#They say that when a good man’s eyelids rain

[retroellie]

Breed Me

Summary: After babysitting, you have massive baby fever and would kill for Daryl to get you knocked up. Surprisingly, Daryl isn't completely opposed to that idea.

A/N: The number of pregnant smuts i do just shows my mommy and daddy issues but i crave daddy Daryl so :). Also, me posting 2 fics in the course of 2 days?!?! Unheard of....

Warnings: Breeding kink, Unprotected sex, spitting, squirting

Word count: 5.6K

"Shhhh" You whispered

You rocked Judith in your arms, bouncing her slightly up and down as she cooed softly. You had promised Rick you would watch her while he fixed up at a farm that was once again being eaten up by bugs and animals small enough to get in the fence. You didn't mind watching her, you actually enjoyed it. You were holding the baby up with one hand and the other you were making her bottle, shaking it up so it was nicely mixed and there was no dry formula to be seen. When you felt the formula was all mixed in with the hot water, you placed it in the little one's mouth and she took it like a hungry man would with food.

"Oh you're hungry aren't you? Huh?" You chuckled

You held the bottle for her as she sucked down the milk, only stopping to catch a breath every once and a while. You rocked her once more, walking over to sit down on one of the picnic tables that were sitting underneath the makeshift roof you guys had put there so the food was protected by rain. You watched her with admiration, her eyelids too heavy to keep her blue eyes open. Her little hand wrapped around your much bigger finger, almost as if to thank you for the bottle you just made for her.

You weren't the biggest baby type gal but Judith was the cutest baby you had ever held, her little features and her soft tiny wisps of hair. You got really bad baby fever when you watched her, seeing as you too could have a small child in your hands but it would be yours to call your own. It sounded like a dream to you, if only the world hadn't gone to complete shit when you were just starting to get your life in check and you found the love of your life. Life was unfair to you like that.

"Good morning Y/N!" You heard, looking up to see who the voice belonged to.

It was Carol, she walked towards you with a smile on her face. Carol was your best friend, she had been with you through thick and thin. A lot of people would question your relationship with her, saying how a young woman in her 20's shouldn't have best friends with people as old as her. There was Maggie or Beth, you guys would definitely have something in common. But no, you chose to hang out with carol. She was more of a mother figure to you, especially since you had lost your mom to the virus and she lost her daughter.

"Mornin' carol! sleep well?" You asked, shifting the baby slightly in my arms.

"It was alright, still getting used to all the people and the noise. Every little sound i heard i grabbed for my knife, it's torture." She explained

You watched as she made her way to the makeshift counter that held all the makeshift kitchen appliances. You would have to agree with her there, it was usually always just the small group y'all traveled in and now there's so many more people to worry about. At night you would hear other's snore, groans and moans, babies crying? It was a bit overwhelming for you, especially when you got so used to glenns sleep talking and Carl's soft snores. The only thing that stayed the same was daryl, his firm grip on you as you slept in his arms will always be there. No matter the place you slept or how many people were in the room, Daryl would always be touching you in some way.

"I made coffee and by the sound of it, you need it." You chuckled, drawing your attention back to the baby now sleeping in your arms. "I made it before this little one woke up." You said, each word becoming more and more like  a baby voice.

"Ugh, you're a lifesaver Y/N!" Carol said, going right to the steaming coffee in the makeshift coffee maker.

The bottle had gone empty, not a single drop left to be drunk. You were genuinely surprised of how fast she drank it but the smile that crept on your face as you saw her small features at rest dropped all the thoughts you had. She looked calm, peaceful. It created a deep twinge in your heart that made you desperately want a baby, you're not sure if it was your motherly instincts or it was the purity that a baby brought into someone's life that you craved. You had seen a lot in the last couple of months, you're not even sure how long it had been to be honest but a baby's purity is what you needed in your life.

You couldn't make it through college or buy a house or even marry the person of your dreams, the world had gone to shit and there was no government left but you still had a body and a man who would get you pregnant in a heartbeat if he could. 'If he could' was the key, if it was the old world, he would make sure you got pregnant in the old world but it's just different now. not only is he so much older than you, which would've been a problem anyways, but he wouldn't want his kid to grow up in this world. It was too gruesome, too risky and he didn't want that for his kid.

"How long do you have the little angel for?" Carol asked, bringing you back to life.

You got up to place her bottle in the sink which was made from a bucket. You rocked her gently, you didn't want to wake her up from her peaceful sleep.

"Uhh, only a couple of hours. Rick needed to fix up the farm and I told him I could watch her." i replied

The wind blew softly under the roof, blowing on the child's bare face which caused her face to scrunch up and then relax back when you wrapped her blanket closer to her face. I smiled down at her, turning over so the wind wouldn't disturb her slumber.

"Well if you need help or a break, you can come find me! I don't think I'll be going out today, I might stick back and help with fence duty." She smiled, pouring some coffee into a plastic cup.

"Thank you, but we'll be okay! I plan on sitting out in the field to write a bit today, though jude would like to help me." you said, smiling down at the baby as she cuddled closer to your warmth.

You wondered about how you would be as a mother, it was only a small amount of time that you babysat Judith so how could you actually know if you'd be a good mom. Were you even ready for a kid or was it the baby fever that was starting to rest in the pit of your mind. There was always fear with the process of it all, especially now with the world being what it is. You're starting to think you should stop baby sitting so much, because recently, especially when babysitting, you have found yourself thinking about having kids.

"Morning sleepy head!" You heard Carol say cheerfully, almost annoyingly. It was evident who she was talking to, you know she liked to annoy only one man.

"Mornin'..." Daryl grumbled back.

You looked up from the baby to be met with Daryl walking over to y'all, his signature vest was the first thing you saw. Then your eyes scanned down his body, all the way down his hair covered face to his toned arms and then finally to his crotch.  You bit your lip as you watched him walk to the counter, grabbing a bowl to pour some food into it. Everything he did was a huge turn on for you, it could be something simple as literally just walking.

Carol had been chatting him up, probably asking for some special requests for when he went out today. You were too enthralled by him to even register what they were talking about. You could see the hickeys on his neck from last night which had you blushing. You weren't going to lie, he was touchy, yes, but you were just as bad, maybe even worse. You couldn't keep your eyes off him let alone your hands, he was just so arousing in the best way possible.

You always felt so annoying with how needy you were when it came to him, you were always asking to be kissed or held or even fucked mercilessly until you couldn't walk the next day. Daryl loved it though and he made sure you knew it too because honestly Daryl felt embarrassed about being older than you, so you begging him to touch you only gave him confidence.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow, throwing it across his shoulder, still conversing with Carol about whatever they were talking about. You had stopped staring off into space and watched as Daryl picked up his bowl, walking off to you. He smiled at you, reaching over to you to grab your hip.

"Morning' sweetheart." He whispered, bringing you in for a kiss.

It was a quick peck, only lasting seconds but somehow it still had you melting into him. When he pulled away you bit your lip, looking up at him. He chuckled, even trying to be sweet, he still got you all worked up.

"Morning dar..." You smiled, going to peck his lips once more.

This one was longer, one of your hands cradled the baby and the other wrapped around his neck to keep his lips interlocked with yours. It felt where you needed to be, in his arms as you cradled a baby between the two of you. That housewife mentally you had never quite gone away, especially with daryl. If he wanted a housewife, you would bend over backwards just to be the perfect housewife for him. You pulled away from him, lips red from his facial hair rubbing against them. He licked his lips, chuckling as he looked down at Judith, touching one of her cheeks with only one finger and rubbing her soft skin.

"Hey there little ass kicker..." He said softly as she shifted in her sleep, cooing and letting out a sigh before going completely limp again. He chuckled slowly. "You stuck watching her today?" He asked you

"mmhmm" You nodded, comfortingly brushing her hair back so her hair wouldn't tickle her small nose. "We're gonna go to the big oak tree and write, maybe have a little picnic together while we're there."

You looked up at him, catching his eyes already at you. His hand, which was placed on the small of your back, made its way further down, resting on your ass as he bit his lip down at you. You so badly wanted to rip off his clothes and take him now, just everything about him made your stomach do turns.

"You look so sexy right now, you being so..." He whispered, stopping when he couldn't find the word he needed in this case.

"Motherly..." you whispered back, giving him doe like eyes.

He nodded, hand tightening around your ass as his breath hitched. He could already see you all filled with his baby, it made his hands shake violently and his mouth go dry. You then reached up, moving your mouth to his ear and whispering.

"If you come back to me in one piece, i just might let you fuck a baby into me..." You whispered so quietly; he thought maybe he didn't hear it at first.

He then choked on his own spit, looking down at you in horror and arousal all at the same time. The thought made all the blood in his body go straight to his cock, trying to swallow down his gasp.

"Okay, I made the list! Just look for the tiny red pills, that should be Alberts heart medicine" Carol called out.

This caused the both of you to jump, daryl hurriedly retracted his hand from your ass and shoved it in his pocket so he could fix himself. You giggled as he did, he turned to carol. She was presenting him a paper. You just continued to rock the baby, watching down at the sleeping child. Daryl went to snatch the paper from Carol, but Carol pulled it away quickly.

She looked between the two of you, seeing how flustered Daryl had gotten in the span of a minute or two and how his lips were red from the small makeout session you had just had, maybe even noticing how tight Daryl's pants had gotten all of a sudden. She squinted her eyes at daryl, a small smirk played on her lips.

"Just follow the list, this is an important Daryl! I know you have some distractions..." she smiled over at you, who was cooing down at the baby. "But I mean it, don't forget anything okay?"

Daryl scoffed, snatching the paper from her. He just shoved it into his back pocket, not really needing a loss for the very few things that were needed.

"I got it" He said sternly, walking past her and to the gate.

To say you were excited for his return was an understatement, just thinking about it created a dull ache between your legs. You just counted to do what you told Rick you would do, which is watch his kid and make sure she doesn't get into any trouble.

Easy enough.

-

-

You love Judith with your entire heart but dear god that child was a little shit. She spit up all over you, pulled chunks of your hair out, and even ruined your book you had been reading by chewing on it. So now you are finally childless, in your small cell that you shared with daryl. You were brushing your hair out, you tried your best to wash the spit up out of it but it still smelled of it.

Although you came back a mess and your back almost broke from carrying her everywhere, the cute little moment you had with her made up for it. She would grab onto your hair when you fell asleep and she would giggle when you read to her, as if she knew what you were saying. you were still tempted with the baby fever, wanting nothing more than your own little one.

You had come back smiling, taking out your hair from the braid it was in and taking off your spit up covered shirt, putting on one of Daryl's much bigger ones. The room was cold, the stone cell causing you to shiver. You really just wanted to collapse on the bed right now, sleep until the morning but you were obviously going to stay up waiting for daryl like you always did.

You honestly forgot about your little promise you made towards him, you were completely and utterly with the child… no thoughts besides her in your mind. So you just went along with your night like you always do, cuddling up in bed with Daryl’s shirt on and a good book in your hand like always. You hadn’t been sitting there for 5 minutes before Daryl came bursting into your shared cell, the metal barred door screeching against the floor.

He held his crossbow on his shoulder, his backpack sitting on his other one. He looked dirty, completely bloodied and bruised. It was evident he had been through hell and back this time but he still came back to you. You looked up at him and smiled, dropping your book so you could greet him. Daryl set down his things, bending down to not break anything but when he stood back up he was met with you.

You jumped on him, bringing him into a hug as if you hadn’t seen him in years. He hugged you back, hands wrapped around you roughly. You were trying to have an innocent moment, the babysitting duty you had creating a softness in you… but Daryl had other plans for you. Your words haunted him the entire trip, his dick so painfully hard against his jeans that he sometimes had to take a minute to just breathe. It tortured him, the words carved into his brain. His hands were rough, gripped into your hips bruisingly hard. You loosen your hug, his hands still attached to your hips.

“You smell like shit..” you joked, smiling up at him. Daryl chuckled, reaching down to peck at your lips and bringing your hips closer to him once more.

���Shit or not I still came back… and in one piece.” He started, pecking your lips here and there as he spoke. “And I’m pretty sure I was promised something if I came back in one piece.”

That’s when you remembered your teasing promise you had made, how could you forget? Maybe you had forgotten so the ache was less painful or maybe your mind was completely shut off, you have no idea but the thought coming back to you had your cunt clench. You needed him, you fucking needed him so badly. You lust for him suddenly coming back to you all at once.

“Then what are you waiting for…” you said, voice soaked with lust.

Daryl let out a grunt, a low deep grunt that he didn’t know came out until he heard it. He didn’t waste anytime, engulfing your lips with his as he massaged your hips. You tightened your arms around his neck, bringing him so close so your stomach was hitting his. You could feel every twitch that came from his dick, it hit your stomach perfectly and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together.

Daryl’s kiss was rough, rough enough to bruise your lips, be bit and lapped his tongue around them. He had waited all day for this moment and he was going to savor it. He bent down, grabbing at the back of your thighs and lifting you up with ease. You wrapped your legs around him, gasping slightly as his cock was now pressed around your cunt that was only covered with a thin piece of fabric.

Daryl led you to the desk that was in your room, slamming the door shut before making his way over. He placed you on the wooden surface, your legs still wrapped around him tightly.

“Thought about this all fucking day…” he moaned, his cock twitching once more… thinking about your sweet cut being filled with his cum. “Can't wait to fill you up.”

You moaned at his words, hands lowered to unbutton his shirt so you could see all of him. He knew what you wanted, taking his hands off you so he could help you but not breaking this kiss. The kiss became sloppier as you both focused on getting his shirt off, you could feel his tongue massaging yours roughly and your teeth clashing.

When his shirt was successfully unbuttoned, you attempted to pull it off but it was getting caught on things, frustrating you. You wanted to feel his chest against you, while he fucked you roughly. Daryl pulled away from the kiss, pulling his shirt off for you when he realized how frustrated you were getting. He dropped his shirt to the floor, seeing your kiss bitten lips as you breathed heavily watching him.

It was the first time he actually looked down at you, admiring you for the first time that night. You just looked back at him, eyes scanning over his cut and bruised body. You were shaking with lust, you couldn’t control your body if felt and Daryl just chuckled at how much you craved his body on yours.

“Dirty slut…” he spit out, moving his hands down to the hem of your shirt to pull it up over your head.

He didn’t hesitate to attach his lips to your nipples, you gasped as his warm mouth wrapped around one of them, hands grasping onto the edge of the desk. He licked and sucked at them, even rolling one of them between his fingers. You could cum from just this, the heat of him and his mouth on your sensitive nipples. You tried to muffle your mouths, embarrassed by how needy you had become for Daryl that you didn’t want anyone else to hear.

Daryl noticed your shyness and only sucked on your tits harder, wanting to hear your pretty moans as he fucked you hard and deep. A particular hard pinch made you moan out loudly, back arching up into his mouth. He looked up at you, watching your head thrown back as your pussy clenched around nothing. You needed him so bad that you could beg, you wanted to feel his cock pulsating inside you all the while he fucked your baby into you.

“Please Daryl just fuck me… stop teasing…” you moaned, louder than you wanted too but you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your cunt had dripped onto the table beneath you and had made a mess out of your favorite panties. Daryl couldn’t deny you when you begged like that, he was so worked up he just couldn’t with the begging. So he did what you wanted him to, he stopped his abuse on your tits and picked you back up in his arms, plopping you down on the bed.

He undid his belt, his hands fumbling with it and then he ripped it off. You watched his every move and he watched you, he watched as you tried to hide your wet pussy away from him simply because you were embarrassed about how wet he made you. He then bent down to capture your lips in a kiss, your already kiss bitten lips trying their best to keep up with his lips.

Daryl set his knee on your aching cunt, allowing you to buck your hips on it, you attempting to dull the ache. He let you occupy yourself with that while he grabbed your hands, pulling them tightly together above your head as he wrapped his belt around them. You were too focused on humping his knee to realize what he was doing, which was exactly his goal… he didn’t have time for you to squirm.

“You know the safe word bunny?” He asked, sitting back down on his knee while he unbuttoned his pants. You whimpered at the loss of friction from his knee, you had quite literally became a whimpering mess and a completely fuck toy for him.

You nodded at his words, it took a minute for you to comprehend his words but you made them out eventually. Your body was hot, your face red and your eyes glassy. You watched as Daryl pulled his pants down his legs, his underwear being the next to go. You struggled against your restraints, the leather of his belt rubbing against your soft skin.

“Daryl??” you breathed out, the words coming off as a whisper. He looked up at you, holding his cock in his hands and pumping it lightly. You watched as he tried to hold back his hips from bucking up into his hand.

“Yeah? Is everything okay? You need me to loosen the belt?” Daryl asked, rapidly questioning you while you squirm underneath him. You shook your head, breath heaving up and down.

“Just…. Don’t hold back please.” You stated, doe eyes boring into Daryl’s.

This made his dick twitch, it felt so unbelievably hard it was starting to hurt now. He sent a smirk down at you, leaning over you once more but this time it was to do exactly what you needed him to do. He peppered you with light kisses, making sure you felt as comfortable as he could make you.

“Oh don’t worry bun… I won’t.” He growled out, continuing his light kisses on you as he ran two fingers down your body. “Gonna fuck you so hard… cum inside you over and over and over again until your tummy is full of me.”

His fingers dragged down to your panties, hooking two fingers underneath the waistband to tear off of you. You shivered as your cunt felt the cold air of the room, your wetness dripping down your legs. His words and his actions had you on edge, knowing with only a few touches from him your come undone. It was strange how only a few touches, kisses, and words from Daryl could have you cumming in minutes.

“Gonna breed you like the slut you are…” Daryl grunted, moving your legs to rest above his shoulders. “God… the things you do to me Y/N!”

Daryl could have stopped at this position, it would definitely have you cumming in only seconds… but Daryl almost completely folded you in half. Your knees were brought down to rest by your ears and your feet by your hands that were tired with only a belt. Daryl watched your face, making sure this position was okay with you. You were too lost in lust to even acknowledge the painful position, so Daryl kept you like that but slowly spread your legs further and further until you were in full display to him.

Daryl brought his cock up to your heart, slowly thrusting his cock along the wetness of it and hitting your bundle of nerves. You gasped as he did this, slowly teasing you with his cock until you could literally not handle it anymore. You were cock starved, you were going to go crazy without it. Daryl smirked at what he was doing to you, he brought his hand down to your mouth.

“Spit” was all he said and you did exactly that.

You let your saliva drop down into his hand and he gladly took it, rubbing it on your cunt along with his cock. He needed all the lube for this position, not wanting to hurt you or make it painful for you. You bit your lip hard, blood being drawn as it slid down your throat.

Daryl lined himself up with you, pushing himself into you until he was fully inside you. You went cross eyes for a minute, moaning as he had already found your sweet spot. Daryl stood there for a minute, letting you take him in and feel every inch of him. He wanted you to know thats what you will be filled up with for the rest of your life, no other cock with fuck you anymore, only him from now until forever. You squirm underneath him causing him to press down on your legs more, bending them until they were resting against your chest.

He moved finally, starting off at an animalistic pace and not even giving you time to breathe before he started abusing your cunt. You couldn’t even help the moans that fell from your lips, they were almost screaming as his dick was quite literally inside your guts. Your hands grabbed for the metal pole of the bed, grabbing into it for support. You grabbed on it for dear life as if it was the only thing keeping you down on this earth.

“Fuck so fucking tight for me, huh, bunny?” He grunted out, hips snapping back and forth violently. “Your pussy was made for me… your pussy was made for me to fuck a baby into.”

His words only made your moans louder, strangled moans coming from deep in your chest. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone thought you were being murdered, walking into your room to only see you folded in half while Daryl abused your cunt. That only added onto the fun though, Daryl would get a power rush from that, knowing that the person that walks In now knows that he’s the only one who can fold you in half like this and you would simply let it happen because you were such a slut for him.

Your cunt clenched around Daryl, he knew that meant you would be cumming soon so he set his hands on your thighs and applied all this weight onto them, lifting himself up using them. This position allowed him to fuck you deep, feeling him deep in your cunt and causing something to just flick deep down in you.

Your back arched into him, your head being thrown back as you screamed. It was too much, his full weight being on top of you and his animalistic pace… it caused you to lose your vision and I not being focused on Daryl grunts. You could see static, light white dots dancing across your eyes as you gripped whatever you could get your hands on. You were fighting against the restraints, rubbing your skin raw.

“Da…i…. Fu… i ca…” you could literally not get a single word out, Daryl knew exactly what you were trying to say though.

“Go ahead bunny, cum on my cock…” he grunted, giving you permission to soak his cock.

The coil down in your belly couldn’t take anymore of it, your toes curled and your hearing went… it was mere seconds before it snapped and your cunt pulsed violently on Daryl’s cock. Your juices came shooting out, soaking Daryl and his cock. This didn’t stop him though, he kept his animalistic pace while fucking you through your orgasm. He was so close himself, his nails digging into the back of your thighs.

“Gonna cum… can’t handle your fucking pussy anymore…” he grunted, his voice coming off in choppy moans.

You were so high, you were somewhere not on this earth as Daryl’s thrusts sped up and became messy. His moans got a bit deeper, grunting as he made one last fast movement than cumming deep inside you. His hips trembled as he came, filling you up to the brim with his cum. He stayed there for a minute, allowing every single drop of cum to fill your insides, he then dropped onto you. His cock still filled you, your legs shook as they slowly dropped beside him.

Daryl trembled on top of you, his skin on your slowly bringing you back to earth. You both laid there, sweaty and sticky. Your hands still above your head, Daryl’s face buried in your neck and his cock nestled deep inside you. You have fucked many times before but it never was this good, it never left you both speechless like this. It felt there were no words to speak, there was nothing to say other than small curses and moans.

It was about 5 minutes you stayed like that, until Daryl pulled himself away from you and pecked you on the lips. He slowly took himself out of you, watching as his cum gushed out of you. He stuck in two fingers, trying to keep it all in but you winced… your abused cunt not able to handle it.

“Sorry…” he stated, reaching over to untie you.

You lowered your arms, shakingly placing them on your stomach. Daryl watched you, feeling as if he needed to take care of your exhausted body. He made you feel good, yes, but he wore you out and he felt bad. He just rubbed your hips softly, watching you blink slowly. You were sore, your hips feeling like they were run over by trucks but you were content. The thought of having a baby rushing your mind.

“You with me bunny?” He asked softly, his voice raspy.

Your eyes trailed to him, his hair tangled and stuck to his sweaty forehead. You smiled, nodding your head weakly. You wonder if these moments will ever stop when you're big and pregnant or when you have a baby in your arms. Will you both be so in love with each other? Will you have small moments where you just stare into each other’s eyes while coming down from your highs? Will sex even be an option?

“You think it worked? I mean did you knock me up?” You joked but genuinely wondered. You didn’t feel any different, will you even feel different when it happened? Daryl dragged his eyes to your core, cum still seeping out of your cunt.

“I mean it should, I filled you up pretty good.” He said, almost proud of himself. No, he was proud of himself. He not only fucked his girlfriend until she literally fell off the face of the earth but he also probably most likely fucked a baby into you.

“Don’t act all smug asshole…” you rolled your eyes.

He chuckled, bending down to peck your lips but you wrapped your arms around him so he had no choice but to stay on your lips. You once again wrapped your legs around Daryl, already ready for another round and Daryl was completely okay with giving you it too. His lips were soft against yours, hands caressing your thighs that were placed delicately on his hips. You should be wore out, you were wore out but Daryl being on top of you like this… watching his face as he came deep inside you… you needed more.

You rutted your hips against Daryl’s, feeling his cock get hard again. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the knots that laid within his brown locks. He pulled away from your lips, looking down at your kiss bitten, red and puffy face.

“Bunny…maybe we should take a break.” He said, moving a hand to move a piece of hair from your eyes. “ I don’t want to completely exhaust you.”

You knitted your brows at him, rolling your eyes as you gave him the dirtiest look. He really thought he would tire you out that much?? You could literally never turn down Daryl’s attempts to make you feel good, like ever. You could be in the softest mood ever and than Daryl shoves his cock down your throat… than suddenly your a dirty whore for him. He had that kind of effect on you, it was inevitable.

“Daryl… this is probably the only time you will ever allow yourself to cum inside me! You think I’m going to stop at one round?” You replied, acting as if he was crazy for thinking something like that. “Plus I want to make sure it works, I want to make sure I’m knocked up by the end of the night.”

“Jesus Christ woman you’ll be the death of me…”

[sxplict]

✶ ⋆˙.⠀GIMME SOME TIL IM GOIN DUMB. ❜ ──────── shokosugu & shiuji.

SINCERELY , YOURS TRULY Ξ ©SXPLICT, 2024

明示的 ⌇ nsfw. fem!reader. pussy eating. sεx tape. overstimulation. riding. double penetration. bondages. choking. blowjob. doggy style. spanking. anal. crying. triple penetration. creampie. man handling. ( wc. 4k )

<– [ BACK ] : MLIST [ NEXT ] : MULTI ㅤ→

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐒 𝐇 𝐎 𝐊 𝐎 𝐒 𝐔 𝐆 𝐔

"⠀SMILE FOR THE , CAMERA , PRETTY.⠀"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀" M ─ aybe next time you'll listen , hm , pretty girl?" raw adorning venom seeped through each breath of oxygen that fanned through the crisp air , the woman’s devilish words only the tip of the iceberg to her prolonged torment she rained down on your delicately sensitive body. flesh as tainted as a limousine window , eyes far too swollen to even begin visibly seeing her mouth moving. even if you so much as pleaded with her , the ball gag she practically embedded into your jaw halted any such desires from occurring , only allowing her to be the one talking whilst you endured every order she gave.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the only way you could intake air was through your nose , yet even that was suffocating you with the rigid stench of erotica and bodily pheromones with each inhale you took. glossed eyes strained each passing second you held eye contact with Shoko , her piercing graze dragging needle pins along the plush of your heated cheek bones. no matter how many times you shuddered in pure delight , how much you drenched your gag in saliva that some trickled down the sides of your jaw , she continued to coo your whines and cries with a smile.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀much like any other couple , your day started off subtle. it was calming , peaceful even. however , that was entirely unnatural for you. you couldn’t put your fingers on it , not even for a brief moment. until you were lying in the woman’s lap , head resting along her thighs with a camera in your face for a future event that she had yet to disclose to you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was frightening , to say the least. she’d never been one to be so closed off with you. but , you trusted her , so it had to be for a good reason.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"fuck~ sho , you keep talking to her like that and i’m gonna be rock solid." delighted by the moments ease , a vague 'pop' sound flowing through Suguru’s hoarse words when he pried his puffed and soaked lips from your pulsating clit.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀goosebumps were merely child’s play to describe how the flesh of your legs spiked once you’d been released from his grasp and allowed to tremble in peace. a heavy weight that once had your chest under its wrath was alas lifted , equally as heavy eyelids fluttering sheepishly. the below room temperature that breezed between your legs led lightning bolts up your thighs , but with the way you’d been used and abused for the past few hours , you had absolutely no energy left to close them from the draft.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀frugal mixtures of saliva and cum leaked through the sensitive folds of your pussy , hands bound by your wrists along your chest with a clip connected to your neck collar which stopped you from being able to cover it. Suguru’s taunting gaze leered upon your sweets , not a single movement being made and causing a nerve chilling sensation to spiral up your neck thinking about what his next moves were. it had your heart beating faster than a child on a rollercoaster. the adrenaline absolutely disgusting with each prattled breath you took.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀whilst your quivering figure lied diligently against the silk sheets of your king sized mattress , Shoko continued to talk into the camera , mocking your state of absolute bliss. all you could do was lay there as helplessly as a damsel in distress , staying true to what you actually were.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"now be a good girl and tell the camera how sorry you are , m’kay," your nods of obedience were much of a pleading dog begging its owner. she slowly unclasped the ball gag and watched you mouth words as if to speak , though for a few moments only air breezed past your dried lips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"p—please sho , please , i—i swear i'll be a good girl. i—i promise. 'm sorry." hiccups found their way weaved into the sobs of mercy you wove into the frigid air around you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀soulless eyes were met amidst your tantrum , brief motions being used as communication all the while your voice sunk deeper in the depths of silence. their looming aura’s would’ve suffocated you if not for another second of their sealed lips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a slither of saliva coaxed each of your own , curing the deserted fleshed that’d begun to feel as if you kissed sandpaper. vigilantly watching your lovers speak without words was far harder than learning to play an instrument , the tranquility more overbearing that sheet music. it was no help deciphering their plans for you when Suguru rose to his full height , his broad figure increasing his intimidation than usual. the apex of his knees had slowly found their way close to you , his shirt being tossed alongside your bed frame with his figure lay against the headboard.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you hadn’t quite figured out how he suddenly appeared there , a few blinks whilst he shifted his position and he was no longer standing at the end of the bed. fear being a main factor in your thought process , you precisely observed Shoko’s movements next , watching as she placed the camera atop the headboard right above Suguru. the suction cup attached to it allowing the machinery to remain in its place.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀without a moments notice , Shoko had already crawled back down to you , sleek fingers curling around the chain that connected your wrists to your neck. your body followed closely behind , tethered whimpers loosely dripping off your tongue like sweat beads from your forehead. she guided you to your knees before her , a deathly grip slipping behind your neck with her opposite hand kneading the flesh of your ass.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀she caught each pathetic noise you cried out in her mouth , possessive lips latching onto yours and synchronizing your motion to how rigorously Suguru stroked at his base. his blazing gaze was no help to the burning knot that tore away at your lower organs. he loved nothing more than watching Shoko taunt and torment you from how high and mighty you acted on a daily. no matter how arrogant and egotistical you were , the moment doors were closed , you were nothing more than her pretty little play toy she’d tear down for hours.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀pondering thoughts filed your curiosity. filled each and every corner of you mind as you back tracked on how you thought you had them all figured out. how you truly believed that the night would end with a few prattled kisses from your dear girlfriend. it was the perfect send off, legs not too far from falling off with how inflamed they were. you were so close to allowing the endless void to succumb you. though , of course , Shoko had other plans. like always.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was unbeknownst as to how you ended up in such a position when you were just at the foot of the bed , but you were straddling Suguru’s waist, back facing him with Shoko yet again latching the ball gag around your mouth. with furrowed brows curling at her actions , Shoko quickly pecked your feverish cheeks. a subtle 'hm' was earned from you , yet she answered with nothing but silence and a simple head nod. that was tailed by Suguru lifting you above his tip , folds already sinking onto him by the time you processed what her notion was for.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cries and moans were yet again barricaded by the choker , body falling limp into Shoko’s tender grasp whilst her tedious coos matched your sobs. "such a good girl , jus' like that. s'good for us , pretty." aiding your trembling figure had become a second nature to her with how much she enjoyed seeing you overwhelmed by her demands. it was truly adoring seeing you unfold into nothing more than a play thing for her.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀eyes rolled with each agonizing curl Suguru thrusted into you , they were precise and coordinated perfectly. he knew all your sweet spots just as well as Shoko did , being able to reach them a bit better than her. it was no help that Shoko’s hand had found its way to your clit rubbing circular motions along your sweet bundle of nerves which earned multiple vulgar moans of ecstasy to follow shortly behind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀if not for her earlier greed and hunger , your body would be as pristine as ever. however , she’d ravaged you like a rabid animal before Suguru could get his hands on you , leading to your body being littered in more hickeys and bite marks than a mated lioness. furthermore , that fact was of no use seeing as she continued her skills along your neck , soaking up each cry you wailed on her shoulder you so dearly clung to throughout the entirety of their abuse.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀clasping flesh and husked groans could only be heard below the penetrating surface of your pitiful wails that clogged every sense the three of you had. Suguru’s firm grasp along you hips only added an extra boost to the euphoric mixture of pain and pleasure. how his calloused hands molded your skin to bare his grip , yet slender fingers extending all the way to your abdomen and delving into the surface , feeling how his thick erection poked at your womb with each buck of his own hips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀orgasm after orgasm tainted your delicious walls , inner thighs brewing a much deserving fire for how long they’ve been spread over the course of four hours. eyes had begun to find solace within the inner sockets of your skull ; enjoying the comfort complete darkness brought in order to fully submerge you into the undying exhilaration.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with a final collide of one’s hips , Suguru bottomed out entirely , head tossing back into the silk pillow cases that barricaded his head. hiccups surged through your core once more , the back of your head caressed by none other than Shoko’s delicate touch as she allowed your worn figure to slump into her chest. slumber had beckoned your conscious , weighted eyelids soon flailing to keep afloat.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐒 𝐇 𝐈 𝐔 𝐉 𝐈

"⠀TAKE IT ALL , PRECIOUS , YER DOIN SO WELL FOR US.⠀"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀S ─ hrieked cries and tattered moans ricocheted through the dense vents that littered your measly one bedroom apartment , chain-stitches of flesh clapping against one another sown into the noises that reverberated within the core of the master bedroom.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was a common occurrence for the battered and decaying apartment complex , knowing good and well that two broad chested men shared the small proximity with a well-spoken woman who had each on a leash , tightly wrapped around her tiny little finger.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"shh~ , shh~ , s'okay. you're doin' so good for us , precious." coarsened palms briskly grazed along the flush of your swollen cheeks , thumb pads soaking up every mascara-ridden tear that dared to bore a burning streak down your flesh.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀though , the tender words of affirmation hadn’t come from the man who laughed in your face at how a contorted expression displayed across your features. they loomed behind your prissy perked ears , rigid breaths fanning the rim of them. the contentment was adding fuel to the fire , his delicate inflection the sparks that raked through the goosebumps across your back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀if not for your bared teeth tugging at the skim of your lip , you too would add such ruckus to the already crowded air. with every rut and hip buck that was gutted into your palpitating figure , your desire to silence yourself had grown excruciatingly thin. as if you were fighting the urge to smack someone. nonetheless , Toji had taken notice to your prudence , a disheveled grunt rumbling against his chest whilst he guided his thumb into your mouth. rather than remaining like the quiet woman you once were , you’d begun to choke on how he delved the tip of his digit into your tongue , eyes tossing back further than a gymnast at the Olympics.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"g'na mold that pretty pussy of y'ers just how i like it." Toji’s voice was far from being as sweet as Shiu’s , an equally as rough blow being plowed into your ass cheek , a very firm and reddened print forging against your precious skin. he did it just so he could watch as you pathetically gagged along his thick digit , seeping further down your throat and watching the tears of mercy coax your already dampened face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you’d become accustomed to limp limbs whenever your pretentious lovers got ahold of your body , together. somehow , in some way , they’d always seem to be able to have your arms in their grasp , holding full control over you. even at such a time , Shiu withheld your forearms against the small of your back , spine arching farther than any chiropractor has ever handled you. the threatening grasp steered his abuse on your ass , allowing such vulgar and vigorous attacks on your exploited frame.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀disarrayed grunts synchronized with how he slickly eased through your hole , a white rim of blissful essence coating the base of his dick. looming dreadfully over your exposed back , eager eating away at his darkened eyes which fixated on nothing else but your trembled physique. Toji lied beneath you , equally as lust-fueled as your shared boyfriend , though his crimson gaze yearned for much more than to hear you scream his name.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with an assailed mind , clouded in nothing more than furious erotica , you continued to bring warmth to their erections that’d scraped every last inch of your walls. they’d uncovered more hidden gems than a palaeontologist. being shoved between their abnormally large chests brought nothing more than unfeigned certainty about your surroundings. time was of the essence and you hadn’t a clue where you were after the first hour had gone by.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"yess~ uh , fuck! jus' keep clenching like that for me , pretty," if there was one thing you loved about Shiu , it’s that just his voice alone could make you cream. he was so gentle , so assertive when it came to you that it made your skin crawl with pure elation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"look at 'em , look how much of a mess ya turn 'em into with that fuckin' ass of y'ers," , Toji’s fervored tone was merely taunting , large hands grasping your head much of a basketball just to turn you so you’d gaze backwards at Shiu.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the sight alone heated each of your cores , Toji’s grasp returning to your neck as he held you there to watch how Shiu pummeled the girth of his erection into you. the reposition allowed him to release your aching limb , falling helplessly against Toji’s check prior to hoisting your upper body. with a loss of stability both mentally and physically , a pair of dangerously agile palms engraved into the sole of your waist , molding the fat of them into his fingers for an easier grip.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀liquids trickled down Toji’s inner thigh , yet another orgasm spewing from your pretty little cunt as they stuffed you more than a Thanksgiving turkey. sandpaper had replaced the once moisturized flesh within your mouth , mouth being hung open far too long. though , it was to no surprise with how they ravaged and ruined every aspect of your sweet body. the only time where you truly felt like the afterworld was only a knock away was when they unsynchronized their paces , the repetitive thrusts earning more juices to flood your walls than when they spent hours with their faces between your legs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀replacing Toji’s hand at your throat with his own bicep curling around it , Shiu allowed the man to drag his calloused hands down your exposed body , thumb pads graciously breezing past your nipples on a whim. a surprisingly tender act from none other than Toji Fushiguro himself; lovingly admiring the beauty he claimed and molded perfectly as his own. blazing fingertips glided across the flesh of your breasts , an upward motion being subdue whilst he kneaded them intently.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"f-f-fuck , m'gonna cum~. ohh fuck , please shi~" with an arm pressing firmly into the heat of Shiu’s core , the other grasping at straws against Toji’s bare chest , your eyes zoned in on the ceiling above watching how it rocked back and forth with each belligerent runt they penetrated in you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"me too , baby , s'okay. m'gonna fill you up so good , promise"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"g'na make sure that perfect cunt of yours is filled to the brim. jus' how ya like it"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀both men soothed your worries with their insistence , fingernails clawing at the sheer flesh of each of their bodies. it was no surprise you’d alas hit your inevitable orgasm , both men watching how you froze amidst the high and drenched the sheets below in nothing more than a pool of your juices. well , more than there already was.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀shrilled ecstasy blared from your quavering lips , limp figure collapsing straight into Toji’s grasp that welcomed you with ease. they released quite a bit more steam before likewise liberated themselves within the depths of your holes , grunts and disorderly huffs blazing a trail behind as their own liquids seeped out of you and onto the covers you all laid atop.

❨ 𝕾. ❩ 𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒⠀⠀ꪆ◌` ♰⠀⠀mature discretion advised. all rights reserved. do not steal or plagiarize my works.

[charnelhouse]

mausoleum (2)

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (other pairings later) Wordcount: 4.5K Warnings: gore. ptsd. references to captivity and torture. implied cannibalism. implied sex. there are mentions of hair. blood transfusion. needles. Summary: Red is grievously injured. 141 races against the clock to save her. A/N: Many thanks to @sprout-fics and @moondirti for reading through this because my damn eyes were crossing. Also, huge thanks to @ghostaholics who helped me with all the blood transfusion nonsense and ghost thots in general

Chapter 1

The rain continued to pour down with a violence. The pharmacy was cold-the kind of cold that was trapped in the linoleum and sunk into Price’s skin. Red’s hair had fallen out of its binding-spreading across the dirty floor. The blood was syrupy and dark as mud. Her eyelids hung heavy; her lips parted around uneven breaths. As if time had shifted, Price was suddenly seeing something else: Red Fox lying on that metal table in Kursk, her wrists bone-thin and strapped down. Her face so swollen it was nearly unrecognizable. 

It had only been a month. How could they have done the damage they’d done in a single month? 

But Price wasn’t an idiot, and he hadn't been an idiot then. He knew their enemies would have seen Red as something worth destroying. The sounds the men of 141 had made at the sight of her would never quite leave him. Incredulity. Shock. Rage. A wellspring of sadness had taken up residence within their circle. Red had been precious to them. Perhaps it was unfair to say that, but it was true. Regardless of what her and Simon had been, she’d also embedded herself into each of their lives and refused to move. She fought well. She survived better. 

Having to witness her be completely broken had destabilized them. It was as if the sky had cracked and fallen. The stars had collapsed against them and they could not push them back up.

Now, she had been nearly killed again.

Soap’s low cursing brought him back to the present. Johnny was hovering over her still form, his fingers gently pulling at the blood-drenched scarf Ghost had wrapped around her shoulder. 

She was conscious, but her coloring was worrisome. Soap worked on her vitals, revealing a penlight from his vest to check her eyes. The backdoor to the pharmacy jingled and Ghost whirled around, gun aimed. It was only Gaz.

“They had nothing,” he said, stalking down the aisle. “Guns had no bullets so it was all for show.” 

Price rubbed his jaw, feeling the tender hump of a bruise from a hit he’d taken outside. Cannibals. He hadn’t been surprised, though he felt like it was too soon for that level of desperation. They were probably the individuals who’d always wanted to-unafraid to commit something that barbaric when cans of food remained on the shelves. He’d seen men like that, especially in the military. They were the ones who signed up because they wanted a license to kill. 

He glanced to his left where Red’s attacker lay, his head twisted at the wrong angle. 

Good riddance.

If they hadn’t gotten here sooner…fuck. He didn’t want to think of that. She’d certainly been through enough with Kursk only a year or so before. Truthfully, it felt somewhat cosmic. Price was a logical man. He believed in what he could see, taste and feel. But after the outbreak, he had lost contact with his reason. 

Today had been lucky.

“Christ!” Gaz exclaimed once he spotted Red on the floor. “She alright?”

“Obviously,” Red replied before Price could. The words were faint, whistling past her lips. “Hi, Kyle.”

“Hey, darling.” Gaz’s eyes swung to Price. His expression worried. 

“Captain,” Soap murmured, turning to look up at him. The “captain” had stayed though Price had told them that they were all on equal footing. He supposed it was easier for them to remain in their positions. It allowed order. Familiarity. 

The fact was that there were no clear plans left. There were no predictable outcomes. Everything was belly-up, ass backwards. Fucked beyond comprehension. It made his teeth itch and his chest hurt. 

“What is it?” Ghost asked, striding past Price and crouching down beside Red. His gravelly voice was cut with a vulnerability he didn’t bother hiding. Ever since Red had been placed on leave, Ghost wasn’t himself. He’d been less cautious and more aloof if that was possible. He took mission after mission and then hid away in his room. Price watched as Ghost’s hand automatically went to her shoulder, his thumb finding her jaw to stroke it briefly before he moved it away. Another memory from Kursk shuddered through Price’s head. 

“You know what they fucking did to her,” Ghost choked out. He was losing it, completely falling apart. “You saw the reports. What the doctor said. What she said. She fucking remembers everything and-and I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You know it is. If I hadn’t run…fuckin’ hell…if I hadn’t run…” Ghost couldn’t finish the sentence. 

”I can patch it for now,” Soap explained. “But I need more supplies. We’re runnin’ low.” He chewed his lip as he glanced down at the black bag beside him. “Everything is soaked in rain water and mud. I’m nervous she’ll get an infection.”

Red suddenly lifted her head, fingers twitching against her stomach. “House,” she rasped, lashes fluttering. She coughed and Ghost wordlessly curled his arm around her shoulders before subtly maneuvering himself behind her so that she could rest against his chest. It was an intimate move. She was a little thing and Ghost was unnaturally tall and broad. With her collapsed against him, it emphasized how Ghost dwarfed her in every way. They fit well together.

“What’d you say, love?” Soap urged, nudging her hair away from her face. “Your house?”

She nodded weakly before looking at Price. It took her a worrisome amount of effort to move her eyes. “Up the road. We-we have supplies…Price knows where it is.”

“I do,” he confirmed. “Soap—bandage her shoulder and we’ll get her there.”

“Aye,” Soap said as he began to rummage through his bag. Abruptly, he stopped. “Did she say we?”

***

The rain spat at them while the dense mud packed their boots. Thank god for the road. Gaz sat on the horse with Red, his arms secure around her waist as she rested against his torso. They’d swamped her in their dirty, sweat-soaked jackets to keep her warm. Beneath her hood, the tip of her nose and strands of her hair were the only things visible. 

The path was eerie, cloaked in a veil of mist and shadow. Price had seen the occasional body off to the side, rubbery limbs hidden in the grass or trees. He’d experienced a lot of fucking death in his life, but the kind he was witnessing daily made him prickle. It was wrong. You expect corpses on the battlefield, but not outside a quaint village and wearing giraffe-print galoshes. 

They walked in a single file line. He took the front with Soap. Ghost at the rear, shadowing the horse holding Red and Gaz.

“So,” Soap began as he inched closer to Price. “Have you been to her home before?”

“No,” Price’s fingers itched for a cigarette. “She recently inherited it from her parents. Before she left, she gave me the address.”

“It’s big I presume?”

Price chuckled. “It’s got its own wikipedia page.”

They’d come here for a few reasons. One-he’d wanted to find Red. She was part of their group. She was his family. She was vital and he wouldn’t leave her out here. Truth be told, he’d been scared. He knew her mental state when she’d been put on leave. She was in perpetual rigor mortis—her mind completely brutalized from what had happened to her in Russia. Even he didn’t know everything they’d done to her, though he could guess from her medical records. When he’d sat beside her hospital bed, she’d been so raw that he’d been terrified to say the wrong thing. He’d attempted to be a physical presence, offering her quiet words of comfort, but then she had left. She’d been effectively kicked out and Price wished he’d done better by her. 

It was why he’d been so adamant to find her. 

The idea of Red in isolation as the world ended left him stricken. He’d called and called, attempted to find her on the radio, but had only been met with static. 

The second reason was that he figured moving away from the cities and into farmland was their best option. Many of the great castles and estates had been running since the middle ages. They’d be ideal shelters when modern infrastructure ceased. No gas. No electricity. They’d go old school. 

He hadn’t really asked for the other’s opinions when he’d made the plan. 141 had been forced to flee the barracks, seeking refuge in one of their previous safehouses outside Edinburgh. After he was unable to make contact with Red again, Price had walked into the room, ready to declare the mission, but Ghost had beaten him to it.

“Red?” he’d asked, his mask pale in the dark. His head bent forward with his massive shoulders hunched. Ghost had been a fucking mess, forlorn and deeply angry. 

That was all he had to say. Red. The rest didn't matter. Where else would we go? What else would we do? Because they couldn’t move forward without confirming if she was alive or dead.  

“Yeah,” Price had replied. “We’re going to find her.”

We’re going to find our girl. 

In the distance, Price could see the road split. The entrance to the estate was to the right. He could make out the looming iron gate. There was so much greenery, overwhelming foliage.

Before they’d left the pharmacy, Red had described the traps she’d set up around the property. 

Be mindful of areas with too many leaves. Also, a bunch of trip wires. You’ll get your head shot off.

“God,” Soap drawled. “I missed you.”

“Such a sicko,” Gaz snickered, reaching out to take Red’s hand. 

Slowly, but surely the enormous house came into view. You could only make out the tips of the estate's spires rising above the trees. Red’s family crest gleamed from the center of the gate’s bars.

Soap whistled. “That ‘duchess’ nickname was a little on the nose. Thought Simon came up with that.”

“He did, but I don’t think he really knew Red was-” He gestured vaguely in front of him. “-all this.”

“Captain!” Gaz shouted and Price whipped around, gun raised and ready. Even from a distance, it was apparent that Red had gone boneless, head lolling forward. 

Simon was already beside the horse, his hands disappearing beneath Red’s hood to engulf her face and lift it up. Soap cursed and sprinted toward them.

“She wasn’t responding to me,” Gaz hissed, voice tense with unease. He grimaced as he lifted his arm to reveal the front of his shirt awash in blood. “I-I didn’t realize-everything’s fuckin’ soaked from the rain.”

“Open her jacket,” Soap ordered and Ghost ripped at the top of it, pulling it away from her body. Crimson sheeted down her chest, soiling her thin shirt. Ghost’s hands slipped from her arms to her cheeks, cupping them and incidentally smearing blood across her jaw and chin. 

“Jesus fuck, Johnny!” Ghost’s tone was one Price had heard only a few times in his life. It was wrinkled with nervousness–unhinged fear. “Did you not wrap it right?”

“I did!” Soap sealed his hand to her shoulder, but it was impossible to see shit in the rain. “Could have nicked an artery and we just—just didn’t know.” She was ashen, a waxy sheen clinging to her pallor. 

Price steeled himself. “How much can she lose?” 

He wouldn’t crack. Not here. He couldn’t afford it when everything was already bad enough.

“Twenty to thirty-five percent?” Soap checked her pulse. “Her heart rate is accelerating.” 

“God damn it,” Ghost growled, his eyes darting from her shoulder to her rapidly deteriorating color. “Red?” He shook her gently and her head lolled. She made a soft, whimpering noise before going quiet. “C’mon, Red—wake up for me.”

Her brow furrowed, her lids parting a crack before they shut again. Simon swallowed thickly, the muscles in his neck spasming. The hem of his black mask had ridden up to reveal blonde hair stained dark from rain and sweat. 

“Simon–” Price tried before the larger man suddenly straightened, snapping to attention.

Wordlessly, Ghost repacked the sodden gauze into the wound and rewrapped her shoulder. He shoved his gun at Soap and lifted her clean off the horse. He maneuvered her into his arms, cradling against his chest. 

“I can take her, Simon,” Gaz protested.

“No,” he replied flatly. “Have to avoid the trip wires and you can’t see shit from a horse.” He began to move toward the house. “Price-be my eyes here. Don’t want to get shot. Johnny–what do we need?”

 He was holding her like she was a fragile egg, stalking towards the looming iron gate without jarring her. Soap and Price jogged after them.

“Needle, blood bag, a rubber tube,” he replied. The storm had picked up again and Price wondered if God was fucking with them. “A donor.”

“I’ll give it to her,” Ghost said without skipping a beat. “I’ve done it before…” he trailed off and the rain washed out the rest of his words. 

***

Simon couldn’t think, at least not in a straight definitive line. Not good. He was capable of coldness on the field. He could patch one of his teammates up with one hand while shooting with the other. 

But, Red? Different. So fucking different. 

He’d broken the man’s neck in the pharmacy, but too little too late. She’d still been hit and she was now close to death. He rushed through the front gate, stepping over the wires that Red had described before she’d gone quiet. He should have been more aware. He should have been watching her the second she’d stopped speaking on that damn horse. It was torture as he attempted to race toward the front door of the estate while keeping her comfortable. He felt as if he was straddling a knife edge, kicking up gravel as rain water sluiced into his vision.

The air was frigid. The wind was biting at his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured through the wet seal of his mask. “You’ll be alright.”

 Simon hauled ass up the stone steps just as Soap barreled past him to open the door. It was locked.  

“Fuck,” Soap punched the wood before turning to Ghost. “We can break a window?”

“Ghost,” Gaz shouted–a warning. 

Soap punched the door again, his knuckles splitting. 

“Ghost!”

“What?” he roared, whirling around to find a woman aiming a gun at them that was far too big for her. She glared, long dark hair falling in limp strands around her face. She was dressed in only shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her green rain boots were covered in mud. 

“Who the fuck–” Her eyes fell to Red and she blanched, her mouth gaping in shock. “Oh my god!” 

Soap stepped in front of Simon and Red. “Alright, lass-” 

She lifted the gun higher. “What did you do to her, you fuckin’ assholes.”

Gaz slid around her, hands up. 

“Nothin’,” Gaz defended, voice steady and calm. “Look–we’re friends of Red’s. She got attacked in the village and she’s bleedin’ out-”

“How do I know you didn’t do it yourself?” The girl's lip trembled. “You-you could be using her as bait and-”

“WE DON’T HAVE FUCKING TIME FOR THIS!” Ghost bellowed. The girl flinched and Gaz slipped between them. Always the voice of reason. 

“She’s dying,” he explained. “Please let us in-”

Price appeared behind her and seamlessly snatched the gun from her hands. “Safety’s still on, love.” 

Startled, she nearly stumbled backwards over the steps before Gaz grabbed her by the arms, tugged her to him, and locked her against his chest. “Will you open the door now?”

Simon was done. He felt real fear begin to pour out of him, his whole frame shivering with it. He was taking on water too fast. He was sinking. Rage. Terror. He could not accommodate them both. He glowered at the woman, vowing to kill her if Red died. “Open. The. Door.��� His threat spurted between his clenched teeth. His tone was frigid-dark and unyielding. 

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay–Slim–Slim said never to open it for anyone even if-if-”

Gaz released her and when she stepped toward the door, Simon realized she was crying. The rain had disfigured her features. 

“Just open the door, love,” Price murmured. He squeezed her shoulder and guided her closer. She winced when she brushed past Simon.

Visibly shaking, she pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked it. 

***

It was utter chaos. They’d placed on the table, her injury no doubt staining the expensive wood. Simon scanned the kitchen and found it unadorned. It was all stone and wood, enormous and obviously meant to be utilized by an entire staff. He assumed that only the appliances had been updated, the rest was centuries old. He blew out a breath, feeling uneasy. The corners of the room were shadowed by the storm that howled outside. The windows provided little light and the woman-Bambi-was lighting several candles. Price and Gaz were searching for medical supplies in the storage closet across the room. Red had apparently invested in a plethora of equipment and tools long before the pandemonium had begun. 

Good girl - Simon thought. Red had always been one to prepare rather than wait for the other shoe to drop. 

“What happened?” Bamb was hovering beside the table, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. She looked dazed, eyes focusing on the crimson-drenched bandages at the base of Red’s neck. Soap removed a pair of scissors from his bag and began to cut through her shirt.

Bambi winced. “Oh-don’t-she doesn’t have many-”

“It’s fucked, lass,” Soap replied bluntly. “You should maybe sit in the next room.”

“I can handle it,” she returned with conviction. “I’ve…” she swallowed. “I’ve seen worse.”

Soap shrugged before removing the bandages. Heart thundering in his chest, Simon watched as Red’s blood spilled in rivers, pooling beneath her. Immediately, he flattened his palms to the wound.

 “Steamin’ Christ,” Soap rumbled before yelling at Gaz to bring him more gauze. He turned to Bambi. “You have small hands.” He gestured to the large first-aid kit on the table. “Find the sewing kit, clean and thread a needle for me.” 

There was red up to his elbows, everything drenched and slippery. The room stank of pennies. Tasted like he’d licked a metal instrument. Blood had never bothered Simon before, but he was beginning to feel lightheaded. That’s fear. 

“She’ll be alright,” Soap muttered, glancing momentarily at Simon before focusing on Red’s face. “She’s survived worse, yeah?”

Simon steeled himself, aware that he couldn’t lose his head here. It was bad. Her coloring was frightening and how could they have been so stupid to not have realized she’d been fading out? 

“Foolish girl.” Simon grunted as a deep, unsettling frustration began to simmer beneath his skin. Typical Red. Fucking martyr. Probably, felt herself losing consciousness, but didn’t want to be a bother. 

Anger was an easier emotion to carry. Anger had been the feeling he’d harbored when she’d told him about her condition right before Kursk. He’d run away from her. He’d been an immature fucking child and left her. He’d been inexplicably pissed at her and for what? Something totally out of her control. A complete accident that they were both responsible for. 

“We can figure this out, Simon,” she’d told him. “We don’t have to make any rash decisions. We don’t-we don’t even have to go through with it.”

“I-I just need some time,” he’d said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back and we can-we’ll talk.”

He’d gone on a mission. Left her. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days, but she’d been so upset and desperate for her own distraction that she’d taken on a mission herself. A simple recon assignment. 

He had never forgiven himself when she didn’t come home.

“Simon,” Price had said, meeting him the second he’d stepped off the helicopter. “Simon-”

His stomach had dropped. He’d known it was about her by the look on Price’s face. 

“Where is she?” he’d growled and Price’s expression dismantled into something distressed.

“We don’t know,” he replied. “There was an explosion. She got separated.We-we think the Kursk faction took her.”

Next to Red, Price had always been Simon’s anchor in certain situations. He was reliable and he withstood every horrible disaster thrown at him. But when Red had been taken prisoner, the Captain had been visibly shaken. 

“Alright-shit’s about to get really messy,” Soap said as he yanked on a pair of latex gloves. 

“Here!” Bambi passed Soap the threaded needle. Soap had become the resident medic only because he had nimblest hands from dismantling bombs. He’d also picked up quite alot when he’d been fucking one of the nurses a few years back.

“Hopefully she doesn’t feel this,” Soap murmured before he poured rubbing alcohol over the angry slit.

Red’s eyes flew open, mouth slanting into a gasp. She twitched and moaned before attempting to shove Soap away. 

“Hold her, hold her,” Soap gritted. “I won’t be able to close it.”

Simon placed one hand on her uninjured shoulder and the other on her face. His palm encased it-spanning the entire side of her cheek and temple. Price appeared at the end of the table and held her legs down. 

Simon said her name softly. Her real one. He said it the same way he used to say it when it was just them and the morning and her shitty narrow bed and they’d probably just had tender, desperate sex. Her eyes found his and Simon smiled before realizing she couldn’t see it due to his mask. 

She hiccuped, her chest hitching. She was beginning to cry. 

“She needs to calm down,” Price barked. “Simon-”

Fuck it.

Simon ripped off his mask and threw it somewhere. Even though all of his enemies were likely dead, the mask still served as a crutch. It was still his armor.

But Red needed him.

Simon readjusted his grip and lowered his face so that it hovered over her own. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he demanded. “Look at me.” She blinked at him rapidly before she seemed to focus. Her lips twitched into what could have been a smile. It broke something inside him. 

“I’m here, alright,” he continued. “We’re all here. We’re just sewing you back up so we need you to relax.” The stench of blood and disinfectant wafted from the table. It stained his boots and hands. He drowned in it. 

Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. 

“Only a flesh wound, duchess.” His voice was dangerously close to cracking. He couldn’t find his direction. He couldn’t find much of anything when she looked so fragile. 

It’s fine. We’re okay now. Out of the woods. 

And then shit went south. 

Red’s lashes fluttered, her eyes rolling back. Simon reached down to grip her wrist. “Her pulse is elevating, Johnny.”

Soap cursed. 

“What’s happening?” Bambi asked. Simon took a deep breath in an effort to hold it together. He jammed his aching terror into his guts because he knew Red needed him strong. She needed him to be solid and dependable. 

“She’s going into shock,” Soap explained before he continued to stitch her now that she had gone fairly still, pinned to the table by Simon and Price. He was sewing faster than Simon had ever seen him do before. It would be a mess, but it would save her life. 

“Thatta girl, Foxy,” Soap cooed even though she was hardly cognizant. “Doing beautifully, lass.” He cast Gaz a sharp look over his shoulder. “Start on Ghost. Price can help me.”

Simon didn’t need to be told twice as he dropped into one of the chairs. It creaked violently beneath his weight. He ripped at the buckles and straps of his vest before removing it and his jacket. 

“Lucky for us, Red apparently stole multiple sorts of kits.” Gaz lifted an oven tray with a catheter set, elastic and needles. 

“She raided the medical facilities nearby before anyone even knew what was going down,” Bambi said. “Went a little overboard.”

“Typical.” Soap grinned as he poured antiseptic over her shoulder. She was unresponsive, which caused him to frown. “She used to tell us what she’d do in a zombie apocalypse. The girl was ready.”

Gaz slid next to Simon and lifted his left arm, flicking at the inside of his elbow. Simon curled his hand into a fist while Gaz secured the elastic around his bicep, the black rubber blended into the ink scrawled across his skin. It pressed deep into his Fox tattoo. 

Her gaze was locked to the top of his bicep. She squinted, her tongue darting along the cracked flesh of her lower lip. With a gentle finger, she traced the tattoo, her expression melded into a soft sort of wonder. After a moment, her eyes watered and she blinked it away.

“A fox?” she murmured, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Is that for me or another lady?”

He scowled. “Don’t be cheeky, duchess.”

Undeterred, she grasped his bicep and kissed the tiny fox. His declaration for her. He couldn’t help the shudder that vibrated through his bones. The warm, wet pressure of her pretty mouth. A devastating feeling burned through him as he watched her, small and beautiful and his. He must protect her, curl himself around her. Destroy everything else. Start at the root and tear it from the soil. Any fucking threat to her safety.

Well, he had failed her. Spectacularly. 

Gaz pierced Simon’s vein with the needle before directing it into a tube. He sighed, shaking away the dizziness. He was dehydrated and hungry and on no sleep, but it hardly mattered. 

Soap took the other needle and elastic before tying it around Red’s right arm. The IV catheter sat between Simon and Red as the dark - nearly black blood - was transferred between them. 

Simon studied her intently, feeling that if he looked away she’d die. Her heart would stop right on that table and he’d never be able to speak to her again. 

Red had been human for him. He’d watch her cry after a tough mission and she’d allow him to hold her. Burrow her face into his chest, cling to him and sometimes they’d fuck and sometimes they wouldn’t. Simon demanded her tears. Give them to me, love. Let me take your pain and I’ll never fucking forgive myself for being so late—for being unable to find you when you needed me most. Yes - he had failed her spectacularly and it felt as if he’d failed her again.

Your heart is soft, duchess. 

It is not.

Soft as Soap’s.

Soft for you, maybe. 

Gaz taped the needle to his arm, helping Simon elevate it just enough. Simon braced his elbows on his knees as he studied her skin and its new scars. He hadn’t even realized she was completely bare on top. He felt a weight drop in his gut-a basket of stones turn over beneath his ribs. Most of those marks were from Kursk. He swallowed. Rage. Again, rage. It set his nerves on fire and made his muscles spasm. 

You killed them. You killed all of them for what they did. You tore them apart. 

Suddenly, Simon reached out and took her hand. Due to their size difference, it was utterly dwarfed in his grip. He dragged his thumb across the vein in her wrist and felt the delicious thrum of it. 

“Her color is coming back, L.T.,” Soap acknowledged before finally stepping away from the table and dragging both hands down his face. He exhaled loudly. “Christ–I think I’ve lost a year off my life.”

Bambi glanced at him. “She’ll live?”

“Looks like it. Just pray she doesn’t get an infection.”

Simon prayed. 

***

Please share/reblog your thoughts, babes!

[senualothbrok]

Content

Summary: After seeing everyone at the reunion party, Gale wonders if you regret choosing him over Astarion.

Word count: 1.4k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Unascended Gale x Tav. Unascended Astarion. Mild hurt/comfort. Fluff.

AO3 link

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

“That-” The bed dips as he collapses beside you. “Was a lovely evening.”

It is instinct now, to nestle yourself into him, to nuzzle into the nook where his neck meets his shoulder. To interlace your fingers with his.

His words are lightly slurred, drowsy from wine, heavy with pleasure. He is so warm. A light drizzle has begun outside. You lie still, listening to the gentle patter of rain on the sea.

“Everyone looked so happy,” you say. “Did you see Wyll and Karlach?”

His grin is so wide you can hear it. “I can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”

“Even Lae’zel.” You laugh. “She told me she was having a nice time. She used the word nice.”

Gale chuckles. Your body moves to its rhythm.

“Shadowheart wants to stop by again next month.”

“That would be marvellous.”

“Did I show you the duck that Halsin gave me?”

“Yes, my love. More than once. I think you showed everyone at the party.”

You sigh. “Even Jaheira and Minsc looked well. Well, Minsc looked like an escaped prisoner, but I guess that’s his version of thriving.”

“It’s heartening to see that some things never change.” He runs his fingers through your hair, slow and soft. Your eyelids begin to flutter. “And that some things do. Astarion, for instance. He seems remarkably well, doesn’t he?”

Your eyes spring open. You shift your head slightly.

“He does.”  

“He and Tara took to each other like flies to a carcass. For almost half an hour they traded casual insults about my beard, my lack of organisation, and my life choices in general. It was most entertaining. For them.

You trace your fingers over his chest. There are the faintest indents in his skin where the mark of the orb used to be.

“Some things never change.” 

“Indeed.” He kisses your forehead. “Just like the good old days, I suppose, when we were two suitors battling for the prize of your precious affections.”

You look up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Is that what I was? A prize to be won through a contest of manhood?”

He rubs his nose against yours. “Of course not. Your love is a gift, one I never dreamed I’d deserve.”

He goes on before you can protest.

“I think he may still hold my good fortune against me, though. Despite being a changed man. A leader of seven thousand spawn, even.” There is pride in his voice.

In the silence that follows, you bask in that pride. You too are indescribably proud of Astarion, how far he has come, the life he has made for himself.

“No regrets, then?” Gale asks.

He disguises it as a jest, a throwaway comment. But there is a stiffness in his chest, a hollowness to his tone, that he cannot conceal from you.

“Regrets?”

He shuffles. As he tilts his head, you see a crease on his brow.

“Do you regret your choice? Now that you’ve seen Astarion again, in all his glory?”

It is the briefest of moments. You hesitate. And he sees it.

He moves back.  Doubt darkens his features. Desperation quivers in them. He searches your eyes.

You had wanted to brush it off, dismiss it as absurd. Reassure him that you had never entertained any doubts, that you had never been uncertain about your choice. But that would not be true. And you had promised, when you had sworn your lives to each other, that you would always tell the truth.

You had promised each other that you would not sacrifice your own needs on the altar of the other’s approval. Those days were over and gone. You had vowed to always tell each other the truth about what you wanted, what you needed, what you felt. No longer would you ignore or deny who you were out of fear that the other would withdraw their love.

Your marriage had been built on that promise. You could not disregard it now.

“You can tell me.” He nods. There is turmoil in his gaze, but also kindness. And love. So much love.

You place your hand on his heart. You take a deep breath.

“After we ended things, I worried for Astarion. For a long time, I thought I had broken him, even more than he already was. I thought, after all he’d been through, for me to leave him like that…”

You remember the cold tentacles of guilt that latched around your heart, the weight of the shame that crushed you.

“I thought that I could help him. I wanted to be there for him, when no one else had been. He said I was the only one who had ever been kind to him, the only good thing he had experienced in this godsdamned shitty world. To have left him, after all that… I thought I had destroyed him.”

You remember all the sleepless nights, the dreams, the nightmares.  You know, with such certainty, that Gale will understand. You have cradled him in your arms, after all, when he has woken stricken and confused, calling out Mystra’s name. Some things do not need to be explained.

The tenderness of Gale’s gaze gives you strength to continue.

“It was exhausting, to feel like I always wanted him to be something he wasn’t. He resented me for it, for trying to change him. All the times I had to talk him down, justify my decisions, tell him that it was worth it to be kind and compassionate, to help people without expecting anything in return. I’m a Paladin, for gods’ sake, and the number of times I had to explain my oath…” You shake your head. “I felt like I had to make myself smaller, to be a different person, for our love to survive.”

Your voice breaks. “It was too much, anyway, to be the one to save him, to be his only hope.”

There is uncertainty in Gale’s frown. You see the question he holds back.

“It was different with you, Gale. You were a good man long before we met. Even being cursed with the power to obliterate an entire city couldn’t take away your kindness. Your goodness. Even that couldn’t make you bitter or cruel.”

Gale’s face has softened, but he averts his eyes. He looks contrite, when he has no reason to be.

“I admit that I’ve had some concerns.” He grimaces. “When you’re frightfully out of practice, and competing with someone with such clear expertise in matters of seduction…” He clears his throat. “It’s difficult not to wonder.”

“It was never like that.” You hand moves to cup Gale’s cheek. “And seduction, sex – that’s different from…well, making love, forgive the cliché.”

You have discussed intimacy before with Gale, but you have never discussed how things were with Astarion. You do not want to hurt him, but you owe him the truth.

“Sometimes, touch was hard for him. Being close. Showing love. And I understood that. But sometimes, I needed to be touched. To be held.”

It still surprises you, how easy it is to show Gale your heart and all its scars. How safe you feel in the knowledge that he will never run away from them.

“I felt so, so selfish for that.  And for a long time, I blamed myself, for leaving him, for choosing happiness with you.”

The tears come without warning. You brush them away, but they do not stop.

“I could never regret this life with you, Gale. But I did feel guilty. Ashamed. Now, after seeing him, knowing how happy he is, knowing how truly well he is, being able to hug him…” A laugh bursts from you, bright with relief, shaky with tears. “I don’t have to feel that way anymore.”

When he smiles, it is like the light of a thousand stars radiating through you.

“My love,” he whispers. “If I’d known that you were carrying this burden with you all this time, I would have asked you this question sooner.”

He reaches for you and holds you to his chest. You can feel the beating of his heart, echoing through you, boundless as the night sky.

“Choosing you was the best choice I’ve ever made,” you breathe.

His lips caress your hair, your ear, your neck, the tears which fall down your cheeks. His tongue melts into yours as your limbs entwine with his. You give yourself to each other, as you have before, as you will again and again. And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you are content.

----

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

[tokkiwrites]

fIRE NECTAR : Qu’est-ce que l’incassable ?

➛ in which the allure & danger of one man makes you question all but your heart.

ʕ•̫͡•ʔ c.w : 18+ joel miller x afab reader, fem reader, no outbreak au, mob boss joel (kind of), stalking themes, mention of cheating, alcohol, violence, some angst, age gap, mentions of infatuation, p in v sex unprotected, pet names, degradation, f and m receiving, knife play, mentions of blood, mentions of being pure. (the pic doesn't represent readers body, its there just for the aesthetics. lmk if i missed anything) not proofread

─────

'Perfect is a word lost at the bottom of wine bottles perfect is a foreign word, to me. you and i both have uncountable mistakesㅡ lost wars. i want to be your good, but I dont want to be what im not. I'd surrender my arms, I'd lose all fights.. for you.'

─────

everyone says you're lucky. lucky you have what most only dream ofㅡ You've been with your boyfriend for almost 5 years now. You two met when you were only 19, and he was 20. life has been great. You're even planning on moving in together on your 5th year anniversary, buying a pet, and spending more time with one another. you can't express the happiness you feelㅡ or felt, better said.

it's been six months. six grueling months that have kept you up wondering if this is what you really want, who you really want. it was all so peaceful until it wasn't. until you met him.

enter Joel Miller, the man who beat the shit out af a creep who tried to touch you when you were out with your friends at a club. that happened six months ago. six months ago and a few hours. you'd been lying if you said seeing someone bloodied up because they wanted to protect you didn't pull at your heart.

your encounter with Joel was short and sweet, unfortunately. you told the officers at the scene he was the reason you turned out safe and that you think he's a nice man for that, scrunching up their nose as they tried to make sense of what you just said: Joel Miller a nice man? maybe when alseep, all though even in he sleeps, he's probably dreaming of destroying everything in his way.

Police prefer not to entangle with him. they did it many times, but when he hit 35, doing the same shit they gave upㅡ sort of making a pact for the sake of everyone's well-being. He was a nice man. Losing loved ones and years got to him, the wrong people got to him first, and so he built his own life climbing the steps of crime.

He was a nice man.

You hate it when you do this. You go outside more often than you did 6 months ago to that same spot ㅡ where you first and last saw him. you don't go at night, but after you finish work every day, hoping he's searching for you like you are for him. it's like a fix, and he's the drug, only you had no time to indulge into him.only the image of his bloodied knuckles projecting onto your closed eyelids as you fall asleep next to your boyfriend.

ㅡ

As the neon lights flickered against the rain-soaked streets, you found yourself standing outside the club. Your heart raced as you pushed open the heavy doors, the bass thumping through your veins. "Hey, beautiful," a smooth voice whispered in your ear. You turned to see Joel, his dark eyes smoldering with intensity. "I've been waiting for you."

"I shouldn't be here, Joel," you protested weakly, torn between loyalty to your boyfriend and the magnetic pull of this dangerous man. He chuckled, a shadowed glint in his eyes. "But you couldn't stay away, could you?" You bit your lip, feeling the weight of his gaze like chains around your heart. "I need to leave," you said, but your feet refused to move.

"You just got here, baby." Joel urged, his voice low and persuasive. "Just one drink." Against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding, allowing him to lead you deeper into the pulsating club.

You swallowed hard, the guilt of betraying your boyfriend warring with the intoxicating thrill of being with Joel. "I can't do this," you whispered, but even as the words left your lips, you knew they were a lie. Joel's lips quirked into a knowing smile. " not foolin' anyone, sweetheart," he said, his voice sending shivers through your body.

ㅡ

Before you could respond, the sound of your phone goes off, causing you to wake up. Your eyes shoot open, turning to see if your boyfriend is yet awake. his side is empty, only the wrinkles on the sheets remembering his presence. As you reach for your phone, its vibrant screen illuminates the dimly lit room, casting shadows that dance across the walls. With a delicate touch, you unlock the device, revealing a text from your almost beloved:

The words, though tender, fail to dispel the lingering echoes of Joel's presence in your mind. Your brain flickers back to the dream and the moment you met Joel, its façade a beacon amidst the city's nocturnal.

── had to leave early, sorry for that, babe. Can't wait to see you tonight. Love you ❤️

The memory of Joel's voice, velvety and commanding, resonates in the recesses of your consciousness, a siren's call luring you into the depths of uncertainty. Despite your protestations, the tendrils of temptation coil around your resolve, entwining with the delicate fibers of loyalty that bind you to your partner. With each heartbeat, the dichotomy of emotions swirls within, a tempestuous maelstrom of desire and guilt, desire Joel, and guilt for the betrayal it entails.

And yet, beneath the veneer of steadfast resolve lies a flicker of uncertainty, a gnawing doubt that whispers of the inevitability of succumbing to the intoxicating pull of his magnetism. In the depths of your soul, you grapple with the unsettling truth that the want you feel for Joel might stem from something deeperㅡ it was something carnal. It consumed you for so long.

his gaze, a smoldering ember amidst the darkness, kindles flames of longing that lick at the edges of your conscience. his eyes that cut like knives.

────────

'About time you escaped, imprisoned isn't what I'd imagine you'd want your heart to be written upon.'

────────

Amidst the throng of pedestrians, a familiar silhouette emergedㅡ him. it felt like seeing an old friend. no, like finding an old toy that brought you joy. only that toy was stolen, which is why you had to hide it; hide it so good you had to forget about it.

With a jolt of recognition, your gaze locked with his, a fleeting moment suspended in the maelstrom of time. 'Will he recognize me?' Joel's eyes, obsidian pools that mirrored the depths of your soul, held a myriad of emotions: recognition, intrigue, and perhaps, a hint of longing. at least you hoped so. wanted so.

With a wistful smile, Joel broke the spell that bound you, his voice a melodic symphony amidst the murmur of the city. "Happy to see you're fine." You returned his smile, a fragile facade that masked the tempest of emotions raging within. "Why wouldn't I be?" you replied, your voice a whisper lost.

"I was honestly thinking something might have happened after that night...seeing that you almost always visit the club." he quirks his eyebrows. "nothing happened." but it did. he ripped the heart out of you and kissed it goodbye all at once, leaving you to deal with it all whilst he carried on with his drug escapades and crime shenanigans. nevertheless, you smile, swallowing back your own thoughts as it seemed.

"I've been following you, y'know?" joel admits.

my, and what a strong grasp he has onto your heart right now.

"You'veㅡ seriously?" why did you sound happy? when joel tells someone this, their first reaction is to go wide-eyed and back out. but it is rare that he feels such a pull towards someone. someone like you. maybe you reminded him of when he was so untaintedㅡ the thought of danger strangling him to the point he couldn't help but give in. "Tell me why."

you've been caught. isn't this what you wanted?

"I- uhm...I don'tㅡ"

"Don't even bother lying. What would an angel like you want from someone-" joel steps closer. "like me." a sense of inevitability washed over you. you were reminded of the immutable truth. The words, uttered with a conviction born of desperation. "It's you that i need." you can't believe your own courage. maybe you were just drunk on his scent.

they slip past your lips like a plea. absolution and complete submission, you surrendered. this was your god, the one you've prayed for all those nights when your boyfriend was fast asleep. it was wrong, but oh, how sweet, like honey wrong is. you weren't scared to kick everything away for a mere second of this. just a touch of his fingertips. that's all. you found solace in that.

──────────

"Do you wanna go back to my place, sugar?"

'Love is an apple, and i am the serpent forcing it down my throat.'

──────────

rough, red, and raw. that's how his kisses were. he made no stop until he had you splayed over his bed. he was eating you with every stare, like a predator. you needed him to do something, dive into you. it was carnal.

"If you wanna stop, just say so, yeah?" joel causes you to look back up at him. nipping at your lower lip, you spread your legs further apart as to invite him further. "I want you to hurt me, Joel." and how could he refuse you? you looked so pure and beautiful all spread under him, waiting for his command. "that so." and you whimper a pathetic 'mhm'.

"I never made you out to be this kinda girl, all though ㅡ" he retracts, reaching out into his back pocket to take out his switchblade. "I don't mind it." joel chuckles before yanking you up by your hair and pulling you to the ground. "Kneel." he commands. and you obliged, intoxicated from his presence alone. "This what you want? huh?" he asks, traching your neck with the tip of the knife as you shiver. "pathetic slut. forgot you've got a man at home?" he taunts "bet you've been dreamin' bout me stuffing you up with my cock, yeah?"

you nod, eager not to let him slip through your fingers. "Yeah.." he drags the kife down, cutting through your top, knicking your skin and exposing your breasts. the slight pain drowns you as you press your thighs together. "Look at that." he tuts, mocking as he drags the knife over the small cut to gather the blood, bringing it up to your mouth.

"lick" and lick you do, swirling your tongue around the blade, keeping eye contact as the metal aroma washed over your tastebuds. "atta girl. good little slut." joel chuckles as he proceeds to unbuckle his pants. "now imma let you suck my cock, butㅡ" after hes done freeing his shaft from his briefs he holds the knife up to the side of your neck. "if you stop I'll make sure you won't like it."

you weren't scared at all. maybe it was from all of the time you spent yearning that totally disrupted your sense of fearㅡ You wanted to make him proud and not regret what he'd done until now.

so you take his member into your mouth, slowly sucking on the tip before trying to take more. you lied if you said he wasn't huge, your jaw already hurting once you made it halfway. the knife was still digging at your skin, his eyes fixed on your every move. moving you head up and down, you felt as joels muscles tensed, his breath growing shallow as he snaked his free hand around your hair again.

"Just like that. yeah, keep doin' that.." tears well up in your eyes as your core tightness, still not dwelling on you that you're on your knees, sucking Joels dick whilst he holds you at knifepoint. "ok, thats enough, angel-baby." he pushes you back, motioning you back onto the bed. " all fours."

"n-no.." You muster up. "What's that?" joel furrowed his brows. "Not all fours..wanna see your face." You stare up at him, and you swear you saw his gaze softened. "what the fuck are you doin' to me, girl..?" he laughs, pulling you up and placing you on the bed, the sheets enveloping you.

"been dreamin' about this, baby. look at you..." he groans, undressing your delicate skin. "you're a fuckin' dream." he trails kisses from your stomach to your knee and traces his nose back up to your lips before he crashes his onto them.

you cling onto that kiss, it awakes you from the deepest hole on earth, pulls you to the heaven, then plummets you down againㅡ you needed this.

joel breaks from the kiss, sitting like that for a second. he then traces his digits between your folds that dripped with desire. "so wet for me, angel. all f'me.."

"please, mmhg.." whining, you try to rub yourself onto his fingers, but he quickly slaps you again, this time on the side of your thigh. "don't be a greedy whore." he clicks his tongue before leaning down spreading your pussy lips as he does, blowing onto your sensitive clit. you jump and moan in frustration. "i know, baby, i know." he spreads your legs further, finally landing a soft and teasing lick between your folds. it doesn't take long for joel to go at it, sucking and licking at your cunt like theres no tomorrow, your desperate pleads to come only fueling him. "not yet, angel-baby." he gorans, picking himself up.

"please fuck me, Joel." you plead. "needy thing." and with that he lines himself up with your hole and eases in. your whole body vibrates as a sting spreads through you, and you squeeze around Joel. "fuckㅡ so fuckin' tight." he moans before plunging straight into you. your tongue luls out, tears on the brink of your eyes as you cand only squeal out pathetic moans and incoherent blathers. "shitㅡ ! squeezing me so good, baby."

joel fucks into you harder and harder, the bed creaking whilst you let him take over you. he grabs your hips pushing himself even deeper into your cunt, groaning when you arch your back, breasts perking up. "fucking angel. my pure angel." ㅡ you can only moan and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. desperately, you clench around his cock, sending joel into a frenzy.

"gonna come, baby?" he's stern and rough with his request. "hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how long you've waited for this.

"gonna come soㅡ fukin' deep inside of you- shit!" he almost growls, and you not your head dizzy. "p-leasee...insideㅡ!" and you don't wait more than two more seconds as joel spills his warm seed inside, painting every inch of you. he leans down, leaving a tired kiss upon your forehead.

"go ahead, angel-baby." you writhe as the knots in your core begin to untie, shaking under joel whilst he fucks you through it. it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit, digging his nails through your thighs, gritting his teeth and moaning your name.

"thank you."

────────

'wandering companionless, I've finally found you.'

────────

⏜⃞♡⠀⠀🐰 hey, guyyyyssss, i honestly dont know what this is. It's kind of shitty but i wanted to try writing something more. i incorporated some verses of poems i wrote, so i hope you enjoyed it!!! love ya

[jasonsknight3]

Part two! @eva-sparda20

Warning: intermediation? There isn’t much in this one.

Passing by

(AK Jason d Sweet waitress reader)

Today was a cloudy Saturday, not raining though which was an unusual thing. There was always rain with clouds but not today. Not on your day off. Not that it mattered sense you weren’t going out anyway. Your day off was spent watching movies, napping, snacking, and a few hobbies you finally had time for. The man you met hasn’t come back to your dissatisfaction. As intimidating as he was, you felt a force of attraction to him. Not just his pretty eyes and face, not just the way he made your heart leap in all kinds of nervousness but, the mysterious air about him. The alluring mystery to his personality. You still hadn’t figured him out. Not that you really had time to when you first met him. He was on your mind near constantly for the past three days and two nights. There was so much you wanted to know, to explore. He had your attention so much, it honestly bothered you how quickly you felt…attached. It wasn’t love but it was something. A connection somehow.

Around 6:00 pm the sky grew a little darker and you put on the second movie of the day, a personal favorite. The 1950’s movie “Scaramouche” with Stewart Grange in it. A dramatic movie with romance, sword fighting, comedy, and so much more. It wasn’t everyone’s favorite but you enjoyed it. Watching. As the movie plays you feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. The last thing you remember was when Andre Moreau jumped in the wagon proclaiming his love to Aline De Galvrillac.

The sound of wood dragging against wood against wood woke you up. Opening your eyes you rub them trying. To rub away the sleep from them. Peering behind the back part of the couch, you look into the kitchen. You gasped as you saw a figure standing there next to the open window you swear you locked. The figure slid off his green baseball hat revealing a familiar face. Your body relaxed a little. It was him, he wasn’t wearing his armor though, instead, he wore a red hoodie, gray pants, and some hiking boots. “You’re back.” You said softly trying to hide your excitement for the much welcomed surprise visit. Getting up stretching you walk to the kitchen. “What did you come here for?” You ask stopping to rest against the counter. “I was actually hoping you wouldn’t be here.” He said flatly. That drug a little but you half expected it. You tried to keep it light, ignoring the comment. “Yea, I have Sundays off. Um…” you look around your eyes settling on the microwave. 8:00. Before you could speak he said “you should really lock your window.” You nod “yea, it’s actually broken. It doesn’t actually lock.” You explained sheepishly. “You should fix it.” There was a long pause before you said anything else. “Would…would you like some dinner?” You question. He looked at the floor for a moment and looked back at you silently longer than comfortable. “Fine.” A part of you felt relief at his acceptance but you also felt he had ulterior motives for staying. You didn’t mind though, you felt as though it wasn’t anything bad. “Does spaghetti sound good?” You ask him. “Sounds fine.” He replied unenthusiastically. Grabbing pots, noodle, ground beef, mushrooms and all the seasoning you set all the items out to start.

As you filled up the big pot with water he leaned against the counter next to the stove. “So, what’s your name hm?” Him asking questions was a surprise but you answered happily. “Um, (F/N).” He hummed in response before continuing. “I could tell you worked at a diner the first time I saw you but I just want to know if my assumption is correct.” You smile, “yea, I work at a diner.” You say heaving up the pot of water and setting it on the stove. Turning the knob and pausing til you hear the three clicks to finally turn it up to nine. The fire caught and started to heat up the water. “Which one?” He questioned you. You looked at him for a moment before answering “why are you asking? What’s with starting all these questions?” You ask curiously. He frowns as if his reasons were obvious. “To make sure that you keep your word.” The water began to boil. Putting in the noodles and storing for a minute you respond. “How would asking me these questions keep me in check? Besides, I'll keep you a secret.” You say as you start to brown the meat. He seemed frustrated. “Your word isn’t enough. Secondly,” he stepped close to the way he presented himself was intimidating, making you shiver a little. “I’ve done my research, you know. I know you to a level others don’t. Your name is (F/N) (M/N) (L/N), I know you are (age), dropped out of college, work at Paul’s diner on Maigani island, on grande Avenue, the one that was rebuilt a year ago, I know your medical history, I know you’re originally from (redacted). Escaped your family, now you're here. I. Know. Everything.” Your heart hammered in your chest, your face no doubt reflecting panic and terror. You didn’t really realize the gravity of who this man was. Possibilities swam in your head. Has he been stalking you? Was the night you helped him planned? Stepping back he relaxed. “Calm down, it’s not that hard to find all of that information, not for me. Let’s just say I used to work for the supposed “best detective” there ever was. I’m a vigilante. I hunt criminals down regularly. Hunting down your information was easy. As for your question about how it helps me “keep you in check” by asking questions. Think of it as a test. I ask what I already know and based on your answer I learn how honest you really are.” It was a lot to take in but it all made at least a little sense. Why he was hurt, why he wore the gear, why he knew so much about you. It all made more sense but still freaked you out a little. You quietly start to add the red sauce. You didn’t know what to say, you felt so exposed, you didn’t have a criminal record but it felt as if he knew every sin you committed.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him looking out the window when his body suddenly jolted , his body going stiff, his head slightly snapping to the side before returning to looking out the window. He closed his eyes for a moment before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, putting it to rest between his lips. Taking a deep inhale he then blew out the smoke. You look at him nervously before saying “could you please open the window?” His iceberg eyes shifted to you. Wordlessly he opened the window letting the cool air of the night carry the smoke out. Within fifteen minutes the spaghetti was ready. The final touches were adding rosemary, mushrooms, pepper, garlic, and some basil. Making a plate for him he takes a seat at the table and begins to eat. Even if he tried to hide it you could tell he was really enjoying the home made meal. After making your own plate you lean in against the opposite counter and begin to eat as well. Once you chewed a few bites you managed the courage to ask him “what’s your name?” Pausing just before taking another bite he eyed you down before replying “No need for you to know.” Not really happy with his answer, you add a little pressure. “Well you know so much about me already. Seems fair I should know at least something about you.” He chewed his bite slowly considering. “I don’t play fair (F/N).” I don’t owe you an explanation but…my name is Jason. That’s all you get.” You smile “Jason, seems fitting.” You say, his facial expression changed, he seemed a little weirded out or at least didn’t know what to say to that. It was honestly kind of funny…cute even. “Yea, well, don’t get too excited. It’s just a name.” After eating he thanked you for the meal.

Before leaving he said “don’t forget to, I am keeping tabs on you.” He paused one more time halfway through the window “and fixed that window lock. You're just asking for trouble.” With that Jason left. This meeting felt different. There was so much that happened in one setting, being left with many emotions, fear, attraction and the biggest of all. Curiosity.

[daflangstlairde-art]

attached, severed (you're here, you're not), word count: 4,763

Work 2 of DFL's Whumptober 2024

Summary:

The Technodrome never wanted to let Donnie go of its own volition. Krang One quite literally had to pull him out. Something terrible lingers, not quite gone. (Alternatively, The Prison Dimension never wanted to let Leo go of its own volition. Mikey quite literally had to pull him out. Something terrible lingers, not quite gone.)

Okay, so, everything was a little woozy. Leo would be right back on his feet, like, tomorrow at most—sure, Krang One beat up pretty solid, after they’d already had a whole big time fighting, but they're tough! Mutants, huh? Couple of bruises, couple of strains, that sort of thing. Some cracks along his carapace, yeah, yeah, nothing lethal. 

But he was still bed-bound, mostly due to his fam’s worries. He didn't wanna worry them, because he will be okay, he was fine. It was really a very small price to pay for, y'know, saving the entire world. Heroes simply do this kinda thing. It's what they do. 

Anyway, point was: Leo was on pain meds and maybe kinda had just a little concussion. Just a tiny bit. 

So. He was dozing off. The lights in med bay were pleasantly low, and the beeping of the heart monitor and Donnie’s tapping around on his tech were pretty soothing. 

Leo was just focusing on resting. Feeling the way his plastron would gently rise and fall, as the air passed through his nostrils and throat and lungs and abdomen. Yeah, okay, the sensation had to pass through some obstacles, like bruised ribs or a bruised throat, but really, it was okay. Considering everything, it was okay. The bruises were already halfway faded after just a day or two of resting. Or however long it’s been. Not like he was all that conscious for it.

He still had all four limbs. He still had all three brothers alive. Earth kept spinning. Leo kept breathing in the faint smell of antiseptic and bandages. 

So, he didn't really care for a random tap-tap-beep from somewhere off to the side. Donnie was just moving around quietly, doing whatever Donnie did. It was sweet, the way he also fussed. Heck, Leo heard him shoo Mikey and Raph away to go make dinner. 

Leo’s eyes were closed, but he sorta just sensed the presence of his twin approach. Probably to fuss over him more, haha. Man was Leo lucky to have brothers who love him so much. Even when he was being a bit of a dunce. 

He loved them so much. So, so much. It was so much bigger than some bruises and sprains and whatnot. 

He swallowed and oh, he should drink some water. Tried to crack his eyes open. His eyelids stuck, and when they finally gave way to vision, they were heavy. Leo breathed. He blinked lightly, to clear up his sight. 

“Hey,” he said, voice a bit raspy, to the sight of his twin standing over him. Couldn't help but smile up at him. 

...

Donnie was... looking at him weird. A kind of... stare. Kinda like the way your sleep paralysis shadow man stares at you at 3 a.m. haha.

“Wha’s with th’ look?” Leo huffed in amusement. “Got somethin’ on m’ face?” 

Donnie stared. 

He wasn't... really saying anything. Or reacting. Ooor doing anything except keep his hands to his sides. That couldn't be good.

Leo’s mood wilted a little. 

Y'know, it’s fair, it made sense, that Donnie would be mad at him, actually. Or otherwise upset. Leo did kinda cause a whole apocalyptic event... and then almost got himself killed too... and right after he'd given Donnie the chance of a lifetime—to control a spaceship! Probably totally rained on his parade. Leo should ask him how that went later. He was sure it must've been totally badass. 

Maybe asking him now would help his mood...? It was understandable that everyone would be feeling... complicated, after the Krang stuff. But Leo wanted to make them feel happy. He wanted to help them as much as he could. 

“Hey you–” Leo started, and then blinked, trying to catch up with– okay, Donnie’s hand was at his throat. Alright. Maybe that's what he was concerned about. Him and Mikey did watch Leo get a little strangled and almost killed by the Krang-controlled-Raph, yikes. 

Leo tried to make his smile soft and reassuring as best as he could. 

“Hey, I’m alright,” he placated his twin. “I really am, I knew Raph wouldn't actually–” okay, well, he didn't know know, but he had hopes– 

–Donnie’s hands circled his throat. When Leo swallowed, he felt the tight press of it against his brother’s palms. 

“Pretty sure my throat is structurally sound, Dee, you don't have to check,” he joked, voice rasping. He just needed to drink some water. “Hey, can you–”

Donnie squeezed. 

“Okay, okay, keep your water, yeesh!” Leo reacted, sounding appropriately strangled. Except–

Except Donnie started squeezing much harder, and, okay, that was actually hurting–

“Donnie, hey–” Leo tried to speak around his constricted airway, hands lifting, placing them at Donnie’s wrists. “Bro, chill, loosen up a lit–” his words cut off entirely from the pressure, and okay, okay. Uh. 

Donnie was positively gripping his throat now, zero mercy. And sure, Leo could hold his breath for a hot minute, maybe a dozen or two, but his throat was bruised. And the sensation of the walls of his airway pressing against each other and the harsh jab of his larynx and–

Leo’s throat reflexively started spasming, and he gripped Donnie’s wrists in return, legs curling under the blanket. The pressure building in his head. 

Leo tried to jam his fingers between Donnie’s hands and his throat, the way he did with the Krang tentacle thing Raph used. To get just those precious few moments of air, to talk, because it worked with Raph, it had to work now–

But, well, Donnie isn't the Krang. Donnie is smarter. Donnie knows Leo’s affinity for blabbing and with the pressure pressure pressure at his throat, he was giving Leo zero leeway. 

Leo couldn't even yell for help. 

Instead, Leo’s jaw worked soundlessly, popped open with the building pressure, the pressure. It felt like his eyes were going to burst from his skull, and he was choking, now. Lungs spasming, the bottom of his throat convulsing and gurgling. Feet kicking uselessly, tangled under the blanket. 

Leo’s hands were weakly thumping against Donnie’s arms, desperate but never, never hard enough to actually hurt his brother. He was slamming his heels into the gurney to make noise, scrabbling for anything, he didn't have his panic button, anything to grab onto, anything to do, he can't BREATHE–

Lungs convulsing, straining, aching–

“You don't get to escape that easily, little pest,” Donnie spat–

There was drool sliding down Leo’s chin now and hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. And he stared up, up into Donnie’s cold eyes, and past the confusion, he tried to plead, Donnie, Donnie it's me, it's Leo, Donnie it’s okay, please just calm down, you're hurting me bro– 

—

After all the stress of the Invasion, Raph only felt a little ridiculous when he finally BUSTEDthat door open. He’d just�� he heard the heart monitor! And it was way too fast! Leo could be freaking out after a– a nightmare or something! Who the heck locked the med bay door anyway?! It was usually with a sensor, automatically opening when someone passed, why did someone need to lock–!

And at once, all that sheepishness was blasted away through the sight that greeted him.

In two strides Raph was by Donnie, grappling him and wrenching him away from Leo. 

Leo, who immediately gasped for air like he hasn't breathed in a week. But it was too thin, too weak. Immediately, Raph heard him start choking and coughing and spluttering. 

Meanwhile, Donnie broke away from his stupor, still in Raph’s tight hold. He didn't waste a moment to start thrashing and snarling and biting! To the point where Raph was struggling to hold him! Especially ‘cause he didn't wanna accidentally hurt Donnie! The guy still had his entire torso BANDAGED!!! 

(Raph’s had enough of hurting his family for a lifetime.)

“Donnie!” Raph cried, “Don, chill! What the heck is goin’ on–?!” sure, the twins bickered, but all of them bickered! It was never like this! 

“Let me go you PARASITE–” Donnie sneered at him, and, what??? What?! 

Leo was still gasping and choking, and, and– a-and Raph couldn't handle this on his own, he, he–

“MIKEY!” Raph yelled, “DAD! HELP! SOMETHIN’ IS GOING ON A-AND RAPH CAN'T–” 

Donnie fighting in his arms, clawing at his arms, Leo’s awful awful desperate gasps–

—

“Hold him, Raph!” Mikey’s voice raised against his will, “I think– I think he's infected–!” his hands (hurting, trembling, swathed in bandages) hovered uselessly. 

“INFECTED–?!” Raph’s voice cracked, still wrangling the feral Donnie.

“How?” Splinter’s head snapped towards them. He was taking care of calming Leo down, and the beeping of the heart monitor was still too fast.

“From the ship!” Mikey exclaimed. “It makes the most sense!” right??? Right?! 

Leo, in the middle of coughing and gasping, turned to gape at him. 

Oh. Right. They hadn't told Leo about the ship yet. 

...MORE IMPORTANT THINGS! 

Raph yelped as Donnie finally bit down on his forearm. And Mikey practically saw the word INFECTED slam in Raph’s poor panicking brain, and he wrenched his arm away–

No, no, no– 

Don't panic Mikey, THINK. 

He yanked open a cupboard and then a second and a third–

“DAD!” Mikey yelled because his hands, they were useless right now, he couldn't do it himself–! 

“To me!” Splinter exclaimed and Mikey tossed him the syringe and the bottle. 

“YOU CANNOT DEFEAT THE KRANG, WE ARE INFINITE–” 

And in a few swift moves Donnie collapsed, knocked out by the tranquilizer liquid thingie. 

Splinter drew the needle out of his neck in order to catch him, so he didn't crack his skull on the floor.

They all, collectively, sagged in relief. Heavy breathing filling the room. The loudest of which was Leo’s, labored and struggling. Raph held his arm, where a little bit of blood trickled. 

“O...kaayy,” Splinter drew out. Cleared his throat. “Good thinking, Orange. Uh. Do weee... have... a second bed maybbeeee–?” 

Raph sighed, already moving. “I’ll get it–” 

“Uh, you're bleeding and might be infected, I’ll get it,” Mikey snarked. 

“...Mike, your hands–” Raph hesitated. 

“Can handle a bed on wheels, Raph,” Mikey deadpanned. And then softened up a little, “Do us all a favor and take care of that dang wound,” 

“Yes,” Splinter agrees. “We don't want a second case of this,” 

Or third, rather, but Mikey prided himself on being emotionally intelligent, so he kept that comment buried deep, deep down, and moved along to bring out the second hospital bed. 

—

Donnie is... well. April supposed his reaction was fair enough. 

She’s the one that took charge of driving while the others took care of each other in the back, so she couldn't see that much of it. But she saw enough. 

While she was... okay, sore and sticky with sweat and tired as hell, and probably gonna bruise ugly; she was, objectively, not that bad compared to some others in their group. She was a human, sure, but she knew how to take care of herself, and Splints and Casey Two really helped. They themselves were about in the same boat as her.

The guys? Yeah, they were mutants or whatever, but man. 

Raph’s eye was jacked up, and there was a whole hole in his shell, and his left hand was shaking. Mikey’s both hands were crawling with some worrying mystic nonsense, and through his manic-delighted laughter, she'd caught something about a portal. Leo was... well. Leo, apparently, cracked a quip and dropped unconscious. April thought that spoke volumes about his current state. It ain't easy to knock these thick-headed turtles out.

Donnie’s right hand was also shaking. That was the least concerning part about him. 

His back was... eugh, Casey was taking care of it in the back while April kept her eyes on the road. But she'd seen it for a few moments, when the construct of his battle shell dissipated to make way for treatment. 

It was bad. 

So bad. It was gross. Skin pulled and stretched and torn, like the worst amalgamation of flaccid stretch marks and bloody cuts. Like prosciutto made of dead flesh. April has never seen skin be torn by being pulled apart. Like ripped fabric, but all loose and mangled and eugh. That stuff only happens in horror movies!!! 

She shuddered, clenching her jaw. Trying hard not to gag, because it would not help. Stay strong, O’Neil. 

Maybe it would've been better if Donnie acted normal. And he did! ...For a few moments. After they'd (apparently, somehow, they hadn't shared the details yet) saved Leo, and informed everyone else about this through the comms, Donnie sounded fine! He sounded just as vibrant and relieved and elated as everyone else! 

But in the few minutes it took for Sister Squad to free the Turtle Tank and drive it to Staten Island to pick ‘em up... 

Maybe it was an adrenaline crash. She turned the wheel again, waited for the garage door to open. Entered into the Lair. 

Maybe it was just a simple adrenaline crash. Everyone was visibly exhausted. Raph was swaying on his feet and Mikey was trembling and Splinter was basically limping. 

“Commander–”

“Got it,” April immediately joined Casey’s side to help him lift Leo. He needed a lot more than just emergency first aid, though he seemed stable. “Dee, wanna–” she turned to ask–

Donnie... just stared. 

He just stared. 

This. This is what was worrying her. 

Maybe it was an adrenaline crash. Maybe a shutdown. Maybe processing everything was just too much for him at the moment. 

She was trying really hard to not judge how he was just staring. 

At Leo. 

“...Ooor not, nevermind,” April said quietly. 

Maybe... maybe it was grief. Or something. They did have that whole “twin” thing after all. So. 

“Casey, uh–” April turned back to the guy as they started moving Leo to med bay. “Donnie...?” 

“Not great, but he'll live,” Casey said quietly, picking up where she trailed off. “There was leftover matter, but I couldn't tell if it was dead Donnie flesh bits or dead Krang flesh bits. Just... a lot of dead flesh,”

April shuddered. Gross. Casey, however, kept speaking like the grossness of it didn’t affect him.

“I had to wrap him quickly to stop the bleeding, but I think I’ll need to cut off more of that skin, he'll definitely need stitches in some places but hopefully no grafting–” he spoke briskly, getting onto the task of filling her in on everyone’s condition. As they brought Leo in to med bay, she prepared herself to assist Future Boy with medical treatment. 

Thank fuck for Casey Jones, huh? They always seemed to save the situ at the most critical times. Bless.

They started hooking Leo to an IV drip and a heart monitor and stabilizing him, a flurry of movement. April doing her best to follow through on whatever instructions Casey handed out—man, he was definitely experienced with this, the way he worked fast but efficient and calm. 

And to her even bigger relief, Donnie joined in. He seemed to be in a daze, disoriented maybe, but he started pulling up scanners and data on some monitors in the room. 

His hands kept... kinda lagging. His face remained... well. Well. It's like his face simply wasn't a part of the rest of his system, just slapped on top. 

But, well. He was helping them. So. 

Maybe it was okay. 

...April would just... pull him aside, once Casey’s done with him too. Donnie was definitely not in a talking mood right now, but leading him through some grounding, maybe some comfort, it might help. Get him to drink water, get his headphones on, that sort of thing. 

Oh, and then she should also do that for the rest of the fam too. 

With an action plan in mind, April O’Neil focused on the task at hand.

—

There was something wrong with Leo, Donnie was sure of it. And he was sure it happened while he was in the Prison Dimension. 

He just didn't know what. 

It was fine mere moments ago! It was fine during his altercation with Raph dearest! It was fine. 

It was not fine anymore. 

But no matter how much Donnie stared at Leo, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He didn't stop staring at Leo’s prone form in the Tank, in fact. And all he had as proof at the moment was this wriggling, invasive pulse of something's wrong, something's wrong, something is seriously wrong.

Something was so, so wrong with his brother. 

Donnie couldn't help but feel a... revulsion, looking at him. Something that made him curl his hands into fists, nails pressing in. 

He felt like if he stopped looking at Leo for even a smidge of a moment, he would... he would... he didn't know. Donnie didn't know. And he hated it. 

He felt like Leo would snap up and lunge at him. Or their brothers. He felt like Leo would die on the spot. He felt like– he didn't know. 

All he could do was stare. 

He didn't register anything else. It was only this. It was only this. 

Buried in his shell, this bone-deep conviction that something was disgustingly wrong, and the moment he took his eyes off of Leo, it would all surface with a bang. 

He wanted–

He needed–

Donnie needed to know. 

So he stared. He watched, he observed, he waited. 

When they brought Leo home, he took advantage of the moment. While O’Neil and Jones took care of the... remnants of violence on Leonardo, Donnie did one of the things he did best: he collected data. 

It was simple: just a scan whilst the other two hurriedly patched up wounds. And when that scan showed nothing out of the ordinary—a second one. And when that yielded no more results—a third one. 

And when Leo’s injuries were taken care of, when everyone’s injuries were taken care of–

(Skin flesh living snipping away from his back–

No, no, no, they would live. They would live, they would triumph.)

–Donnie simply sat and watched. 

For a bit, Raphael and Michelangelo and the rest were with him. For a bit, everyone took care of each other. Then–

Oh who cares?! 

It was waiting, it was injuries, it didn't matter. None of it mattered! It all fell into a blur. 

Until, finally, finally. 

Donatello knew. 

It was as easy as locking the medical bay’s entrance. It was as easy as a few steps to his “brother”’s body, laying on the hospital bed, bruised and cut and ruined and wrong wrong wrong. 

That was not Leonardo. 

Donatello knew. It. 

He knew it the way he knew his own heartbeat. 

That... thing, inside that body, was not his brother. 

He saw it. He saw its true nature, the way its skin wriggled. Tendrils under the surface, eating away at the insides and taking their place.

It was something so ugly, so heinous, so repugnant that it was difficult for the mind to conceptualize and therefore circled right back around to awe-inspiring. 

It was as easy as his hands around its disgusting little throat. 

It spoke to him in his brother’s voice, the wretched thing. How dare, how dare it use his brother’s voice, his smile. 

Donatello wanted to rip it apart. It was a nuisance, a parasite, a pest. Lowly and disgusting and undeserving of its breath HOW DARE IT BE FREE HOW DARE IT LIVE–

—

Donnie woke up sore and dazed. 

“Wh... huh...?” he muttered, swallowing dry, trying to blink for the sake of his vision clearing. What... did he fall asleep...? 

He lifted his arm to–

He– couldn't lift his arm. Huh. That's... odd...

Donnie blinked, everything a bit blurry at the edges. A little cotton-y. He felt a bit nauseated, to be quite frank. Not a pleasant thing to wake up to. 

There was... noise. Speech. Somebody was saying something. To him. 

“What...” he muttered again, lifting his arm– nope. Right. Right right right, he... couldn't do that. Hm. 

Did he get kidnapped by the government? 

...Mmm, no, no. There was the beeping of a heart monitor, the smell of antiseptic, yes. But he's always had sensitive senses. Beyond that, he could hear... papá’s shows? Breathing in the same room, as well. He could smell home. Raph was here. 

Raph smelled like... hm. Something sharp, tangy, sort of unstable. But warm. 

Worry, concern? Perhaps hesitation? Meh, Donnie has never been good at parsing emotions. 

“Donnie? ...You with us?” floated in his older brother’s voice.

“Mm,” Donnie affirmed, trying to look around more properly. Yes, the medical bay. Yes, Raph, alongside Mikey. 

...Hm. That's... odd. Why was Donnie strapped down on a gurney, exactly? 

“Wha...” he vocalized, staring down at the restraints. He didn't even know they had those. Maybe The Fam simply used a couple of belts. 

“Heeeyyy buuuddd, how... are you feeling?” Raph approached, with a careful smile.

“Confused, disoriented even,” Donnie stated. “Uh. Nauseated. Do I... do I have a concussion?” he tried blinking, squinting.

“...You could... say that,” Raph said, trying to be gentle in an off-putting manner.

“Boy you were infected!” Mikey delicately informed him and–

And.

Donnie’s brain blue-screened as it loaded the history of what he'd done.

Oh, dear Cain. 

What has he done? 

The way he’d stared at and spoken to Leo, contemptuous, inimical, disgusted. Murderous. 

The way his palms had wrapped around his very own twin’s already bruised throat, feeling the fragile pulse under, the pulse he’d scrambled to preserve. Head deluded by thoughts and visions of parasites, of wriggling little things under the skin, hidden and revolting and deadly. 

The way he’d squeezed–

A single tear rolled down his face, soaking into the bed sheet of the gurney. 

“BUT WE FIXED IT!” Raph was quick to exclaim, worry cranked right up at Donnie’s absolute stupor, the horror no doubt glinting off the whites of his eyes. “We, we–!”

“CJ and Barry cut it all off!!! You're totally clean, Dee!” Mikey attempted with increased cheer. 

But all Donnie could think was no, no, no, how could he do this? Is this how Raph felt? How could this happen? 

What had he done? 

“Donnie, hey, hey, it's okay, you gotta breathe,” Raph reached out a hand, forehead scrunched in anxiety. Donnie flinched back, but it's like it wasn't him. He could hear the rapid alarm of his electrocardiogram, but he could not connect it to the existence of the heart beating within his ribcage.

It's like he wasn't himself. 

How could he possibly recognize if he's not himself? 

His older brother was talking to him, but it was all static, it was all ringing. It was sinking into a squirming-squelching-living nightmare, repugnant and alive and all-encompassing oh unholy Lorecraft– 

Shouts, a clattering– 

Red and green turned away from his face, and, and– 

Replaced by green and red and blue, blue, blue. Standing over him, smiling. Green skin and red markings, white eyes and red bruises, blue mask, blue bruises, colors of the flesh of the flesh the flesh– 

“Heeyyy bro,” a jarring moment, a smile, how could he be smiling? “Wanna help me calm down real quick? I’m feeling a lil’ panicky here,” 

Something inside Donnie reached out, fell into line at that. His hand shot up–

–no, it didn't, they were restrained, the hands he'd used to– 

Lighter green. Unlatching the restraints.

“Leo–!”

“You said he's fine now, so chiiilll it's fiiine! Donnie would never hurt me,” 

Donatello never would, but how could he possibly be sure he’s Donatello? 

Hand freed. He jerks them back close to himself, pushed himself away. 

“Hey, hey, naw don't do that, or I might get sad,” pouting, silly, like it's all fine and not horror-inducing. “Mikey, could you get a glass of water, and Raph– yeah the blanket–” 

“His headphones too–?”

“Oh great idea, yeah, totes– Dee? Donnie-dee? Wanna show me how to breathe, huh? I can't get my numbers straight,” Leo’s eyes back to him, smiling, smiling. 

The image of his beatific smile as Donnie’s hands strangled him to death– 

The way he’d smiled at Raph as he was being STRANGLED TO DEATH–

Why was he SMILING?! 

There was something wrapped around Donnie’s lungs and squeezing, and his brain screamed KRANG KRANG KRANG–

“Donnie, focus on me,” Leo snapped his fingers in front of his face and Donnie wanted to bite him, Leo knew how much that irritated him–!

Wait, why the flippity pancakes was Leo OUT OF BED?! 

The panic, jittery and sharp and ringing, was suddenly replaced by anger, jittery and sharp and ringing.

“Why,” Donnie hissed, and his suddenly narrowed focus picked up on Mikey stiffening several feet away. Leo, smiling, calm, subtly moved to cover it. 

“Why wh–”

“WHY ARE YOU OUT OF BED.” Donnie seethed, high-pitched, hands on Leo’s shoulders. Shaking him a bit. Leo was smiling and it felt surreal.

Leo was smiling the entire time Donnie was strangling him to death. 

Leonardo, his beaten and bruised brother, his brother wrapped in bandages– the idiot, he must've torn something getting up to reach Donnie because he was bleeding through said bandages–

Leonardo, his brother who’d dished out serene reassurances before throwing himself into a death trap– 

–was just smiling at him. 

God, he hadn’t even fought back. 

He didn't even fight back. 

“Why didn't you fight back?” Donnie’s voice broke over whatever Leo had been saying. “Why, why did you– I-I w-was going to kill you–” horror, oh horror. 

“What?” Leo blinked, and he turned as Raph walked back in, yet Donnie had mind only for one thing and it was his stupid, stupid twin. 

“Why didn't you fight back? Leo, why didn't you do anything?” Donnie spoke in desperation. He needed to know. It would ruin him, but he needed it. Just like the stream of information from Technodrome, the knowledge was cursed and horrifying, and yet he needed to know. “I could have killed you are you listening to me? Leonardo you could have DIED–” 

“Hey,” Leo, bleeding, supposed to be resting, smiling, was putting a weighted blanket over Donnie’s shoulders. He offered Donnie his noise-canceling headphones, and Mikey was finally handing over that water he’s been holding for minutes now, hands shaking. Leo was looking him in the eyes, and saying “It wasn't your fault, bro,”

Donnie stared back at him, shaking with the shock of– of– frankly? Of everything. There was a parasite in his brain, apparently, right after the Invasion, so it was all crashing on top of him in the worst way possible. 

“Took you guys long enough,” Leo had said, had smiled and laughed and hugged them, like it was fine, but it wasn't, it. Wasn’t. 

There was absolutely no conceivable way for Leo to have known Mikey could rip apart reality itself. There was no conceivable way he’d known there was any way out. 

And the Krang were hateful, hateful things. Donnie would know. 

So Donnie stared at his twin, smiling and saying something to Mikey that made their little brother crack a laugh. Donnie held a glass of water in one hand and noise-canceling headphones in the other, given to him by his twin Leonardo, Leonardo whom he’d strangled with those very hands. 

“I’m so sorry,” broke out of Donnie, crushed and angry and disbelieving and sad and loving and grieving and ecstatic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay,” Leo said, easy, “Hey, it’s okay, it wasn't your fault,” he opened his arms and Donnie put the items aside to drag Leo into a hug. Leo oofed and laughed, and a tension dropped from Raph’s shoulders as well. 

“You're okay Marsh-Tello,” Leo said, teasing and lighthearted, rubbing the back of Donnie’s neck instead of his bandaged shell. “It wasn't your fault, mkay? It was those big dumb aliens, and we got it all off. It wasn't your fault,” he reassured Donnie, Donnie, as if Leo wasn't the hurt one, as if Leo wasn't the one who’d nearly died several times. What a moron, apparently caring for others even at the end of his own rope, what a dummy. 

Donnie just shook his head, holding the idiot closer. He reminded himself to not hold him too closely, because Leo was still littered with injuries, including cracks in his shell and his inner ribs. And now Donnie knew, if he wasn't careful, Leo wouldn't even eek in pain about it. 

His twin. His idiot. Gah.

Donnie squeezed his eyes shut and held him close. 

[princessracecar]

It’s after midnight when Daniel slides the door open to the phone booth three blocks from his shitty apartment in New York City. The air outside is heavy with static electricity, the clouds dark and ominous and the city lights blurry in the humidity. It’s a good gig, this one. A solid paycheck and he’s made the deadline, sort of. The paper is small but the publisher is an affluent man with a summer home on Fire Island and he’s hired Daniel to write coverage of the strange malady that’s been striking down the gay men in the seaside party town. He said to call when Daniel had his coverage written, so here he is, calling. He might not have meant in the middle of the night, but it seemed important, and Daniel feels it in a detached sort of way. He drops his change into the slot and dials. The phone rings as thunder rumbles overhead, the lights of a nearby bodega flickering in the stifling summer heat. The publisher answers on the fourth ring, just as the sky opens up and sends a wave of sound down over the booth that Daniel can feel all the way through to his bones. A forked tongue of lightning arcs white fire across the sky. There’s a pop followed by a shower of sparks in the very corner of his eye and the lights in the bodega flicker out, the entire block going dark in a flash that burns and leaves spots dancing behind his eyelids. The phone goes dead in his hand, the darkness surrounding him utterly complete behind the sound of the storm, a freight train throbbing in his ears.

He feels the man before the door folds open behind him, tries to be surprised and fails, the back of his thin t shirt soaked instantly by the storm, driving it’s way sideways into the booth.

“You left.”

It comes out accusatory and he wishes that he hadn’t said anything at all.

“I told you I had business to attend to. I told you to wait for me”

“You said you would be gone a few days” Daniel continues, his traitorous mouth running away from him. “After three weeks I gave up waiting.”

They had been in Mexico this time, some seaside town, the land of the deer. Once he couldn’t stand looking out over rush of surf, the beach and the blue, blue ocean anymore he had flown back to New York. He had found a tiny hovel to crash in, a friend of a friend had a spare room until he could find something more permanent, and he had gone to work finding enough money to forget himself with. The fact that Armand had found him, here in this city, here in this space, was no real surprise, and no real hardship for the vampire. It was more the fact that he had bothered to find him at all, Daniel had thought he was gone for good this time, and with good reason, he reminded himself. He turned fully to face him.

“Close the fucking door. It’s loud and shit and I’m getting soaked”

Armand stepped further into the phone booth, sliding the door shut behind him. They were pressed nearly nose to nose like this, Armand’s hair curled and wet around his face, his eyes shining in the darkness.

“My business took longer to wrap than I anticipated. I always planned to come back to you”

Damned mind-reader, curling his way through his thoughts like whisps of smoke, seeking and touching and finding. He feels Armand’s breath along his collarbone and when had he stepped closer? The ghost of a thought flickers through his mind and he quickly shoves it back. Forgiveness. Reprieval.

“You are angry with me” says Armand.

“Yeah, no shit”

The vampire’s lips move over the shell of his ear, his breath cool.

Daniel shivers and he isn’t sure if it’s from the rain or from arousal. Goosebumps run their way along his body. It’s still achingly hot and his shirt clings to him from the sweat of the day and from the violence of the downpour, the windows of the booth fogging up with his breath. Armand feels like a cool balm pressed all along the front of him, his eyes gazing down in silent pleading and adoration and Daniel wishes that he wasn’t so weak, that he wouldn’t go to his knees for this man with barely an uttered sigh. The kiss, when it comes, isn’t a surprise either.

“See?” Says the voice in his mind, “I told you I would come back to you. I will always come back to you.”

[yuri-is-online]

10. Getting a visit from him while you're sick and thinking it was a dream.

I AM SO SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED YOUR ASK BY POSTING IT TOO EARLY (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

I really really hope you like this friend, I am very grateful for your support <3

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, typical best friend pining for Deuce, references to fainting from exhaustion for Jack. Check out the other requests on my masterlist here.

Silver

"Golden hour" is a funny term when you are forced to think about it under the influence of Twisted Wonderland Benadryl. Which is to say that you feel very grateful to be hallucinating an image of Silver and not the hat man. Rook would be much too willing to entertain this line of thought.

"I just think that it's kind of funny," you try to justify to not-Silver who has kindly allowed you to rest your head in his lap "that your name is Silver and you sort of look like that y'know." He blinks, an intense look of concentration knitted over his lovely face.

"Not really." He says, genuinely remorseful. "I'm just not that imaginative I'm sorry." He idly strokes your hair, the ghost of a smile growing the longer he looks at you. It flutters into your heart and briefly halts your train of thought; you don't know if you should be happy it's the weekend so this can't interrupt your classes or mad you can't enjoy your day off. But then, what about this dream? Silver doesn't really go out of his way to hang out with you, if you had not been running a fever...

You had been reaching for him, pausing only when you realize in a desperate effort to stay in the illusion. What had you been talking about? You wonder ignoring the way Silver leans to follow your hands. Oh right, golden hour.

"It's super pink and purple," you mumble "and it's just- it's supposed to be the prettiest thing in the whole wide world and there it is trapped in your eyes." Sliver takes a deep breath, almost like he is trying to restrain something, before slowly, gently, caressing your eyelids in an effort to convince them to close.

"I think you need to go back to sleep prefect." You want to tell him that's a silly suggestion because you are already asleep, but something about finally closing your eyes makes you just that much more comfortable. As you drift into the darkness, you feel someone pick you up, cradling you bridal style as they begin to walk up the Ramshackle Dorm staircase.

"The prettiest thing in the world, huh. I wonder what that says about you, when you are what's reflected in them?"

Deuce

Today was not a good day for the only plot relevant members of freshmen class A. Both of your friends had forgotten to charge their phones last night, and while Ace had been smart enough to slip his into his pocket, Deuce had left his charger back in their dorm room. That hadn't really been anything other than an inconvenience at first, but then the rain had started.

"I'll be fine, you two should worry about yourselves, I know Varags isn't canceling your club practices for this."

You really should not have said that. Maybe you haven't been feeling well for a while now or maybe the rain + no central heating + no parental figure had been what put you down. It didn't really matter what caused it, you feel like death and none of your text messages are making it through to either of your friends. At least Grim was kind enough to bring you a bunch of blankets and pillows from your room, there was no way you were giving him free reign in Sam's with your wallet no matter how badly you needed medicine. The only thing left to do is try and sleep it off and that's what you do, tossing your phone onto a chair Grim had propped up next to the couch.

~~~

Deuce had been sitting in the library before Trey kindly told him that you were out sick. He had not bothered asking where Ace had gone off too, assuming that by the time he made it to Ramshackle he would already be there and laughing at him. But that was not the case and now that he is sitting here wondering if he should try to wake you up or just let you sleep he can't decide if he is angry at Ace or happy to be alone with you. He does know he feels disappointed for even needing to ask.

"Yuu?" He decides to try and whisper, that way if you're deep asleep you won't react. You are curled up on the couch so tightly you might as well be a cat, the way you nuzzle into his palm when he tries to take your temperature does not help. You open your eyes but don't say anything at first, you just... smile? Smile and reach to hold his hand with a contended mrrp. Every muscle in Deuce's body is painfully tense, he desperately wishes he knew what he was supposed to do in this situation.

He knows what he wants to do, but that has to be the one thing he is not supposed to, right? You are his best friend, there is nothing more than that. It's with friendly intent you reach to hug him, it's with friendly concern he pulls you into his embrace and holds you tightly so you don't crash onto the floor.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He whispers and you shake your head into his chest before looking up into his eyes with pure friendly adoration.

"I wish you were here," your eyes close, sending you back into sleep and Deuce into a spiral "I want to wake up in your arms just once."

"Me too..." he relaxes, gently moving you back to your couch before you can do more harm. "I- I hope you can remember I want that too."

Jack

Jack adjusts the position of your arms around his neck and makes sure he has a firm grip on your thighs.  He has given piggy backs before but never to an unconscious person.

"You need to be more realistic about your limits."  The words taste like sandpaper on his tongue, for someone so invested in the opinions of his seniors Jack sure had been determined to ignore them when it came to how hard he pushed you.  He couldn't, well he could have helped it.  He could have done some research about how to safely start working out, or asked you if you were even interested in training with him.  But no, he did neither of those things, instead he just told you that your stamina was pitiful and that you were going to start training with him immediately.  Knowing him he probably threatened to leave you alone if you couldn't keep up, some friend he was.  "Sorry," he expected the word to feel heavier, maybe sting a little, but his pride doesn't feel any worse than it had when you fainted "I don't like seein you hurt."  Maybe it's because you're asleep and he doesn't actually have to worry about coming off too soft, or maybe it's because you stir in that sleep to bury your face further into his hair signaling that you still feel safe with him on some subconscious level, but he feels like he can just... talk.  Like even though you aren’t awake your heart will listen.

"I know I talk a lot about how if you're weak you'll get left behind, or that I don't need friends but that's just second nature y'know?  It's not like I don't want to be around you, and I definitely don't want you to get sick."  Again you move, but your steady breathing confirms you are still asleep as Jack nears Ramshackle with his precious cargo.  “When you wake up I’ll say sorry the right way, and make sure to get you some water… ha I wonder why you even came out today in the first place?  I’ve been a pretty shitty friend-”  

You take a deep, deep breath at the back of Jack’s neck, exhaling as your arms tighten around his neck in a way that could choke him if you had been angry but now feels more like a hug.  Hot air tickles him from his neck all the way down his spine as his stupidly keen ears pick up on a sleepy murmur he knows has to come from somewhere deep in your dream-addled mind.  Don’t be stupid, I wanted to spend time with you.  Why?  You know why!  And even if you don’t-

“It’s a secret~”  You actually say out loud, speeding up Jack’s heart rate and his steps.

If he doesn’t put you to bed soon he’s going to be the one who’s dehydrated. 

[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us

A/N: i watched the first episode of Last of Us yesterday and suffice it to say that Joel Miller officially has a chokehold on me and i ain't complaining.

Warnings: dark themes; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 2402 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

---

Dying was a way of life in the QZ. Seemed like everyone was dying lately. Fireflies, FDRA, and most of all the people in between. The lost and lonely. 

You met Joel shortly after you died. Your spirit died with your twelve year old son, Gabriel. The docs had told you it was most likely cancer. The fucking irony of that burned you from the inside out until you felt completely hollow. Just a shell of a person, really. Your emotions felt anesthetized, your brain in a perpetual fog. You went about your day from routine and muscle memory. You might as well have been infected. At least then you’d have some sort of purpose. Without Gabriel, you felt utterly useless. He’d brought you a sense of optimism, a reason to at least try and believe in the future. When you’d lost Gabriel’s father Eddie, you’d at least had your son. But without him. Well, without him, there wasn’t any you. You didn’t have a role anymore, didn’t add anything to anyone’s life. You couldn’t think of anything more death-like than waking up day after day to the realization that you didn’t matter to anyone. The night Joel met you, in fact, you had vague plans to drink yourself into oblivion and hopefully not wake up.

But, something changed when Joel ran into you. And he did literally run into you. 

You were walking back from the bus stop after a shift cleaning the killing floor of the poultry planet. A cold, drizzling rain soaked the streets in a fine layer of mist. You crossed your arms over your chest, tucking your head underneath the threadbare hood of Eddie’s old hunting jacket. For a few weeks after Eddie had died in a firefight between the Fireflies and FDRA, the jacket had smelled like him, and you’d taken up wearing it. Damn thing wasn’t too warm, but at least it was decently waterproof. That had been years ago. It was useless now, neither warm nor waterproof, but it was all you had. Everything else you’d sold. 

You were going through the usual calculations in your head, trying to figure out how you were going to scrounge together enough cards to get some hot food in your belly, when something - someone, you realized after he’d hit you - came tearing around the corner of an alley. You weren’t braced for it, and even your reflexes didn’t seem to care enough to break your fall. You hit the damp, cobbled pavement hard on your left shoulder, your head bouncing off the tar and sending stars across your vision. You heard a man’s voice swear as you blacked out…

*****

When you came to, you weren’t in the rain anymore. Your head throbbed and you didn’t dare move in case you vomited. You were resting on something soft, albeit a little lumpy, and there was a blanket wrapped around you. Your head was propped up on a musty smelling pillow and there was a fire crackling nearby. Your shoulder was screaming in pain, and against your better judgment you twisted as gently as you could manage to try and relieve the pressure on your joint. Your gut turned, and you leaned over to wretch as far from yourself as you could. With the first sound of gagging, you felt cold, rough hands grab the hair around your face and pull it away from your mouth as a bucket was shoved in front of your face. 

“Good, you’re awake.” A man’s voice.

You peaked towards the voice through slitted eyelids. The faint, hazy light through a dingy window felt like someone was driving a drill bit into your temple. 

“That’s a shame,” you rasped out, earning a dark chuckle from the man sitting across from you. The laugh didn’t reach his eyes. He had the same thousand-mile stare that most people in the QZ had. You couldn’t guess his age - that was another thing survivors had in common. Nothing ages you like the Apocalypse, Eddie used to say. 

“Pretty sure you’re concussed.” 

You nodded, trying to swallow down the acidic taste of bile-vomit. 

“Pretty sure you concussed me,” you shot back. Another chuckle, this one a bit fuller. 

“Yeah, that’d be me. Sorry about that. I had FDRA on my heels.” You shrugged, trying to push yourself up on the couch. Another wave of nausea tore through your head, but there wasn’t anything to vomit up except saliva. You managed to swallow it down, closing your eyes again to stop the spinning sensation. 

“I’ve got some broth cooking,” the man went on. “I think you should eat a bit. Settle your stomach. You’ve been out for almost 24 hours.” 

You did an idle calculation in your head, automatically tallying up the date. November 29. Not that it mattered, but it was a habit you hadn’t been able to shake ever since the outbreak. 

“Not hungry,” you replied, biting down on your tongue against another spasm in your gut.

“Yeah, but you need to eat. Looks like you don’t do that too often.” You shot the man the darkest look you could muster. You’d learned long ago not to trust men who commented on your appearance. 

“You look sick is all I mean,” your companion added apologetically. He thrust you a bowl with a watery-thin, yellow liquid in it, a curled tongue of steam rising from its surface and an old dented spoon sticking out of the broth. 

“Just try it,” he encouraged you as you eyed him suspiciously. He was big, you realized, tall and strong. One of those QZ guys who lived hard and had the muscles to speak for it. It wasn’t the same kind of physique that people had before the outbreak: lean, toned, all for show. Fitness wasn’t a luxury anymore. It was a necessity for most people in the QZ. Some lines of work required it more than others. And judging by the strong forearm that handed you the bowl, whatever this guy did, it was serious business. 

You accepted the bowl, relishing the warmth of the ceramic between your hands. Your stomach growled as the smell of chicken broth tickled your nostrils. You took a tentative sip, burning your tongue. Your movements were slow and deliberate. 

“Joel.” 

“Huh?” You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at your companion.

“Joel. My name’s Joel,” he clarified. 

You nodded, taking another sip of the broth. Even though moving made you sick to your stomach, your body was reacting hungrily to the taste. 

“Y/N,” you replied after a few moments of silence. Normally, you’d give a fake name. But, what was the point? Even with your real name, Joel didn’t have anything of yours to use against you. There wasn’t anything left to hurt you by. 

“You were Gabriel’s mother, weren’t you?” 

You froze, the spoon halfway to your lips. The sound of Gabriel’s name tore through you like lightning. The heart you’d forgotten you had twisted painfully in your chest.

“What the fuck did you say?” Anger came to the surface first. Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Gabriel. Sweet kid. Saw him hanging around the gate a couple times.” If Joel noticed your reaction, he didn’t let on. He was idly poking a burning log in an old, dirty fireplace. 

You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t make yourself speak. Even if you had, you didn’t trust yourself not to dissolve. Joel hadn’t met you before, yet somehow he’d managed to grab onto the only thread of humanity you still had. One tug on that thread and you were unraveling. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to him. Awful shit, cancer. My sister had it, back before… before shit went sideways.” Joel wasn’t looking at you, didn’t even seem to be talking to you. You couldn’t breathe. Gabriel’s name still echoed inside your ears.

“I lost my little girl, too. Sarah. When the outbreak happened. In Texas.”

Joel finally turned to face you. His eyes were empty, and you recognized that emptiness. It mirrored your own. 

“You’ll never get over it, if you’re wondering. Not that you are. Because you already know. I can see it.” Tears dripped off your chin onto the blanket in your lap. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out after a few silent, empty moments. 

Across the room from you, Joel nodded.

“Yeah. Me too.” 

You finished the rest of your broth in silence. It was the longest conversation you’d had with anyone in weeks, and somehow you’d never felt more alone.

*****

You spent the next couple of days in a liminal space between healing and falling apart. Joel’s acknowledgment of Gabriel had broken something loose inside you, and as your head began to clear, you felt the grief all the more. It felt different than before, even right after you lost him. Gabriel’s death had cored the soul out of your body. Now, whatever was happening was infinitely more painful. You hated it, but you also hadn’t realized how much you’d missed feeling things. Even though what you felt was agonizing, it was affirming in a fucked up way to know you weren’t incapable of emotion.

Joel maintained his silence on the subject. In fact, he was generally silent. You exchanged a handful of words here and there, usually in response to him asking about your health. 

How’s the head?

Fine.

Good.

After about a week, the questions took a different quality.

When do you think you’ll be ready to go?

Go where?

Anywhere you need to.

I don’t have anywhere I need to go.

OK. 

You didn’t take offense to his questions, and he didn’t take offense to your responses. There was a companionable bluntness to your interactions. He asked after the basics - did you have what you needed, were you sick, hungry, cold - and you answered simply and honestly. No follow ups, no games, no need to converse on anything. In fact, after the first conversation you’d had about Gabriel and Sarah, you and Joel didn’t talk about anything at all. 

It was the eighth day when you finally felt well enough to stand up and cook. Joel was out - where, you didn’t know - but you thought you’d heat something up for him. An hour before curfew, you moved into the kitchen and started looking through the cabinets. He’d been good about sharing his food with you, and you knew enough of QZ life to know that sparing food wasn’t something everyone would do. And he hadn’t broached the subject of repayment. You doubted he ever would; despite his gruffness, Joel had a core of generosity. You didn’t know anyone anymore who would let a complete stranger spend a week on their couch, no matter how sick they were. 

You found a can of split pea soup in the back of the pantry and an opened package half-full of saltines. You picked out the crackers that didn’t have mold on them while the soup heated over the single gas burner Joel used for cooking. The light was fading outside; curfew was a few minutes away. Right on time, you heard Joel’s key in the lock on the apartment door. A few seconds later, Joel walked into the kitchen.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner,” you replied, gesturing to the two barstools he had tucked up the kitchen counter. He sat, letting out a bone-weary sigh as he threw off his boots, chucking them towards the hall where the door was. 

“Long day?” you asked idly. For some reason, you felt an urge to make conversation that you hadn’t noticed before around him. Maybe it was vestiges of your old life. Memories of entertaining Eddie while you made dinner flicked in your mind. Or maybe it was because something felt different about Joel today.

“Sure,” he replied flatly. You heard the sound of his flask opening, followed by a thick gulp. He drank a lot. You’d noticed that quickly. It didn’t bother you, and he was as generous with the whiskey as he was with his food.

“When are you leaving?” His question was angry. You turned to look at him, not exactly insulted but faintly stung. 

“I told you, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“That’s not what you said. You said there’s nowhere you need to go, not that there’s nowhere you can go.” You nodded once. Joel was right. The distinction felt accusatory, and you once again had the impression that he was about to speak to a part of you that you didn’t want said out loud. Just like he’d done that first night when he’d talked about Gabriel.

You sucked in a breath before turning to face him, sliding a plate of the edible saltines across the counter. 

“I can leave anytime you need me to,” you said, your voice soft and quiet. “I’m feeling good enough to travel.” 

Joel looked into you for a breath. His eyes looked the same, but you had the distinct impression that they weren’t as empty as the first time you’d seen him. Whatever it was you saw in his gaze, it made you feel ashamed, and you broke eye contact. 

He shifted on the barstool before taking another generous swig from his flask. 

“Good. Tonight.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“It’s almost curfew,” you pointed out, nodding in the direction of the window to the street below.

“Fine. Tomorrow then.” His voice was hard as stone.

You nodded, stirring the soup and turning away from him. You didn’t want him to see the rejection in your eyes. You couldn’t say what you’d wanted, but all you knew was this wasn’t it. 

“Tomorrow,” you agreed quietly. 

Joel sat for another instant. You sensed that he was waiting for something: you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you or waiting for something in himself. Whatever it was he was waiting on, the moment passed. He sighed, frustrated, before he scooted away from the counter and went to the couch. He didn’t say anything when you brought him the soup, and he didn’t say anything when he went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him to drink himself to sleep. You were awake and gone before he came out the next morning, although somehow you knew that he was wide awake, listening to the sound of your departure through the door.

**part 2 here!! Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters

[starryficsfinishwen]

a.n. - suggestive toward the end!

For once, you woke up to a comforting touch on your head, light fingers running through your hair.

It's warm, it's soft, it's everything all at once—a soft blanket, the smell of vanilla seeping in your nose, the light dancing on your eyelids beckoning to wake you up, yet your eyes feel far too heavy to open, opting to relish in this comfort.

“Good morning, Commandant [Y/N].”

The soft call of a voice stirs you awake. Even in your half-asleep state, the voice is your comfort, warmth spreading from your ears to every fiber of your body. Moving your head, you snuggle closer to the source of the voice.

“Five more minutes,” you murmur, the empty space in your arms now occupied by something familiar, “Give me five more minutes...”

“It's a rainy day today, [Y/N], don't worry,” Lee softly laughed, “We don't have to wake up.”

It's his comforting words, a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, that makes you smile. You let out a contented sound, your cheeks meeting his chest, “Rainy...must be nice.”

In and out of your reverie, you could make sense of the outside world better—a warm bed, a soft blanket wrapped on top of you, the man of your dreams entangled with you, an intimate kind of bareness that only the two of you will share. It makes you forget about the war, about everything else that was waiting outside of your door. You only pay attention to the way Lee held you close, one that makes you want to dive back into the lull of sleep.

You really wanted this moment to last. At least have this kind of comfort every morning.

“We could do that,” Lee hums, hand now on your shoulder, “We can do this everyday, if you sleep earlier or if we don't have any missions on Earth.”

Ah, you must have said it out loud. Cracking open your eyes, you find soft cerulean irises glowing as they look at you, a sight that Lee gives when the two of you are alone.

“Ah,” Embarrassed, you sheepishly laughed, “I accidentally said that.”

“No need to feel embarrassed,” Lee pats your shoulder, a noticeable red tinting his cheeks, “We can do this everyday, if you want.”

His touch is comforting in your skin. You used to shy away from it. But you don't, instead, it's comforting enough that in your routines, you lean into it more, greedily asking for more of Lee.

“Won't it be a hassle for you?” You hum, “You might be busy and all.”

“Thirty minutes to an hour won't break the schedule. Unless it is a rainy day, your health is of utmost priority; we'll stay here indefinitely.”

“I might get scolded by the higher ups though. Do you have plans for that?”

“I do.” And he says nothing more.

But you recognize that. Huffing, you stare at Lee.

“Did you do my paperwork when I'm asleep?”

The other day when you found yourself waking up in your bed with no recollection of finishing your task you sure weren't close to finish, the reports were already arranged on your table, done and dusted.

And Lee's reluctance to answer your question proved it.

“...what a silly construct.”

“But I am your silly construct.”

Lee doesn't even hide his blush anymore. They creeped from the corners of his ears, across his cheeks. You reach out to touch them, cupping the side of his face. It makes you laugh, the source of heat now in the palm of your hand.

Outside, Babylonia welcomes the artificial rain. There should be opened umbrellas, robots and AI rushing to shield from the rain, people drinking coffee and teas, working through the comfort of such luxury. Somehow, in the middle of your reverie, you dreamed of something that could be possible on Earth—

“I want to stay like this forever, Lee.” You said, looking for the look in his eyes that makes you swoon, “It feels so nice. I want to be with you for a long, long time.”

And it hits you harder. The little word that dances on the tip of your tongue, that kept growing even in his absence. Fondly, truly, genuinely—and you haven't noticed it all this time.

“So do I.”

Gently taking your hand, palm opened to his lips, a lithe kiss in the middle, “I want to be with you for a long, long, long time, [Y/N].”

Salvation was somehow in the form of blonde hair, cerulean eyes, a sturdy body, and a bionic hand that knew how to take care of you. Perhaps that was the day you realized you wanted nothing but Lee.

“I love you, Lee.” You smile, watching as the expression on Lee's face turns from surprise to a knowing one, “I love you, Lee, Morian—I want to be yours.”

The first confession. You never imagined it to be in a bed after a long night of touches. You never imagined it would be in a way where your legs are intertwined with his, the synchronized beating of both of your hearts as a tune—and you already knew Les's answers.

“And I am yours, as much as you are mine, [Y/N].” Lee spoke, returning your smile, decorated by the blush on his face, “I love you more, [Y/N].”

The world must be so kind today. A reciprocated affection, a dizzying kind of devotion that you only used to see in books. They blur into one, and now Lee is the only thing you see.

“Kiss me, Lee.”

And he does—it's soft, it's fulfilling, it's needy; the way he dipped into you, like pieces of a puzzle perfectly fit together. You felt him move as he hovered above you, angling a bit to let you breathe, before kissing you again. You could kiss forever and still be so addicted, you noticed—but you never minded.

Pulling away, you pressed your hands on his bare chest, eyes twinkling. Not even a blanket could cover such thought that was enveloping your mind. Lucky for you, Lee knew you better.

“[Y/N], can we do it again?” He whispered in your ear, light kisses under there to the shell of your ear, “It's still rainy. I want to show you how much I love you.”

Your naughty hands touched him first, eliciting a groan that went straight to your core. It makes you laugh.

“Show me, Lee.”

I woke up to this dream. I had to write it down. LOL

inspired by @squishy-45 who gave me this idea LOL ✨✨

I wanna have this too but I am currently wrapped alone in my blanket. gotta find a bf first :'(

— starry

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Walking on Sunshine 2

Sister series to Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows

Warnings: non/dubcon, antisocial behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: God The Bounty Hunter x reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stopped eating in the lunchroom after your second week with the company. That’s a few years back now but you don’t miss it. You never liked searching for a place to sit or being lonely in a room full of people. Instead, you leave the office and go for a walk, opting to sneak it nibbles at your desk after.

That day is just the same. You’re happy to see the rain has cleared up and so you won’t have to just stand and watch the downpour from under an awning. You grab your jacket, a brown wool with roses sewn into the lapels, and your wallet in case you get a temptation near the cafe.

You take the stairs. Not only is your little strolls meditative, it’s exercise. Sitting all day in your squeaky chair doesn’t do much for your cramped muscles. It’s a small thing but you enjoy it.

Your footsteps echo around you as you fumble for your earbuds. Sometimes it sounds like you’re not alone in the staircase as your soles scuff and reverberate in the empty space. You get to the bottom, catching your breath as you shove the wireless buds in your ears.

Despite using the time to detach and refocus, your choice in content is less than relaxing. The true crime podcast begins with its usual warning and sets your pace as you come out the front doors of the building. 

You head down along your usual path; just down towards the next corporate tower, through the path, and around the park. On the other side of the green, there’s a street full of businesses, including a cafe that sells jelly-filled muffins. You lose track of the narrative of a cheating husband and vengeful wife as you contemplate a sweet treat.

You get to the other side of the park and continue down the street. You pass the vintage stop you’d been in a total of one time and swiftly evacuated upon seeing a price tag. You carry on and stop in front of the cafe… it’s only Tuesday, you should wait until Friday.

You give a bittersweet smile and cross the street, turning back in the direction you came as you round out your usual cycle. As you get to the pavement, you hear the cafe door but the dark figure disappears inside as you glance back. You shrug and keep your pace, just to the other end, back across, and through the park, this time along the small bridge that arcs over the trickling river. 

There’s always hot chocolate at the office. That’s good bait to keep your feet moving.

🌞

Around two, you start to feel the day sitting on your eyelids. You yawn and sit back in your chair, the loud creak drawing the mutter of your seat neighbour. You apologise and steady the chair, bracing the arms as you stand. Your calves are all knotted up.

You shuffle away from your desk and go into the break room. You peek around, your earlier run-in still looming in your mind. You go through the usual routine; rinse your mug, turn on the kettle, and wait. As the water boils, you catch yourself checking over your shoulder. Still alone.

You stir in the powder and toss the stir stick. You turn and nearly cry out at the next surprise. No, it’s not that man, it’s the girl in her bright sweater. She skips through the door as you dribble hot chocolate down your fingers, switching hands to shake off the scalding droplets.

“Oh, hello!” She trills brightly, “mmm, hot chocolate?”

You nod and smile. You try to at least. You want so much to say something to her. To do more than stare back dumbly. Like that man.

“Um,” you chew your lip, “I like your sweater.”

“Huh?” She looks down and tugs at the bottom of the pink pullover, “oh, thanks! I sewed on the hearts myself.”

“That’s so cute,” you squeeze the mug handle.

“I like your blouse! Is it thrift?”

“Hmm?” You scrunch your brow, “oh, uh, yeah, totally vintage.”

“That’s awesome! I love thrifting. I found an old rotary phone the other day, I put it with my squishmallows.”

“Squishmall-ows,” you enunciate curiously, “cool.”

“Oh, let me show you,” she pulls out her phone. Her eagerness, her absolute carelessness, both surprises and calms you. She’s not that intimidating. She shows you a picture of very happy looking stuffed toys.

“Cute,” you remark.

“Right? Oh, I’m Lollipop, I just started in finance.”

You swallow and muster your name and title. Nothing fun, mostly policy reviews.

“I love that name. Well, I’m sorry, I don’t wanna keep you from working… I keep getting in the way.”

“Uh, yeah, they do make you feel like that around here,” you grumble.

She grins, “oh, so I’m not the only one.”

You chuckle and she continues on to the coffee machine. You leave, feeling accomplished. You don’t expect to be good friends but it’ll be nice to have someone to say hello to.

As you get to your desk, you set down your mug and sit, careful not to squeak the chair. You stop short as you reach for your mouse. What’s this? A small brown paper with the marquee of the cafe stamped on it. How…

You lean forward to unfold the top, glancing inside at the crumbly top of the muffin. The smell of apple and cinnamon has your stomach growling. You’re pretty sure your neighbour can hear as they sigh again.

It smells so delicious but where did it come from?

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

cuddle pile drabble from an au im working on for larger fic

It's cold. November is rolling in and it's so fucking cold. The icy rain hammering down against the roof mocks him even though he's been inside for a while now, clothes changed but hair still damp.

The commotion from somewhere else in the small house has died down, Hank and Sanford likely done barricading doors and windows.

A shiver wracks his frame and Deimos stares longingly at his soaked jacket that's drying on the back of a chair, then decides it's time to swallow his pride and seek out warmth. He makes his way down the hall and to the living room, already making a list in his head of who's most likely to say yes and coming up with justifications that no one asked for, but stops short when he sees the other four sitting on a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor.

"There he is. Thought you might've gotten lost, bud," Sanford teases.

"Har-dee-har," Deimos responds, trying not to seem too eager when Victor pats the spot next to him. He slots himself in at his friend's side, not protesting when a warm arm wraps over his shoulder and pulls him in closer.

"Jesus, man, you're freezing."

"I ain't that cold." His body betrays him, shoulders shaking and teeth chattering, the sound getting the others' attention.

"Let me see." Doc is already scooting over, grabbing one of Deimos's hands before it's quickly jerked away. A frown tugs at his lips. "Alright, you're in the middle then."

"Yeah, no, I'm good."

"You're shaking."

"Doc, seriously."

"Like a chihuahua."

The comparison gets a snort out of Hank as he takes his spot at the end of the pile, closest to the front door. "Chihuahua."

It's not that he doesn't appreciate the concern, but he was really only mentally prepared to snuggle up to one person tonight and the thought of being surrounded by all four of them has his stomach doing somersaults and his chest feeling fluttery.

Sanford squeezes in between Hank and Deimos, laying down and opening his arms. "C'mon, squirt. Don't need you getting sick."

Fuck.

Just the thought makes him feel like he's going to explode, but if he hesitates then they're going to think there's something wrong with him. What normal person turns down free body heat and being held by Sanford of all people?

...That last part is precisely what's wrong with him.

Deimos makes a show of sighing in irritation, shoulders slumping dramatically before he gives in and lays down. His breath catches in his throat when he gets pulled into Sanford's chest, doubly so when Victor settles in behind him and slings an arm over his chest, effectively sandwiching him between the two men. He'd pitch a fit about personal space if it weren't for how cold it is, the warmth too pleasant despite how hyper-aware he is of every point of contact. A heap of blankets is pulled over them, the constant shiver dying down to only an occasional tremble.

"Better?" Victor asks, tucking his cold nose into the back of Deimos's neck. It's familiar and safe, despite the way his mind races, not unlike the first time him and Victor had woken up tangled in each other's arms over a year ago.

Deimos still grumbles in reply, determined not to act like he's enjoying this at all, but finds that he doesn't mind all that much when a massive hand reaches across Sanford to rest on his waist, or when a smaller one comes from behind and holds his own icy fingertips. He pretends not to notice when Victor hugs him a bit tighter, or how warm his soft breathing is as it ghosts across his skin. It makes his body ache a little less, his eyelids growing heavier as their combined heat chases the chill out of his bones.

Smalls can't think of an effective closing for this snippet so you're getting this instead.

[rowdyhughesy]

I miss you, I’m sorry - Luke Hughes

“ When did I become so numb? When did I lose myself? All the words that leave my tongue feel like they came from someone else “

- paralyzed, nf

content warning: depression, mention of an abus!ve relationship. Toxic relationship.

Do not! read if this is something that triggers you!

word count: 1k

Do you remember happy together?

I do, don't you?

The covers are pulled up to his neck, eyes staring blankly at the wall. The dried tear tracks on his cheeks making the skin feel tight but he doesn’t have it in him anymore to care. It’s all he’s been doing for the last month, how there is any tears left to cry he’ll never understand but there are. His throat sore and scratchy from the sobs that’s been poring out of him like the sky when it rains. It’s never ending.

Good to each other, give it the summer

I knew, you too

But I only saw you once in December

I'm still confused

It didn’t come as a chock when she said she wanted a break. Nothing had been the same as it used to be. But even if it didn’t surprise him it still felt like a punch to his guts. ‘Only for the summer’ had been what she told him.

He didn’t know that only the summer would turn into months. Antagonising months wondering if she still loved him, if she still cared? He supposed she’d stopped doing both as the girl had gone radio silent on him.

The confusion is probably the hardest part. Wondering where he went wrong? What he did to make her scrutinise every little thing he did, if he could’ve done things different and maybe that would’ve made her stay.

It wasn’t until December he saw her again. On campus as he was walking to class together with Dylan and Luca. She didn’t look nearly as sad and hurt as he does. If at all.

She looked the same as she always had.

Then came what could be worded as the final blow.

Another man walking over and placing a kiss upon her lips, giggling as the unknown male hugged her after they pulled apart. Luca had made quick work of dragging Luke away from the sight. A desperate attempt of damage control.

He made it back to the sophomore house with the help of his friends before he broke down. Body shaking and incoherent mumbles falling from his lips. Curled into a ball on his bedroom floor.

Ethan had tried to get him to open the door, to let him in but he refused. All he wanted was for the ground to swallow him whole. Pull him down, down, down into its darkness until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Until his heart no longer feel like it’s been cut out of his chest.

You said, "forever," and I almost bought it.

I miss fighting in your old apartment

Breaking dishes when you're disappointed

When he finally gets some sleep, eyelids too heavy from exhaustion he can hear her voice in his dreams. Promising him that she will love him forever and more, that this is real. Then he wakes up and reality comes creeping back. The memories of screaming matches, the sound of porcelain breaking when she throws another glass at the wall.

Her face is red from screaming but there is no trace of actual sadness on her features. It’s only pure anger. Hands clenched at her sides before she grabs another item close to her, Luke has the chance to step aside before it hits him. He stands frozen for a couple of seconds before hastily putting on his shoes and half running out of her apartment.

His pulse feels like it’s beating a mile per millisecond. Cold sweats forming on the back of his neck.

He doesn’t say anything when he walks past the living room where all his teammates are gathered arguing about what movie to watch. He just hopes they won’t notice him because then he’ll have to explain why he’s been running in the middle of the night and why his eyes are bloodshot from crying.

Luckily for him nobody notifies the group of his presence if anyone saw him so he can slip inside his bedroom and lock the door behind him.

Sliding down the wall he leans his head in his hands. Wondering where it all went to shit.

Every corner of this house is haunted

And I know you said that we're not talking

But I miss you, I'm sorry

He knows about the whispers at parties, Dylan having told him from outside the door one night. How she tells everyone that they’re not together anymore. It seems as if everyone got the news of the breakup before he did. If there even had been a breakup to start with.

Luke hates how he misses her even after it all. Missing the girl he had made up in his mind.

She’s all over his room. Small things left behind that he hasn’t thrown away, he does not have it in him to return it. She hasn’t asked for any of it so there is a chance she’s forgotten it even existed in the first place. Just like she forgot him. The girl is no longer there but she still haunts him.

Everything I know brings me back to us

I don't wanna go, we've been here before

Everywhere I go leads me back to you

He longs for the day he won’t think of her the second he wakes. For the day he can do anything he wants without it reminding him of what they used to be.

The day he becomes free from the ghost of her haunting him every second of the day. That one day he will find someone that’s nothing like her.

Someone that won’t break his heart over and over again. That will love him as fearlessly as he loves, kindly and with honesty. That there is someone out there that will look at him as he is and don’t point out all the flaws and things he does wrong. Simply just love him as he is like how his brothers love him, like his parents love each other and how his friends love him too. No ulterior motives behind word they say and do.

As he sniffles and wipes the tears from his eyes he hopes that day will come soon. So his heart can finally stop breaking.

[hanahaki-disease]

Till I Let You Fall

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC Crossover

Summary:

“Jason Todd. The second Robin, Tim and Percy’s Robin. Percy’s big brother was alive and had beat the shit out of him the night before in Titans tower.”

❤️✨HE HAS RISEN BABY GIRL‼️✨❤️🤪🦀

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

“Summer’s next week, huh?” Tim said from the door way. Sleep still had its grip on him, it tugged his eyelids down and made his movements a bit more lethargic than usual. But last nights’ patrol had been rough and Percy thinks Tim deserves to be a bit lazy on a Wednesday morning.

Croc had decided to start the night with a bang, crawling out of his lair that was the sewers to terrorize and obtain whatever it was he wanted in the docks. They had yet to figure out what it was, but Percy knows that Tim or Bruce will have that info by the time he gets back from the orientation. Tim also had the misfortune of running into Polka Dot Man right before his patrol ended. The corrosive circles made his cape look like Swiss cheese and he had lost a shoe some how in that battle.

Percy fought really hard to contain his laughter when he came back to the cave like that. Hair sticking up and disheveled, one sock wet from the constant puddles of rain water and cave moisture, his belt in one hand and his other hand holding up his pants. Tim was a mess and Percy had the right as his brother and best friend to laugh at him.

“Actually, summer started on Monday,” Percy reread the itinerary for the orientation before shoving it into his backpack. “But yes, I go back to camp next week.”

Tim nodded his head, scratching at his belly as he did so. “What kinda shenanigans do you think you’ll get up to this time?”

“With my track history in mind,” he said. “Probably another cross country adventure. Higher chances of death this time, I know that for sure.”

“Why’s that?” Percy watched as Tim laid across his bed, across his clothes that Alfred had just finished pressing. “Did you have another prophetic dream or something?”

The younger of the two rolled the other off his clothes before grabbing his pillow and hit Tim with it. Percy chuckled at Tim’s groan when he threw it at his face. “Or something.” Tim did not look amused. “It’s…a vibe that I have, not so much as a dream. I just have this feeling that something is gonna happen this summer, not just camp, but here as well.”

“Like an invasion or takeover?” Percy shook his head. “Oh, one of us gets like, uber sick and we’re out for like a month? No, Bruce gets food poisoning when he goes on that date with Selina on Friday?”

“No, but that would be funny,” Percy leaned against his desk. “It’s more like, something happens to you specifically. Something happens and you get really hurt.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Tim says.

“I know, which is why I’m leaving you these.” Percy pulls out a small drawstring bag from the desk drawer and tossed to him. It wasn’t any bigger than the palm of his hand and jingled when it landed. Inside was a good little pile of gold coins, roughly the size of a dollar coin and embossed on both sides.

One side had the empire state building on it, beams of light reaching out to the border making the picture seem holier than it was in real life. Circling the Empire state building on both side were Greek characters, probably a phrase of some kind. He could recognize a few letters, one was the popular ‘omega’ and another was ‘delta.’ There was also ‘psi’ but he couldn’t be quiet sure since it was a little different than the current version in the modern Greek alphabet, so Tim deduced that this was written in some kind of older version of the language.

On the other side of the coin was a small Pegasus encircled by a laurel wreath and the same Greek phrase on the edge of the coin. There was maybe, twenty of these coins in the bag. Each one having as different symbol in the laurel and the Empire State building on the other side. “What are these?”

“Gold drachmas,” Percy answered. “Currency of the gods, you can use them to call me when I’m gone.”

“You have a phone, though, can’t I just use that?”

He shook his head. “Have you ever seen me use my phone? If I try to use it, it’s basically a beacon to any and all monsters in Gotham, they’ll know I’m here and come after me. And I kinda don’t want to fight any more than I have to.”

“That’s fair. How does it work?” Tim sat up.

Percy moved to the window. The morning sunlight was bright and warm and so very different than how it usually is, but Tim didn’t mind it when he was inside. Like a cat, he could lay on the ground with a pillow and a blanket and take a nap in it’s warmth. He wouldn’t dare do it outside, though. Summer in Gotham was a humid hell and he didn’t want to be basting in his seat while he got roasted by the sun. At least inside he had the luxury of air conditioning.

Tim watched Percy’s gaze focused on the bottle of water on his nightstand. He watched as it’s contents began to spin in it’s plastic confines, swirling around in a vortex, making the bottle move as it did so. With an outstretched hand, Percy commanded it to burst from the bottle, pieces of plastic launched across the room—and in his hair—as the water floated it’s way to him.

Logically, Tim knows Percy can do this, he’s seen it before when Percy saved a baby bat that fell into the cave lake below. But he’s awestruck each time. Like his brain forgets that Percy has water powers and then remembers it all at once when he does it again. It was quite annoying.

He saw him make the water encircle his arm like a bracelet, a constant stream that so many fashion designers and celebrities alike would have killed to have. Carefully he made bits of the water stream off the main one, turning it into a fine mist that shakily made a rainbow in the sunlight. “Bring one of the drachmas and watch this.”

Sliding off the bed, Tim stood beside Percy as he took the drachma from him. “If, for whatever reason, you need to get a hold of me, this is how you do it. You make a rainbow, grab one of these, and say: O Iris, accept my offering!” He tossed the coin into the rainbow and Tim half expected to hear it clatter against the ground on the other side. But it didn’t. It wasn’t on the floor. It had simply vanished. “Then you ask her to show you who you need to talk to, for example: Show me, Grover Underwood, Camp Half-blood!”

A fuzzy image came into view and Tim audibly gasped at the sight. Grover looked exactly as he remembered him from sixth grade, from the curly hair, wispy beard on his chin and the slightly goat-like eyes. But while it was nice to see him again, Tim couldn’t help but take in the sights of the background.

Looming over the other buildings in the area, was a Colosseum. Old stone, withered by age but still kept up and cared for, it was the largest building Tim could see, with an amphitheater not too far from it either. A semi-circle of stone seats faced an unlit bonfire pit and a wooden stage. Pillars of white marble and lit braziers stood further behind the amphitheater, that was probably the pavilion Percy talked about. Where they eat their meals or have cabin meetings since there’s enough for all of them.

It wasn’t hard to spot the other campers Percy talks about, they all wore the same bright orange shirts he had and some were decked out in armor. Chest plates and shin straps, cauldrons and helmets, leather and shiny bronze that glinted in the sunlight. Each of them had a weapon on them. A sword on their hips, an ax in their hand or a spear. Though he knew they were kids like him, no older than eighteen, they held themselves like soldiers. Trained and dangerous kids who could hold their own for a good while in combat against the Amazonians. They fought like the Amazonians, Tim thought as he watched a group spar on the right side. Sand and dirt got kicked up as they moved, the plumes of their helmets shaved as they ducked, and the clash of blades and shields a constant background noise in Percy and Grover’s conversation.

“Alright, see ya G-man,” Percy swiped his hand though the image, ruining the rainbow and ending the magic video call. “You understand how it works now?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Percy said sending the last bit of water on him towards the sink in his restroom, fist bumping the air when it landed in the porcelain bowl. “If anything happens, anything at all, let me know. I’ll drop everything and come home.”

“Yeah, no, I wont do that,” Tim said and collect the bag of coins. “You’re going to be fifteen at the end of the summer Percy, and you said it yourself that you’re basically a general in this war of yours. I won’t rip you away from that for something you don’t need to worry about. We can handle it here, you just make sure you don’t die when you’re in camp and that you come home for your birthday.”

“No promises,” Percy says and grabbed his stuff, knowing Alfred was going to call for him soon to head to orientation for his new high school. Tim followed him out to the hall, waiting beside Cassandra who paused to waive goodbye to her new little brother, “Oh! And don’t even think about looking for your birthday present in my room. I already gave it to Alfred to keep your grubby hands away from it.”

“Shucks,” Tim placed his hand on his hips and waived Percy goodbye as he left with Alfred.

Tim knows that Percy has magic dreams, he’s been told all about them after his initial introduction into Percy’s second life. Knows that they sometimes leave him shaking with a sheen of sweat, other times he looks haunted. As if the ghost of someone he once knew visited him, leaving him sullen during breakfast the next morning. Sometimes his dreams are pretty useful, a few times he’s woken up with a premonition, a fuzzy kind of gut feeling about a building or a profile on a certain case. Other times, he warns Tim not to go with Bruce on a case, to go another way on patrol, to stop or distract Stephanie from something. It isn’t clear why sometimes, since nothing happens after that, but Tim can just assume that whatever it was he saw didn’t happen.

But this time, Percy didn’t have any concrete feelings or visions. He didn’t have an inkling of where or when, of who was there and who wasn’t. Just a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept Tim wary of whats to come later on.

—

Well shit.

So that’s what Percy meant when he said that Tim was going to be getting hurt.

Tim hissed in pain as he tried to reach for the handle of the drawer in the stand besides him. His right leg was in a cast, his shin was fractured and his knee was broken, as was his left wrist. The bruised ribs hurt to breath, move—exist in general, and the many cuts and bruises he got did not make anything any better.

He didn’t know what to expect in the days following Percy’s departure and the feeling of a serious injury towards him. Every day and every patrol he had spent on edge waiting for it to happen. Jumping at every person or movement in the shadow. (he felt bad every time it happened with Cass.) It got to the point that Bruce suggested that Tim takes some time away from Gotham and to head to Jump City to hang with the Titans for a bit.

Bruce.

Bruce Wayne, paranoia extraordinaire. The man who has plans for every little thing that could go wrong, told Tim that he needed some time away from Gotham. Because of Tim’s paranoia.

If Tim could laugh, he would, but his aching ribs prevented him from doing so. It also didn’t help that he was making it worse by trying to get the bag of drachmas he kept in the drawer. Normally he had them on top the stand, ready to grab in an emergency if he needed to reach out to Percy. But for some reason, he decided to tuck them into the drawer yesterday morning.

Why? He doesn’t know, he just did it, and here he was. Biting his lip in pain as he strained his good arm trying to even reach the handle. Either way, Tim has to get to those drachmas. He has to find a way to conjure a rainbow and call Percy from whatever quest he was on. This wasn’t something to put off any longer than it has been already—Jason was alive.

Jason Todd. The second Robin, Tim and Percy’s Robin. Percy’s big brother was alive and had beat the shit out of him the night before in Titans tower.

How did he come back? How long has be been alive and where has he been? So many questions had run through his head after Jason left him with an inch of his life last night. All of them needed answers, ones he doesn’t have and has no way of finding out because he was on bed rest. Which was stupid, he doesn’t need it. He’s fine.

Tim also needed to figure out where Jason was going next. He had gone on about how Batman had let another kid put on his suit, how Tim was just playing pretend in a dead kids uniform. And wow, Tim had déjà vu between the attacks from those insults since Percy had yelled them at him almost three years ago. So it was plausible for Tim to assume that Jason was heading to Gotham. He was probably going to confront Bruce or something.

And while Tim should warn Bruce of whats to come, let him know that his dead son has risen from the dead and is on a war path his way with a bullet that has his name on it. But Tim has found that he could care a little less than he should about Bruce right now. His main priority was to call his best friend to let him know that his brother was alive. After that, then maybe he’ll call Bruce.

His middle finger had just barely hooked onto the handle when the air in front of him shimmered into existence. The edges were colorful, a rainbow made of water vapor and magic, and in the middle there was a girl about his age. She had a healthy tan, much like Percy’s, and the tops of her cheeks were a bit more sun burnt than then rest of her face. Gold curls were pulled back into a ponytail letting Tim see the full intensity of her eyes.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen some one with gray eyes like hers, storm cloud gray and a piercing stare despite the red in her sclera. Tim knows that his eyes are pretty pale compared to the darker and brighter blues and green of his family, and he has been told that his own owlish, lead-paint stare was unnerving from time to time. But Tim found himself shrinking back into his pillow under hers.

“Who are you?” He said finally before mentally cursing himself that he didn’t have a domino on.

“Are you Tim Drake?” She answered.

“Answer my question first,” Tim hardened his glare, noticing how she didn’t seem fazed at it.

“My name’s Annabeth, I’m a…” Her next words caught in her throat a little. Her gaze fluttering to her surroundings as she collected her thoughts. “I was a friend of Percy.”

Percy was never one to share personal facts about himself to those he doesn’t know or doesn’t trust. He’s seen multiple times the way Percy shuts himself off to the other kids in school, the paparazzi, or anyone he deems unsafe. When they were kids, there was no hesitation for Percy to spill his life’s story to Tim. Somehow knowing that Tim was going to be his best friend at the age of eight on that rooftop years ago. He can imagine he was the same way over there at camp.

So whoever this Annabeth was, how ever she was connected to Percy, Tim could trust her too.

“Is he okay?” Tim tried to sit up.

She gave out a shaky breath and her gray eyes welt up with tears again, he tried to not let the dread in his stomach grow. “Have you, um, have you seen the news recently?” He shook his head. “Mount St Helens erupted a week ago, we were there when it did.” The dread was growing.

“I had left to deal with another monster, and Percy stayed there as a distraction.”

No. No…This can’t—

“Percy…” She wiped a tear away. “Percy blew up the mountain. We can’t find him. We think—we believe he died, no one could survive that. There’s gonna be…” she paused for a moment. “There’s gonna be a shroud burning next Friday, I can let you into the camp if you want to come.”

Tim’s throat was dry when he tried to respond. “I thought I couldn’t go since I’m mortal?”

“A demigod can let a mortal enter with explicit permission,” she nodded her head. “If you decide to come, I can meet you at the farmers road and lead you up. You were the only one who knew about this part of Percy’s life, I think he’d want you to be here to help light the pyre.”

With that, she swiped through the rainbow screen and the magic that held the water up fell into droplets on his bed. All at once, they left a wet mark on his sheets. So then why was he still hearing water hitting the bed? It was quiet, and faint, but there nonetheless. With a hand, Tim lifted it to his cheeks and discovered they were wet.

He was crying. When did he start crying? When had Percy left on a quest, why did he go? Tim wasn’t too far away, he could’ve flown a jet or have Superboy fly him there. Tim could have helped Percy, even if he could’ve seen anything. Tim could have had Kon fly in the rumble and the surrounding area, searching though the rocks with his X-ray vision looking for him and all the other people who had been hurt by the explosion. Tim couldn’t have done anything to stop him.

This—This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Tim was supposed to have called Percy. Wheezing from extortion, grimacing at his aching limbs and strained muscles with a smile on his face as he told Percy the news. He would seen his eyes widen, mouth drop, and maybe shed a few tears at the news. Percy would have said that he was on his way home, that he was going to pack his bag and head straight back to Gotham, but now…now…

Oh my god. Tim covered his mouth, he was going to have to tell the others.

He was going to have to be the one to tell Bruce that he lost another son to an explosion. He was going to have to tell Dick that all the bonding and reconciliation they’ve done these past two years were all for naught.

Tim was going to have to figure out a way to tell the recently revived Jason Todd that his little brother had died before he had come back to their world.

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

Jason back in Gotham now >:) things are-a changing Percy’s reaction is gonna be in the next update, so stick around for that. And the dynamic between Percy and the rest of the batfam is gonna shift, quite a bit in the next arc—brace for that.

Also, this update marks the end of the second arc, I hoped you all liked it ❤️

All titles from this arc came from the song “Descending” by Sleep Token, go check them out, they’re an awesome band. Absolutely love them.

Thank you so much for reading‼️❤️

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 10 - An Unexpected Visitor

In this short, but fluffy chapter, you reminisce about your stay in London and snuggle with your man in his penthouse. This is until someone unexpected turns up...

Word count - 1619

Contains : A little bit of fluff and a confrontation conversation via text.

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

London was great, you definitely want to go back again. There’s so much there to see and do. England itself has a lot to offer, along with Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland which make up the United Kingdom. So much history happened all around the country, and there’s too much to fit into just two days of staying over between flights.

You never enjoyed history at school. It was boring learning about it in a dull classroom. But, walking around in the streets the history took place makes it all the more interesting.

Naturally, you wanted to see Buckingham Palace. Many pictures were taken outside of the iron gates in front of the grand building.

You took romantic walks with Miguel around St James’s Park and Hyde Park and then you went shopping in the famous shop called Harrods in Knightsbridge.

The Tower of London was another point of interest. A castle with effectively a small town concealed within its fortress walls.

Connecting all of these places in the city, is the London Underground network. Locally nicknamed ‘the tube’ as the tunnels that the trains snake through on a daily basis are round, exactly like a tube.

It amazed you to learn that the tube stations were used as bomb shelters during World War II. Helping residents of London take cover from the air raids that took place at night.

During your stay, some tube lines were busier than others, particularly during the rush hours. You found yourself pushed right up against Miguel as the train was crammed full of commuters.

The weather gods had been kind to you during your visit. Typically, it rains a lot in England - that’s why it’s so green. But the English summers can be stunning when the sun does finally come out and say hello.

You’re back in Nueva York now, sitting in Miguel’s penthouse, curled up on the sofa with him. His big arms wrap around you as you both flick through the pictures on your phone. The latest cute couple picture is the one of you both standing in a pod on the London Eye. The sights of the historically-rich city below you with your loved up, slightly jet lagged faces being the main focus.

Every now and then you feel kisses on the back of your head as he holds you close. His nose pressed against your recently washed hair, taking in the scent of your favourite shampoo.

This is the first time you’ve visited his apartment, and you can see why he didn’t bat an eyelid when booking your stay in Versailles. You’re certain he’s paid exceedingly well, but that doesn’t matter to you.

Everything in his apartment is expensive, or the latest model or whatever. You’re not interested in what his smart screen, 4K, ultra HD, thingy-ma-whatsit TV does. So long as you can snuggle with your man and watch a film on it, you don’t care.

It’s evening and you’ve not long had dinner together. He cooked and it was surprisingly scrumptious.

“I never had you down as skilled in the culinary arts,” you say to him as he nuzzles against your neck.

“I had to help my mother around the house, which meant doing stuff in the kitchen.”

You ponder for a moment as you think about the delicious food that’s now in your stomach.

“Your mother must be a good cook if you learned from her.”

“Yes, she certainly knows how to throw together a few things and prepare a tasty meal.”

He shifts uncomfortably in the seat, like he doesn't like where the conversation is going.

“You like the penthouse?” Miguel finally asks after deciding to change the subject.

“You have a beautiful home, very techy too, no surprise there…”

He chuckles at your comment before leaning in closer slightly.

“I’d love it if you—“ his whisper in your ear gets interrupted by a knock on his front door.

“That should be a delivery I’m expecting, could you grab it? I need the bathroom real quick.”

You both get up from the couch, you watch him stride off to his en-suite in his grey sweatpants and black t-shirt - for some reason, he looks incredibly sexy in that outfit.

There’s another knock at the door, reminding you to open it before Miguel misses his delivery.

The door creaks as you open it to reveal a woman, not dressed as a delivery driver. She has mid-length black hair and blue eyes. She seems surprised to see you.

“Oh…”

Her shock intrigues you.

“Can I help you?” you ask her.

“Oh, no - it’s okay, I didn’t know Miguel was… um… entertaining…”

She begins to turn away, but you open your mouth to speak again.

“Who shall I say came to the door? I can ask him to get back to you.”

The woman considers your offer for a moment.

“That would be great, thank you. Tell him Xina tried to visit, but will try some other time.”

You nod and smile.

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” Xina replies and hangs her handbag over her shoulder before turning around to walk back to the elevator.

After closing the door, you return to the couch and begin to wonder why a woman would be calling around Miguel’s so late in the day.

Miguel returns from the ensuite and joins you on the sofa again.

“Where did you put the package?” he asks, looking around for a box.

“It wasn’t a delivery,” you reply.

He looks back at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Who was it?”

“Someone named Xina? She said she’d try again some other time.”

Miguel’s smile drops the instant he hears Xina's name. What could she possibly want with him? A sinking feeling in his stomach means he suspects that whatever it is she wants, it’s not going to be good news.

“Mhmm… thanks.”

He lays you down with him on the couch and puts a film on for the both of you to watch. An uncomfortable thump in his chest pounds against his ribs as his mind wanders over what Xina wants. He kisses your head as he pulls his phone out while the movie starts. Calling up Xina’s contact on his screen, he begins to type a message to his ex-wife.

“What do you want?”

It doesn’t take long for Xina to reply. He suspects she’s sitting in her car outside the apartment block.

“You’ve moved on quickly…”

Miguel’s lips press into a thin line as his heart thumps harder in his chest.

“What’s it to you?” he replies, trying to not jab at the screen with frustration and jog you too much.

His message is left on read for a moment, like Xina is thinking about what to say next. A nauseous feeling develops when he sees that she eventually starts typing again.

“I feel like perhaps I was too hasty in wanting a divorce.”

Another text comes in shortly after.

“I miss you. And I miss what we had, the good times we did share together.”

The urge to launch the phone across the living room is almost too tempting. She wants to come back into his life after pushing and fighting for a divorce? He didn’t think he’d get a shot at happiness again, especially so soon after the end of his marriage. Now that he has you, he’s not giving what he has up for someone who can’t make up their mind and seems to think they’re at liberty to mess people around. As far as he’s concerned, Xina can find her happiness elsewhere, because he gave up fighting for her when he was pushed to sign the papers.

He types out another reply.

“You made your bed, now you go lie in it.”

Xina starts to type back almost instantly.

“Are things serious between you two?”

Miguel does everything he can to not growl with annoyance. To make himself better, he snuggles into you more and kisses the back of your head again, sniffing your scent.

Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he starts to type again.

“None of your business.”

His response is left on read once more for a moment, he can feel her frustration through the screen with her lack of a reply. She’s probably resting her head against the steering wheel of her car, seething - good.

Spending time with you, making plans with you, dating you, he feels has done him the world of good. Some might say he moved on too quickly, that he was on the rebound, but you were too good of a person to let pass by.

He has defence walls for a reason, and you are one of the select few who sees who he really is. You are his and he is yours. You bring out such happiness in him. He doesn’t want to lose you and he’ll do anything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen.

He finds himself surprised that Xina doesn’t reply, but he suspects that this is not the last he’ll hear from her.

A gentle snore suggests you have fallen asleep. He smiles as he tenderly nuzzles into you again. His hand strokes your hair before he subtly turns you on your back so he can see his perfect chiquita sleeping. You look so peaceful. It’d be rude to wake you and he wants this moment to last a little while longer. Strong arms wrap around you after he tosses his phone onto another sofa and he settles down, hoping his pounding heart will relax soon. Listening to your deep breaths is already having a calming effect on him. You’re so much better for him than Xina ever was.

I hope you enjoyed Part 9!

Next Chapter >

If you are interested in commissioning me, please click on the link below to find out more.

If you would like to follow me on Twitter, please lick on the link below.