gripped your thighs--pressing his fingers into the flesh. "Huh?" "Yeah..." you confessed.    "Hmph," he grunted. Then, he released your thighs. "Clyde, can you please just fuck me?" you pleaded. "No.” He rubbed your thighs softly. "Show me what you did to yourself while you were waitin' for me..." "I...I had a toy..." Clyde stopped rubbing your thighs, then stood up. "Where is it?" "In my top drawer. The left one." Clyde walked over to your dresser, dug through the drawer and spotted the pink rabbit vibrator. He played around with the buttons, causing the phallic section to twirl and shake, and the rabbit ears above it to wiggle.    "You cheatin' on me with this thing?" he asked. "I use it when you leave me all alone for that bar of yours," you answered with a pout. He walked over and kneeled back in front of you. "It ain't me, though. It ain't thick like me," he said. "No, baby, it's not." Without warning, there was a slight intrusion in your warm and sticky hole. You winced and scooted back, but Clyde grabbed hold of your hip and pulled you back to him. Then, he started playing around with the buttons again. The rabbit ears flicked against your clit, and the penis-shaped section of your toy whirled around inside of you. Your breath became staggered and you squirmed all over the place. Then, without removing the toy, Clyde climbed over onto your right side and hovered his torso over your stomach--being careful with his positioning. Next, he did the unthinkable, and turned the rabbit ears up to the highest setting, causing you to release a horror movie scream. "Clyde! Fuck!!!" you shouted. You flailed around as much as you could under the weight of his torso. But he said nothing. He just watched your limbs flap about, and your hips jerk up and down. His dick was erect, throbbing, and dripping with pre-cum. All the blood--and what felt like every other liquid in your body--rushed to your clit, and you gushed all over your toy--screaming to the ceiling. The room was spinning when Clyde finally pulled the toy out, but then, he dropped his head between your legs and sucked on your clit. You shot up and released another horror movie scream. "Clyde, no!" "You want me to stop?" he asked. "Yes, please!" "Beg me to stop." He licked and sucked your sensitive clit. "Please, Clyde! I'm sorry for making your dick hard at work! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please stop! Please!" Your stomach crinkled and flattened in response to your heaves and staggered breathing. Clyde kissed your clit, your outer labia, and your thigh, then pulled away. You were almost in tears when you flopped back on the bed. You felt a dip in the mattress, and saw Clyde standing in front of you. He stroked his dick, then rested a knee on the bed, and leaned between your legs. "You're so beautiful," he said. You couldn't respond. You just covered your face with your arm and chuckled in disbelief. He hovered over you, putting his weight on his right hand, and kissed you on the lips.    "You want my dick?" he asked. You removed your arm and looked him in the eyes. "Yes..." "And my cum?" "Yes," you repeated with a tired voice and heavy eyes. Clyde pulled away and planted his feet on the floor. You slid close to the edge of the bed and lifted your knees. Clyde rubbed the head of his dick at your entrance then slid inside of you. You held out your hands, and he took them. Then, he pumped in and out of your pussy. Neither of you held back--both of your moans, groans, and grunts echoed throughout the bedroom. Sounds of wetness egged you both on, and suddenly, Clyde squeezed your left hand with his right. "You want it?" he asked. "Yes, baby. Right in me..." you groaned between tight teeth. With a few more strokes, Clyde filled you up with his hot cum, pulled out, then crashed on the left side of your body. You both gasped for air. Your pussy was tired, but your mind was turned on by the feeling of his nut oozing out of you. When you'd gathered some strength, you turned to face your speckled-face husband, moved his hair out of his face, and gave him a peck on the lips. "I'm gonna get my revenge, you know that, right?" He chuckled. "Yeah, I know darlin'.