#actually shaking hands was not enough i deserved a hug but i will work with what weve got

[lesbiradshaw]

love is stored in the hands, guys.

[monzabee]

what you do to me – lh44 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where Lewis returns home to you – the one thing he desperately wants, but won't let himself have completely.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x fwb!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: angst, feelings, friends with benefits relationship, smut!, slight choking, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), slight manhandling?, pwp, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! my boyfriend forced me to watch hellraiser the other day, and there was this one scene that i could just not thinking about so i wanted to write something inspired by it, and who better to write it about than sir lewis hamilton?? also, i reaaaallly wanted to write a friends with benefits thing and it was so much fun, i honestly wasn’t expecting. the title of this fic is actually a john legend song that i love and i think it fits the vibes for this fic, so please feel free to give it a listen if you're interested! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It’s a shame Lewis doesn’t spend more time in his Monte Carlo penthouse during the season because it’s a space he enjoys spending time in so much. He doesn’t mind being alone in his home – if anything, it’s refreshing after spending so much time being the focal point of so many cameras during the season. Also, technically, he is not alone he supposes; he has Roscoe to keep him company when he’s home, after all.

Coming home from a successful season is rewarding, he feels as if he’s deserved the rest he looks forward to. On the other hand, coming home from a not-so-successful season? Well he feels like shit – both mentally and physically. That is not to say that he doesn’t appreciate the time off, though, he is more than happy to not drive for weeks and just enjoy the winter break. Coming home is also always kind of bittersweet. He catches up with some of his friends he didn’t have time for during the season, his family who always support him through thick and thin, but most importantly he tries to make time for you and your… well, arrangement.

He knows something is wrong the minute you reply to his text about him being home. A simple okay is not a response he is used to getting from you. Alas, he shakes off the unease and chalks it up to a hectic day on your end. The pitter patter of Roscoe’s paws on the hardwood floors is enough to distract him from the situation, given the fact that the puppy is impatient for his dinner and is looking at the driver with pleading eyes.

“Okay ‘Coe,” he mumbles as he motions the kitchen with his head, “let’s go.”

The way Roscoe wobbles towards the kitchen brings a small smile to Lewis’ face even though he is still hung up on your answer. After he’s done feeding the puppy, he decides to grab a quick shower to ease the tiredness that comes from a long travel day. The hot water cascading down from the rainfall shower does a good job of taking care of his sore muscles, and he is more than happy to stay under the warm water if it means the soreness will go away. That is until he hears banging coming from his front door. He has every intention of just ignoring the person on the other side of the door; however, as the knocks get more and more persistent, he gets out of the shower with a groan. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he marches towards the front door, and looks through the peephole only to end up opening the door quicker than he would’ve liked.

His voice is confused as he mumbles out, “Lovey?” But you just straighten up from your position of leaning against the wall and throw your bag on the floor as you push your way through his apartment and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches as you attempt to hide yourself in the crook of his neck, and he is not sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands for a moment. “Hey,” he calls out softly, “what’s wrong?”

You pull back slightly to look into his worried eyes, “Just kiss me.” Your voice comes out somewhere between a whisper and a sob, and you can see the hesitation in Lewis’ eyes, but you just pull him towards you as you press a soft kiss on his lips, “Please.”

“What happened?” He tries once again to get an answer from you, but you shut down his attempt as you press your lips against his once more, more assertive this time. And who is he to deny you your wishes? So, like the perfect gentleman he is, he reciprocates your kiss with a one of his own as he wraps his arms around you to signal you to jump. Thankfully, you are so tuned with each other that you end up jumping up anyway, and he picks you up as you wrap your legs around his hips. Closing the door, he starts walking back towards his bedroom as your lips start moving more frantically against his own. “Slow down,” he warns, pulling back to give both of you a chance to breathe, “we have all night.”

Whining at the loss of contact from his lips, and you let your dissatisfaction known by attempting to roll your hips against his bare stomach, “Don’t wanna.” There’s still a lingering sob in your voice, but it is more reflective of the neediness you feel now that you have him between your arms – and legs. Lewis lets his hands roam down towards your ass to give you a warning squeeze – a one, maybe you would’ve been threatened by it if you weren’t so lost in him at the moment. You try your best to ignore the look he gives you, one filled with sternness; so instead, you move your lips downwards towards Lewis’ neck with another roll of your hips. “I missed you.”

He stills the movement of your hips as he simultaneously releases an appreciative groan at the way your lips feel on his skin. “I missed you too, lovey.” He is careful as he approaches his bed and sits down on the plush mattress with you still in his arms. Wrapping a hand around your hair to tilt your head back so he can look into your eyes again, he attempts to keep himself from becoming hard from the mere prospect of you wrapping your body around his. His eyes search yours for answers as to your sour mood, “Tell me what’s wrong, bad day?”

“Try bad month,” you scoff, letting your hands slide over his, somehow, still damp torso. “You weren’t here,” you explain as you free yourself from his hold on your hair and take off your sweatshirt, “don’t wan’ to talk about it.”

“Well, I’m here now.” A sudden realisation that you are not wearing anything under your top comes to Lewis, and he has to mentally restrain himself from doing something rash. “Not wearing a bra?” He asks, one of his eyebrows raised.

You let out a confirming hum, “Not wearing any underwear either.” Giving him an innocent smile at the groan he gets out, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, “Thought they’d get in the way.” His hands feel warm on your bare skin as he drags them up on your body to gently cup your exposed breasts, causing you to brace yourself by hanging onto his shoulder for support. Whining as you feel his thumb make contact with your sensitive nipple, you decide to pull him in for another kiss, mumbling a breathy, “Kiss me,” against his lips. 

He obliges your request, of course, but he doesn’t let you control the kiss like you would’ve liked to. Instead, he stops the kiss by gently biting down on your lip before you can deepen it. With a small pat to your hip, he mumbles, “Get up, let me see you.” The look he gives you is just so full of adoration that you have no other choice to get up from his lap with the slowest moves you can muster. His eyes never leave you when you take a step back so that he can see you, all of you, and with the small nod he gives you, you begin taking off your leggings and shoes. That’s the thing about Lewis – for someone who is in the spotlight most of their time, he loves watching. And it is not only limited to the bedroom, you realise, he watches you even when you are doing mundane things together, like grocery shopping or walking Roscoe, domestic things that couples do together. But you can’t think about that, no, because both of you agreed that this was only physical and nothing more. Shaking the thoughts away, you straighten up from your bent position only to find Lewis looking you with a much darker look in his eyes. He’s dangerous, when he looks like that, you realise, he could break you into pieces with just his words, and the worst part is that you’d absolutely let him. “Pretty girl,” he whispers into the distance between you, and you take the hand he extends towards you for him to pull you against himself. The feeling of his lips on your skin almost feel feverish, and you find yourself releasing a gasp. “You’re the prettiest girl ever, lovey.”

“Lewis,” you brokenly whisper, your voice would be bordering on whiny with all the neediness that comes with it, “please, I need you.” The pleading look you give him is vulnerable, if not desperate.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips leaving another open-mouthed kiss, this time closer to your lower belly. His voice does a good job of soothing your erratic mind, his arms envelope you as he promises, “Whatever it is I’m here now, tell me what you want.”

He does a good job of putting you on the spot, you think, but unlike your usual self, you don’t have the patience for teasing tonight. “I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes off stronger than before, but it wavers as you also add, “please.” The last word brings a small smirk to Lewis’ face, and you let out a shriek as he quickly throws you onto the bed. “You almost scared me to death,” you complain, pushing out your lower lip in a pout.

“You’ll be fine,” he lets out a breathy laugh while quickly getting rid of the towel still, miraculously, hanging on his hips. The smirk on his face grows as he watches you shamelessly checking him out, but he never breaks his gaze from yours when your eyes meet as he wraps a hand around his cock to jerk himself for a few times. You spread your legs to accommodate his body as he leans over your lying figure by using his free arm as support. Rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick slit a few times, you can feel his breathy chuckle hit your skin while his lips run over your jaw to leave small kisses. “You’re so wet for me,” he mumbles, and the whimper that leaves your lips when he makes a point to rub his tip over your clit wins another chuckle, “you’re gonna be good for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble as you nod frantically, “yes Lu, I’m gonna be good, I promise. Please, just fuck me.” You try to tempt him by wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer – either you are successful and he gives in, or he is just as desperate to get inside you as you are desperate to feeling him because he complies with your movements as he nudges the tip of his cock into you in a slow push forward. The stretch is burning every single time, and usually he gives you enough time to accommodate his size before proceeding to fuck your brains out. But this time, he doesn’t waste any time as he pushes himself fully into you until he’s buried inside you to the hilt. The gasp you begin to let out turns into a silent scream as the feeling of being full consumes you, “Fuck, Lewis–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes you through the initial pain, “you’re alright, just breathe th for a bit.” And you do what he tells you to because… well, you know he won’t do anything to hurt you. He brings his free hand towards your face to cup your cheek, which you respond by turning your head towards the warmness. “Tell me when the pain goes away,” he whispers against your skin – he finds he absolutely loves the way your skin flushes every single time he fucks you, and the thought makes him freeze for a second. Love? That is not something he should be thinking about, not especially when he’s buried inside you, because you both agreed–

Deciding to respond wordlessly, you press a soft kiss in the middle of Lewis’ palm, whilst also attempting to roll your hips, but then whining because of the additional pressure, “Please, Lewis, please move.”

That must’ve done the job of breaking Lewis out of whatever trance he was in, because once he hears your whiny voice pleading him to move, he starts thrusting his hip in and out of you in a rhythm that simply leaves you breathless in mere seconds. It’s the stress of the season, you think to yourself, but Lewis’ movements just get faster and deeper until he hits that one spot inside you that makes your whines turn into a scream and has you arching into him. You can’t see his reaction with your eyes fluttered close, but he stills his movements for a few moments as he looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in his life. He waits until your erratic breathing to get back to normal before he starts rolling his hips against yours again, but this time the tempo he adopts is much slower, sensual, and almost… too intimate for it to only be considered physical between the two of you.

Your eyes flutter open as you look at him with confusion, “Wha– What are you–?” But he only cuts you off by pressing his lips against you to swallow your question in a kiss. The slower tempo is surprisingly more pleasurable then his usual style that you’ve dubbed fast and furious, and every time his hips roll at a certain angle, he brushes your clit in a way that makes your feet curl in pleasure.

He is breathless when he pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, but then again, so are you. The way he seems to gaze into your eyes make your breath hitch, and if you thought that was Lewis showing his emotions, he decides to put them into words. “So good for me, lovey,” he moans, yes moans because one thing you’ve learned from the start is that real men moan, “you were made for me, weren’t you?” His accent gets thicker, which is a tell that he’s getting there, but he won’t let himself come before he makes sure you’re taken care of. “Look at how you’re taking me, reckon I can feel myself if I place my hand on your belly?” It makes him laugh when you whine as you attempt to slither your hand towards your stomach to test his theory, but one deep stroke of his hips and your arms envelope them around his shoulders to use him as a support. “Perfect, you’re just perfect for me, hm? My perfect, pretty, little girl.”

“Please,” you whimper out, the tears that form in the corner of your eyes threatening to fall, “I’m so close.” It’s been such an emotional day, and a shitty month that all you wanted was to be consumed by him –  and now that you have him in your arms, acting like you are more than just two friends who use each other for something so trivial and human as urges, you don’t want to let him go. Especially not when he makes you feel like you could love him for the rest of your life. Even if just the thought of it is enough to make your heart race. Needless to say, the sob you let out is unexpected on both of your ends, and you know he’s about to stop when he slows down even more, but you give him a stern look through your tears, “Don’t you dare stop.” You moan, loud enough for his neighbours downstairs to hear, once he picks up the pace again, but it’s still slow enough for it to be considered love making and not fucking by both of your standards.

He knows you’re close when your walls start clenching around him, which makes it much harder for him to compose himself. So, being the perfect gentleman he is, he starts rubbing your clit with one of his hands, his fingers work hard to bring you even more pleasure. He watches in amazement as you trash around under his body and as your whimpers and moans get louder gradually – until you are coming undone around him, starting to sob because of the pressure gets released in your tummy, that is. His hips still continue their languid movements, just like the faster movement of his fingers, as he fucks you through your release, mumbling sweet nothings and encouragements into your ear. Lewis does his best to kiss the tears that escape from your eyes, his breath fanning over your feverish skin.

“So good,” your moans get softer as you get calmer after a while, though your voice is still scratchy, “wanna feel you more, Lu.” Sliding your hand between your bodies to take his hand away from your clit, the loss of his touch makes you whine softly and he watches you in confusion while still continuing his movements slowly, but you see the way his eyes light up with a dark look when you wrap his fingers around your throat, and thankfully he understands the message as he tightens his hold just the way you like it. “Yeah, just like that,” you moan, encouraging him to pick up the pace. This time, it’s your turn to whisper praises riddled with encouragement, and you know it gets to him, because every single stroke his hips deliver end up making him fill you more and more, as if that was possible. The sobs coming from your lips transform into ones of pleasure, bringing Lewis closer and closer to his release.

“Look at me,” his voice is sharp, and it makes you immediately fix your eyes on his. There is an immense sense of wanting to please him, or rather make him proud within you, and he rewards you with a burning kiss that leaves you panting and wanting more as he spills himself into you. As he pulls away to moan out your name, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip. You gently bite down on his thumb while you manage to get out a satisfied moan, eyes closing ever so slightly as you feel him spill into you, and he keeps pulling you even closer to himself when he lets his body fall next to yours.

You have no idea how he manages to still stay inside you, but you can feel his lips pressing gentle kisses across your hairline, and brushing away the sweaty strands. “You feel better now, lovey?” Smiling at the tiredness dripping from his voice, you hum airily, a satisfied smile on your face while you move your neck to look at him.  “Good,” his whisper brushes your lips as he nudges the tip of your nose with his, earning a giggle from you while he wipes away the dry tears on your cheeks.

“Do you have to leave?” There is a whiny undertone to your question, and it makes him give you a gentle smile.

“Not for a while,” he assures you, then he presses his lips softly on yours in a small kiss, “I promise.”

He grabs your hand to weave his fingers through yours, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles as he keeps silent for a moment – because he knows at that moment, just because you asked, he’ll cancel every single plan he’s made, just to spend more time with you so that he can make you smile like that. “Until you get sick of me, that is.” Your tired laughter fills his ears until it is interrupted by a yawn. He carefully moves you so that he gently takes himself out of you, and rolls you sideways so he can wrap his arms around as he pulls you close to cuddle. “Go to sleep, lovey, we’ll talk in the morning,” he mumbles as he presses soft kisses to your bare shoulder. You close your eyes with a smile on your face, burying yourself into his chest as much as you can, and hear him mumble, “My lovey,” before promptly falling asleep.

You pretend you didn’t hear him in the morning because the arrangement the two of you made was about keeping things causal.

But you respond by squeezing his hand three times in return anyway.

And he responds.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Ready, Aim, Shoot (3)

Hi guys!

This is a little longer that what I was thinking, but it's the last part of the Ready, Aim, Shoot 's serie. Thanks to @holly-wallis for her ideas and advice ♥

Please enjoy ♥

I had to repost it, sorry if you already saw it ♥

TW : Blood, trauma, scare, creepy therapist.

PART 1 | PART 2

______________________________________________________________

Blood. There is blood everywhere. The more you look, the more there is. You look at your shaking hands, cover in red too. You don’t know whose blood is it though. The room you are in is only white, adding to the contrast with the blood color. Breathing quickly, you look around and that’s when you finally see her.

Alexia.

Alexia is on her back in the middle of the room, her body surrounded by red too. Panicking, you kneel next to her, shaking her to try to wake her. But she doesn’t. She stays still in your hand, not moving. Not breathing. This is when you scream.

You scream so much that it wakes you up suddenly. Heavily breathing, you sit on your bed, blindly trying to find the button on your bedside lamp. You finally managed to find it, but when you put the light on, Alexia isn’t next to you in your bed.

It’s only when you left your room to look for her that you remember. She’s not here tonight, she’s sleeping in Tenerife, where she played today. Or yesterday, because it’s actually three in the morning. It’s the first time she leaves you alone for all the night since you came back.

Alexia is not here, but it’s your fault really. You assured her that you will be ok, almost pushing her out of your shared flat. She made you swear to call her if you need her, no matter what time it is. She asked Mapi to come to look for you last night, so you watched the game with the blonde before she went home. You fell asleep quickly actually, you were far to imagine a wake up like that.

You should really call her; she will be disappointed with you if she learns the state of panic you are in without calling her. But you hate the idea to wake her up at this time of the night. She played yesterday, she’s coming home today. She needs to rest.

You find refuge on your couch, putting the TV on. But you can’t forget the picture of Alexia and the blood everywhere. You feel like it’s still on your body, no matter how many times you look at your hands to be sure that you don’t have a little red on you. Thirty minutes after you wake up, you decided to go take a shower.

You pass a long time under it, water burning, washing your body again and again. You ignore the scare that your accident left on your body. You hate them. No matter how many times Alexia kissed them, telling you that you are strong and even more beautiful than before.

You feel guilty as hell when you think about your girlfriend. She is amazing with you, so patient and so loving. You don’t feel like you deserve her. You don’t make any progress with your mental health and it’s disturbing. You even think about breaking up with Alexia one time, disgusting by yourself. She deserves so much more than you. But right after, you had a panic attack, because how can you live without her? She’s your whole world.

You are not even strong enough to make the things right for her.

When the feeling of the hot water and the strength with which you rubbed your skin became too much to handle, you stop the water and get out of the shower. This time your skin is red, but you know why.

You pick a hoodie from Alexia and one of her old Barcelona’s short. If you can’t have your girlfriend’s arms, at least you can have her smell. And, after some hesitation, you even take her pillow to go with you to the couch of your living room. You take snack and watch some stupid things on TV while scrolling on your phone.

You are still tired, but you don’t want to take the risk to fall asleep again. You’re terrified to have this dream again. Every time the images came back in your brain, you try to hug Alexia’s pillow harder. It kind of work, but it has nothing to do with Alexia’s comfort.

You fall asleep after 8 o’clock, after your girlfriend told you that they are boarding and that she will be home soon.

You are still asleep when Alexia comes home. She smiles seeing you laying on the couch, cuddle against her pillow, in her clothes. You are watching YouTube now, from her account, and you choose the playlist where she puts all the games she finds interesting. Only putting her suitcase on the ground, she comes to sit next to you, softly stroking your hair.

“Alexia?” you mumble, opening your eyes with difficulty.

“Hi sleepy head”

Her smile is affectionate, and you get up on one elbow to rub your eyes and have a better look at her. Her hairs are down and she seems fine. She seems happy, maybe to see you? The plan was that she takes a taxi with Jana to come back home, Alexia didn’t want you to drive because some noises sometimes make you jump.

“How are you?” Alexia asks softly.

“Can I have a hug?”

She smiles and passes her arms around you to hug you. But you lay on the couch again, taking her with you on it. She giggles and you smile, forgetting for the first time your nightmare.

“I’m glad you’re here” you whisper after some minutes.

“I’m glad to be back to you too.”

You hum, turning a little to pass a leg around her knees and cuddle tighter against her. She’s stroking your back lovingly, sometimes kissing your head. You started to wonder how much mental pressure you are putting on her when she talks again.

“You remember Marta? From the media team?”

“I think I do” you answer, frowning. “Why?”

“She just left for her maternity leave, and she doesn’t know for now if she will come back.”

“Ok?”

You are still frowning when you look at your girlfriend, not understanding where she wants to go. I mean you are happy that people have baby and all. But what does it make a change for you?

It looks like Alexia’s idea was that you apply for the job. You try to escape that idea, not really happy about the idea of meeting tons of people who will know about your story and look at you with pity in their eyes. But Alexia assures you that it won’t happen, adding that you just can go for the interview without saying yes after.

Long story short, you are now sitting on your desk for your first day.

Your job is basically to find idea of activities to anime the games, a little more marketing than journalism to be honest. But it looks fun and like Alexia said before, when Marta will come back, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.

********

“Hi, I’d like a meeting with the new media manager?”

A voice in front of you make you raise your head, even if you recognize it immediately. Alexia is smirking at you from the door of your office, looking like she just finishes her shower. Which she probably did, given the time.

“I’m sorry, but you have to talk to my assistant first, she will give you my time schedule” you smirk back.

Alexia frown slightly, closing the door behind her before coming for you.

“You have an assistant?”

You know that frown and you roll your eyes while standing up to great her like she deserves it.

“Yes, I have” you answer, letting yourself go against her when she takes you in her arms.

She hums, her lips against your hair, trying to look discreetly in the open office by the window. The gesture makes you chuckle and you raise your head to have a better look at her.

“What? I was just looking to know if you knew her, that’s all.”

“Sure, mi Amor.”

She pouts and you kiss it better, just to see the smile she has right after. You weren’t really happy to start to work again to be honest, but you have to admit that it’s a good thing for you to keep your head busy with something. Alexia was right, once again.

“Are you ready to leave? I’m taking you home.”

“I am.”

You take your stuff with you, before letting Alexia passes her arm around your waist to take you with her. You don’t know if it’s only the jealousy talking right now, but you have to admit that she is way more openly affective with you since your accident. Not that you have a problem with it, obviously. But the way her gaze is scanning the room when you left after saying goodbye to your colleagues, it makes you think that there is at least a little part of jealousy in it.

Which is totally stupid, you only see her.

“You seems happier” Alexia says cautiously over her plate that night.

You look at her for some seconds before nodding. You are, but you are scared to mention it in case that it makes your nightmares coming back.

“I am. Thanks to you” you smile softly.

“Are you really? Or are you hiding something from me like when I was away for the game to Tenerife?”

You blush and almost chock on your tomato, but you somehow are able to keep some dignity. You don’t take the time to try to deny her statement though, you know that she knows. Of course she does. She reads you like an open book. Alexia has the decency to not point anything else, waiting patiently for your answer.

“I really am better. You were right, I really needed to get out from here even if it was difficult at first. It’s great to have something to do, not that cooking for you wasn’t entertaining. But going out… It’s great.”

She nods softly, without leaving your face with her eyes. You know immediately that there is something else in her mind, but you don’t push, letting her carry the conversation.

“Do you think I was too suffocating with you? Maybe if I…”

“No!” you cut her after some seconds of incredulity. “Alexia how could you…? Are you joking? You are the reason that I’m still here and mentally good. You are the reason that I keep fighting to be fine again. I couldn’t have done it without you. I forbid you to think of anything like that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s some insecurities and I shouldn’t have told you that” she frowns again, playing with her forks and some pasta left in her plate.

“Alexia, don’t please.”

She looks at you again when you stand up, just to come sit on her lap. She welcomes you by taking you close against her with her arms. You pass your arms around your neck, one of your fingers playing with the baby hair on her neck.

“You are so perfect to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to thank you enough one day for it. You were always right and done nothing wrong all those days. A lot of people would have abandoned, but you are still here with me.”

“I’ll never abandon you” she mumbles, looking right into your eyes.

You can see how much she means those worlds and you have to take all your strength not to start crying like a baby. You’re pretty sure that your eyes are shining from tears but you busy yourself by stroking her cheek tenderly.

“You said one time that my come back is a miracle, do you remember? Well, you are my miracle.” you add, after she nods.

She kisses you and the way she did makes your head turned. She only let you breath for several seconds when you need air, before kissing you again with even more intensity. You had sex again after some weeks of rehab from your part, but not like you did before your departure. And it’s hard to see Alexia restrain her gestures, scared as hell to hurt you. Tonight though, you feel like that maybe it will come back.

********

It came back.

You are laying on your bed, lovingly enveloped in your girlfriend’s arms. Her skin is so soft against yours, your face hiding in her neck. You are lull by Alexia’s deep and slow breathing and you are starting to wonder if she’s falling asleep when she talks quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great. Safe. Warm.”

“Perfect” Alexia sighs softly, moving a little to be more comfortable on the mattress.

You look up at her, admiring the shape of her jaw, her perfect nose, her beautiful eyes, and her so kissable lips.

“What?” she asks when she sees you staring.

“Nothing” you giggle. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes before closing them, tightening you harder against her. You don’t need anything than her body to keep you warm and you love it.

“Would you be angry if I stopped working there?”

The sudden question makes her open her eyes again to look at you. She seems to be thinking for several seconds before answering.

“Of course not. Why do you want to stop anyway? Is someone nasty with you?”

“Not at all” you deny, already imagine her hunting the person who would do that to you. “I was thinking that… maybe I could finish one of my book projects?”

“You mean one of your thousand amazing scenario who are desperately waiting on your computer?”

“Exactly that” you answer, rolling your eyes.

She teased you way to much about it already.

“If it’s what you want, of course I’ll support you. But what about going out to meet people?”

You see the worried already and you answer, kissing her cheek.

“I’ll go write into a Café or something. Maybe seeing people, crowd and streets will help me to get idea.”

********

That’s exactly what you did, after finishing your job with the media. The first days, you weren’t really effective, more focused on what’s going on around you and which story you want to choose. After some debate with yourself and help asking to your mother and Alexia, you choose to mix two stories and start writing again. It made you start from the beginning, but it’s maybe better like this.

You still get to your psychiatrist to your session twice a week, always a little more scared to go without Alexia. Your psychiatrist told both of you that it could be good for you to come without your girlfriend. Alexia accepted immediately, always being interested in everything that can make you feel better. So on Mondays would go without Alexia and on Fridays you go with her.

You always have a strange feeling without Alexia’s halo, and it’s only happened when you come here. You don’t have trouble to go grocery shopping without Alexia or go to the Café to write.

It’s particularly hard to come today, you talked to Alexia by the phone before your appointment to ease your stress. She seems to realize that something is wrong, because she talks a lot about her day. She only does that to change your mind, and you love her for that.

“Good Morning, Y/N.” your therapist greats you.

You great her back and start talking about your new occupation, your activities since the last time and the travel Alexia proposed to you last night. It was something you can’t stop to think about since she mentioned it, eager to go away for some days in the sun with the woman you love.

“Don’t you think it will be too soon?” the doctor asks sceptically, only looking at her notepad.

You are taken aback. You would never have thought that she can be thinking that it’s a bad idea. She never stops to tell you to go ahead and try new things since the beginning.

“Taking a plane, going to an airport, in a place that might remind you of your trauma? What would you do if you have one of your panic attacks there?”

You don’t know what to answer to that. Alexia mentioned Canary Islands and a private hotel with a private beach, which seems far away from the Middle East.

“No, I mean… I’m going better now. And I’ll be with Ale. Everything will be ok.”

She looks at you this time, raising an eyebrow. Her look is sharp, almost mean and you have trouble swallow your saliva. You feel like a schoolgirl getting bullied by her teacher.

“Don’t you think you already lean too much on the poor girl? Maybe she suggests the holidays to have some rest, are you sure she wants you to go with her?”

You don’t really remember the end of the appointment, but it keeps getting worse. And you don’t know how you managed to find yourself in the Barcelona’s facilities either after it. You can’t think straight anymore, it’s like this woman knew all your insecurities and tell you that you are right to have them. One after the other.

What if she’s right? What if Alexia can’t stand your presence, your toxics dreams and mental health? You already knew that you weren’t good enough for her and that she deserved better. You can’t believe that you let her makes you believe that she can love you. How can she? How can anyone?

You were turning around to go home when you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N?”

You recognize Mariona through your tears, but you can’t say anything. She doesn’t seem to mind though, carefully taking your arm in her hand.

“What are you doing here? Are you looking for Alexia?”

You try to scream at her to let Alexia alone and not to get you to her, but you can’t. When you don’t say a word, Mariona decides to take you to Alexia. Luckily the Majorcan woman came late today and she knows exactly where to find your girlfriend.

You let Mariona drags you around, hearing her soothing voice without being able to understand what she’s saying. Sweets, encouraging words, for sur. You can’t figure out really what happens next, but after several minutes of walk, you hear Mariona calling your girlfriend’s name. And more seconds after, you are surrounded by her arms, her perfume, everything that is her.

Everything that you don’t deserve.

When Alexia realizes that she’s facing a wall and that you won’t say a word, she takes you home. You are like anesthetized at this point, letting her do what she wants with you. It’s only when you are laying on the bed you retake some reality and stare at Alexia who seems to be choosing clothes to put on you after taking a shower.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

The words were lifeless, but you see Alexia froze. She turns in your direction, with eyes wide and the most chocked face ever.

“What?”

“I’m breaking up with you” you repeat, looking at her straight in her eyes.

A silence pass and you see Alexia watching at you, probably waiting for you to say something else. Maybe to explain yourself, but you don’t say another word. Plus, the reasons are obvious, no?

“Are you- don’t you love me anymore?”

She seems broken. That doesn’t make any sense, she is supposed to be relieved, not sad. You don’t understand her reaction, so you shrug before answering.

“That’s not the point, Alexia. You are free. I’m giving you your liberty back.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk? Did someone give you something to you?”

She seems angry now, almost shouting with her eyebrows frown. You frown too, because why the hell won’t she understand? You sit in the bed while she’s still standing in front of you.

“No! I just… Why won’t you…”

Why is your brain suddenly transformed in pudding?

You look at Alexia when she comes to you and takes your face between her hands. She does it with so much care that you want to cry again.

“Why don’t you let me break up with you?” you whisper.

“Because I love you. I told you; I’ll fight for us every day if I have to.”

There we are, you are crying again. But this time Alexia is here, she can take you against her, rock you will you cry and whispers sweets nothing in your ears. She waits for your sobbing to stop, holding you tightly. Only when you can breathe normally again, she speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You don’t know really where to start, so you just shake your head without answering anything. But she waits, again and again. So, after some minutes, you talk too.

“I just want you to be happy. I know you’ll be happier without me.”

“You are wrong.”

Her voice is gentle, but as the same time strong enough to let you know that you don’t have to try to deny it. It’s her truth and that’s enough.

“Well you need to take some time apart from me so it’s not –“

“Where the hell does that idea comes from?”

She’s lost. You were good when you end up your call some hours later. Stressed but good. And then you appeared crying during her training, only to say her when you come home that you want to break up with her. But you frown again, lost too. And tired, to be honest.

“My therapist said that I’m leaning on you too much. And that’s way you wanted to go on holidays without me.”

You explain that like it’s the more logical thing in the world, but for Alexia it doesn’t make any sense. She starts to understand where it comes from however, even if she doesn’t understand why.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, what the point to have holidays if you’re not with me?” she answers, looking right into your eyes. “Did your therapist say other things?”

You nod and start to explain everything happened and everything she told you. The more you talk, the more Alexia seems to be furious. Her jaw is clenched, her eyes are literally throwing lightning and she so tense that you are really concerned that she can have a cramp somewhere. But when she talks to you again, her voice is infinitively soft.

“Nothing of that is true. I love you. I will do everything to help you to make you feel better. I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. I’m not going to give up on us.”

You look at her, almost desperately. But she has the same gaze that she has when says things like this. Her eyes are soft, caring and so loving that you can’t do otherwise than believe her.

“I don’t feel like I’m better, Ale” you whisper. “I don’t think I will be one day.”

“You are. You are working, you are getting out, you are smiling again. It’s ok to have bad days, like everyone else. Yours are a little more complicated because you had to go through horrible things. But you have the right to not feel good or needing help a little more some days. And what she said was wrong.”

You are lost, honestly. Alexia can see that you are coming back at yourself again though. Like if you are waking up. You seem always a little desperate and she takes you carefully against her. You let her, sighing of relief when you find the comfort of her arms.

“What if she’s right and you haven’t realized for now?”

“She’s wrong. And she will know it.”

You don’t question what she was implying, too tired to realize what her words may imply. You let Alexia taking you in a bath and more generally taking care of you. You look at her through the mirror when she does your hair.

“When I get better, it will be me who will take care of you” you inform her.

She smiles and finish to undo a knot in your hair before answering, looking at you through the mirror too.

“Okay Cariño.”

She’s smiling but doesn’t seem to make fun of you. You relax, letting your shoulder go down a little bit. That’s mean that she really believes that you will be better.

********

Alexia keeps her promise, going to your therapist’s office in the early hours to talk to her. You don’t know what she told her, but now you don’t have to go to your appointments, and you even have a new psychiatrist, advised by someone from Alexia’s staff.

Rumour has it that Alexia’s shouts still resonate in the psychiatrist’s office.

You don’t know if it’s your breakdown of the change of therapist, but some days after this episode, you feel better than ever. You wake up with your head and your body feeling lighter and Alexia is surprised to see you coming in the kitchen when she’s taking her breakfast. Usually, you stay way longer in bed.

“Is everything alright?” she asks nervously.

You nod, rubbing your eyes before coming behind her to pass your arms around her waist.

“Just wanted to be with you a little bit before you leave.”

Alexia hums when you kiss her neck. You can feel a gaze studying you while you are making yourself coffee, before coming to sit next to her.

“Are you sure that you’re ok Cari?” she asks, almost shyly while you stole a strawberry from her bowl.

“I’m sure baby” you smile at her.

Alexia is looking at you suspiciously during several seconds. She red things about people being “high” before getting down and of course she is scared. But you seem really good today and she can’t help but smile when you kiss her cheek.

“Uhu” she said, taping her lips with expectation.

You giggle but kiss her anyway, smiling against her lips. You are still smiling when she strokes your cheek with her fingertips and when she puts her forehead against yours.

“I love you so much” she whispers before kissing you again.

“I love you more” you smiles.

Alexia does no with her head and put a finger on your mouth when you want to talk again.

 “Would you like to come with me to training today?”

You hesitate for several seconds before answering. It’s been a while since you came to see Alexia in training. You can’t remember who you saw some days before, only Mariona. But you hope that they weren’t a lot.

“You can say no if you don’t want to.” Alexia adds after seeing you hesitate.

“No, I want to come. But… Who were here, the other day? You know…”

“Only Mariona. And I’m sure that she doesn’t say anything to anyone.”

You are relieved to learn that, even if you don’t know how Alexia can know.

“Did you treat her?” you smirk.

“No” Alexia laughs. “I know the girl, she’s one of the most loyal, sweet and discreet that I’ve ever met.”

She was right. Mariona didn’t told anyone about what happened and after several minutes you realize that Alexia was right once again. You hug the Majorcan woman a little longer than Alexia’s other teammates when you met them, silently thanking her. She seems to understand because she smiles at you before taping your cheek affectionately.

And today, as you watch Alexia training and laughing on the pitch with the teammates that she considered like her family, you’re starting to have hope again. Alexia was right every time, so maybe she will be right this time again. You will be better.

[sugar-omi]

WAITTT but imagine if cove and mc can actually get out the door to their dinner date w/o dropping everything to fuck!! i fear at the restaurant cove would be an absolute menace of a tease the entire time, pleading w/ you to let him touch you cuz this man just wants you SOOO BAD YOU LOOK SO GOOD HOW CAN HE NOT?-$’ wit

or he’s like super whiny about it all, he just wants out of here so he can touch on you without repercussions dudes practically BEGGINGGG for yall to go home cuz he’s just sooo hard he can’t stand it OH EM GEE MOOTIE

bonus points yall end up doing at the restaurant YK WHAT IM SAYIN AHHH

jfc I think abt that way too much!!! and while the thought is so tantalizing, so arousing that it makes you fucking sick with need. it'd be so dangerous to fuck cove in a public place

you know he can't be quiet. and he's laying pipe so well, working your body so well that it'd be impossible for you to stay quiet too...

before either of you give in, his desire for you is so obvious to everyone. you'd sit at the table, and cove would move his chair so he's sitting next to you instead of in front of you, and while you're trying to browse the menu, he's shaking his leg... then watching you impatiently as you decide on your order.

"cove... knock it off." you hiss, gripping his traveling hand on your thigh.

"i'm sorry.. you jus look so good right now..." he purrs, nuzzling his nose under your ear, his lips placing fluttering kisses along your jaw.

it's a good thing the restaurant is dark, one of those fancy, lowlit romantic restaurants that may or may not have any business being this expensive depending on how good the food is.

he barely pulls himself together long enough for the waiter to take your order and leave.

while you're waiting, there's a bit of small talk between you. maybe you're on a well-deserved vacation and raving about the activities he planned for you two earlier that day, or how boring work was and that you looked forward to this date so much. that you missed him..

and he just looks so in love, leaning in his elbow, watching you with those heart eyes.

but when you aren't looking, his eyes are trailing over you, along your collarbone, following the lines of your body and expanse of your pretty skin, perhaps your necklaces twinkling in the candle light, until his eyes find your chest, biting his lip as he imagines what's underneath.

because you know he watched you get ready, saw you take a long time in the bath until you smelt good and looked even better, than helped you put on lotion, any jewelry, "helped" you do your hair or makeup by hugging your waist and kissing your neck.

watched you pull on all your clothes. he knows what underwear is underneath that outfit, and while he loves it on you. he wants it on the floor, with your legs on his shoulders, and he wants to go down on you until you're squirming, crying even. and only then will he--

has to break out of it when the food comes. forces a smile and a polite thank you even though his jeans are getting tight, and his mind is hazing with lust. wanting nothing more than to bend you over the table...

he stuffs down this overbearing lust long enough for you two to eat. but you can't even get the last bite in your mouth before he's leaning into you again, his big hand on your thigh, gripping and squeezing the flesh. [his hand high up your skirt] it's like his body heat is marking you. a simple touch from him as your body flaring up, squirming and squeezing your thighs as he brushes his fingers against your clothed sex...

"please.. i wanna be close to you, and you look so sexy tonight..." he pants right into your ear, sound desperate. out of breath. pleading.. "ion wanna wait until we get back.."

you tense, chewing your food as you try to hold your resolve. he's so enticing.. if it wasn't illegal, and perhaps too embarrassing for the both of you. you'd take him right now.

"cove..." you try to ignore his kisses on your jaw and neck. your voice strained, and you can feel him smirk against your skin. "you're not gonna die if we don't fuck right now."

although you might if he doesn't get his hand off your sex, his fingers stroking your clit through the fabric / his palm groping your filling bulge.

"i might." he grins widely, mischievously. you can even hear the teasing tilt in his voice but you can't focus on it, or his cockiness, when he bites down lightly on your skin.

removes your hand from your face when you stifle your moan, your cheeks hot and eyes cut at him. the restaurant is full, and while everyone seems to be focused on their food or business, you're in public.

but everything melts in the face of those sweet blue eyes, so wide and deep like the ocean, dark waves pulling you under when he pulls you into a kiss, his lips addictive on your tongue.

he kisses you like he's putting a spell on you, and he probably is, probably has because you've been with him for over 10 years, known each other for longer. you can't get enough of him, ever.

and you always find yourself rolling along with his tricks. because when he pulls away, your heart breaks. you want him. wanna feel his touch and his hot skin, his moans in your ear and his hands pulling you into him, drawing his name from the depths of your chest in a cry of escatsy.

"okay..." you breathe out, lips parting, wet and trembling. you're a mess from a simple kiss, although his teasing hand under the table has a lot to do with it..

you sneak away after asking the waiter for dessert, hoping that the recent ask will at least let them stay off your trail even though you might not be at the table once it comes.

you can't even bring yourself to care that much, because cove's hands are pulling up your clothes and tugging down your bottoms..

he wouldn't be above going down on you right here and now either, especially if you don't protest. and if you're afab, don't worry about sitting your ass on the questionable sink or toilet, just throw your leg over his shoulder and let him hold up your weight. just spread your legs, hold your skirt or shirt up, and lean forward for him...

that's too long though. i need a separate post for that...

he finally sinks into you. don't ask me if he has a condom on hand, that's up to you... but I also like to imagine him fucking you so well, so desperately, the sex has your mind spiralling at the thrill of possibly being caught, being heard.

and on top of that, having to go back to the table with his cum stuffed into your bullied insides, his cum hot and sticky and you have to make sure no cum was left on the floor, embarrassingly, shyly wiping up your mess. wiping up the line of cum running down your shaky thighs.

and now you have to sit and squirm while eating your dessert, his cum pooling in your undies and you're so paranoid about leaving any spots on your clothes. maybe it's just the anxiety talking, but you feel like everyone knows. you feel like the waiter can see through you, and when you walk out you worry that everyone knows something..

anyway anyway...

my whole point is, cove would be so loud. really, you're playing a dangerous game here.

because he tries to be quiet he really does.. he thrusts in and out so slowly... almost like you're making love for the first time again.

but he can't put up with this, you grinding back into him isn't enough, your butt meeting him in the middle with a muffled clap from his clothes in between to muffle the sound..

it's not enough. the strategic maneuvers of your hips isn't good enough, he needs to feel you tight and hot around him, your load moans bouncing off these walls and your strangled cries for more as he fucks you harder and harder against this wall.

he knows it's animalistic. he isn't usually so fucking horny, so desperate. so feral. but he just needs more, needs to scratch that deep itch and climb impossible highs together.

mumbles something, you can't hear. not when he speaks so lowly and you can still hear the hustle and bustle outside, your ears seemingly stuffed with cotton.

"ah-!" you cry so pretty, and cove's groan echos off the wall. this is bad, you're too noisy. the audible plap plap plap of his thrusts echo off the tiles and you can't catch the moans and whimpers that slip out, and even with cove gritting his teeth, he still curses and groans, his gravely voice purring out praises.

if someone got close, they'd hear. in fact, maybe they can already. you don't know how thick these walls are, definitely not enough to hide the cries and groans and gumbled mantra of your man babbling about how good you feel, you're so pretty, so hot, so perfect. he loves you, loves you so much...

if he wasn't loud already, when he gets close you better kiss him, or stuff your fingers in his mouth, let him suck and drool all over the two digits, eyes lidded and fluttering, cheeks flushed as he inches closer n closer..

he'd be so receptive to your dirty talk too. go ahead and tell him how nasty it is he can't even wait to get home, how he's so needy and cute. say whatever you want, he's eating it up the entire time.

ohh and if you bring up someone listening, just for this i want him to like it. want him to tremble and burst with pleasure and need at the thought that's someone's listening to him fuck you, wish they were either one of you because your moans sound so pretty, the passion obviously hot from the other side of the door...

after cleaning up, you'd both all but run out of there. but even if cove laughs nervously, or acts shy, embarrassed. he can't hide his damn glow, or how happy he is with himself.

[angelpuns]

Kid Leo Reunion Arc - Test Writing

As promised, here's the blurb I wrote to prepare for this arc! I may actually do this for the rest of the arc cause I don't like what I've sketched out for the end of it, as well as future arcs. It helped a lot with the pacing and making the scene as emotional as possible!

Raph was trying to pay attention to what Leo said, he really was - though a lot of it was just a nonsensical story about a dream he'd had. Half his mind was still cast on the issues from earlier. On how they just kept failing and failing. Meditating should have worked…it worked the first time they unlocked their ninpo and when they needed to break out of the cage and defeat Draxum…. 

So why couldn't Leo unlock his ninpo?

Was it the fact that he was just too little or that he couldn't meditate properly or that he just…still didn't trust them? But that couldn't be right, ‘cause he'd been acting like…well, like Leo around them again. He clung to all of them like the real- like Leo always had. 

Raph just wanted to scream and fight and hit something- but he didn't. He took a subtle breath in, held it, and let it out a few moments later. Calm down, Raph. You can hit something later. 

He didn't want to scare Leo, after all. 

He tuned back into the conversation, watching with faint amusement as Leo spoke animatedly about his dream, hands moving all over the place. 

He was saying something about ‘a purple Leo that was him but not him’ when he stopped, eyes wide. Raph noticed the staticky electric feeling before he turned and a bright purple light washed over the kitchen and all its inhabitants. 

For a brief moment nothing happened, everyone else turning in slow motion to see what was going on. 

Two figured emerged from the portal, the purple light blinding Raph so he could only see their silhouettes. One tall and one short. He recognized the short one in a second, and so did Leo, judging by the loud gasp and the clattering of his chair as he leapt down from the table and rushed over. 

Draxum's voice boomed over the kitchen, “ WHICH ONE OF YOU MISCREANTS SENT YOUR SICKLY FATHER TO BOTHER ME ON VACATION!?” 

It didn't seem to bother Leo, though, the boy rushing over to Splinter with a shout of “DADDY!” and leaping into their dad's arms. 

For a moment Raph was almost angry- Splinter didn't deserve a greeting like that after he'd ignored Leo during their last few phone calls. 

But he was jealous, too. He missed being small enough for Pops to hold like that. To hug like that. 

Splinter opened his arms and Leo ran into them, squeezing Splinter as tightly as he could manage. 

“ Oh, my little Blue….” Splinter sighed, voice nasally and exhausted, “ Were you good for your brothers?” 

Leo squeezed him tighter, tail wagging a mile a minute. He seemed to be so happy he couldn't contain it, little body trembling with the need to get the energy out. 

He barely moved out of the hug, shouting into Splinter's robe, “ I'VE BEEN SO SO GOOD AND I HOLDED MY SWORD TODAY ALL BY MYSELF AND STIRRED THE CURRY AND I MADE SURE TO-TO CLEAN UP ALL MY MESSES AND EV-EVERYTHING!” 

His voice shook as he yelled, stumbling over his words in his excitement. He couldn't seem to keep a happy chirp from leaving his throat either. the sound intermingled with his words. 

“And-and,” his little voice wobbled, no longer shouting, his claws gripping Splinter's sleeve tightly, “and I thought you got brainwashed and then I got s-sad and-”

Tears had begun forming, his beak trembling with the effort to keep them in, squeezing Splinter tightly. He didn't let them fall, though, claws shaking where he was trying to keep still. Like he didn't want anyone to worry that he was crying. Like he was afraid he'd make more of a mess of things. 

Then Splinter gently rubbed a hand over his shell and Leo burst into tears, pressing his face into Dad's robe and voice coming out in choked gasps. 

“ I WA-WAS SO SO SCARED!” He wailed, Splinter glancing up to give the rest of his children a concerned frown. 

“I WAS SCA-SCARED CAUSE YOU-CAUSE YOU- CAUSE WHO WAS GONNA TAKE CARE OF MIKEY AND RAPHIE AND DEE DEE IF YOU GOT BR-BRAINWASHED!?” 

Leo’s crying carried on, but his words were choked out by sobs. All he could do was let out a pitiful wail, even as Splinter tried to comfort him. He curled into Splinter's embrace, little body shaking with sobs the entire time. 

He rubbed Leo's shell and hugged him tighter, the little turtle only barely starting to calm down. He couldn't seem to keep the tears from coming now, his crying echoing throughout the kitchen. 

“It is okay, Leonardo, I am here now,” Splinter murmured, leaning in close so Leo could hear him, “ you were a very brave boy while I was gone, weren't you?” 

The wailing died down to a quiet sobbing, Leo sniffling and hiccuping in response. 

It was quiet, save for a few hiccups and gasps, before a wet chirp came from the turtle in response. It was muffled by Splinter's shoulder, but had most certainly come from the little turtle. 

Splinter sighed, still rubbing his shell, his voice softening, “ I am so very proud of you, my son. You did such a good job.”

A beat of silence, a hiccup, and then- 

Another chirp, this time with a sad, questioning tone to it. As if to say, ‘really?’ 

“ Yes. and I think your brothers are very proud of you as well,” He glanced up to his other children and beckoned them over. 

Mikey pushed his chair back with a screech and quickly joined the group hug, but Donnie and Raph didn't move just yet. 

Raph’s jaw was tight, his face a stony mask of barely concealed anger. His hands flexed open and closed, claws tapping against the table as if contemplating if he really should join. 

Raph was only thinking about how Splinter had spoken to him on those phone calls. How he'd wax poetic about Raph being the leader again. 

Leo didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be ignored by their dad when he was just trying t tell him about his days. About all the things he was doing. Leo sought his attention over everyone else, even when he wasn't here. 

And yet Splinter was here now acting like it had never happened. Like Leo hadn't had to fight for attention the entire time he was gone. 

The thought made Raph sick, but he joined the hug regardless. 

it didn't show as much on Donnie's face, but he seemed to be going through a similar revelation. He'd been hesitant to call Splinter and ask for his status at all. He doubted Splinter would even find Draxum, doubted that he was even trying. He had suspected their dad of just running away from The problem rather than seeking an actual solution. 

It wasn't as if Splinter had ever done anything like that for them when they were children, so why would Donnie give him the benefit of the doubt now. 

Sure, he'd left of his own volition and had done so promptly. But this was Splinter. Who raised them off of movies and as little information about their family and their origins as possible. Splinter who left Raph to do so much of the work that he'd- 

But this was different. Splinter was different. And Leo was- well Leo was still clinging to the idea that their dad would pay attention to him and kiss his booboos and tuck him in at night. Because at that age he still did. For a little bit, anyway. 

Donnie swallowed, tucking his phone into his pocket. He could think about all the ways Splinter had failed them in their childhood later. What mattered now was his twin. They couldn't go influencing how he felt about Dad, after all, there was no telling how it might affect the space-time continuum and all that. 

 Donnie’s eyes shone and he reluctantly joined the hug, trying to put all the feelings and concerns about Splinter out of his mind for now. 

Raph squeezed them all together, just like it should be, and rumbled that he was proud of Leo. For the record. He wondered to himself if maybe they should tell Big Leo that a bit more. Because maybe then he wouldn't go throwing himself into danger for them and maybe Raph wouldn't have to worry about him so much. 

And cause it was the truth. He really was proud of Leo. Both this version and the teenaged Leo. He wasn't sure if his opinion mattered much to either version, but he made a note in his mind to tell Leo when he got back. To make sure he got it through the kid's stubborn head. 

…if he ever got back. 

It was quiet for a bit.April joined the hug at some point, Casey Junior staying at the table and keeping his distance for now. 

( it might be cute if Leo was like 🥺 Casey hug too? ) 

Leo sniffled. He rubbed at his eyes under his glasses and glanced up at everyone, tears still dribbling down his cheeks, “ even though I didn't- I didn't get my superpowers back?”

Splinter seemed confused, so Mikey quickly cut in, “ It's okay, Lee! You've been trying your very best, haven't you?” 

They hugged him a little tighter at that, Leo letting out a weak, warbling chirp in response. 

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hiii!!! Love thy works!

If it's alright with you, may I please request Regina George x Reader?

Scenario: Every day, the reader comes to school with all sorts of bruises and injuries. Like, every single day. That's when, Regina finds out that the reader is part of an underground fight club to pay for their sickly mother's treatment because the reader is very poor.

Always Hurt

|| Regina George x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, little agnsty, reader's mother is sick, injured reader, short fic

|| Summary; reader was always hurt when they came to school. Always. Regina finally has enough and decides to ask them about it.

Requests open!

Started; September 19th

Finished; September 19th

~~~

Regina was sick of seeing you with some new injury every day. Every time she laid eyes on you there would be some new bandage wrap added to your body. Today was her final straw when she saw the stitch just above your eye.

She walked right over to your locker, crowds splitting so she could get through. Regina cleared her throat to get your attention as her arms folded across her chest," What the actual fuck?"

You immediately froze. A million different scenarios ran through your head as you looked at your girlfriend, seeing the intense gaze she had on you. No, not on you. Well yes on you but focused on something just above your eyes. Then you remembered your stitches. Great...

"Regina-"

"I need names, Y/N." Her tone was just as demanding as that look in her eyes. You swallowed.

"Names..?"

"Who's been doing this to you?" She gestured to all of you. Which made you sigh.

"Technically, me." You stated as you pulled out your text book, then paused when you saw the startled look on your girlfriend's face and realized how that must have sounded," No, no. God. That came out wrong. I mean. I signed up for a fight clu-"

The words weren't even out of your mouth when Regina spoke," I'm sorry, what? FIGHT CLUB? ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY-"

This time you cut her off, cupping your hand to her mouth as you dragged her to the closest bathroom. She bit your hand which made you flinch and let go, shaking your hand slightly.

"Ow."

"Deserved." Regina scoffed," I can't believe how absolutely moronic you are. Joining a fight club? I can't express this enough, what the HELL?"

You grimaced as she raised her voice and tried arguing your side, but she just cut you off again.

"You better have a damn good reason, Y/N because I swear-"

"It's for my mom!" You kind of just blurted it out. Trying to let yourself be heard over Regina's rant.

Regina paused as she heard you and studied your expression, you looked like you were on the verge of tears. Which made her reel in just a little. She could tell you weren't lying to her.

"It's for my mom..." You repeated, your voice almost a whispered murmur now," she hasn't been doing great and this was the only job I could get that would actually pay what I need for her recovery and I-"

"Your mom's sick?" Regina asked, you nodded.

"She has been for a while."

Regina sighed and flicked your forehead, you swatted her hand away," You're still moronic. You could have come to me. I spend probably what you need on shoes alone." She rolled her eyes, arms back across her chest," my parents wouldn't notice if it was missing."

"You'd do that..?" You just stared at her. Trying your best not to cry.

"Well it's either that or watch you get your stupid ass beat. What do you think I'm picking, dumbass?"

You laughed a little, despite it all. Then pulled Regina into a tight hug, one that she was about to pull away from until she heard your sobs. She grumbled and gave your back a pat. Not being the best at comforting.

"Three, two..." She then started counting once the hug went on a little too long for her public comfort, you quickly let go. Understanding her boundary.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She started walking out of the bathroom, with you following. She looked back at you," Seriously. Don't."

"Scared people will think you're soft?" You gave her a playful nudge.

"You're fucking stupid." She muttered.

"I love you too." You gave her forehead a kiss and she pushed you away from her, which made you laugh.

She really tries to act like she doesn't care.

[violet-fluff]

Levi x Birthday! Reader

a birthday hug

You yawn as you trek your way to the mess hall for some breakfast. Waking up a little later than usual, you hope that you were left with something edible and not just scraps.

Once you turn the corner and enter the mess hall, you notice your squad’s table decked out in pretty lining and enough food to feed an army.

Your face blushes red as you know what’s about to happen.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!”

You smile and wave your hands humbly as your squad cheers you on.

“All of this…for me?” You ask as you look over the table of different breakfast foods.

Petra giggles. “Of course! I made sure Oluo didn’t eat anything.”

“You calling me fat?” Oluo sneers with a click of his tongue.

You laugh and your eyes widen at the slices of meat on a plate. “You got me meat too?! This is all too much guys…”

“You deserve it.” Eld pats you on the back.

Gunther nods his head and ushers you to sit down. “Yeah, you always work hard for our squad.”

Tears of appreciation are starting to fill your eyes as you look up at not only your squad, but your dear friends. “Well…although this food does look amazing, I surely can’t eat all of it myself. You all care join me?”

Oluo helps himself to a spot on the bench. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Eld smiles with a shake of his head. “You can never leave us out of anything, can you?”

You smile as you and your friends start digging into the delicious food, chatting and laughing amongst yourselves.

Suddenly, Levi walks in and stops at the end of the table. “I see you are all making a mess?”

You roll your eyes with a smirk. “Join us, Captain. I will give you a bib to keep your shirt clean.”

Levi very subtly smirks. He enjoys how you can match his sarcasm. “I’ll pass. But happy birthday. After you finish your food, don’t worry about training. Take the day off.”

Your eyes widen in excitement. “Really?!”

Levi leans against the wall with a nod. “As a gift and as appreciation for always putting your best forward, you deserve a break.”

“Thank you, Sir! I’m definitely going to need it because I’m pretty sure I will be going into a food coma after this.” You say as you happily eat your food.

The food coma wasn’t a lie. You found a nice spot outside, under a shady tree, to take a nap. The book you were reading moves gently up and down on your stomach as you snooze away.

A slight shaking of your shoulders wakes you up, and when your vision clears, you see Levi staring at you.

“You weren’t lying about that food coma.” He says as he sits next to you on the grass.

Yawning and rubbing the sleep blur from your eyes, you laugh softly. “I told you I was going to knock out. You on break from training?”

Levi nods. “Yes, because I had to give you this.” He reaches behind his back and hands you a small, blue box.

“A gift?” You gleam and take the lid off, gasping as you see the content inside. “No way!” You dig out a purple silk scarf. “A purple scarf?! But purple pigment is so hard to get!”

Levi shrugs his shoulders and looks forward, too shy to watch you rave at his gift. “When you’re a big time captain, anything is easy to get.”

You continue to admire the scarf, feeling the smoothness of the silk glide against your fingers and taking in the shimmer of the purple fabric. “It’s really beautiful, Levi. I love it so much. Thank you.”

Tears fill your eyes as you look at him. “Permission to hug you, Captain?”

Levi freezes at the unexpected request. He’s not the touchy-feely type. Actually, he doesn’t even know if he’s hugged anyone before, but how can he deny a request from someone as sweet as you.

“Sure.” He agrees quietly.

You grin as you fall forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders, giving them a small squeeze. “Thank you!”

Levi awkwardly raises his arms to hug you back, softly patting your back with his hands. “It’s no problem. Happy birthday.”

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen spend a day off with their s/o at home

requested by anon: can you write: how svt spend their free time at home with their s/o? (i imagine lots of cuddles and domestic stuff, but go give us details)

notes: mentions of violence (video games)

masterlist

seungcheol

sleeps. when he knows he has time to lie in on the weekend, he's turning off both of your alarms, closing the curtains tightly and hugging you against him in bed probably until noon of the next day. mostly bc he can't wait to get some (well deserved) rest and also because there's something soso domestic about going to sleep w you in his arms and waking up to your relaxed, sleeping face

jeonghan

is all "we should do something" but can never decide on what to do. it's weird, bc whenever he talks about what he'd do if he ever had a day off, he says that he's going to sleep through it. and then when a day off comes, he wants to Do things. takes so long to decide that he ends up doing nothing, but it's okay bc he had fun making you laugh while deciding what he wanted to do

joshua

asks you what you wanna do and goes along with anything from there. wanna watch a movie? okay baby tell him which one and in fact, let's watch ten. wanna have an entire spa day at home? ooh pls let him join he's always wanted to do one of those. the sweetest and softest actually, gazing at you adoringly the entire time bc he just loves spending time w you so, so much. 

junhui

i don't know many video games, but jun seems like the type to bust out those nintendo games with the hand-held controllers that connect to the tv, or mario kart or something, and you spend the better part of the day yelling at each other while shaking the controls at the screen. pouts so bad if he loses, asks for conciliatory kisses and conciliatory cuddles, or else he's going to be sulking the entire day

hoshi

needs to be entertained every single minute otherwise his head is going to implode. hangs off of you like a koala the entire time, bc he gets so clingy when it's just the two of you, and honestly it's a little adorable to have a soft hoshi squished against your shoulder. watches you play games on your phone, has a nap while hugging you and needs to be woken up in the evening to have dinner

wonwoo

he's gaming on his computer for the entire day actually. you can sit in his bed and watch him, but if you whine for long enough then he'll probably let you sit on his lap provided you don't fidget too much. tries to teach you how to play before you tell him that you'd much rather just watch him. smiles at you during a lull in the game and kisses your forehead before going back to committing acts of violence against pixelated characters

woozi

initially planned to have a lie in w you that morning, but his body is so trained to getting up early that it didn't work. stares at you sleeping for about an hour or so. not in a creepy way, just in a very fond "you're adorable when you're asleep even when you're making small snoring sounds" kind of way. doesn't really do much the entire day, stays in bed w you before you both eventually get up to have some dinner

minghao

puts on music, sits on the sofa, and reads. needs to have you curled up against him tho, and you'll both read your respective books while the music swells around you. lets you do anything you want really, petting your hair when you headbutt his hand, interlacing your fingers with his when you nudge his wrist. smiles at you over his book, eyes soft with love

mingyu

bakes. bakes batches n batches of cookies with you even if you say you're terrible at baking bc "nonsense no one's terrible at baking". almost breaks the stand mixer by nearly dropping it when he's getting it out of the cupboard. pinches your cheeks while his hands are covered in flour. lets you lick the spoon afterwards, ruffling your hair and calling you cute. still with flour on his hands. 

dokyeom

stages impromptu karaoke sessions for the whole day. you don't even need to have a karaoke machine, he'll just put those sing-along videos on the tv and jump around screaming the lyrics with you. sings the entire day, even if you get tired, and eventually ends up serenading you with love songs before abandoning the karaoke to kiss you nice and sweetly, the music muffled in the background. 

seungkwan

idk like mingyu he probably also bakes. wants to be like those aesthetic pinterest girlies w cream and strawberry cakes with pretty piping, and it goes pretty well? he has fun baking w you, and tries to make that dalgona coffee afterwards but gives up after a bit bc his arms started to hurt. but good thing is his cake tasted rlly nice, especially bc it was made with his love for you :D ("kwan that doesn't make sense" "shh yes it does")

vernon

binge watches tv shows and movies with you. you get out all the snacks, pile them up on the coffee table, and then turn on the television and watch countless episodes of american sitcoms or netflix shows or, one time, (almost) the entirety of the mcu. it's a day of laughing at the screen, hansol's arm a warm and comforting weight against yours, eating junk and feeling utterly relaxed with him by your side

chan

days off with chan are probably very spontaneous and could be anything. one time you spent the entire day watching ted talks and tried to perform stand up comedy to each other after a particularly interesting video. another time you played monopoly on the app for three hours straight then had to stop before you threw his phone against the wall in frustration. they're always very relaxed days, but it's fun nevertheless

request guidelines

reactions taglist: @jeonghanis @magicaltonaru @milkbreadnotmilkcoffee @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @turningcarat @nakedgrapes @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @iheartyujin @summery-bat @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @interlude-z @ejspencer14 @cinnamoroxie @wonranghaeee @saythename-chess @yonabutnotyuna @youthoughtiwasfeelingyou @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @butiluvu @sunshinekyeom-sang @ocyeanicc @uramarica @zozojella @thesmellofcoffeeandrain @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Ten

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Summary: Of all the ways you managed to dream up in your head about seeing Dave again, this was never how you would have imagined it actually playing out.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. (SPOILERS IN THE TAGS!) Angst. Alcohol consumption. Brief violence and mentions of blood. Dave's feelings deserve their own warning 🫠. Dave's idiocy also deserves its own warning (we're working on him okay?). Dave gets a little pushy/forceful/needy with Reader but there's no actual threat or non-con, but figured I should mention it (you are held against a wall at one point but never physically hurt or threatened). Mentioned smut (including sex toys, anal play, light bondage, etc.).

HUGE thank you to @janaispunk for beta'ing and just being amazing in general 💜

Notes: This chapter starts off with Dave's POV and switches to Reader, I just figured we could use a little insight into Dave.

~ DAVE ~

Knelt down on one knee on the lawn of his ex-wife’s house, Dave could give a shit about the wet grass stain he could feel seeping into the denim of his jeans as he wrapped his arms a little tighter around both his girls, giving them one final goodbye hug. He pulls back slightly, frowning when he sees their wet faces staring back at him. He has to swallow the hard lump in his throat to hold back his own tears that want to fall so he can be strong for them so instead he plasters on the best smile he can manage and brings both hands up to ruffle the hair on both their heads.

“Don’t be sad Angels, I’ll see you again in two weeks okay?” he assures them and they both slowly nod their heads. He knew it would be hard dropping them off today after having them for the entire summer, not only for them but for him as well. It was going to be difficult to go from seeing them every day back to once every two weeks. Not to mention he was now saying goodbye to the only distraction in his life that was holding him together these past couple of months.

“I miss you already Daddy,” his youngest, Alice pouts before her chubby little arms wrap around his neck once more and squeeze. Dave lets out a little chuckle and hugs her back tightly before pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I miss you too, babies,” he sighs.

“Why don’t you girls go inside and wash up now,” his ex-wife Carol finally speaks up from up on the porch at the front door. “Dinner’s almost ready. Steve’s making your favorite,” she announces and both girls' faces light up like kids at Christmas as they finally pull away from their father.

“Sketti and meatballs!” Alice shouts excitedly.

“Bye Daddy,” his oldest, Molly, says one final time, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she takes her younger sister by the hand and leads her up the porch steps and they disappear into the house.

“Said the magic words huh?” Dave chuckles, standing up to his feet and dusting off his jeans.

“Sketti and meatballs” Carol shrugs, a fond smile on her lips. “You look good,” she says after a moment. “Better than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dave trails off, not wanting to get into why he came to her all but desperate a couple of months ago to let him take their children for an extended summer vacation. “Thanks again, I had a really great time with them.”

“Of course,” she nods. “Did you want to stay for dinner? I’m sure Steve made enough to feed an army. God knows I love him but that man can’t measure pasta to save his life,” she jokes of her new husband and Dave lets out a small chuckle but shakes his head.

“I should probably get going, let you guys have your family dinner.”

“Ok well… the usual time then? Two Saturdays from now?” she asks and Dave nods.

“I’ll be here.”

“Okay. And Dave?” she says just as he turns to head back to the driveway.

“Yeah?” he answers, turning back to face her.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure,” he smiles, unconvincing even to himself before he heads down the driveway and gets into his car.

He hadn’t been very candid with her about why he suddenly needed to “get away” and wanted to take his kids on an impromptu summer vacation, but she read him like a book anyway. “What’s her name?” is all she’d asked when he’d shown up on her doorstep a couple of months ago looking tired and distracted. “Doesn’t matter” he’d carelessly shrugged back, not meeting her gaze. Carol had pursed her lips and hummed her agreement but otherwise didn’t push. She knew better. Dave wasn’t exactly one for expressing his feelings, even when they’d been married.

The weeks that follow since bringing his kids back to their mother seem to pass by in a blur as he throws himself full force back into his work, even working on the weekends that he’s not with his kids, mostly as a distraction rather than a necessity. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what his Saturday nights used to be, before. And despite his ex-wife’s wishes he knows he’s not taking proper care of himself. He’s working too much, drinking too much (apart from the days when he has his children of course) and certainly not eating enough. He feels pathetic. Like some lovesick puppy and it’s definitely not a feeling he’s used to. Hell, he didn’t even feel like this when he got divorced or when his now ex-wife got remarried. He bought them a damn wedding present and danced with his daughters standing on his feet at the reception hall. Not that he was thrilled to be a divorced Dad or anything, but he couldn’t argue with Carol when she told him he wasn’t giving her enough of himself. He did feel like shit for months after the separation but after a while it faded and he was able to carve out a new life for himself and he was fine. Happy might have been a stretch, but he was existing just fine.

He of course hadn’t expected you and your husband to turn up barely a year later and turn his whole life upside for several months. It had started out as just fun. Blowing off steam, getting his dick wet, he was far from complaining about any of it. He loved how obedient you both were to him immediately, filling a void in him that he hadn’t engaged in nearly as much as he wanted to. Sure he’d had some rough fucks in his day but that was different than what he had with you. Having a partner - partners - that you built a trust with just brought everything to a new, heightened level and that, well, he hadn’t quite experienced before. But along with trust, of course other feelings start to emerge, feelings Dave had long since given up on expecting to have at this point in his life. And having these feelings for a fucking already married couple did not help his situation any. It was a mistake, he realizes in hindsight, spending your birthday with you both. An entire weekend wrapped up with you, spending the night together, waking up together, having meals together, it was… well, for Dave, it was everything. Everything he never even knew he was looking for and of fucking course he had to find it with two people who already had each other.

And now? Now what the fuck was he doing? Drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of overpriced bourbon at a bar, by himself, on a Friday night. Just like he’s found himself the past countless Friday nights, hoping he’d wake up the next morning and be able to forget about the two people who had apparently taken up permanent residence in the tight cavity of his chest, refusing to be let go.

He was fucking pathetic. And probably needed to get laid, too. That was one thing he could surely do something about easily enough. He’s been coming to this same bar every Friday night for a month now and one cute waitress in particular never seemed to stray very far from his table and he wasn’t that great of a tipper. He’d barely managed a second glance in her direction his past few visits but maybe tonight he should change that. The drinking wasn’t enough of a distraction anymore and this week was his off-week from seeing his kids so he didn’t have that to keep himself occupied either.

Mind made up he signals the waitress over to his table - whatever her name was. She’d told him probably a dozen times but fuck if he could remember it. It didn’t matter, after tonight he doesn’t plan on seeing her again and he’ll make sure she understands that before he actually leaves with her. For now, what’s the harm in a little fun? A decent pair of tits and a tight pussy is all he needs to get his head back on straight he thinks. And judging by the way the waitress basically comes bouncing over to him the moment he waves her over, it isn’t going to be much of a challenge. The only challenge for Dave will be when he closes his eyes as he sinks inside her, hoping, praying that it’s no longer the image of you that’s emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids.

~ YOU ~

It’s been nearly four months since your birthday. Since you last saw him.

In the time since that first weekend after Dave had disappeared from your lives, you and Marcus had found your rhythm again. Your lives are back to normal and, realistically, maybe even better than they’ve ever been. You were communicating so much more now and your physical relationship (which, you’d never had much of an issue with to begin with) was definitely thriving. Due to the increased communication, the two of you were always not only willing, but eager to talk more while in bed about anything you were particularly craving and put in the effort together for each other. It had really started the night Marcus had taken charge (a week after your birthday) and fully blossomed from there. There was one Sunday morning back a few months ago where the two of you laid in bed together with your laptop in front of you and were online shopping for fun new sex toys you both might enjoy. You filled your cart without judgment or shame and Marcus hastily typed in his credit card information when you were done browsing. The moment you heard the ‘swish’ of the order confirmation being sent, Marcus snapped the laptop closed, tossed it to the far corner of the bed and then all but pounced on you.

Early on when the two of you were still navigating your post-Dave waters Marcus had even asked you if you still wanted someone else in your lives. The role Dave was meant to (and had initially) played, you assume he meant (before it had gone and gotten complicated). You could tell by the way he asked you, his voice unsure and hesitant sounding, that it wasn’t something he wanted. And in all honesty, you didn’t want it anymore either and you were quick to assure him of that. Not only was Marcus indulging and fulfilling anything you desired, but whoever it was, they’d never be Dave anyway. It didn’t have to be said out loud that he was the only extra piece you’d both ever want in your marriage, you both knew it already.

Sunday mornings seemed to be when you’d find yourself thinking of and missing Dave the most, when you’d look around your bedroom in the aftermath of what your Saturday night had been. Saturday nights had become your routinely scheduled evenings where you and Marcus would get extra adventurous in bed, typically breaking in more of your new toys you’d purchased and just letting loose and taking out all your stresses of the week on one another.

One particular Sunday morning you remember lying next to Marcus who had just opened his beautiful sleepy eyes and you brushed his hair back from his forehead and then let out a little giggle followed by a sad sigh when your gaze caught site of the black fuzzy handcuffs that were still looped around one of the spokes in the headboard.

“He would’ve loved to see you like that,” you murmur, eyebrow raised playfully and you actually see Marcus’ ears turn pink and he bashfully hides his face in the pillow for a quick moment and laughs.

“You think so?”

“I know so baby. God you were so hot, at my mercy like that.”

Your blood begins to run hot just thinking about it again now. How he’d submitted to you. He’d laid down on his stomach, arms stretched above his head where you’d cuffed him to the bed and then you sat back on his thighs, massaging his ass with one hand while the other prepared the lube and the plug that the two of you had picked out together on your impromptu online shopping adventure a couple of weeks earlier in the other. It was the first time he’d ever let you do anything like that to him, though you’d discussed it a few times beforehand, and you were both pleasantly surprised how hot you found it.

You’d slowly fed him the plug, all the while gently rubbing his back with your free hand, soothing him and telling him how well he was doing for you. You still can’t erase from memory the way your breath hitched when he replied in a low, quivering voice, “yeah, I’m being a good boy?” God, the way the arousal instantly flooded you it was a miracle you were able to continue what you were doing and not abandon it all together to take care of yourself.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you assured him, hand leaving his back to smoothing across the globes of his ass instead

Once you’d gotten it all the way inside and ensured he was comfortable you’d began to slowly maneuver it partially out and then back in, over and over again until it got to feeling so good for him that you’d gotten off his legs and let him get up on his knees when he’d begged you to let him fuck you.

You slid underneath his body, never uncuffing him, wriggling up the bed until you were face to face and left the plug seated deep in his ass as you helped guide his leaking tip to your entrance and he pushed inside. His hands were able to grip the spokes in the headboard so he had some leverage while still held captive in his position and he railed into you deep and hard, moaning like you’d never heard him before for the entire time, like he was on an entirely different plane of pleasure he hadn’t yet experienced.

Afterwards when you both lay spent and chests heaving with exhaustion you’d uncuffed him, gently removed the plug and gathered him in your arms, letting him cling to you with his head resting on your chest. You kissed and played with his hair, murmuring into the top of his head what a good boy he was for you and he just held you tighter until you’d both fallen asleep.

You loved your playful, risque and experimental Saturday nights, but you also loved the quieter, more intimate times as well. You loved waking up on a Sunday morning and lazily making love for hours, refusing to leave the comfort of your marital bed for most of the day. You loved weeknights sprawled out on the sofa relaxing after dinner and watching TV when you’d start necking like teenagers until he’d shove your pants down and slip inside of you, fucking you slow and deep until you both came and then he’d carry you up the stairs to bed. You loved nights when you were both too exhausted from your work days to do much of anything but still wanted to be close so you’d make out a little until he got hard and he would push inside your warm heat and then just wrap his arms around you and hold you until you’d both fall asleep with him inside you.

At the end of the day, well and truly, this had been what you both had wanted, originally. Dave was meant to come in, spice up your love life a little bit, teach you both a couple of things and then leave you to your lives with your newfound sexual knowledge. He’d done that, and yet, there was no denying that you still felt like a piece was just missing now.

A Dave York shaped piece.

You didn’t like to bring him up often to each other anymore. All it did was cause sadness for you both. You’d talked a lot early on and had eventually both admitted out loud your feelings you had for Dave but now there was no use bringing up his name anymore. He was gone and you had to accept it. It didn’t mean you couldn’t miss him, because oh, you missed him. All the time. But there was no use dwelling on something you had no control over, you had to move on. And you had, for the most part.

Or so you thought, until one Friday evening when your work colleagues managed to drag you out with them to a bar and there in the flesh, across the room of the dimly lit tavern, sat the one and only Dave fucking York.

You’d nearly spilled your drink on yourself when your head had turned and you saw him in your peripheral. He looked handsome as ever, wearing dark jeans and a white button up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, top couple of buttons undone showing a teasing amount of perfect sun-kissed skin. Wherever his “emergency sabbatical” took him, it was apparently somewhere spent mostly outdoors in the sun you presume. His face looked a little thinner as well, his features more sharp and refined and you have to wonder if he’s been hitting the gym a lot more recently.

The only thing, frankly, that didn’t look good on him right now was the tiny blonde currently seated in his lap holding up a tray of shots you assume were meant for another table before Dave had intervened when something pretty caught his eye. You could practically feel your blood boiling at the sight before you, those deft fingers that knew your body all too well pulling and teasing at the belt loops of the tiny denim shorts the waitress was wearing while she threw her head back in laughter at something he’d said, eating up whatever attention he was willing to give her and you can’t say you blamed the girl. When the sly, sexy grin crossed his lips and he buried his face in her hair to undoubtedly whisper something absolutely filthy next to her ear and you saw her bite her lip in response, it felt like a hard slap across the face and everything happening around you instantly turned to white noise as you focused all your attention on the man across the room who, far as you could tell, hadn’t noticed you yet.

Before you do anything you quickly dig into your purse hanging on your chair for your phone and send a text to Marcus letting him know that Dave is here. His reply of ‘holy shit’ comes back near instantly but before you have a chance to type anything further you hear a loud voice bellowing from behind you for service, waiting for their shots apparently, and the tiny blonde regretfully starts to peel herself off of Dave’s lap to attend to her duties. Unfortunately Dave’s eyeline drifts to where the voice comes from, which you happen to be right in the cross hairs of. You see the tiniest flicker of shock etch across his features before his carefully crafted mask slips perfectly back into place and he gives you a small shit-eating grin that you wish you had the courage to slap right off of him. Eyes not leaving yours he simply picks up his beer and pulls another sip from it before he reaches out, grabs the hand of the waitress about to walk away and tugs her back into his lap, wrapping a possessive arm around her. His gaze never leaves you, even as his head tilts down to press his lips to the girl's shoulder.

Asshole.

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. He’s being a prick on purpose and you simply hate him in this moment. Dave York was a lot of things, but you’d never known him to be mean. Until now.

Not able to look at him another second you hastily push back from the table, your chair screeching across the hardwood loud enough to stop the idle chit-chat amongst your table of coworkers as they all stop to stare at you, having no clue what’s going on.

“I’ll be right back, just… need some air,” you explain curtly, not offering anything further or waiting for anyone to offer to accompany you.

You vaguely hear one of them calling your name questioningly as you stand up from the table and storm off towards the exit, passing Dave who’s now downing the entire tray of shots like they’re water.

Good, drink yourself half to death, you fucking idiot.

When the cool evening air hits you the moment you step outside it's like a brief reprieve and you take a deep breath, tears freely spilling down your cheeks now that you hastily try wiping away with the back of your hand. There’s a small crowd standing outside the front doors smoking cigarettes and vape pens but the chatter amongst them halts to a dead silence when the door slams shut behind you in your haste to get outside. Not in the mood for any onlookers, you quickly head off in the opposite direction and take the left turn down the alley at the side of the building for some privacy until you can catch your breath and, god willing, get your body to stop trembling. You realize too that you’d left your purse and your phone inside and you can’t possibly go back in there right now, not like this.

“Fuck,” you sigh into the desolate alley, stopping to lean your back against the cool brick and hanging your head, burying your face in your hands. The emotions of it all, of seeing him again, hits you like a ton of bricks and you let out a loud sob, your legs practically buckling from underneath you causing you to slide down the wall and squat down, elbows resting on your knees and face still buried in your hands as the now quieter sobs continue to rack your body.

You’re feeling just about every emotion under the sun right now and they’re all pouring out of you at once. You’re angry, jealous, sad, irritated, but maybe worst of all you’re reminded of just how fucking badly you still miss him. How badly you weren’t over him. And you hate yourself for it.

“Gotta light?”

That voice… of course you recognize it the second you hear it, even with his words slightly slurred and your face practically buried between your knees, and of course he had to follow you out here. The moment your head raises to look at his smug smirk with the cigarette dangling between his perfect lips you scowl, quickly rising to your feet and taking the two short strides over to where he stands in the middle of the alley and you snatch white stick from his mouth and immediately snap it in two, tossing it carelessly to the ground between you.

“Hey!” Dave barks at you, his voice sharp and loud as it echoes off the walls of the tight alleyway.

As if he has any right to be the one pissed off right now.

“Oh you don’t even smoke,” you argue back immediately, not in any type of mood to be taking shit from this man.

“I’m a social smoker,” he shrugs and you doubt even that’s the truth, he just wanted a reason to follow after you.

“You’re an asshole,” you bite back, not missing a beat.

He scoffs. “Somebody’s in a mood. Maybe you need that cigarette more than I do.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He’s on you before the last syllable even leaves your lips, both his large hands on your shoulders shoving you backwards until your back hits the wall and he’s crowding your space, leaving barely an inch of space between your two bodies that are now breathing heavily with adrenaline. You can smell the alcohol on him and you know he’s had a lot to drink. If you weren’t half buzzed already you could probably get there just by the smell wafting off of him.

“Think you’d rather I fuck you, hmm? That where all this attitude is coming from Baby?”

His hips force yours further into the unforgiving brick behind you as his hands leave your shoulders to grip your waist instead and you can feel the hard outline of his obvious desire pressing against you. You bite your lip to suppress the moan that’s begging to escape your throat but it slips through anyway; barely registering but he hears it. Of course he does. You can see the way the corner of his lip turns upward into a sly grin.

“There’s my girl.”

“I’m not your anything! You fucking left Dave. You left!” You raise your hands up to shove hard at his chest but he’s like an immovable wall.

“I know.”

His voice is suddenly soft, dare you say, remorseful sounding. You hate how your resolve and anger instantly starts to wane the moment he lets his guard down even the slightest bit.

“I know,” he repeats it again, softer, quieter, his forehead coming down to rest against yours where he slightly shakes his head back and forth. One hand lets go of the grip on your waist and he gently rubs the back of his knuckles up and down the top of your arm, just a barely-there touch that’s already causing goosebumps to raise on your flesh.

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to sound stronger than what you know you’re actually capable of right now. “Why did you follow me out here?”

“I want what you want”. His voice is suddenly at your ear and an involuntary shiver runs through your entire body. “Come home with me,” he tries, his voice slurring just slightly and you roll your eyes and attempt to put space between the two of you again. This time he’s not expecting it and you do manage to push him back a few inches and he wobbles on his feet.

“A drunk fuck so you can disappear again the minute it’s over, you think that’s what I want?” You’re practically screaming at him now, but you don’t care, he deserves it.

“C’mon,” he huffs, sounding annoyed as he quickly crowds your space once more, this time he manages to grab your hands and hoist them above your head, pressing them into the wall so you can’t push him off you again. “One last time for old times sake, huh? Let me fuck this attitude right out of you”

“I’m married, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Hasn’t exactly stopped us before,” he smirks and then lowers his face down so he can nuzzle into you, his nose grazing your ear and his smooth cheek brushing against yours and for a moment you feel yourself melting into his soft touch.

Your voice lacks the conviction you know it should when you rasp out a quiet "Dave, stop”. You won’t go home with him, you know you won’t. You’d never hurt Marcus like that (again), but the smell of his familiar cologne on his shirt collar, the way his warm skin feels pressed against yours and how your body seemingly just fits into the contours of his own you can’t find it in you to immediately try and push him away again either. It’s been so long, you want to just feel him. Just for a moment.

“Kiss me,” he tries, voice suddenly at your ear before he moves just slightly until his lips hover on yours. He doesn’t force it on you, waiting for you to make that final move and close the distance between you. It takes everything in you, but you manage to turn your face away and you hear his desolate sigh in response, hot breath fanning your cheek.

“Take a hint buddy,” a deep voice suddenly interrupts and both your heads snap to the side where you see an enormous man standing at the opening of the alley, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He must be a good six inches shorter than Dave but easily has over 100lbs on him. He’s a very wide, stocky man with a long ponytail and a studded leather vest over top of a faded t-shirt and covered in tattoos, looking like he belongs in some type of biker gang. You immediately recognize him as the man from earlier who tried to summon the waitress from Dave.

He fishes a lighter from his pocket and brings the flame up to light the cigarette and takes a long drag before breathing a large cloud of smoke out.

“She’s not interested,” he repeats when Dave doesn’t loosen his hold on you. “And you’re paying for those six shots by the way, prick.”

“What, you think she’s saving herself for you?” Dave laughs, incredulous. His hands suddenly leave yours, allowing your arms to drop down to your sides and he takes a step back from you, fully turning towards the man who’s now taken a few tentative steps into the alley. Dave reaches a hand into his back pocket fishing out his wallet. He pulls what looks to be a fifty from the bill fold, scrunches it up to a ball and throws it in the direction of the man standing in front of him before closing his wallet and returning it to his pants.

“There, now fuck off.”

“What’s your problem man?” The bystander asks, flicking his cigarette away and taking two long strides forward, the fifty note left crumpled and forgotten on the ground.

“My problem? My problem is fucking assholes who can’t mind their own business. Go fuck off and get your micro dick sucked somewhere else.”

Your brow furrows as you listen to Dave seemingly intentionally picking a fight with this complete stranger. This was not the calm, cool, collected Dave that you’re used to.

You didn’t like whoever this Dave was.

“Wanna try saying that to my face, shithead?” The shorter man challenges, taking another step towards Dave.

“Dave, just leave it,” you try but he waves a flippant hand at you, not even bothering to look in your direction.

“How bout I get you a stepstool and you say it to mine, small fry.”

“Don’t need a stool to lay you out right here on the pavement,” he challenges right back, taking yet another step closer until they’re just inches apart, the shorter man apparently not intimidated whatsoever and likely rather comfortable in a fight, you assume. What he doesn’t know, however, and what you do, is Dave’s extensive military training. Even drunk you have no doubt he could easily kill this man and barely break a sweat, if he wanted to.

“Leave it alone Dave, c’mon, I mean it!” You try again but you might as well be talking to the wall behind you, as neither of the men are paying you any attention any longer. Ironic, since you’re half the reason the fight started in the first place. Men.

“Tell you what,” Dave begins, voice smug. “First one’s free,” he finishes, raising his arms up in the air, defenseless.

Before you even have a chance to plead with them once more the other man swings, clocking Dave right in the gut that has him doubling over for a few brief seconds before he quickly rights himself again, and, to your astonishment, starts laughing.

“That it?” Dave laughs, back to his full height again. “C’mon, again,” he goads.

This time the stranger's fist connects with Dave’s face, causing his head to swing left with the impact he puts behind it. You quickly scramble over to Dave who lets out another chuckle as he wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and turns back to face his foe.

“Pussy,” Dave taunts before spitting blood to the ground at the man's feet. “Why don’t we call the waitress out from inside, she probably hits harder than you do.”

“Dave!”

You watch it happening like it’s in slow motion, how the man grabs Dave’s head with both hands and smashes it into the brick wall and Dave, for whatever reason, doesn’t even fight it. It makes you think of those videos you had to watch in Drivers Ed as a teenager, how the drunk driver in the scenario is typically the one to survive a collision because their response time is so slow their body just lets go and goes with the flow rather than bracing for impact. The part that really tears you up inside though is you don’t even think it’s the alcohol, you think he’s doing it on purpose, wanting to get hurt. You hear the loud smack as his forehead hits the brick and you instantly surge forward, taking the brunt of his weight as he collapses into you and you both slowly slide down to the ground with him in your arms because you can’t hold his weight.

“Get up, you piece of shit!” the stranger yells, furious, and you scream, covering Dave’s body with your own where he lays in your lap as the man winds up to kick Dave while he’s down.

“Enough!” A third man’s voice shouts and relief floods your whole system as you recognize it’s Marcus. In a flash he’s crossing the alley, grabbing the stranger by his shirt and shoving him into the brick and holding him there. Marcus was definitely ‘a lover not a fighter’, but he could certainly hold his own when it came down to it if need be. You’re not scared any longer.

“You alright Honey?” he asks, quickly chancing a glance over to where you’re kneeled on the ground with Dave’s head in your lap, surveying the laceration above his eyebrow.

The man in Marcus’ grasp looks at the two of you confused, then when he notices Marcus’ wedding ring where his fists are cuffed in his shirt, his eyes widen in disbelief.

“Holy shit, is this your wife? I just did you a favour pal,” he scoffs, lightly shoving at Marcus and Marcus backs off just slightly, letting go but staying close in case the man wants to go at Dave again who’s practically unconscious at this point.

“Look it's fine just… go back inside please,” Marcus huffs before he turns back to you and frowns. “Think we can get him up?”

Between the two of you and Dave’s slight cooperation (as much as he can manage with not only how intoxicated he is but how he surely just got few screws knocked loose thanks to that brick wall) you manage to get him up and he looks around a little disoriented, shaking his head while you and Marcus flank either side of him and hold him up.

“Marcus? You’re here,” Dave slurs and then turns his entire body into him and practically collapses into his arms in what you think was meant to be a hug. Marcus manages to hold Dave upright, both his arms holding under Dave’s armpits to keep him on his feet.

“I’m here,” Marcus croaks out. “I’ve got you.”

“The fuck?” the stranger mutters, shaking his head as he watches what must surely be a very strange reaction to a husband finding another man hitting on his wife in a dark alley. “Good luck with… well, all of that pal,” he says with a wave of his hand in the direction of the three of you before he turns on his heel, bends down to pick up the discarded fifty and heads back out of the alley and presumably back toward the bar.

“I’m drunk,” Dave suddenly breaks the silence, pushing back slightly from Marcus and wavering on his feet. His brows furrow in confusion and he wipes at his forehead. When his hand comes into his eyeline and he sees blood smeared on it, his features scrunch up again. “And I think I hit my head?”

“It’s ok, do you think you can help us get you to the car? It’s close,” Marcus tries to explain to Dave who manages a small nod. You get behind Dave and lift one of his arms up and turn him slightly, draping his arm over your shoulders as you move with him to stand at his side, Marcus now holding up the other. Thankfully Marcus had hastily just parked the car in a loading zone directly in front of the bar after you failed to answer any of his texts or calls so the walk was quick and you managed to get Dave shoved into the front passenger seat. You quickly run back inside to grab your purse and phone and say a quick goodnight to your coworkers and then hurry back out to the car. Dave mumbles off his address once Marcus slides into the driver’s seat and Marcus gives a non-commital grunt of acknowledgement before he pulls away from the curb and drives away. Barely two minutes later Dave’s head is tilted all the way back into the headrest and he’s passed out. You lean forward from the backseat to address Marcus.

“We can’t take him home like that. What if he has a concussion or something?”

“I’m not taking him home” Marcus quickly responds, shaking his head.

With a satisfied sigh you lean back into your seat.

What a fucking disaster.

Barely ten minutes later Marcus pulls into your driveway, hitting the button clipped to the sun visor to open the garage. The last thing he needs is for his neighbors to see the two of you dragging a bloodied half unconscious man into your home in the middle of the night.

You only manage to get him as far as the couch on the main floor, an upstairs bedroom too harrowing of a feat to attempt you presume with Dave’s inability to offer much of his own assistance. With a loud grunt you manage to drop him down to a seated position on the sofa and he immediately falls back into the soft cushions.

“Stay with him, I’ll get some water and something for his head,” Marcus says and you nod your head.

He’s only gone a minute or so, taking a little longer because he couldn’t find the Aspirin bottle right away, but when he returns with two extra strength tablets and a full glass of water he stops in his tracks just inside the living room.

Dave is flopped on his side, face resting on your lap facing where Marcus stands while your hands delicately card through his hair.

He’s murmuring quiet little ramblings with his eyes closed, something about “fucked up” and “so sorry” and you just gently hush him, running your fingers through his sweat damp hair.

“We need to clean him up” you tell Marcus when you notice him standing there. There’s blood still smeared across his forehead but thankfully not very much, he hadn’t been actively bleeding for very long. At least you know he doesn’t require any stitches.

Marcus sighs and crosses the room, getting down on his haunches in front of the couch in Dave’s direct eye line.

“Hey Buddy,” he tries softly. “Need you to sit up for me, have some water and take these.”

Dave grunts, noncommittally, but ultimately does try and push himself up. You both help until he’s back into a seated position and Marcus hands him the two white tablets. Dave stares at them for several seconds before tossing them back into his throat and swallowing without water. You tisk at him and shove the water glass into his hand.

“Drink,” you order. He does. He finishes near the entire glass in one go and your eyes widen in surprise.

“There,” he sighs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can I go now?”

You’re so frustrated you could smack him. One second he’s being a total asshole, the next he’s trying to kiss you, then he’s purposely getting the shit beat out of him, then practically crying in your lap, and now he’s back to being obstinate again.

He was right about one thing. He is fucked up. And you don’t think it’s just the booze.

“I’m sorry, no,” you shake your head, trying to sound less angry than you feel. The last thing you need is to pick another fight with this unpredictable man right now. “Baby, you’re bleeding”

The endearment slips out completely by accident. You don’t even notice you’ve said it but both Dave and Marcus do, their widened gazes turning to you at the exact same moment.

“Dave,” you quickly try to correct, shaking your head.

He lets out a little snort and nods his head, like he’s willing to let you get away with your little slip up.

“You hit your head really hard, you can’t be alone tonight. If you can make it upstairs you can have the guest room, if not, we can make up the couch. In the morning you’re free to go, I promise.”

“Fine,” he relents, shoulders dropping.

“Think you can help us get you upstairs?” you ask and he nods his head. Both you and Marcus throw one of his arms around your shoulders and help him up, taking each of the steps up the staircase slowly. Dave seems to be somewhat coming out of his fog and much more helpful this time, thankfully. You’re pretty sure it’s just the alcohol working against him now, his brain mostly cleared from the fog of the head trauma. Once you reach the top of the stairs you go to turn towards the guest room but Dave plants his feet and attempts to twist his body away from it, toward the direction he knows your and Marcus’ master bedroom is instead. You and Marcus both share a look behind Dave’s back where you’re holding him and after a moment Marcus gives you one solitary nod, acquiescing to Dave's wishes.

Once inside the room you unravel yourself from Dave as Marcus sits down on the edge of the mattress, bringing Dave with him to sit next to him. You head off to the bathroom to wet a washcloth and come back into the room to gently wipe away the blood and dirt at Dave’s forehead.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” you mutter as you clean him up best you can, shaking your head slightly. He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to, nor do you really even want him to in his condition. He needs to sleep it off, maybe you’ll get some clarity in the morning.

Once he’s cleaned up Marcus lifts Dave’s arm off of him and puts it into his lap. He isn’t sure what to do next so he leaves Dave there and wanders off to the bathroom to find you where you’re rinsing off the washcloth in the sink.

“What do we do with him?” he asks quietly.

“Well… honestly it’s probably better we’re in the same room anyway, that way if something happens in the middle of the night we’re there,” you reason and Marcus nods.

“Ok…” he sighs, following after you as you exit the bathroom and flick off its light.

You stop just outside the bathroom when you see Dave passed out in the middle of your bed, all his clothes - including his shoes - still on and you sigh.

“I got it,” Marcus says, going to the end of the bed and untying the laces of Dave’s shoes before placing them on the ground. That’s all you undress of him though, he’ll be fine sleeping in the rest of his clothes. Marcus was already in sweats and a t-shirt but you were still in work clothes so go over to your dresser and fish out a pair of pajamas and quickly change. Once you’re ready for bed you turn out the lights and both you and Marcus crawl in on either side of Dave. You can’t help but reach a hand out and brush it through his hair as his light snores fill the quiet, darkened room.

Fuck, you really missed him.

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, dry humping, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!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.

Before you depart, you leave an extra tip at the counter. The owner was more helpful than he needed to be. You feel indebted.

As you go out into the street, you give a long glance in each direction. You're paranoid even after the hours that passed since the unwelcome encounter. It's not just that one time, it's that this guy keeps popping up.

You walk the block warily, checking over your shoulder every few steps. Your building is quiet now that the maintenance is done, at least for the day. You go up to your apartment and drop your bag by the door.

What a long, strange day. Still, you got a lot of work done. You can just relax. You have another appointment tomorrow and that will be less than soothing.

You go to the bedroom and pull out a set of pajamas. You change a piece at a time, stretching as fatigue knots your muscles. You pull up the shorts as a shadow flickers by the window. You turn, finding nothing but the dimming sky and the rattling fire escape.

You don't think much of it. The wind often shakes the metal ladder and your apartment never quite gets the full shine of daylight. You grab your laptop and turn on the same show you've been marathoning for almost a week. You nestle into bed and yawn, even if it is a bit early to turn in.

You try to unwind and let go of the stress needling in your temples. You close your eyes, the heaviness less crushing, more hypnotizing. It drags you down even as the tension longers in your body.

You dream of the cafe and its moody owner, the other man like a shadow outside the window, the ambience overcast and sinister. At the edge of your subconscious is the glare of the laptop screen, the garbled audio skewing to a hum. A cool flow washes over you and sends a shiver up your spine.

You rouse slightly, enough to pull the top of the quilt to your chest. You hug the patchwork and grumble as you roll onto your side. You seal your eyelids and cling to the sleep that weighs on your lashes. The blackness slowly spreads and all at once splinters as your name gristles into your ear.

Your eyes snap open to darkness. Your laptop is closed and set on your night table. There's a weight over you that suggests more than a blanket. You feel something wiggle under your side and realise an arm is hooked around you, their hand tucked beneath you.

You go rigid and inhale, ready to scream your lungs out. The hand swiftly slides free and smothers your voice. You whimper and squirm against the intruder.

“You know, sweetheart, I just wanted to talk…” his nose brushes along the shell of your ear, his damp breath on your nape.

You whine and grab at his hand desperately. How did he find you? Jow did he get in here? This has to be a nightmare!

He hushes you and nuzzles your hair. He presses a kiss to the back of your head and growls. He wiggles even closer to you, rolling his hips against you.

“Now I don't feel like talking,” he snarls.

Your eyes gloss as his strength traps you. You don't understand. What did you do to deserve this? Why does he care so much?

“You know what I feel like?” He rasps, rocking against you as his breath shudders with his fervent motion, “I feel like holding you down and seeing if the rest of you still works.”

You squeak as you claw at his thick wrist. Your heart thunders and your ears burn. You've never felt this helpless.

He keeps his rhythm, his crotch chafing against you as his other arm snakes under you. His hand flutters up to squeeze your chest. He grunts between his quickening pants as the bed shakes with him.

“I can be a nice guy,” he huffs, “but you make a guy wanna be mean.”

Your tears break free, leaking down to stain your pillow. You writhe and throw your elbow back. He growls as you catch him in the same spot as before.

He leans his weight into you, turning you on your stomach as he crushes you against the mattress. He pins you with his body, thrusting against you as the fabric between your bodies grows warm. You murmur and bawl into his salty palm as you feel his bulge hard and throbbing against you.

“That's it, baby, that's it,” he coaxes as he rocks faster, “almost….”

He slips his hand behind your head and pushes your face into the pillow, suffocating you. He coughs and grunts and spasms. He shakes and his pace turns erratic and he slows, little by little, until he still and gulping for air.

He falls limp over you, his head next to yours as he pets your hair. He purrs and turns to kiss your temple. You turn your head away from him and sob.

What just happened?

[carriedawatermelon]

Just saw the Ronancetober prompts, so here’s some T-rated Ronance. Heads up, this involves non-specific homophobia from Ted Wheeler (he’s dead here) but is almost entirely about Nancy being loved very deeply, as she deserves.

Prompt: Ghost

Steve’s kids call her Auntsy, a blend his oldest, Robin, had proudly stuttered from her high chair when Steve pointed to Nancy and asked, in his dad voice, “Who’s that, Robbie?”

“Auntsy, Auntsy!”

His wife, Melissa, lovely and kind, caught it on video, along with Steve’s attempts to stifle his laughter and Robin’s cackle in the background. Nancy, for her part, had simply clapped and said, “That’s right, darling. So smart.” With an eyebrow to her partner and Steve, she’d turned to the camera and said, “All you, Melissa. Clearly.” 

“Clearly,” she’d agreed. 

The name stuck, all five little Harringtons writing birthday cards and calling to give updates to their Auntsy. 

Four of the five young Harringtons proceed through the line now, giving her big hugs and whispering variations of, “I’m really sorry, Auntsy.” She hugs them and thanks them and loves them and sends them all to eat something. “We’re here, Nance, whatever you need,” Melissa says, the end of the Harrington line. “Steve and Robin are going to stay to help after, and I can come back too, once I get everyone settled at home.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

“We love you,” she says seriously, big brown eyes on Nancy before they make their way around the room with a barely concealed scowl. “And if you want to leave…”

Nancy smiles at her and hugs her again. “I love you,” she says. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“Mmm,” she says, squeezing Nancy’s hands. “You’re a saint, is what you are.” Leo and Allie, the two youngest, are in a conversation that looks to be quickly approaching a fight, and Mel sighs and gives her an apologetic look. 

“Go,” Nancy says. 

“I have so much wine for you at home,” she says with a kiss to her cheek. 

The smile that breaks across Nancy’s face is real, even though she’s exhausted, and it seems good enough for Mel, who has her arms around two sets of little shoulders, bent and whispering furiously, so fast that Nancy can hardly process it. 

Robin’s handling logistics, eyes on Nancy every few minutes, a hand against the small of her back anytime she passes and Nancy isn’t in the middle of talking with someone. She’s a hero. Nancy wants nothing more than to curl up against her in their bed and tell her so. She tries to convey her gratitude now, eyes catching Robin’s, and by the way Robin’s mouth turns up at one side, the way she winks, Nancy thinks she gets it. 

“You fell for a real nerd.” It’s the fifth little Harrington, working her way into a hug. She’s got more than six inches on Nancy, finally surpassing her namesake last summer. “I’m really sorry, Auntsy,” she whispers into the space near Nancy’s ear, and Nancy holds her tight for a moment, this human she’s loved since before she was born. 

“Dad went to help R1,” she says when they pull apart, coming to stand beside Nancy and leaning into her. “What can I do?”

Nancy catches sight of Steve with his arms around Robin, feels gratitude and affection bubble in her chest. This has been a shit time for Robin, too. The thing that almost made Nancy step away entirely, actually, except her perfect nerd had looked her dead in the eye and told her that they could all fuck off, that she would do exactly what Nancy wanted and anyone else could “eat shit, Nance. I’m absolutely serious.” Nancy loves her profoundly. 

“Being here is a big help.” At Robin’s raised eyebrow, she shakes her head, smiles. “Don’t try that with me. I taught you that. I’m serious. There’s nothing right now. Robbie’s got logistics, Mike stepped out for a smoke and Holly’s with Mom getting her kids situated, but they’ll both be back soon. It’s more than enough that you’re here.” Wrapping an arm around her, she lets her voice be tired as she says, “It’s a big help. Believe me.”

Robin wraps her own arm around Nancy, and watches, mouth turning down, as a series of mourners walk past Nancy like she’s not there. When Mike shows up a few minutes later, and Holly a few minutes after that, people begin to wander over, Nancy getting a nod or nothing at all more often than not. Holly, bless her, always tries to correct. “You remember my sister, Nancy,” and Mike, true to character, waffles between ignorance and a deep scowl. Nancy can’t blame him, really. It’s a rough day. 

“Auntsy, it looks like they need you,” Robin says loud enough for Mike and Holly to hear. They wave her away, and Nancy tries not to ache at the relief Holly can’t quite hide. 

Robin directs her to the kitchen area and then walks them both right through it and out into one of the courtyards, small and quiet in the cold of Indiana November. “Wait,” she says, and a minute or two later appears in her coat with Nancy’s in her hands. Nancy shrugs it on, and Robin guides her to one of the little benches near an empty fountain. 

“God, that was bullshit,” she huffs, looking so much like her dad that for a minute Nancy sees him there, patented indignation and furrowed brow. “Sorry,” she says with a wince. “Shit, sorry. I probably shouldn’t have just dragged you away like that. I just…they’re awful. And Mike and Holly are literally no help, like what the actual fuck? These people are walking around you like you’re a fucking ghost at your dad’s funeral.” She takes a breath, such a blend of the people Nancy’s loves, and grimaces. “Sorry. Again.”

Nancy doesn’t try to hold her amusement back, feeling lighter than she has all day, smile tugging at her mouth. “Well, college has really given you quite the vocabulary.” 

Robin groans and Nancy laughs, nudges her arm with her shoulder. 

“You know, I was always going to love you. No matter how you turned out. Part of the aunt gig. But you really are one of my very favorite people, you know that, Robin Harrington?”

Robin blushes like Melissa, whole face coloring, and she presses back against Nancy as she says, “Yeah, well, you’re one of mine, too. I can’t believe someone so cool dated my dad.”

Nancy laughs again. “Your mom’s very cool.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin concedes. “Well done, dad, I guess.”

She kicks at the gravel with her worn Docs, paired unrepentantly with her black tights and long sleeved black dress, and looks over at Nancy. 

“It’s okay,” Nancy says. “You can ask, if you want.”

She does, quietly. “Auntsy. Why are you here? Why are you doing so much for him when he…when he…”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly, smiling at the look of surprise on Robin’s face. “You know, they called me first. He and Mom are officially divorced, and I’m the oldest daughter, so. Next of kin. They had no way of knowing we hadn’t spoken in fifteen years, and I’ve always been…Robbie once called me Emergency Barbie.”

“Yikes,” Robin says with a snort.

“Mmm. She meant it as a compliment. We were young. She was, as she told me later, an absolute idiot over me.”

“Yeah, well good to know some things don’t change.” 

Robin Harrington’s eye roll is on that list, and Nancy tells her so, gets another one for her efforts. 

“Anyway, I fell into it, into the organizing, into the doing, and suddenly I was the one speaking with the funeral director and picking dates and talking to the preacher.”

The preacher, who’d asked Nancy what she’d loved about her father in some well-intentioned attempt to write a personal sermon and had only forced Nancy into a corner. “He was a great driver,” she’d said, and instead of understanding that as the flashing red light that it was, the signal that not all had been well, the preacher had included that in his sermon, along with Holly’s fond reflection on his sense of humor and Mike’s generic sports stories. 

Robin had squeezed her hand and tried valiantly to bury her laugh in a cough, while Nancy had flushed bright red and fought tears. 

“You’ve got two siblings,” Robin says pointedly. “Two siblings who still talked to him. For some reason.”

“I do.” Nancy confirms, with a gentle hand to Robin’s knee. The vicious, unyielding loyalty is more precious than she’ll ever be able to tell her, but she never, ever wants Robin carrying her burdens. “And I made the choice to do it anyway.” 

This is where she straddles the line between recognizing that her niece is a young adult and still her niece. She doesn’t tell her that if she’d left it to Mike there would’ve been no service at all, which might’ve been fine, on reflection, but didn’t feel like it at the time. She doesn’t tell her that Holly has young kids and still treats Nancy like a third parent even as she pushes her away. She doesn’t tell her that she’ll always be their big sister, Ted and Karen’s oldest, and that means something that Steve and Melissa have tried to make sure it doesn’t mean for Robin. She certainly doesn’t tell her that she might always feel the need to show she’s good enough, better than good enough, or that this is in some ways her last fuck you to her father, his dyke daughter the only one willing and able to do this for him. 

“Yeah, no.” Robin’s not having it. “They’re grown ups. Not saying you didn’t have a choice, or whatever, but whatever the fuck’s going on in there is totally ridiculous, especially because they let you do all the work.”

“It’s complicated,” she concedes, and thinks of the days she used to sit with her dad and read the newspaper, the smiles that became rarer and rarer as she got older, the way Holly didn’t seem to grow out of his affection the same way. 

“I’m sorry,” Robin says. “I don’t mean to make it worse.”

“Oh, sweet girl.” She hugs her, and Robin makes herself smaller, tucks her face into Nancy’s neck. “You didn’t. You have made this day so much better. Thank you.”

“It was his loss.” Her voice is wavering, and Nancy holds her tighter, tears pricking at her own eyes. “He missed out on one of the best people in the world. I’m sorry, Auntsy. I’m sorry he didn’t do better.”

“I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too.”

Robin finds them there a few minutes later, little Robin talking through her course selection with Nancy, matching frowns of concentration on their faces. 

“Big bird,” she says with a nod to Robin and doing a terrible job of concealing the worry in her voice. “Love of my life,” she says, bending to kiss Nancy’s forehead and ignoring Robin’s retching noise. “It’s cold and the service is about to start.” 

Robin scoots closer to Nancy, and her other aunt fits herself onto the seat with them, linking her fingers with Nancy’s along the back of the bench. 

“Do you want to go back inside?” 

Nancy considers, has no interest in feeling like a ghost, in feeling the presence of any others. “No,” she says, and both Robins grin. 

“Understood. Give me five.” She presses a kiss to Nancy’s lips this time, and Robin gives a long suffering sigh but she’s smiling when Nancy looks over to her. 

Five minutes later, the rest of the Harrington crew arrives carrying hot chocolate. “It’s the shitty church kind,” Steve says, and Melissa rolls her eyes. “But at least they’re the ones with marshmallows, and I stole the coffee supplies to make it with milk, so.” He presses a cup into Nancy’s hands and then kisses her head, does the same to little Robin. 

“I brought cookies,” Robin says, triumphant from the doorway to the fellowship hall a minute later, and Nancy’s pretty sure the delighted cries of the kids can be heard at the service, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

She finds herself sandwiched between her favorite Robins, Melissa scooting another bench close while Steve starts a game of soccer on the grass outside the courtyard with the younger kids. 

“Need anything?” Robin says quietly, while Melissa and little Robin chat about dinner plans. 

“You,” she says, kissing Robin’s flushing cheek.

“My god.” 

“Oh, hush,” Melissa says. “Have you told your aunts about how the front porch swing broke?”

“She has not,” Nancy says, linking her arm through her Robin’s and settling back into her. “But she was telling me about her spring class schedule and her summer plans.”

Little Robin smiles gratefully, and Robin oooohs. “I wanna know! You know I love a class schedule.” 

The two of them start in, and Nancy closes her eyes and lets herself be. 

[magics-neptunes-things]

Ready, Aim, Shoot (3)

Hi guys!

I post it again, the other one just disappeared without any reason. Sorry if you already red it.

TW : Blood, creepy psychologist, panic attack, angst, depression.

PART 1 | PART 2

Blood. There is blood everywhere. The more you look, the more there is. You look at your shaking hands, cover in red. You don’t know whose blood is it though. The room you are in is only white, adding to the contrast with the blood color. Breathing quickly, you look around and that’s when you finally see her.

Alexia.

Alexia is laying in the middle of the room, her body surrounded by red too. Panicking, you kneel next to her, shaking her to try to wake her. But she doesn’t. She stays still in your hand, not moving. Not breathing. This is when you scream.

You scream so much that it wakes you up suddenly. Heavily breathing, you sit on your bed, blindly trying to find the button on your bedside lamp. You finally managed to find it, but when you put the light on, Alexia isn’t next to you in your bed.

It’s only when you left your room to look for her that you remember. She’s not here tonight, she’s sleeping in Tenerife, where she played today. Or yesterday, because it’s actually three in the morning. It’s the first time she leaves

you alone for all the night since you came back.

Alexia Is not here, but it’s your fault. You assured her that you will be ok, almost pushing her out of your flat. She made you swear to call her if you need her, no matter what time is it. She asked Mapi to come to look for you last night, so you watched the game with the blonde before she went home. You fell asleep quickly actually, you were far to imagine a wake up like that.

You should really call her; she will be disappointed with you if she learns the state of panic you are in without calling her. But you hate the idea to wake her up at this time of the night. She played yesterday, she’s coming home today. She needs to rest.

You find refuge on your couch, putting the TV on. But you can’t forget the picture of Alexia and the blood everywhere. You feel like it’s still on your body, no matter how many times you look at your hands to be sure that you don’t have a little red on you. Thirty minutes after you wake up, you decided to go take a shower.

You pass a long time under it, water burning, washing your body again and again. You ignore the scare that your accident left on your body. You hate them. No matter how many times Alexia kissed them, telling you that you are strong and even more beautiful than before.

You feel guilty as hell when you think about your girlfriend. She is amazing with you, so patient and so loving. You don’t feel like you deserve her. You don’t make any progress with your mental health and it’s disturbing. You even think about breaking up with Alexia one time, disgusting by yourself. She deserves so much more than you. But right after you had a panic attack, because how can you live without her? She’s your whole world.

You are not even strong enough to make the things right for her.

When the feeling of the hot water and the strength with which you rubbed your skin became too much to handle, you stop the water and get out of the shower. This time your skin is red, but you know why.

You pick a hoodie from Alexia and one of her old Barcelona’s short. If you can’t have your girlfriend’s arms, at least you can have her smell. And, after some hesitation, you even take her pillow to go with you to the couch of your living room. You take snack and watch some stupid things on TV while scrolling on your phone.

You are still tired, but you don’t want to take the risk to fall asleep again. You’re terrified to have this dream again. Every time the images came back in your brain, you try to hug Alexia’s pillow harder. It kind of work, but it has nothing to do with Alexia’s comfort.

You fall asleep after 8 o’clock, after your girlfriend told you that they are boarding and that she will be home soon.

You are still asleep when Alexia comes home. She smiles seeing you laying on the couch, cuddle against her pillow, in her clothes. You are watching YouTube now, from her account, and you choose the playlist where she puts all the games she finds interesting. Only putting her suitcase on the ground, she comes to sit next to you, softly stroking your hair.

“Alexia?” you mumble, opening your eyes with difficulty.

“Hi sleepy head”

Her smile is affectionate, and you get up on one elbow to rub your eyes and have a better look at her. Her hairs are down and she seems fine. She seems happy, maybe to see you? The plan was that she takes a taxi with Jana to come back home, Alexia didn’t want you to drive because some noises sometimes make you jump.

“How are you?” Alexia asks softly.

“Can I have a hug?”

She smiles and passes her arms around you to hug you. But you lay on the couch again, taking her with you on it. She giggles and you smile, forgetting for the first time your nightmare.

“I’m glad you’re here” you whisper after some minutes.

“I’m glad to be back to you too.”

You hum, turning a little to pass a lag around her knees and cuddle tighter against her. She’s stroking your back lovingly, sometimes kissing your head. You started to wonder how much mental pressure you are putting on her when she talks again.

“You remember Marta? From the media team?”

“I think I do” you answer, frowning. “Why?”

“She just left for her maternity leave, and she doesn’t know for now if she will come back.”

“Ok?”

You are still frowning when you look at your girlfriend, not understanding where she wants to go. I mean you are happy that people have baby and all. But what does it make a change for you?

It looks like Alexia’s idea was that you apply for the job. You try to escape that idea, not really happy about the idea of meeting tons of people who will know about your story and look at you with pity in their eyes. But Alexia assures you that it won’t happen, adding that you just can go for the interview without saying yes after.

Long story short, you are now sitting on your desk for your first day.

Your job is basically to find idea of activities to anime the games, a little more marketing than journalism to be honest. But it looks fun and like Alexia said before, when Marta will come back, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.

********

“Hi, I’d like a meeting with the new media manager?”

A voice in front of you make you raise your head, even if you recognize it immediately. Alexia is smirking at you from the door of your office, looking like she just finishes her shower. Which she probably did given the time.

“I’m sorry, but you have to talk to my assistant first, she will give you my time schedule” you smirk back.

Alexia frown slightly, closing the door behind her before coming for you.

“You have an assistant?”

You know that frown and you roll your eyes while standing up to great her like she deserves it.

“Yes, I have” you answer, letting yourself go against her when she takes you in her arms.

She hums, her lips against your hair, trying to look discreetly in the open office by the window. The gesture makes you chuckle and you raise your head to have a better look at her.

“What? I was just looking to know if you knew her, that’s all.”

“Sure, mi Amor.”

She pouts and you kiss it better, just to see the smile she has right after. You weren’t really happy to start to work again to be honest, but you have to admit that it’s a good thing for you to keep your head busy with something. Alexia was right, once again.

“Are you ready to leave? I’m taking you home.”

“I am.”

You take your stuff with you, before letting Alexia passes her arm around your waist to take you with her. You don’t know if it’s only the jealousy talking right now, but you have to admit that she is way more openly affective with you since your accident. Not that you have a problem with it, obviously. But the way her gaze is scanning the room when you left after saying goodbye to your colleagues, it makes you think that there is at least a little part of jealousy in it.

Which is totally stupid, you only see her.

“You seems happier” Alexia says cautiously over her plate that night.

You look at her for some seconds before nodding. You are, but you are scared to mention it in case that it makes your nightmares coming back.

“I am. Thanks to you” you smile softly.

“Are you really? Or are you hiding something for me like when I was away for the game to Tenerife?”

You blush and almost chock on your tomato, but you somehow are able to keep some dignity. You don’t take the time to try to deny her statement though, you know that she knows. Of course she does. She reads you like an open book. Alexia has the decency to not point anything else, waiting patiently for your answer.

“I really am better. You were right, I really needed to get out from here even if it was difficult at first. It’s great to have something to do, not that cooking for you wasn’t entertaining. But going out… It’s great.”

She nods softly, without leaving your face with her eyes. You know immediately that there is something else in her mind, but you don’t push, letting her carry the conversation.

“Do you think I was too suffocating with you? Maybe if I…”

“No!” you cut her after some seconds of incredulity. “Alexia how could you…? Are you joking? You are the reason that I’m still here and mentally good. You are the reason that I keep fighting to be fine again. I couldn’t have done it without you. I forbid you to think of anything like that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s some insecurities and I shouldn’t have told you that” she frowns again, playing with her forks and some pasta left in her plate.

“Alexia, don’t please.”

She looks at you again when you stand up, just to come sit on her lap. She welcomes you by taking you close against her with her arms. You pass your arms around your neck, one of your fingers playing with the baby hair on her neck.

“You are so perfect to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to thank you enough one day for it. You were always right and done nothing wrong all those days. A lot of people would have abandoned, but you are still here with me.”

“I’ll never abandon you” she mumbles right into your eyes.

You can see how much she means those worlds and you have to take all your strength not to start crying like a baby. You’re pretty sure that your eyes are shining from tears but you busy yourself by stroking her cheek tenderly.

“You said one time that my come back is a miracle, do you remember? Well, you are my miracle.” you add, after she nods.

She kisses you and the way she did makes your head turned. She only let you breath for several seconds when you need air, before kissing you again with even more intensity. You had sex again after some weeks of rehab from your part, but not like you did before your departure. And it’s hard to see Alexia restrain her gestures, scared as hell to hurt you. Tonight though, you feel like that maybe it will come back.

********

It came back.

You are laying on your bed, lovingly enveloped in your girlfriend’s arms. Her skin is so soft against yours, your face hiding in her neck. You are lull by Alexia’s deep and slow breathing and you are starting to wonder if she’s falling asleep when she talks quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great. Safe. Warm.”

“Perfect” Alexia sighs softly, moving a little to be more comfortable on the mattress.

You look up at her, admiring the shape of her jaw, her perfect nose, her beautiful eyes, and her so kissable lips.

“What?” she asks when she sees you staring.

“Nothing” you giggle. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes before closing them, tightening you harder against her. You don’t need anything than her body to keep you warm and you love it.

“Would you be angry if I stopped working there?”

The sudden question makes her open her eyes again to look at you. She seems to be thinking for several seconds before answering.

“Of course not. Why do you want to stop anyway? Is someone nasty with you?”

“Not at all” you deny, already imagine her hunting the person who would do that to you. “I was thinking that… maybe I could finish one of my book projects?”

“You mean one of your thousand amazing scenario who are desperately waiting on your computer?”

“Exactly that” you answer, rolling your eyes.

She teases you way to much about it already.

“If it’s what you want, of course I’ll support you. But what about going out to meet people?”

You see the worried already and you answer, kissing her cheek.

“I’ll go write into a Café or something. Maybe seeing people, crowd and streets will help me to get idea.”

********

That’s exactly what you did, after finishing your job with the media. The first days, you weren’t really effective, more focused on what’s going on around you and which story you want to choose. After some debate with yourself and help asking to your mother and Alexia, you choose to mix two stories and start writing again. It made you start from the beginning, but it’s maybe better like this.

You still get to your psychiatrist to your session twice a week, always a little more scared to go without Alexia. Your psychiatrist told both of you that it could be good for you to come without your girlfriend. Alexia accepted immediately, always being interested in everything that can make you feel better.

You always have a strange feeling without Alexia’s halo, and it’s only happened when you come here. You don’t have trouble to go grocery shopping without Alexia or go to the Café to write.

It’s particularly hard to come today, you talked to Alexia by the phone before your appointment to ease your stress. She seems to realize that something is wrong, because she talks a lot about her day. She only does that to change your mind, and you love her for that.

“Hello Y/N” your therapist greats you.

You great her back and start talking about your new occupation, your activities since the last time and the travel Alexia proposed to you last night. It was something you can’t stop to think about since she mentioned it, eager to go away for some days in the sun with the woman you love.

“Don’t you think it will be too soon?” the doctor asks, only looking at her notepad.

You are taken aback. You would never have thought that she can be thinking that it’s a bad idea. She never stops to tell you to go ahead and try new things since the beginning.

“Taking a plane, going to an airport, in a place that might remind you of your trauma? What would you do if you have one of your panic attacks there?”

You don’t know what to answer to that. Alexia mentioned Canary Islands and a private hotel with a private beach, which seems far away from the Middle East.

“No, I mean… I’m going better now. And I’ll be with Ale. Everything will be ok.”

She looks at you this time, raising an eyebrow. Her look is sharp, almost mean and you have trouble swallow your saliva. You feel like a schoolgirl getting bullied by her teacher.

“Don’t you think you already lean too much on the poor girl? Maybe she suggests the holidays to have some rest, are you sure she wants you to go with her?”

You don’t really remember the end of the appointment and you don’t know how you managed to find yourself in the Barcelona’s facilities. You can’t think straight anymore, it’s like this woman knew all your insecurities and tell you that you are right to have them.

What if she’s right? What if Alexia can’t stand your presence, your toxics dreams and mental health? You already knew that you weren’t good enough for her and that she deserved better. You can’t believe that you let her makes you believe that she can love you. How can she? How can anyone?

You were turning around to go home when you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N?”

You recognize Mariona through your tears, but you can’t say anything. She doesn’t seem to mind though, carefully taking your arm in her hand.

“What are you doing here? Are you looking for Alexia?”

You try to scream at her to let Alexia alone and not to get you to her, but you can’t. When you don’t say a word, Mariona decides to take you to Alexia. Luckily the Majorcan woman came late today and she knows exactly where to find your girlfriend.

You let Mariona drags you around, hearing her soothing voice without being able to understand what she’s saying. Sweets, encouraging words, for sur. You can’t figure out really what happens next, but after several minutes of walk, you hear Mariona calling your girlfriend’s name. And more seconds after, you are surrounded by her arms, her perfume, everything that is her.

Everything that you don’t deserve.

When Alexia realizes that she’s facing a wall and that you won’t say a word, she takes you home. You are like anesthetized at this point, letting her do what she wants with you. When you are laying on the bed you retake some reality and stare at Alexia who seems to be choosing clothes to put on you after taking a shower.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

The words were lifeless, but you see Alexia froze. She turns in your direction, with eyes wide and the most chocked face ever.

“What?”

“I’m breaking up with you” you repeat, looking at her straight in her eyes.

A silence pass and you see Alexia watching at you, probably waiting for you to say something else. Maybe to explain yourself, but you don’t say another word. Plus, the reasons are obvious, no?

“Are you- don’t you love me anymore?”

She seems broken. That doesn’t make any sense, she is supposed to be relieved, not sad. You don’t understand her reaction, so you shrug before answering.

“That’s not the point, Alexia. You are free. I’m giving you your liberty back.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk? Did someone give you something to you?”

She seems angry now, almost shouting with her eyebrows frown. You frown too, because why the hell won’t she understand? You sit in the bed while she’s still standing in front of you.

“No! I just… Why won’t you…”

Why is your brain suddenly transformed in pudding?

You look at Alexia when she comes to you and takes your face between her hands. She does it with so much care that you want to cry again.

“Why don’t you let me break up with you?” you whisper.

“Because I love you. I told you; I’ll fight for us every day if I have to.”

There we are, you are crying again. But this time Alexia is here, she can take you against her, rock you will you cry and whispers sweets nothing in your ears. She waits for your sobbing to stop, holding you tightly. Only when you can breathe normally again, she speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You don’t know really where to start, so you just shake your head without answering anything. But she waits, again and again. So, after some minutes, you talk too.

“I just want you to be happy. I know you’ll be happier without me.”

“You are wrong.”

Her voice is gentle, but as the same time strong enough to let you know that you don’t have to try to deny it. It’s her truth and that’s enough.

“Well you need to take some time apart from me so it’s not –“

“Where the hell does that idea comes from?”

She’s lost. You were good when you end up your call some hours later. And then you appeared crying during her training, only to say her when you come home that you want to break up with her. But you frown again, lost too. And tired, to be honest.

“My therapist said that I’m leaning on you too much. And that’s way you wanted to go on holidays without me.”

You explain that like it’s the more logical thing in the world, but for Alexia it doesn’t make any sense. She starts to understand where it comes from however, even if she doesn’t understand why.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, what the point to have holidays if you’re not with me?” she answers, looking right into your eyes. “Did your therapist say other things?”

You nod and start to explain everything happened and everything she told you. The more you talk, the more Alexia seems to be furious. Her jaw is clenched, her eyes are literally throwing lightning and she so tense that you are really concerned that she can have a cramp somewhere. But when she talks to you again, her voice is infinitely soft.

“Nothing of that is true. I love you. I will do everything to help you to make you feel better. I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. I’m not going to give up on us.”

You look at her, almost desperately. But she has the same gaze that she has when says things like this. Her eyes are soft, caring and so loving that you can’t do otherwise than believe her.

“I don’t feel like I’m better, Ale” you whisper. “I don’t think I will be one day.”

“You are. You are working, you are getting out, you are smiling again. It’s ok to have bad days, like everyone else. Yours are a little more complicated because you had to go through horrible things. But you have the right to not feel good or needing help a little more some days. And what she said was wrong.”

You are lost, honestly. Alexia can see that you are coming back at yourself again though. Like if you are waking up. You seem always a little desperate and she takes you carefully against her. You let her, sighing of relief when you find the comfort of her arms.

“What if she’s right and you haven’t realized for now?”

“She’s wrong. And she will know it.”

You don’t question what she was implying, too tired to realize what her words may imply. You let Alexia taking you in a bath and more generally taking care of you. You look at her through the mirror when she does your hair.

“When I get better, it will be me who will take care of you” you inform her.

She smiles and finish to undo a knot in your hair before answering, looking at you through the mirror too.

“Okay Cariño.”

She’s smiling but doesn’t seem to make fun of you. You relax, letting your shoulder go down a little bit. That’s mean that she really believes that you will be better.

********

Alexia keeps her promise, going to your therapist’s office in the early hours to talk to her. You don’t know what she told her, but now you don’t have to go to your appointments, and you even have a new psychiatrist, advised by someone from Alexia’s staff.

Rumor has it that Alexia’s shouts still resonate in the psychiatrist’s office.

You don’t know if it’s your breakdown of the change of therapist, but some days after this episode, you feel better than ever. You wake up with your head and your body feeling lighter and Alexia is surprised to see you coming in the kitchen when she’s taking her breakfast. Usually, you stay way longer in bed.

“Is everything alright?” she asks nervously.

You nod, rubbing your eyes before coming behind her to pass your arms around her waist.

“Just wanted to be with you a little bit before you leave.”

Alexia hums when you kiss her neck. You can feel a gaze studying you while you are making yourself coffee, before coming to sit next to her.

“Are you sure that you’re ok Cari?” she asks, almost shyly while you stole a strawberry from her bowl.

“I’m sure baby” you smile at her.

Alexia is looking at you suspiciously during several seconds. She red things about people being “high” before getting down and of course she is scared. But you seem really good today and she can’t help but smile when you kiss her cheek.

“Uhu” she said, taping her lips with expectation.

You giggle but kiss her anyway, smiling against her lips. You are still smiling when she strokes your cheek with her fingertips and when she puts her forehead against yours.

“I love you so much” she whispers before kissing you again.

“I love you more” you smiles.

Alexia makes no with her head and put a finger on your mouth when you want to talk again.

 “Would you like to come with me to training today?”

You hesitate for several seconds before answering. It’s been a while since you came to see Alexia in training. You can’t remember who you saw some days before, only Mariona. But you hope that they weren’t a lot.

“You can say no if you don’t want to.” Alexia adds after seeing you hesitate.

“No, I want to come. But… Who were here, the other day? You know…”

“Only Mariona. And I’m sure that she doesn’t say anything to anyone.”

You are relieved to learn that, even if you don’t know how Alexia can know.

“Did you treat her?” you smirk.

“No” Alexia laughs. “I know the girl, she’s one of the most loyal, sweet and discreet that I’ve never met.”

She was right. Mariona didn’t told anyone about what happened and after several minutes you realize that Alexia was right once again. You hug the Mallorcan woman a little longer than Alexia’s other teammates when you met them, silently thanking her. She seems to understand because she smiles at you before taping your cheek affectionately.

And today, as you watch Alexia training and laughing on the pitch with the teammates that she considered like her family, you’re starting to have hope again. Alexia was right every time, so maybe she will be right this time again. You will be better.

[softiejoon]

HOW SKZ WOULD REACT TO BEING CALLED ‘BABY BOY’ | HYUNG LINE

pairing ; skz (hyung line) x reader

genre ; fluff, comfort

tags ; domestic!au, established relationship!au

warnings ; hyunjin is in need of some comfort, all soft and fluffy though (no angst)

summary ; calling skz baby boy <3

word count ; ~ 1k

a/n ; it’s my birthday so i thought i’d give you all a gift :) enjoy the result of my brain rot

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chan

oh he definitely likes it

it's a term of endearment you reserve for moments when he's feeling particularly soft and cuddly

as much as chan takes care of others, he deserves to be taken care of too

you'll find him wrapped up in his blankets in bed, hair mussed from sleep

he's still getting used to the daylight, blinking slowly until he recognises your figure in the doorway

he lights up, beautiful sleepy smile making an appearance as an arm stretches out towards you

"hi baby boy," you smile. "sleep well?"

chan doesn't respond verbally, only making a feigned effort to get up

but instead he ends up beckoning you towards him with grabby hands

you laugh quietly, shaking your head as you approach

when you're close enough to reach, chan wraps his arms around you, pressing his cheek to your torso

he mumbles into your clothes

"would've slept better with you here"

you run your fingers gently through his hair, eliciting small noises of contentment from him

"well i'm here now"

chan hums, eyes closed

"how about some cuddles?"

you're pulled into bed before you have a chance to repeat the question

chan snuggles up to you instantly, burying his face in your neck and pressing himself as close to you as he can

and you know you won't be moving anytime soon

your hand resumes its course of action through his curls, which only lulls chan further into slumber

he sighs happily against your skin, whispering your name as he drifts off

"sleep well, baby boy"

minho

gets flustered

use with caution

if he's grumpy or not in the mood, the softness of the term will definitely throw him off

he'll go into flight or fight mode just out of instinct

(we all know this man is gonna choose fight)

he's not throwing hands with you

but he will be resistant to your affection

he doesn't actually want to be

but there's this little voice in his head telling him he has to – lest he turn into a complete mess

but if you catch him at the right time

a perfect mix between cuddly and clingy

he'll be completely submissive to your coddling

"hey there's my baby boy"

you walk over to where he's laying on the couch and take a seat

he automatically shifts his head into your lap, hooking an arm under your knees to get comfortable

"did you have a good day?"

"mmm"

"is that a yes?"

"mmm"

in these moments, minho resembles his cats more than a human boyfriend

he directs his pretty doe eyes towards you, making a wordless request before placing his head back down in your lap

you smile and begin to stroke his hair, fingertips fluttering across his head and down to the nape of his neck

minho absolutely keens at all the attention

and he's more than happy to stay here like this forever

"you've worked hard today, baby boy. you can rest now"

changbin

it makes him all shy but he loves it

especially when he's not feeling well

you unlock the front door one day, unsettled by the lack of noise and absence of a sweeping hug in greeting

"changbin?"

you duck your head into the kitchen and his office before working your way to the bedroom

you knock gently on the door, which is slightly ajar, before pushing it open

"bin–?"

beneath the sheets, changbin's built form is small and curled up, a tuft of dark hair peeking out

"hey, what's wrong, baby boy?"

he lowers the blankets from his face, groaning quietly about being tired and cold

and you place a hand against his burning forehead

"you have a fever, bin. give me a second, i'll be right back"

you grab the medication and a glass of water from the kitchen before returning to his side

"here, darling, drink this"

once he's done, you take the empty glass from him and stroke his cheek

his hand comes up to hold yours, fingers gripping your own tightly

"don't worry, baby boy. 'm not going anywhere. get some sleep, okay?"

changbin nods and, before long, he's falling asleep, your hand secured in his

hyunjin

blushes profusely and hides his face behind his hands

"hey don't do that, wanna see your pretty face baby boy"

you take a seat next to him, tucking a stray piece of tousled hair behind his ear

he'd had a bad day, eyes a little puffy from crying

and all you wanted to do was make him feel better

you reach into your bag and pull out his favourite snacks you'd picked up on your way home

with the way his eyes light up, a peek of his beautiful smile emerging

you can't help the warmth that spreads through your chest

"want me to put a movie on too?"

he nods and you instruct him to get comfy amongst the blankets while you set up a feel-good film

when you look back at hyunjin swaddled up like a dumpling, you can't help the smile that settles on your face

"wh-what...?"

"nothing baby boy, just love you a lot"

he buries his face in the blankets at that, shy, and whines

"hurry up so you can come cuddle me"

you click your tongue at him playfully as you wander back to his side

"no 'i love you too'?" you tease as you start the movie

he nuzzles into you, so close you can feel his heartbeat steadying, his body relaxing, as he melts in your hold

you stroke his hair, placing a kiss on his forehead

he cranes his head to look at you, whispering

"love you lots you know"

"i know baby boy, i love you too"

~

© softiejoon | let me know what you think | support me here

[roseghoul26]

Part 3

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author’s Note: soooo this was meant to be the final part but i got carried away so now there are four parts :D

also like 99% sure the location i describe later in the part doesn’t exist but im too lazy to figure out an actual one so just go with it please. and i have no idea if the robbery plan “arthur” came up with actual works. there’s a reason i write fanfiction and don’t rob houses.

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

Arthur had stayed by your side ever since then. He was gone some days, returning to you exhausted and sleepless, but still returning nonetheless. He helped take care of you as you recovered, attending to your every need with no complaint (you had joked that you were going to turn into an actual princess with his treatment)

By the end of the first week of your return, you had regained enough strength to get up on your own, being able to take small walks around camp and chatting with the others. You found yourself being able to stay awake longer, only having to stop a rest once or twice throughout the day. Also, most of your superficial wounds were pretty much healed at this point, small scabs and scars the only proof of their existence. 

By week two, you had started contributing with the chores, doing lighter work around the camps like sewing. You stayed outside of your tent more and more now, the weather at Clemens Point usually pleasant. The wound on your shoulder was doing much better now, and where deep purple bruises once resided were patchy yellow marks. 

When the third week rolled around, you were starting to go insane, having been confined to the one place for so long. You were pretty much back to normal, your energy returned and your wounds healed. You had begged every person who left camp to take you with them, but to no avail. 

You had even begged Charles to take you out hunting, but the steadfast man didn’t budge. Upon seeing your disappointment in his rejection, he relented… partially. Finding a spot far enough away from camp to not be an issue, but close enough for safety’s sake, Charles set up a small practice range for you to shoot your bow and guns at. You had hugged and thanked him profusely, your fingers itching to pull a trigger. He just requested you to not make him regret his decision.

The rest of the time that week was spent at the range, building back up the strength and endurance in your arms and shoulders. Your aim at the beginning was questionable, to say the least. Targets you’d normally have no issue hitting were becoming difficult, and you struggled to hold your pistol up for longer than ten seconds, your hands shaking and straining at the effort. Still, you persisted, and you found your marksmanship began to, slowly, come back to you. 

It was now the first day of the fourth week, the evening sun soaking the range in gold. It wasn’t particularly hot out, yet you still found yourself wiping beads of sweat from your brow as you started down the barrel of your rifle. There was one target left, a small green bottle roughly 200 meters downrange, slightly obscured by some hay barrels until only a portion of it was visible to you. Every other bottle lay shattered except for this one, which you’d been trying to get for what felt like forever. 

Grumbling angrily to yourself, you refocused on the object, sheer spite keeping your feet planted at the range instead of returning back to camp to retire for the night. There was a slight breeze, not enough to deter the path of the bullet, but enough to cause a few pieces of hair to flick you in the face. Your eyes focused on your target, and the world around you seemed to grow still. It was right in your sights, and you just had to squeeze…

You took a deep breath in, holding it for a split second, before releasing it. Your finger moved with your lungs, squeezing the trigger gently. A loud blast shook through you, and if there were any birds still sticking around, they would have flown away at your angry outburst afterwards.

The bottle stood intact, and you swore it was grinning smugly at you. With a huff, you released the empty shell, joining the growing pile at your feet. The sound of hoofbeats from behind caused you to lower your weapon, slinging it over your shoulder. The motion caused a slight tinge of pain to shoot through you, going away as quick as it came. Still, you couldn’t help the slight grimace of pain from appearing on your face as you turned to see who was behind you. The place that Charles had selected for you was just off the entrance of camp, so you had a slightly obscured view of people coming and going.

The sight of a familiar brown horse, and the sound of an even more familiar gruff voice had you smiling widely. Quickly scooping the empty shells into a bucket, the fresh one burning your hand slightly, you headed back to camp. 

As you approached, you heard many voices all at once, all greeting Arthur as he got off his horse. As he patted his steed, you saw him glazing around, eyes darting around as he searched for something. He must’ve not found what he was looking for, as he had a slightly confused expression as he made his way toward Dutch. The leader of the Van Der Linde gang stood outside his tent smoking a cigar as he warmly greeted Arthur, clapping the younger man on his shoulder. Arthur had his back to you as he talked with Dutch, and you were just out of earshot of their conversation, barely in the camp at this point. 

Passing Pearson’s wagon as you approached Arthur, you saw Dutch look around as well. When his gaze landed on you, he greeted you with a friendly smile, before pointing at you with his cigar over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Your lover spun around, an enormous grin on his face when he finally locked eyes with you. Finally close enough to hear the two of them, you heard Dutch say “We’ll talk later,” practically shoving the younger man away from him and towards you. He gave Dutch an incredulous look before returning his attention to you, smiling impossibly brighter when you were finally within arms reach of him. 

Setting the bucket and gun down at your feet, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burrowing your face in his chest as you held him close. A pleased hum left you as you felt one of his hands hold the back of your head, the other wrapping around your hip. “Hello, princess,” you heard him say. Tilting your head back so you could see Arthur fully, you stood up on your toes so you could kiss him. He held your kiss longer than what was probably appropriate for being in the middle of camp, but you couldn’t care less. After pulling away, he rested his head against yours, one hand still around your backside. His hat sat precariously on his head, dangerously close to falling off. 

“Hi, Arthur,” you breathed. “I’ve missed you.”

“Already? It’s only been a week. I’d’ve thought you’d been sick of me already.”

“Never.”

“And just what were you up to while I was gone?” You saw him eye the bucket and rifle forgotten behind you, and the two of you took a step back from the other, still close enough to touch though.

“I’ve been doing some shooting. Charles set it up for me.”

“Did he now?” He asked, not out of jealousy, but more out of concern of you overexerting yourself. 

“It was either that, or take me hunting. I’ve practically begged everyone in camp to take me out. I’ve gone a little crazy being stuck here.”

Arthur chuckled. “Noted. So,” he gestured to the weapon, “any luck?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you turned and  picked up the items, the rifle going back over your shoulder. You stepped out of the shade created by Dutch’s tent, the light causing your eyes to scrunch close. It was close to sundown by this point, but a nice amber glow still washed over the camp, with the lake turning into a body of lava. “Mostly,” you scoffed, and began walking back toward the range, determination now taking over you again. 

You expected to hear footfalls behind or beside you, but when you didn’t, you turned back around with a puzzled expression. Arthur just stood there, still in the shade, mouth parted slightly as he stared at you. 

Cocking your head, you thought that might get his attention, but you started to feel a little self conscious (and worried) when he continued to just look at you. “Is there something on my face?” you joked half-heartedly, tapping a rhythm on your waist as you awaited a response. 

The cowboy had a slight rosy tint on his cheeks as he shook his head, but he still held his eyes on you. “Nah, it’s just… you look beautiful.”

That was certainly not what you were expecting to hear, nearly dropping the bucket of empty bullet casings. “Well, thank you, Arthur,” you responded bashfully. 

“I mean it,” he continued, slowly walking towards you now. “I mean, you always look beautiful, but somethin’ ‘bout the light… you look like an angel, like you were taken out one of them paintings.”

You certainly didn’t think so yourself, but with the way Arthur looked at you, you just had to believe him. His hands now cupped your face, thumbs rubbing gently against your cheeks. “My angel…” he said, the words leaving his mouth gently like a secret. 

He held you, transfixed, until someone else in camp awkwardly cleared their throat. His hands dropped back to his sides, but he still had a lovesick look in his eye as he gestured for you to continue walking. “After you, my angel.”

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments. “So what am I, princess or angel?” You teased, willing your heart to slow down. You could feel Arthur’s heavy gaze on you as you walked. 

“You can’t be both?”

“‘Fraid not. One or the other.”

“Says who? ‘Cause they clearly haven’t met you.”

“You’re a silly man, Arthur Morgan.”

“I’m only tellin’ the truth! I swear!” 

Finally reaching the practice range, you stood where you had prior, and you set the bucket back down. Turning your head to look at Arthur, you were slightly startled at his closeness. Wrapping  around your midsection, he rested his head on your shoulder that didn’t hold your rifle. “‘Sides, you love it,” he continued. Kissing your temple lightly, he rocked with you back and forth, just enjoying the feeling of having you in his arms. You didn’t bother to reply; you both knew what your answer would be. 

Resting your hands atop his, you leaned back into him, your purpose for being where you were forgotten temporarily. The last rays from the setting sun lit up the field, but the growing darkness was beginning to take over. Sighing, you lightly stroked his arm, rousing his attention. “If you’re trying to distract me, you’re doing a good job at it.”

“Sorry,” he drawled, the slight laugh in his voice making it clear that he wasn’t at all. 

“I’ve got one more target. After that, I’m all yours.”

After a beat of silence, Arthur responded by opening his arms to let you out. The lack of heat from his body caused a slight shiver to wrack your body, the cooling night temperature not helping either. Bringing up your rifle and staring at your target through the scope, you found it hard to concentrate with his eyes on you. Still, you took a deep breath in, then pulled the trigger upon its release.

The shot from the gun shattered the peaceful atmosphere in the field, a few birds that had returned flying away instantly, their angry squawks and your angry curses following the blast. The shot went wide by a few inches, to your not surprise. Incoherently grumbling, you discarded the empty round, the new one loading in with a click. 

You fired off a few more rounds, each one missing your target by a small bit. It was getting late now, and it was starting to get hard to see the bottle now. 

Bringing the gun up again, you were about to fire, until a soft wait from behind you caused you to lower the weapon, looking over at Arthur confused. “No, no, bring the rifle back up.” As perplexed as you were, you complied, bringing the gun up like you were going to fire it, but keeping your finger off the trigger. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Arthur stalked around you, eyes scanning over you, assessing. 

You tried to keep still, but you couldn’t help but shift your feet nervously as his ocean blue eyes observed you. “You’re holdin’ it differently,” Arthur finally spoke, and you lowered the rifle back down.

“Huh?” Bringing it back up again, you did a mental scan of your body. Nothing felt different, but then again you did have a significant time off from using your guns. Maybe your marksmanship wasn’t coming back as well as you thought. 

“Nothin’ major,” Arthur continued. “It’s… it’s your shoulder. The left one. You’re rollin’ it forward more, and I think that’s what’s affecting the shots.”

So you tried rolling back your left shoulder, the injured joint stiff as you readjusted. Apparently that wasn’t enough, and you felt Arthur come back behind you. His chest brushed your back as he brought his arm up to your left shoulder as you held your gun up, holding it but not pushing yet. “Let me know if I’m hurtin’ you,” he murmured, and you could feel his other hand settle on your waist. 

After you nodded, you felt him press the shoulder back. It was slightly tender, but it didn’t hurt too bad. When he was satisfied with your new posture, which was starting to feel familiar, he mirrored the other hand on your waist. His lips were dangerously close to your ear as he leaned in, the fingers on your waist tightening ever-so-slightly. The proximity, while not unwelcome, caused you to take a sharp intake of breath. 

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed, a satisfied hum leaving him when you did so. God, his voice was doing nothing to help your flustered state. “Good… now, shoot.” 

Praying that your exhale wouldn’t come out shakily, you breathed out, pulling the trigger as you did, like who had so many times before. However, this time, instead of the sound of the bullet hitting the hay bale, the sound of glass shattering hit your ears.

Lowering the gun slowly, a joyous laugh left you as you finally registered you hit the target. Spinning around so you were facing Arthur, you smiled brightly, the same expression on his face. “Atta girl,” he practically purred, taking the rifle from your hands and setting it on the ground beside the two of you with a thud. His praise caused a jolt of warmth to shoot through your body, causing your blood to feel like it was simmering. 

Linking your hands around his neck, you played with some of the hair that stuck out from under his hat. “How’d you know I was holding it wrong?” you asked. “It wasn’t even that obvious, you said so yourself.”

You felt him shrug. “I dunno.”

“Spend a lot of time lookin’ at me, then?” Looking up at him, you could tell that some of his confidence was beginning to falter, scared of what your reaction would be to his answer. 

“I…” he trailed off, and you could feel his fingers, which had returned to your waist, begin to pick nervously at your clothing. 

“I don’t mind.” It must have alleviated some of his worries of making you uncomfortable, because his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you nearly flush with his own. His eyes darkened at the contact, and when you tugged slightly at his hair, and a similar whine to the one he let out last time left him. The two of you had shared a good amount of kisses over the past few weeks while Arthur was still here, but they ended before anything happened. This was only the second time you’d heard that noise from him, and you had forgotten how addicting it was. 

He said your name in warning, and you gave him the most innocent look you could muster. 

“You must look at me a lot if you’re able to notice something like that.” You couldn’t help the teasing tilt in your voice. 

“It ain’t my fault you’re breathtaking. And I sure as hell ain’t the only one who looks at you.”

“You’re the only person whose eyes I want on me.” Grabbing one of his wrists, you dragged his hand up your body, bringing it up until it reached your chest. His breath hitched at the action, staring at you with pleading eyes as his hand hovered uncertainty over your breasts. “And the only person whose hands I want on me, too.”

He pulled you impossibly closer, space nonexistent between the two of you. His lips were mere centimeters from yours, and you could feel his shaky exhale as you rocked your hips against his. There was a new heated tension in the air, something you hadn’t experienced with each other yet, but you were more than willing to cross that line tonight. 

“I love you,” he whispered, an utter devotion in his eyes that you’d only seen in the most zealous devotees. But there was nothing holy about the way his lips crashed against yours, desperate and needy and hungry.

The hand that once rested on your waist cradled the side of your neck, holding you securely as he kissed you. His other hand finally made contact with your chest, and you let out pleased groans as he felt you, causing your mouth to part slightly. Eagerly taking this opportunity, Arthur’s tongue swept into your mouth, and your hands fully tangled into his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hat fell somewhere on the ground, the soft thump unheard by both of you. 

He continued exploring your chest, and you craved nothing more than to rip your shirt off so you could feel him touch on your bare skin. Imagining the calluses of his hand running across the delicate skin caused you to shiver, which didn’t go unnoticed by the cowboy. You felt him smile against your lips, before moving his kisses to your jaw, to underneath, then trailing down your neck. 

“You like that?” his spoke, voice debauched. 

“Your hands…” was all you were able to get out before your focus dissolved. 

“What ‘bout them?” He spoke between kisses, littering them across your neck. 

“I want… I want you to touch me.”

He squeezed your chest gently. “I am.”

“Take my shirt off… please.”

“As much as I’d love that, we don’t want the whole camp to see you now. You only want my eyes on you, right?” You felt his teeth nip gently at the base of your throat. 

Groaning, you rolled your head back, partially out of frustration, and partially to give Arthur better access. His touch left your chest, trailing back down your body, inching closer and closer to your center. Rutting your hips up, you tried to meet him halfway, but he remained just out of reach. Instead of touching you where you wanted, you felt light touches circle your waist, lightly brushing the small of your back before settling lower. Grabbing a handful of your ass in his large palm, you felt him smile against your neck as you let out a surprised noise. 

His other hand left your neck, and in a show of strength lifted you into his arms, both hands now holding your backside. Interlocking your legs around his waist, you couldn’t help the shocked laugh that left you. It was no secret that Arthur was a strong man, his muscular build evident of that, but the effortlessness in the way he picked you up had your stomach doing somersaults. 

Still attacking your neck with kisses, you felt him begin to move forward until you felt bark against your back. “Arthur…” you panted, and you heard a pleased groan leave him. An unmistakable hardness pressed into you now, and you felt yourself unconsciously rolling your hips against him. Your own name left his lips, the last syllable trailing off into a moan, which he muffled in the crook of your neck. 

“Please. I need you, Arthur,” you whined out, and Arthur lifted his head up, resting it now against your own. 

“Here?” Arthur asked, breathlessly. When you nodded, you could see him fighting with himself internally. “You sure? It’s… you deserve better. Should take you out… get us a room. Hell, get us an actual bed.”

“I just need you.” You ran your fingers through his hair, the brown locs haven been thoroughly tussled by your hands. Pressing a light kiss on the crooked bridge of his nose, you poured as much sincerity as you could in the action. 

“Fuck… alright princess. But we’ll have to be quick. Someone from camp-”

An unmistakable raspy voice cut through the clearing, startling poor Arthur to the point he nearly dropped you. “Arthur!” John called out, and you felt the man below you grow deathly still. 

“Where the hell are you, Arthur?” John called out again, and you could tell that Arthur was debating whether or not to respond. When the younger outlaw yelled out again, he let out a regretful sigh, before slowly lowering you to your feet. Your knees wobbled, and you held on to his broad shoulders momentarily for balance. A small proud smile adorned his face, which promptly fell when he heard John’s voice again. 

“What?” He yelled back, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. His hands were on your waist, tapping randomly as he awaited a response. You saw the light from John’s lantern begin to illuminate the clearing, so you tried your best to fix up Arthur’s appearance, smoothing out his clothing and adjusting his hair. Based on how the two of you looked, it wouldn’t be hard to determine what was happening, but you wanted to save some of the man’s dignity when facing John. 

Looking down, you saw him adjust himself, trying and failing to hide the obvious tent in his pants. Luckily, it was getting quite dark out, so he wouldn’t have to try too hard to hide it. You gave him a sympathetic smile, and he just sighed defeatedly. “Don’t kill him,” you half-joked, noticing the death glare he gave the figure approaching the two of you. 

Pulling away from you, he turned and walked over to John, you trailing behind him by a few steps. Gathering up the items you’d brought, you returned the rifle to its home over your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye, barely visible due to the lack of illumination, you saw Arthur’s hat lying in the grass, which had been knocked off his head by your hands. 

You put it atop your own, and you found it sliding around as you walked up to the two men, wrapping your arm around Arthur as you joined in the conversation, which was turning into more of an argument. 

“You’re needed back at camp,” you heard John say angrily, not even looking at you as he stared the other man down.

“And I’m sayin’ it can wait. I’m busy.”

“Oh, really?” John challenged. “Doin’ what?” 

Arthur just gave him a pointed look in response, expecting John to figure it out.

“No, really. What is so important right now?”

You could hear Arthur roll his eyes. “Maybe the wolves really did eat your brain, Marston.” You let out a chuckle at that, and John finally seemed to notice your existence. Confusion, then realization, then finally embarrassment washed over his face as he took in your disheveled state and Arthur’s hat on your head. 

John shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with you any longer. “Just… just get back quickly,” he muttered, leaving the two of you as quickly as possible. You heard him grumble something under his breath, before wrapping you into a tight hug, locking your arms to your body. His hat barely stayed on as you tried to look up at him, and you saw his eyes widen as he registered what you were wearing. 

“You’re makin’ it real hard to leave, ya know?”

“So are you.”

“Yeah…” he agreed, yet made no move to loosen his grip. 

Arthur held you for a few moments, the fire that had been growing during the last minutes subsiding to a small candle flame. As much as you both wanted to just continue, the duty to the camp and gang took priority, especially for Arthur. 

Wiggling out of his arms, you returned the hat to its owner, but the angle you placed it at caused it to cover his eyes. “C’mon, cowboy. Giddyap,” you teased, lightly smacking his backside while doing so. You started walking back to camp, following the direction John went

You had gotten a few feet away before Arthur began bounding towards you, causing you to break out in a sprint. Laughing wildly, you ran through the trees, the branches whizzing past your face as you ran towards camp, Arthur hot on your heels. 

Because you weren’t far from camp, it only took a minute or so before you ran in, panting in exhilaration. Running to your tent, you looked behind you, expecting Arthur to be right there. When you were met with empty air, you halted, dirt skidding up at the sudden stop. Looking around, you peered through the darkness, barely able to see anything in the evening light. 

You saw Javier, Bill, and Micah all sitting around a nearby campfire, mindlessly conversing while Javier strummed on his guitar. You saw Molly in her and Dutch’s tent, which was between yours and Arthur’s, getting ready to retire for the night. Abigail was with Jack, sitting with him on her lap while Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen sat around another fire, drinking and laughing with each other. But for the life of you, you couldn’t find Arthur.

Without warning, you found yourself pulled into a strong embrace, the smell of leather and gunpowder filling your senses as Arthur grabbed you. A startled noise left you, turning into laughter as you felt his place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Gotcha, princess.”

“You scared me! How’d you do that?”

He gave you another kiss on your cheek in apology. “I’ve got my ways.”

“Is that all the explanation I’m gonna get?”

Arthur paused for a moment, debating your words. “Yes.” When you just shook your head in amusement, he gave you one last kiss before letting go, albeit reluctantly, and he walked around so he was facing you.. “I’ve gotta go see what they want,” he huffed. And… I just wanna say I’m sorry for tonight. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Arthur.” You tried to reassure him, but he continued to frown slightly. Cupping his face with one palm, your thumb brushed the top of his cheekbone lightly, and you felt him relax under your touch. “I know you’ll make it up to me, eventually. Tonight, just come see me when you’re done. I’ve… It’s been hard sleeping without you.”

“Alright,” he conceded, kissing your hand before returning it to your side. “Go get ready. I’ll be back shortly.”

“You better not keep me waiting, Arthur Morgan,” you warned, backing into your tent slowly. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” he said with a wink, then turning and walking toward Dutch, who stood with his arms crossed, watching the whole interaction between you two. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Arthur would never hear the end of it from the other men and camp. As your tent flaps closed shut, you heard Dutch say something to Arthur, who grumbled something out in response. A hearty laugh from Dutch filled the camp, and you just knew that Arthur’s face was beet red right now.

Undressing quickly, and now only in a chemise, you sat atop the bed, you glanced around your tent. Your tent, which was slowly becoming Arthur and your’s tent, was still lit up by candlelight. Your shared bed (which was yours and Arthur’s cots pushed together) sat in the middle, with the same pelt operating as your flooring. Arthur had yet to fully “move in” with you, but most of his belongings, which wasn’t a lot, sat beside yours. You guessed that in a few weeks he’d be offering his tent to the other members of camp.

Picking up your copy of A Cristmas Carol, you began reading, trying to pass the time as quickly as possible. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

As much as you tried to stay up, the minutes turning to hours as you waited for Arthur to return, you ended up falling asleep, not even tucked into the bedsheets. Your book lay open if you lap, as it had fallen out of your grip.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you remember how the words on the page began to blur, and how it became so hard to focus on the narrative. Eventually, you succumbed, no longer fighting the growing heaviness on your eyelids. 

The bed shifting caused you to stir, groaning slightly as the kink in your neck made itself known, the awkward sleeping position causing your body to protest. You felt the blanket get pulled out from under your legs and wrapped around your body, then a warm body cuddling up next to you, arm resting on your midsection. Shuffling back until your back was flush with their front, you heard Arthur murmur out an apology for waking you. 

You adjusted so your head was now resting on your pillow, and you wove your fingers through Arthurs. “It’s alright,” your voice was heavy with sleep. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” his breath tickled your ear as he spoke. “Dutch wanted me and Lenny to go scout somethin’ out. Went longer than we thought.”

You let out a light hum, and a yawn threatened to overtake you as you spoke. “Tell me more in the mornin’. Get some sleep.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Arthur replied, nuzzling into your hair and sighing deeply. 

Sleep came back easily, and you found yourself being roused a few hours later by the smell of coffee and light chatter. You and Arthur had swapped positions in the night, and you woke with an arm across him and your legs intertwined. 

As carefully as possible you disentangled from him, halting all movement when you heard his breathing change. Eventually you were free, and you sat on the edge of the bed. Glancing behind, you saw Arthur still fast asleep, a light snore coming from the man. 

It was nice, seeing him so at ease. The normal furrow in his brow was smoothed over, the creases around his eyes seemed less prominent. Everything about him seemed softer somehow, like all the troubles in his life had been sucked out of his body while he slept. You just hoped that one day you might bring him that same peace in the conscious world. 

Stretching as you stood, you quickly got dressed, being careful not to make any loud noises. You wore something simple today, opting for a pair of pants and a shirt. Eying Arthur’s growing pile of belongings, you chose to wear one of his button ups. You smiled as you put it on; despite being freshly cleaned, it still smelled like him.

Tucking the blue shirt in, you left your tent after putting your boots on. The bright morning sun caused you to squint heavily, making your way to the communal coffee pot. If you had to guess, you’d say it was about nine or so in the morning, most of the camp up at this point. Saying good morning to those you passed, you poured two cups of coffee, the liquid precariously sloshing over the edge of the cups as you walked back to your tent, drinking yours while you walked. 

You were about halfway back when you spotted Lenny sitting at one of the tables, who kept anxiously looking up at your tent while cleaning his gun. He gave you a polite smile as you approached, which heavily contradicted the impatient way he tapped his foot. As you got closer, you saw how tired he looked, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Good morning, Lenny!” You greeted, trying your best to sound chipper. 

“G’morning, miss,” He tried his best to not sound annoyed, you could tell.

“Care to tell me why you’re glaring at my tent?” You teased.

Sheepishly, he dropped his gaze, the tapping of his foot slowly subsiding. “Sorry, miss. It’s just… I need Arthur up, and he’s in your tent, and I don’t wanna be improper and walk in there…”

Laughing loudly, you set one of the cups down on the table before patting him lightly on his shoulder. “You’re too good for us, kid. I’ll go get him up for you… if I get to come with you two, that is.”

“How’d you… you don’t even know what we’re doing.”

Shrugging, you took a sip of your drink. “I like surprises. So, do we have a deal? I’ll save you from having to walk into a lady’s tent, and then I get to tag along on whatever y’all are doing.”

“I guess,” Lenny sighed, but you could tell he wasn’t upset. He sounded more tired than anything.

With a final light tap on his shoulder, you picked up both drinks, taking another hearty sip from your own. “Thanks, Lenny.”

“Nah, thank you. From me and my dignity.”

His response had you rolling your eyes, shaking your head as you entered your tent. Excitement was growing in you, your desire to finally leave camp finally being fulfilled. Arthur was still passed out, and you felt bad for reaching down and shaking him gently. You watched his eyes flutter open, and you smiled warmly. 

“Good morning, pretty boy,” you brushed his hair back, and his eyes threatened to close again. He was barely awake, and you could tell because he had barely any reaction to what you called him. “Lenny’s waiting for you.”

That seemed to stir him, and he practically shot up out of bed, nearly causing you to spill both of your drinks. He cursed to himself, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes as he paced around the tent. He was still fully dressed from last night, the only things missing being his hat, shoes, and gunbelt, which you watched him grab and put on, turned partially away from you as he dressed. The furrow in his brow was back, and you also noticed the heavy dark circles under his eyes. 

Pressing the hot beverage into his hand, which he took with a soft thank you, you set you own on the nightstand before fixing the collar of his shirt which got all messed up during the night. “What time did you get back?” 

“Late,” he responded between gulps, either not noticing or caring that the liquid was scorching hot.

“Arthur…” you sighed. “You look exhausted.”

He just shrugged, neither agreeing with or denying your statement. “How long has it been since you’ve slept for more than four hours?” You’d always noticed how tired Arthur always was, pushed to his limits day in and day out, and this conversation wasn't new for either of you. Even before the two of you became lovers, you’d always hound him on his sleep, or lack of it. It was, however, the first time you’d asked him that question, and you could tell he was trying to come up with an answer or excuse. You found yourself coming up with a plan that would get you and Arthur away from camp, at least long enough to let him sleep for a while. 

“After we get done with whatever you and Lenny are doing, me and you are gonna take a little vacation. And you can’t say no.” You added that last bit when he opened his mouth to protest. 

As he woke up more, a confused look crossed his features as he comprehended what you said, and he turned towards you. “We?” 

“Yup. I’m going with y’all.”

“I don’t…” he trailed off with a sigh, realizing that arguing would be pointless. “Are you sure?” You nodded.  “Alright. We’ll fill you in on the details on the way there. Shouldn’t be too complicated.” He took a final gulp of his drink, and set the empty cup next to yours. “Also, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, princess. You focus on getting yourself back to normal.”

“But I am pretty much back to normal! And you’ve taken such good care of me these past few weeks, it’s time I return the favor.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Maybe I don’t. But I’m gonna do it anyway. I want to help you, to care for you. And like I already said, you can’t say no.” 

“You’re difficult, woman,” he shook his head, as if amused by your antics. “We’ll discuss this later. Don’t wanna make Lenny wait any longer.”

“Alright,” you accepted. “I’ll see you outside, love.”

Arthur actually short-circuited at the use of the new pet name, and you giggled as he stood there dumbfounded, and you left the tent before he could say anything. “Arthur’ll be right out, Lenny!” you shouted out, the man’s head snapping up as you spoke. 

Getting to his feet and slinging the very ocean repeater over his shoulder, Lenny gratefully smiled at you. “Thanks again, miss. Did he tell you anything or…?”

“Nothin’. Said you tell me on the way there, and that it ain’t supposed to be too difficult, apparently. Not that anything ever ends up that way,” the final part you muttered more to yourself, and it went unheard by the other. 

“You got a bandana? Gonna end up needin’ it. What we’re doing ain’t exactly lawful.”

“My favorite. Lemme go grab one-”

“I got it. Here,” you felt the cloth placed around your neck, Arthur securing it with a knot. “Go ahead and meet us by the horses, Lenny. We’ll be right there.”

With a nod, the younger gunslinger headed toward the hitching post. Adjusting your hair so that it sat over the bandana, Arthur then combed the stands back so that they were tucked behind your ears. “Is that my shirt?” He asked once Lenny was far enough away.

“You just noticed?” You chuckled, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Shut it, princess.”

“Never.” You stuck your tongue out at him, then started heading toward Lenny. “You don’t mind, right?”

“God, not at all. I’d give you all of ‘em if it meant I’d get to see you wear ‘em every day.”

“Then what’d you wear?”

“Nothing, but I suppose you’d like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you faced forward to hide your expression as you imagined a shirtless Arthur. “Hush now,” you feebly reprimanded.

“Never.”

By this time you had reached your destination, mounting your horse (after thanking Lenny for saddling him up) who knickered excitedly. Both of you hadn’t been out of camp in some time, and you both missed the feel of the wind in your hair and the exhilaration of the ride. You wanted nothing more than to just bolt out of camp, but you held steady, tapping your fingers to try and let out some of the building energy within you.

Arthur, after mounting, took the lead as your group exited camp. After saying goodbye to Javier, who was standing at the front of camp on watch, Arthur began explaining the plan, going at an easy trot as the three of you rode, looking over at you as he spoke. 

It was a home robbery, and a rather large one at that. Located east of Valentine, about a mile or so from Emerald ranch, stood a large multi-story house that was rumored to be filled with precious items and jewels. Lenny and Arthur’s scouting provided intel about the guards that patrolled the ground, getting their general numbers and learning the relative schedule they operated on. By learning that information, they were able to figure out when it was best to move in order to not be spotted. 

Originally, when it was just going to be two of them, only Arthur was going into the house itself, Lenny staying back on watch, ready to create a distraction that would allow Arthur to leave unnoticed. But now that you were tagging along, it was up to you to decide what you wanted to do: join Arthur, or send Lenny with him and be on watch yourself. 

“Well, saying the last time I was on guard duty didn’t go so great, I’ll go in with Arthur.” Your “joke” seemed to only amuse you, but then you saw the way Lenny tried to hide a light chuckle. 

When Arthur had finished explaining, you were still only about a quarter of the way there, the casual pace Arthur had set making your journey slow. You tried not to seem too fidgety, knowing that Arthur and Lenny were quite tired and probably wouldn’t like to go as fast as you’d like, but there were a few times when you had to slow down TT and ease him back; it seemed you were both getting antsy. 

Arthur, bless him, took notice of this, and he moved himself off the road to let you take the lead. Taking your spot, you cocked your head, trying your best to keep your eyes on him. “Go to Emerald Ranch. Wait for us there.”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to pull out all your hair. Go ‘head and ride out ahead of us, fast as you like… but be safe. We’ll meet you there.”

You’re sure you looked crazy with the excited grin on your face. “You’re serious?”

“Very. Now,” Arthur shooed you, “go.”

“I love you, Arthur Morgan,” you said, before taking off in a cloud of dust. It took little encouragement from you to get TT moving, snorting wildly as he pushed as hard as he could, happy to finally stretch his muscles out. With a loud whoop that bounced off the rocks and trees, you quickly rode away, Arthur and Lenny becoming small specks on the horizon. Arms outstretched and your eyes closed, you took in the feeling of the wind finally being back in your hair, trusting TT to take you to where you needed to go. 

You hadn’t even realized you were crying, the sheer happiness you were feeling overwhelming you. Yes, you loved being at camp, and you loved the people there, but you were starting to feel trapped. You knew that being put on a “bedrest” was for your health and to allow you to fully recover, but it was exhausting. You were still an outlaw at heart, and you needed to roam. You couldn’t be tied down to a place for so long, and a part of you knew that’s why you and Arthur became friends in the first place: two wild hearts that needed space to ride free, the only bonds holding you being the ones you held for each other in your hearts, not where you called “home” or where you lay your head at night. 

Opening your eyes again, the world around you passed in a blur as TT ran, hooves barely hitting the ground. As you passed other riders, you heard them cry out, startled, but you paid them no mind. Right now, you were allowed to be as selfish as you wanted on the road. You were barely able to make out a signpost that showed that you were going in the right direction. 

Patting his neck, you urged your horse onward, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him, just like the last time. However, instead of it being the ride between life and death, it was a ride of pure joy. Joy that you had survived and overcame so much. Joy that you finally confessed to Arthur the love you had for him, and that he felt the same, and you were now closer to him more than you ever thought possible. Joy that despite the honestly shitty cards you and the gang had been dealt, you were all still thriving, able to create bonds and relationships in spite of the hardships. 

Life, in all of its bullshit, was treating you well. You were going to enjoy it for as long as you could, and you were going to do everything in your power to bring Arthur the same joy you felt. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You arrived at Emerald Ranch nearly fifteen minutes before the other two.

Letting your horse drink heavily from one of the many troughs available, you walked around the area, chatting with a few of the farmhands as you waited for Lenny and Arthur to arrive. You had even traded some items with the fence, Seamus, for a little extra cash, in the middle of stuffing it into your saddlebag when you heard them approach. 

“You already robbed the place?” Lenny joked as you remounted, falling back to your original position in the formation. You were surprised, however, when Arthur didn’t take the lead, instead motioning for Lenny to lead the way as he took his spot next to you.

“Y’all were taking too long,” you chuckled. “Nah, just selling a few trinkets I had.”

“Get a good amount for ‘em?”

“Nothin’ crazy. But money’s money.”

“Take what you can get, I guess,” Lenny shrugged, falling into silence as he continued forward.

“How was your ride?” Arthur asked, finally speaking since meeting you at the ranch, which you had now left. 

“Amazing. It was… needed. Thank you, Arthur.” You beamed brightly.

“Of course. Can’t blame you for wantin’ to do that.” You watched him glance towards Lenny to see if he was paying attention before leaning over, as well as he could, to whisper to you. “And, for the record, I love you too.”

“I guess if we’re saying things for the record,” Lenny didn’t even bother to turn around as he interjected, “then you should know that this one turned bright red once you left. Didn’t think I’d ever see a man like him that flustered, but here we are.”

“Aw,” you cooed, flicking the rim of Arthur’s hat down as he was still leaning close to you. “Did I embarrass you, Arthur?”

“Am I really gettin’ ganged up on by both of y’all?” Arthur sat back upright now, scoffing in disbelief when you and Lenny both nodded. “I see how it is, then. Well, I’ll just leave you two to it…” Arthur sighed, a slight grin peeking up at the corners of his mouth. 

“No,” you dragged the word out, nearly falling out of your saddle as you reached to grab his reins. “I’m sorry,” you laughed. 

“I ain’t,” Lenny countered. 

“Remind me why I keep you around, kid?”

“Well, it ain’t up to you if I stay or go. And I distinctly remember you asking me to go with you on this.”

“And I am startin’ to regret my decision.”

“You can always change your mind. Want me to go get John? Or Sean?”

“I pick you, cause unlike them, you don’t annoy me. Which is slowly startin’ to change.”

You had held on to Arthur’s reins during this entire exchange, you head moving back and forth as they spoke. “What has gotten into both of you?” You couldn’t help laughing in surprise. 

Finally, Lenny looked at you. “Sorry, miss. Just… tired.”

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep when we get back. Both of you,” you made sure to look at Arthur when you said this. “I’ll talk to Dutch, see if I can’t get a break for the two of you. There are sure as hell others who can do this type of work, if only for a day.”

“That ain’t necessary-” you cut Lenny off with a raised brow. “Alright. Thanks, miss.”

“Of course. And don’t think I forgot about what I told you, Arthur.”

“No I didn’t.” He responded unenthusiastically. 

Wonderful. Now,” you finally let go of Arthur’s horse, “let’s go rob these sons of bitches.”

It took about twenty minutes for your group to reach your target, pulling off the trail and into a thicket as the house came into view. Dismounting and then sending the horses away, you stayed crouched behind Arthur as the two men made their way to the house, keeping to the dense underbrush, remaining undetected by the guards you saw. 

Arthur held a hand up, and you came to a halt, and he pulled out binoculars and a pocket watch. Quickly surveying the area, he then handed the binoculars to the other man before checking the time. “Right. Here’s the plan. You see them guards over there?” Arthur pointed to two of the guards that patrolled one of the side entrances to the house. “They rotate out every hour, meanin’ theres about a two minute window where there’s no one. That’s when we move. Inside, from what we can tell, isn’t heavily guarded, but be cautious. There shouldn’t be any homeowners or servants or anything like that either.”

 Arthur now pointed at the house. “Once we’re inside, you can take the top floor. When you’re done, meet where we entered. Lenny will give us twenty minutes, then he’ll create a ruckus, giving us an opportunity to leave. We’ll meet up at Emerald Ranch, then head back.” He took a deep breath. “Make sense?”

“Yeah. How long until the next rotation?”

“It’s 10:53, so about seven minutes. I’ll give you a heads up.”

Nodding, you settled back on to your haunches, adjusting the equipment on your body as you waited. “Are you fine with what you’re doing, Lenny?”

“Yes, miss. Ain’t my first time doing it. Arthur can vouch for me.”

“He'll be fine.”

Content, you sat in silence for the next couple minutes, staring off into space until someone pulling your hand had you refocusing back on reality. Arthur’s face was now covered by his bandana, but his eyes crinkled as he pulled you along, and he motioned for you to affix your own bandana. Securing the fabric, you relinked your hand with his, keeping crouched as the two of you approached the house, being mindful of any branches or twigs that you might step on that would alert the guard.

Just like Arthur had said, when the top of the hour rolled around, the two guards stationed at the side left, turning their backs to you as they moved to their new spots. Glancing both ways, he bolted for the side once he deemed it clear, holding on tight to you. The door, thank goodness, was unlocked, and the two of you slipped inside, seemingly unnoticed.

The first part, and arguably the hardest, was done. Glancing around, you took the large bag that Arthur handed you as you both took in as much as you could. You were standing, wll, crouching in a large walled in  dining area; a large oak table stood in the center adorned with expensive china and silverware; a tall china cabinet stood in the corner, various baubles hiding within the shelves; a large staircase was directly at your right, which you started to make your way towards, stopping when Arthur grabbed your hand. 

“Promise me, that if you get caught, you’ll get the hell out. Run. Don’t look back.” He spoke low to not alert anyone, but it made it no less emphatic. His words were surprisingly familiar; the last time he spoke like that was right before you got kidnapped.

“And my answer is still the same: I can’t promise anything, but for you I will try.” It was all you could say before you went back to trying to climb the staircase, time being a limited resource. You had seen the fear in Arthur’s eyes, and you could feel your own worry for him as well. Things were different now, and there was more on the line this time. But you couldn’t afford any anxieties; you had a job to do.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You had to commend yourself on a job well done, clearing the top floor quickly and efficiently. You bag was almost filled to the top, and you slung it over your shoulder, looking like some evil version of St. Nicholas. The house had no shortage of jewelry, gems, and other valuable items, and you doubted whoever owned them was going to be missing them for long. 

Shuffling slowly down the stairs so as to not make too much noise, and you sat on the bottom step as you waited for Arthur to finish, as you literally had no room to carry anything else. Making sure your bag was securely closed, you peeked through one of the windows that were parallel to the door you had entered. Two new guards stood watch, chatting with each other without a care in the world, not aware that two people were currently robbing the place of all its valuables. 

Arthur only took a few more minutes than you, bag equally as heavy as he plopped down next to you on the stairs. Pulling out the pocket watch, he read the time, before turning towards you to read. 

11:16. 

Sighing, you leaned back, the back of your head thumping against the hardwood flooring. You dared not speak, just in case, but you let your guard down slightly. There was no one in the house, just as Arthur had said. It seemed like this whole adventure was going to go off without a hitch, for once. 

Maybe you were too relaxed, because when you felt Arthur rest his hand on your thigh, you jumped out of your skin. It was hard to tell because of the mask, but you think he whispered an apology. As Arthur rubbed the muscles there, you felt yourself relaxing again, resting your head back and closing your eyes.

You weren’t expecting Arthur to slowly bring his touch further up your thigh, massaging as he went. Peeking at him, you found him already looking at you. He halted his exploration, raising his brow in silent questioning as he tested the waters. When you nodded, he didn’t continue, still giving you plenty of time to change your mind if you wanted. 

“Please,” you doubted he could even hear you, but he seemed to understand, continuing up your thigh at a slow pace. He shifted closer to you, the creak of the wood barely audible over your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Still holding eye contact with you, he continued his ascent, mere inches away from the junction of your thigh and hip. 

Instead of moving inward, however, you felt his touch disappear before reemerging on your other thigh, repeating the same process as he caressed you. You said nothing, only letting out small pleased sighs that were only audible to you. 

Finally reaching the apex of your thigh, his squeezing and massaging turned to featherlight touches, barely felt through the material of your pants. Running his fingers across your hips, he repeated the motion a few times, laughing when he heard you finally let out an audible noise, which was a frustrated huff. Like last time, he was so close to where you wanted him to touch you, but he remained so far. You knew that he wasn’t going to do anything here, in the middle of robbing a home of all things, but a part of you hoped that he would just throw all caution in the wind and take you right there.

As soon as the touches started, they left. Arthur leaned back, looking almost startled in a way, like he’d just been snapped out of a trance of sorts. “Shit… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease-”

Shouting from outside had his head snapping towards it, and you were immediately on your feet, peering outside the window with Arthur behind you. His proximity behind you wasn’t helping you calm down, but you forced it down. There would be time later to get him back for his teasing, but right now it was time to go. 

Lenny, back on his horse, had approached the house, standing far enough away to lead the guards away from the house. The two guards were only a few feet from Lenny now, and roughly twenty feet away from the house, giving you enough clearing to leave. They were engaged in a heated discussion, one of the guards training his gun on Lenny while the other did more of the talking. 

Both of you slung the bags over your shoulders, the metal items clunking as they were jostled around. Grabbing your hand, he led you out the front door, moving slowly to not create any too much noise. The argument with Lenny seemed to have the guards full attention, and loud enough to allow you guys to move faster. 

Before long, you were far enough away to safely whistle for your horse, who came running from a nearby bush. Both of you secured your bags to the horses, riding as far away from the house as you could and toward Emerald Ranch. Pulling the bandana off, the breeze did little to cool you down, the fire consuming you only able to be put out by one thing. The look in Arthur’s eyes as he rode away had you shifting in your saddle, but not because you were uncomfortable. You took off after him, and you took a steadying breath. 

It was going to be a long ride back.

[yzashaven]

hii! i hope you’re having a lovely day/night! can i request a fatui!scara x reader where he comes home one night to find her crying alone in her bed because she’s insecure and scared she’s not good enough for him :(! thank you!

✰ ━━━ comforting you <3

FEATURING fatui!scaramouche x fem!reader

WARNINGS mentions of insecurities

NOTE tysm for this request! i fucking love soft fatui scara so much. the cunning and ever so mean harbinger that turns gentle and sweet for his special someone :( hope this is okay and that you enjoy it!!

"what a tiring day..." scaramouche sighs as he finally finishes his final task of the day. it's really late at night when he comes home so of course, the streets and the house is quiet. he calls out to you as soon as he enters. no response. so he begins to walk around the house, putting his big ass hat down before trying to find you. as he made his way upstairs into your bedroom, he can hear soft cries coming from the other side of the door. he immediately opens it up and walks inside, concerned about you and there he wishes his eyes were deceiving him. you were on the bed, hugging a pillow while burrying your face in it as a way to muffle your sad sobs.

scaramouche rushed to your side and stroked your head as he spoke in a gentle manner, "my love... w-what's wrong? did something happen?" you lifted up your face at the sound of his voice and he hurried to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb wiping away your tears as they kept coming. "s-scara... i..." you couldn't speak properly. the only thing that left your lips were sounds of you sobbing, whimpering, and choking back tears. he looked at you with worry in his eyes and took you in his arms, embracing you with the warmth of his body. "tell me what's wrong, darling... i'll listen." you hugged him tight as your tears drenched his shoulder and through constant hics you tell him, "i just... feel like... y-you... you deserve betterㅡ" he parted away for you to face him as he kept listening to your words. "look at me... i'm not pretty, i'm not smart, i'm not strong. i'm just some random girl a-and... i'm n-not... good enough for youㅡ" he cut you off with a quick soft kiss on your lips, chuckling softly as he spoke. "oh, my love... you're the prettiest out of anything and everything in this world. you're intelligent and so strong, i've seen you."

he gives you a gentle smile, "...and you aren't just some random girl, you're way more than that. you're my one and only, someone very special and precious to me." "b-but what if... you leave me for someone who's more... more deserving of youㅡ" you begin to sob quietly again. "don't even think of finishing that sentence..." scaramouche says, "i won't leave you, never. i wish to be with you for as long as eternity. you have my word." he adds before taking your hand and kissing it tenderly. your cries start to die down as you calm yourself, "but... scara, you're a high ranking harbinger and i don't... even have a title that can compare to that. i-isn't it embarrassing for you to be with someone like... like me?" you look at him as tears start to form in your eyes once again. he sighs as he shakes his head and hugs you close to him, his hands finding their way to your soft locks, combing them with his fingers gently. "being a harbinger is nothing but a title. a part of my work. i'm not even the least bit embarrassed to tell anyone that i like you. and it's nobody's business who i get together with, who i chose to be with for the rest of my life."

"and that somebody just happens to be you." he locks his eyes filled with emotion and passion with yours. "you're the one i want, the one i need, and the one i love. okay?" scaramouche smiles after seeing you nod at his words. "...why me though?" he tilts his head before answering, "why not you? you're perfect for me and that's all that matters. i like youㅡ actually, no... i love you." you feel like crying again after hearing his words but not because of painful thoughts, but tears of joy... who could imagine someone so focused on his work, talks sharply to basically anyone he meets, and has an arrogant persona with a massive superiority complex would be able to say such sweet assuring words?

"are you sure...?" you look up at him and he wipes the remaining tears on your face, you decide to ask him one last question. "do you... do you love me?" he stops stroking your hair for a while before he lets out a chuckle, "of course i do. i love you so much." you could feel the truth and love in his words as you two share a gentle kiss. you were both cuddling in bed, exchanging words of love to each other along with a few kisses here and there. soon enough, you find yourself drifting off to sleep in his arms. he sighs softly and kisses your head, "goodnight, my love." watching you peacefully sleep for a while before falling into slumber himself.

[bubble-tea-blossom]

The Soldier and the Smuggler

5. The Gate

Joel Miller / f!reader, 6.5 k, 18+ only

Warnings: talk of attempted SA, violence specifically to a man's wiener he deserves it tho

Previous chapter

You’re stood outside the door to your apartment. Your hands are shaking too much for you to put the key in the lock. You don’t know how long you stand there, key in hand, staring at the metal 210 above the knocker.

You give up and knock three times. It takes a few minutes for the door to open, a confused call of your name behind the door from your aunt who’s not really your aunt.

She opens the door, slippers on her feet, voice groggy, “What’re you doing?”

You have to swallow your dry throat to be able to speak, “Hey May, sorry to wake you, the key kept getting stuck.”

You walk into the apartment, slipping your jacket off your shoulders. You hear May shut the door behind you and lock it again, pulling the deadbolt.

“The hell you doing out this time of night?” She asks.

You’ve practiced your lie on the way home, too bad your voice shakes anyways, “Got called out after you went to bed. But I get the next two days off.”

You drape your jacket across the kitchen chair as you pass, going for the water jug on the counter. You go to drink a glass and find your hands are still shaking enough to make the water tremble.

You hear on repeat in your head, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

You swear Aunt May is a psychic or something, she is uncomfortably talented at reading your mind. And you really don’t want to worry her. The truth will only worry her.

You also just don’t want to think about it. You don’t want to think about your wrists being pinned down. About the hand with a fistful of your hair slamming your head against the table. About-

Stop.

You’re fine. You tell yourself. Nothing actually happened. Those men are dead now.

A shiver wracks its way down your spine.

You see May approach you from the side like a trapped animal. You can’t bring yourself to look at her. If you look at her, she’ll know. And just the thought of it roils in your gut with shame.

She reaches your side, with a whisper of your name she places a gentle hand on your wrist. Right where you’re covered in bruises beginning to bloom in the shape of handprints.

This is where you breakdown. Immediately May wraps you in a fierce hug, making soothing sounds as you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you sob into her shoulder.

She just gently shushes you. Eventually she leads you to your bed that’s placed on the floor of what’s supposed to be the dining area. The apartment is only a one bedroom, but you wanted your only family left as close as possible. You took the floor, she had the bedroom. It was worth it.

“You need to let it out, hunny. It will help with the process.” She promises, stroking your hair with all the love of a mother.

You feel your heart wrench. Even now, you don’t want to disappoint her. If she finds out this was because of you trying to find her insulin, she’ll be crushed.

You have to start you sentence about five times before you’re able to actually speak.

“I heard from Sammy about this guy who had insulin,” you start. You keep your eyes on the floor but can feel Aunt May’s reaction besides you. Her body stiffening as she probably puts together what’s happened. She doesn’t say anything, just lets you continue.

“I set up a trade,” May brushes your hair behind your ear, revealing your bruised cheekbone, “It didn’t go well,” you finish, your voice barely audible even to you.

May takes a deep breath. “Did he assault you?” She asks with a clinical quality to her voice. Before her vision started going, May worked as an ER nurse for decades. You doubt this is the first conversation like this she’s had.

You shake your head slowly. “Someone stopped them before…” you slam your eyelids shut, trying to keep the images out of your head. You’re not strong enough, you can’t finish the sentence.

May’s silence somehow tells you she understands.

Eventually, after many minutes spent in silence with her gently stroking your hair, she speaks again, “Do you know who it was? That helped you?”

No. You shake your head. You remember Randy spitting out the name ‘Miller,’ but you don’t have the energy to tell her. It doesn’t matter anyways.

May’s arm around you squeezes you further into her embrace. You don’t want to think about tonight. Not now, not ever. It’s how you’ve survived each tragedy that comes and shakes your entire world, one loss after another.  

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

And yet…the stranger’s form will be burned into your mind forever. The shadow that came to your side, that killed for you without hesitation. Hands that held you gently if briefly. The voice in the dark comforting you with an awkward earnesty. Telling you were safe now.

Another shiver runs over your body. You couldn’t feel less safe.

It’s over. You tell yourself again. The way through, is never looking back.

You wish him well, whoever he is, but for your sake, you hope you never see him again.

… Five years later…

You run for your life in the dark. The only light is held in the hands of the smuggler running besides you, the halo of light shaking up and down as it illuminates the path a few feet ahead.

“Don’t you smugglers have multiple exits everywhere?” You shout over the cries of the infected giving chase a couple dozen feet behind. You can’t count on your fingers how many times you would chase someone through a building complex only for them to turn a corner and just vanish. It was as infuriating as it was impressive.

The smuggler doesn’t respond. From what you can see of his face, he looks the most worried you’ve seen yet. Eyes wide, mouth pulled in a tight line. That is not comforting. You’ve seen him stare down large, aggressive men with guns like he’s bored.

You know all too well the special type of terror infected will inflict on you. You have low expectations for your life expectancy, you just never wanted it to end with a fungus conquering your body and mind, turning you into a slave with the sole goal to spread the infection.

The smuggler screeches to a halt, shinning the light on two possible tunnels.

“Shit,” he breathes, shinning his light on the next two tunnels that diverge. “There’s supposed to be three, take the middle,” he pants, panic creeping into his voice. You feel your skin crawl listening to the infected draw closer and closer. You can’t stand here waiting for them like a deer in headlights.

You fist the back of his shirt, fabric damp with sweat, and push him forward.

“Leap of faith,” you pray, guiding him to the tunnel on the right. Your choice is purely a roll of the dice. You feel the smuggler give in, accepting your control for the moment.

You run, and run, so long that you feel exhaustion start to creep into your legs, into your lungs. You’re not sure how much longer you can run like this. Anytime it seems like you might have lost the pack, a few seconds later you can hear them again. They’re relentless, the fungus driving them harder than is possible for you or the smuggler to keep up with.

You almost pass it, the beam of salvation, mistaking it for a dead end at first. But then you stop and look again, at the ladder leading straight up to a manhole in the ceiling.

“Smuggler!” You yell, hearing the infected react to your echoing voice. You feel more than see the smuggler do a one-eighty turn behind you, before he’s brushing past you. He doesn’t even look at you, too busy launching himself up three rungs at a time.

“Right, ladies first or whatever,” you snipe, mostly to yourself while you watch him climb while you’re grounded like a baby bird. The rusted metal creaks under his weight in a way that makes you cringe.

At the top, the smuggler starts pushing against the manhole cover. You watch with despair as it remains shut. He pushes again, teeth bared in a snarl from effort, and you see a thin rim of light being exposed, the sound of something heavy grating above accompanies every little shift the smuggler manages. There must be something covering the hole on the outside.

It doesn’t matter, you’re out of time. The smuggler knows this too because he keeps pushing, his groan of effort is the loudest you’ve heard him be. You whip your head around when the screams of the infected sound like they’re literally on top of you. You can’t stay immobile and wait for death to come screaming for you.

You step onto the first rung and feel it almost immediately give way under your added weight. This only adds to the challenge of scaling a ladder with your hands tied, but adrenaline demands you keep moving, and so you hop up to the second rung and begin your climb there.

Unfortunately, you don’t have very far to go, stuck only halfway up with the smuggler still battling with the cover. You feel a little glimmer of hope when with a herculean effort he gets it halfway open. Good thing too because the infected are here, you don’t need to look down to know they’re swarming the bottom of the ladder. In fact, you feel a sharp tug on your boot, and with shot nerves, you leap up another rung to try and get away.

This move almost damns the both of you, when the added weight of the infected combined with your jolting proves to be too much for the rusted bolts keeping the ladder up on the wall. About half of them finally pop loose, and the whole ladder swings away from the wall, with only one side of it remaining bolted secure. The infected that was at your heel falls to the ground as the ladder sways, and the smuggler has to let the cover slam shut again in order to hang on.

This is when you look down, not on purpose, more on instinct.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse. The fungus covered bodies on the ground are just a swirling mass of teeth and limbs, a thing of nightmares. When one starts trying to climb back up to you, you feel the ladder shudder again. It won’t be much more than a few seconds before the whole thing comes off the wall and you fall right into the pit of infected.

With a well placed kick right to the infected’s forehead, you send it crashing back down, swallowed by the swirling mass of bodies.

You hear the smuggler continue to struggle with the cover above you. And then there’s almost a pop in the atmosphere as fresh air floods in and the little light the stars and moon give, grace you. You look up at see the smuggler already pulling himself up and out.

You don’t wait. The smuggler’s urges of “Move, move!” are redundant.

The ladder really doesn’t like all this movement. You’re almost at the top. The smuggler is right at the edge, a hand stuck down for you to grab.

You can feel the fresh air, but you can also feel the frantic thrashing of multiple infected climbing over top of each other right below your heel. You feel the ladder give one last shudder, and you know that is it’s last.

You brace your muscles and take a leap of faith. Still two rungs short from the top, the impact of your jump is the final straw for this camel, and the ladder pops enough bolts to start falling.

Your outstretched arms are grabbed by the smuggler, his grip like iron. Hard enough to hurt but you wouldn’t want anything less.

With his help, you start shimmying your belly up onto the edge of solid ground. And then you feel yourself being pulled back into the pit, so suddenly that the smuggler’s grip starts to slip.

You don’t have to look to know an infected is hanging off your foot, and no amount of kicking is getting rid of it. Then the fucker bites you. Hard enough that you feel the pressure of teeth through the tough leather of your military grade boot.

The smuggler starts pulling you up again, but with the added weight, the angle is all wrong.

“Fuckers got my foot,” you try to sound angry, but it comes out as more of a wheeze.

He reaches down and grabs a fistful of the belt snapped around your hips and tries pulling you up from there with a little more success.

It doesn’t matter, your brain whispers to you, you’re dead anyways.

Then I’m not dying down there, you answer yourself. With a bellow of absolute fury, you stomp so hard on the infected biting you, you hear a sickening crack, and after a heartbeat, the weight drops away.

The smuggler has a much easier time pulling you the rest of the way, one hand still on your belt, he drags you a few feet along the rough asphalt. Once you’re not at risk of falling back in, he releases you.

You hear him replace the manhole cover and the screams become blissfully muffled. You look over and see the shape of a giant piece of concrete with rebars sticking out of its side right next to the hole.

If that was what was covering the hole, and was what the smuggler shoved away, then you’d been underestimating him. Which as impressive as it is, does little to make you feel better. You can see the paths of escape narrow even more.

You let your eyes adjust to the different lighting; still dark but now you can actually see the buildings around and the street you’re sitting in the middle of. Next you start unlacing your boot. Even in the dark, you can see the teeth marks in the leather.

You need to know. With trembling hands, you rip the shoe off, and next your sock. The smuggler sees what’re you doing, and crouches down beside you, shinning his light on your foot.

You scan every inch, running your fingers over to try and feel any break in the skin. After a few heart pounding minutes, there’s nothing. You’ll need a new boot at some point, but that’s it.

Finally, you look at the smuggler who flicks his eyes to meet yours. His expression is carefully neutral, as if he didn’t care either way, but is glad you aren’t bit so he can still get his payment.

That pisses you off. His indifference, but mostly because you can see through the veil the indifference is holding up. Or at least, you think you can. There’s a real person behind the mask, and that only means it hurts worse.

You have to look away, feeling every emotion you’ve been stuffing down for the last two days bubble up your throat.

Fuck.

And you start to cry.

It’s less of crying and more of your emotions leaking through the cracks of your own mask. You put your face in your hands and try and get your shit together, your jaw clenched so hard you hear your teeth groan. The tears that run are slow and are wiped away before they can fall.

It takes longer than you will admit. You sit there, every muscle as tense as iron as you feel the panic try so desperately to tip your boat, and sweep you under the dark wave.

 During your silent breakdown, the smuggler just sits down with a groan a few feet away to catch his breath. And he waits.

He doesn’t grab you, or prod you with his gun, demanding that you get up. He just catches his breath and looks at the stars.

Eventually, the worst of the emotional storm passes, willed away. You look up from your hands. He passes you his water canteen, his face as impassive as ever. You take a few sips, watching him. Embarrassment knocks on your door, but your exhaustion won’t let it in. You’re mostly just, confused.

“You’re weird,” is all you can come up with, your voice hoarse. The smuggler just grunts.

You turn your gaze to the moon, just barely visible between the buildings. The same moon that you’ve been looking skyward at your whole life, graces your sight.

In your vulnerable state, you feel a memory creep up behind you like a monster in the dark.

This moment, you sitting in the dark, with the stranger sitting with you; at a respectable distance, silent as he waits for you to get your shit together. It brings up memories. Ones you’ve done your best to not think about.

“We should get going,” says the smugger as he stands, snapping you mercifully from the rabbit hole you were on the precipice of. “We’re too exposed.”

You answer by pulling your sock and boot back on, before pulling yourself off the ground. The smuggler directs you with a turn of his head. You follow.

The smuggler keeps you two along the shadows of the buildings, but so far, the streets are deserted. You know if you were to try another escape attempt, here in the maze of the dark city would be the place.

Then the smuggler clears his throat, turning his head slightly so he can look at you. And speaks in barely above a whisper.

“Thanks.”

When all you do is stare back with your eyebrows shot to the moon, you watch with mild amusement the inner turmoil he goes through as he forces himself to continue.

“For back there,” he clears his throat again, “that first Stalker would have taken me from behind,” he makes a vague gesture with one hand against his throat to get his point across.

You need a moment to absorb this. He just thanked you. You’re pretty sure kidnapping 101 is don’t do that.

You feel a jolt. Unless this is some kind of weird psychology mind game. Except for the way awkwardness burns off of the smuggler after his admission. He certainly doesn’t seem the psychological warfare type.

“How bout you thank me by taking these off?” You thrust your bound hands up at him, meeting his scowl.

You’d fully expected him to ignore you, like the times before. You honestly said it more as a joke to needle him with. He surprises you again by stopping, making you stop so you don’t run into him. He looks at you very hard while you stand there, wondering what’s going on.

He heaves a deep sigh that seems to come from his soul, and reaches a hand behind him. He pulls out your knife, and with your own knife, cuts your bonds.

You’re shocked to silence. Watching him with wide eyes, you feel the tug on the rope as he saws it with your knife like he was sawing through your own flesh.

And then with a final snap, the braid is broken, and the rope hangs loosely on your wrists. The smuggler plucks it off and shoves it in his backpack.

Your wrists throb from the sudden freedom, the skin raw as the air embraces it once again. Your heart wants to cry with joy, but these days you are suspicious of happiness.

The confusion and mistrust you feel is too strong for you to hide.

The smuggler must pick up on this, because he follows up the act of generosity with a warning, “Try anything and I’ll tie you up again, tighter.”

Well, at least this is familiar ground.

With further ado, he keeps walking, not even looking back to make sure you follow.

The words come out your mouth before you can think if it’s a good idea or not, “You say that to all the pretty girls?”

The smuggler scoffs but doesn’t answer.

---

The smuggler leads you in a somewhat zigzag pattern through the streets. He seems to be aiming for a specific entrance for the QZ rather than going right through the front gate because he occasionally back tracks when he brings you onto the wrong street.

With the night sky still lingering, he has to be practically under the street signs to read them, which makes for a lot of extra paces. He wisely doesn’t ask you to read them.

And then around the corner of the last street and you can see the QZ wall, and the outline of a chain link gate tucked away on the Eastern wall. The sight of the concrete and tar barrier looming ahead brings only more dread.

Something in your head tells you to run now, before the gate. That you stand a better chance alone in the infected filled city weaponless. Logic would tell you otherwise, surrounded by FEDRA is where you’re safest.

Not anymore, whispers a part of you.

As you approach the gate, a man dressed in the blues of FEDRA sits behind the bars. He’s picking his nails with his knife. His FEDRA cap is perched on his knee, revealing what hair he has is thin and patchy.

He’s either half-blind or just stupid, because the smuggler gets you well within firing range, and he’s none the wiser.

Behind a faded green electrical box, the smuggler crouches down and pulls you besides him. He keeps his face close, his gaze boring straight through your pupil down into your soul.

You find yourself a little distracted while he practically breathes his warning.

“You. Keep. Silent.” Three distinct words and you understand him perfectly. You’re guessing he’s going to talk or bribe his way through the gate.

Unfortunately for him, when you speak isn’t up to him. He’s taking you right into FEDRA territory, he must know this is risky.

Unfortunately for you, you start to get a good idea why the smuggler chose this gate, at this hour.

FEDRA has no shortage of dirty soldiers.

The smuggler waits until you nod. His look tells you he doesn’t really believe you. Good, he shouldn’t. If he’s smart, he knows you’d push him off a cliff without a moment’s hesitation if it meant your survival.

When you approach the gate again, it’s head on, no more hiding in the shadows. The smuggler keeps you squarely behind him, keeping you mostly from view. Maybe to hide your identity from your fellow soldier.

“Halt and announce yourself.” The voice is thin, like a needle in your ear drums.

“Sebastian, it’s me Miller.” The smuggler only slows his steps, continuing his approach on the gate. He does put his hands up briefly, to show he’s not holding a weapon. Though from your view from behind you can see his revolver tucked under his belt.

You pop your head to side to get a good look at the soldier, and you feel his eyes clamp onto like a coyote on a sheep leg.

The smuggler talks again, keeping his voice as friendly as you’ve heard it, “I’m calling in that favor, Sebastian. I need to get through, no questions asked.”

Sebastian steps to the side until he can get a better view of you. His eyes gleam with a dullness you associate with sharks. You quell down the ridiculous urge to hide behind the smuggler.

He flicks his eyes back the smuggler, his lips pulling down when he tries to hide his smile, “Yeah uh that favor was more on the lines of getting you out of sewage duty, not something I’ll be hung for.”

He’s not wrong about that. Getting caught sneaking people into the QZ was a life sentence. Or it’s supposed to be, it all depends on who’s the superior officer and whether or not they’re bribable. Maybe FEDRA started out with pure intentions, establish order and safety, but these days it’s more like working for a gang with one hell of an artillery.

“I saved your life,” the smuggler grits out, taking another step towards the gate.

Threatening someone through a gate is an interesting move, you think. Confidence or stupidity? Maybe both.

Sebastian goes back to picking his nails, “Look, it’s nothing personal Miller. If you want me to risk my neck for you, it’s gotta be worth the squeeze, you know?” His eyes land back on you when he says this.

You feel a plan start to form. This man is obviously not your saviour come to rescue you. But maybe you can use him.

“How ‘bout you let me through, and I don’t shoot you,” the smuggler growls, taking another looming step closer. Evidently negotiating is not the man’s strong suit.

The soldier sighs like he’s tired with the smuggler’s shit, “Really, and the shot will bring every soldier down on you in less than a minute. I thought you were better than to make empty threats.”

You can see the smuggler’s teeth bared in a snarl, “It ain’t empty.”

Sebastian purses his lips like he’s considering, and then he looks at you again. “How about you give ten minutes,” he starts, and you already know where he’s going. The smuggler, oblivious, stares in impatience, waiting for him to continue.

“With your girl.”

There it is. As dirty as your hands are about to get, this may be your last chance for freedom. And sometimes a girl’s got to do, what she’s gotta do.

You step in front of the smuggler before he can speak, “If you promise to let us through, and that we were never here.”

The weight of both men’s very different stares hang on you like a shirt of chainmail. You speak again before the smuggler can fuck up this opportunity that’s been handed to you on a platter.

“It’s the only way, we need in,” you insist, praying to a god you know is dead, that the smuggler will just go with it.

The look he gives you sends a chill down your back. It’s the equivalent of pinning someone to a board and dissecting them. It’s a look that says I can see right through you.

You don’t let any more time pass, every second that passes is another where you lose what little control you have. And to keep control is to make the soldier believe he’s the one in control.

“Deal?” You ask him, ignoring the two-hundred pounds of mistrusting smuggler besides you.

Sebastian looks up at said smuggler, and when no objection comes, he approaches the gate, “Back up there,” he orders the smuggler.

Ever so slowly, the smuggler backs up a few feet, not before grabbing your sleeve and turning you to face him.

“The hell are you doing?” He demands in an angry whisper.

“Just let me do this. It’s the only way.” You reiterate, trying to look as honest as possible.

The smugglers brows slam low over his green eyes, “You’re not getting away this way.”

You keep your face still, “I know.”

The smuggler draws away, face hard, eyes narrowed. You step up to the gate, watching the soldier’s hands as he unlocks it.

Once on the inside of the QZ wall, the soldier shuts the gate, locking the gate. You don’t bother to look behind you, you walk away from the gate, your heart a heavy thump in your chest.

You’re so close to freedom you can taste it. So far it tastes like the stale air of alleyways with too much garbage. You don’t make it very far before a hand grabs the top of your shoulder, pushing you down a different alleyway. Right, you still have a few things to take care of.

Sebastian presses himself against you as he leads you to the next corner of the alley, out of site of the gate. The last dregs of night still lays over the city, which you’re thankful for.

“Alright beautiful, time for the follow-through.” He purrs, running his hands flat down your chest, down to grab a handful of your hips.

You’re careful to keep the aggression and violence jumping under your skin from showing visibly.

You face him square on. His clawed hands go to your shoulders, pushing down. The triumphant smirk on his face makes your stomach curl. How many times have this man done this. Used his power to extort the most desperate.

Really, what I’m about to do is downright righteous.

You let yourself be pushed down to your knees. Staring at his hands while he unbuckles his belt inches from your face, you feel a blanketing of your mind. It’s a familiar feeling, one that comes when a shoot-out starts out, or right before the punch lands. It’s the body and mind bracing for what’s to come next.

The soldier pulls out his cock and thrusts his hips at you. You can’t keep the sneer of disgust from your face. He doesn’t seem to care. In fact, if you had to guess you’d say your disgust and discomfort was part of the turn-on for him.

“C’mon lady, ain’t got all day.” He says while he grabs your hair and forces you closer.

Your hands raise to take the cock that’s almost hard already. You’re guessing the fact that the blood didn’t have very much to fill had something to do with that. In fact, it’s almost too small to be able to do what you’re planning.

You manage though, grabbing it with both hands by holding only with your first fingers and thumbs. Enduring the groans from the man above you, you stroke it until its rock hard. You get up on one knee, looking up at Sebastian, your own triumphant smile on your face. His fades a little bit at your expression, but he’s not quick enough to stop you.

Like a carrot, you snap the man’s dick. You hear an audible pop and feel the tender skin underneath your fingers tear. The man above you screams in pure shock and pain, and goes to bend over, clutching at his crotch.

You surge up from the ground and grab the side of his head as he falls, driving your knee up into his face as hard as you can. You keep your hold on the man’s head, made a tad difficult by his lack of hair but you compensate by digging your fingers into his skull.

You feel the familiar blood rush of violence roll over you like a dark wave. You’re left holding Sebastian’s head as he wobbles from having his face bashed in. So you bash it in again. First against your knee, twice more until you hear the nose crack too, before slamming his head against the brick wall.

The man slumps to the dirty ground. You pounce, pushing his hips over so you can access his belt, furiously looking for his gun. But its dark and your fingers don’t feel anything other than belt. Where the fuck does he keep it? Up his ass?

A gunshot rings out from behind where you left your smuggler. You feel your breath hitch, and know your time’s up. You abandon your search, but for good measures you kick Sebastian’s head into the wall one last time on your way out.

You break into a sprint, tearing around the corner only to smack into a familiar body going in the opposite direction. The impact was like running full face into one of the brick walls. While you’re disoriented, your wrist is grabbed.

“Is that blood? The hell did you do?” The smuggler snaps, and starts dragging you back where you just ran from. You spend your energy trying to pull free rather than answer, but the smuggler doesn’t have to wait very far to get his answer.

The body of Sebastian lies face up, his cracked penis and bashed in face on full display.

“Jesus,” the smuggler curses, sounding truly surprised.

It doesn’t matter what technique you do trying to get free again, how you lean your weight, how you dig the fingers of your free hand into his. He keeps his hold on you.

“Fucker!” You scream at him and punch the bastard in the face.

Well, try to. The smuggler sees it coming and just catches your other wrist. He looks down at you, both your hands in his grip. You feel your heart slow. He does not look thrilled.

Shit.

 The sounds of heavy tires from the street overtake the silence. You have maybe less than a minute to clear the area before a flood of FEDRA soldiers arrest both of you.

“The gunshot will’ve brought more soldiers. C’mon.” He whispers. 

Its spoken not as a request. You find yourself being pulled through the back alleys, ducking behind dumpsters to avoid FEDRA vehicles. You feel the sinking weight of defeat settle in your stomach.

You failed.

You were given another chance, and you failed again.

You let yourself be pulled from street to street. First, ducking from cover to cover. Then eventually, the smuggler tells you to just walk normal. He keeps to the outskirts of the QZ, where things look more run down.

“How the fuck you get through the gate so fast?” you demand after your blood has cooled.

“Shot the generator through the fence. Lock popped open. Why there’s supposed to be a guard.”

The office building across the street is clearly abandoned. Probably why this is the building he leads you into. By the time you reach it, its light enough to see the door is painted a peeling rusty red, the same shade as Sebastian’s blood stained into your knee.

Once the door is shut, the sounds of the outside fade into the background. The smuggler leans against the door, breathing out a tired curse.

You don’t wait for him to lead you, you make your way into the office, scoping out the space. When you look back, the smuggler is still leaning against the door with his eyes closed.

His exhaustion is satisfying to see, “So, is this the worst job you’ve ever taken?”

The smuggler grunts, pushing off the door. You’re a good ways down the hall from him, and when you poke your head into an office, you see an open window.

You’re on the second story, but you’d take a broken ankle if it meant going home. Just when you’re debating jumping out the window, you feel a hand clamp down on to your shoulder.

It’s too similar to the way Sebastian grabbed you. The feeling of violation slaps you across the face.

You duck out of his touch and out of his reach. The smuggler doesn’t even look phased at your skittishness. His face remains deadpanned.

“That way,” he points behind him, across the central room where another office door is cracked open.

You have a brief moment where you think about going for the window anyways. The smuggler is patient while he waits for you to decide.

You also know that FEDRA is currently hounding the streets not far from here, and if the crazy bitch that assaulted Sebastian shows up, being arrested would be getting off lightly.

You’re truly damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

You turn your back to the window, and walk past the waiting smuggler to where he pointed. As shitty as it is, you’re safer here with him for the time being.

It’s a similar procedure as the doctor’s office. The smuggler shuts the door and then proceeds to push the couch in the room up against the door, barricading it. He sits down with a spectacular groan.

“There’s food and water in the desk.” He says.

You open the first drawer of the heavy oak desk in the east corner of the room. Inside is more dried fruit. About five pounds of it.

The next drawer yields your best score yet. Jerky. You unwrap the cloth bundle and immediately rip a chunk off. Its salt floods your tongue, restoring some desperately needed minerals. It tastes like deer.

Tucked under the desk is a giant jug of water.

You take your treasures to the far corner of the room and sit with your back to the wall. There you feast. The smuggler starts counting his remaining amo.

“This another smuggler checkpoint or something?” You ask through a mouthful of jerky.

“Or something.”

Your eyes narrow, but the smuggler is unaware perched on his couch. You keep eating, trying to savor it but end up scarfing it down for the most part.

“So what now?” You demand once you feel stuffed to the point of discomfort.

“Now we wait till they stop searching the streets for the crazy lady that ripped a soldier’s dick off.”

“I did not,” you state, “I snapped it, it’s still attached I’m pretty sure.”

A comical shudder passes through the smuggler. It amuses you.

“Well, can’t say he didn’t deserve it,” says the smuggler, “Sebastian’s a piece work.” His voice has a fair amount of disdain in it.

“Probably won’t work with you anymore,” you point out.

“There’s always another,” says the smuggler. It’s said casually. Like its just a fact. Which it is. Being in the belly of the beast really shows you how corrupt your governing body is. The comment still feels like a gut shot. It’s the reason you never let yourself hope for a rescue. You knew you were on your own the moment you were given the assignment.

Goddamn FEDRA might even have something to do with this. You have no idea why, but they’re certainly not above selling their own to their enemy.

If that’s the case, you might be better off being a Firefly ransom. A soldier that knows too much doesn’t stick around very long.

Here in the quiet, you think about what the soldier called the smuggler.

“Miller,” you speak up again, turning the word over in your mind, finding out how it tastes on your tongue, “I met a Miller once.”

The air stills. He doesn’t look at you, just keeps cleaning his gun.

“He saved my life,” you look at him and feel anger boil in your stomach when he still won’t look at you, “I never thanked him.” You see the smuggler’s brows furrow. “Guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

 This tension in the air, when you finally acknowledged who he is, is as clear a confirmation you need.

You’ve met this man before. It seems like a lifetime ago, even when it wasn’t. The same man that saved you all those years ago is the bastard that’s leading you to your death.

The chamber slides into place with a click that echoes in the silent room. He finally meets your eyes.

“How long you known?”

Next chapter

A/N: I hope the dick snapping wasn’t too much lol it just seemed like something she would do