#anyways let's hope i'm not left with an aching jaw

[nyxypoo]

dentist day

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Bully - Part 2

Summary : Your new life as Geto and Gojo's personal fuck toy has begun. You thought you'd get a moment of peace when you and all your classmates went out for drinks...but why would you assume something so silly?

a/n : Aight you degenerates (with love) here's part 2. Hope you like it. I made it extra long and extra filthy for you, you better appreciate it.

Disclaimer : Contains Bully Gojo and Geto X Fem reader. Free use dynamic. Humiliation. Like a lot of humiliation. Public indecency. Exhibitionism. Pantsing. Dub con warning.

Taglist : @xstormstriderx @lovely-lady-tits @brianmaysclog @obanais-biggest-fan @sp1dermanluvr @spongesquid04 @krishnaabhistha @ihateuguys @misscaller06 @ksvvvn @collectionofdolls @otakuweebs-world @winterlovessanemi

Geto sighed as he walked out of the bathroom, steam following him from the hot shower he just enjoyed. A towel wrapped around his waist and his wet hair dripping over his shoulders, he took a second to look at himself in the mirror, noting that his physique had grown a bit more sculpted thanks to all of their work.

"You better hurry it up." he said, addressing the other people in his room as he opened his closet and grabbed his clothes, "We need to leave in like, ten minutes."

"Fu- ah- ah- mmhm- ah!"

"Yeah, yeah." Gojo grunted, gritting his teeth, "I'm almost done."

Geto chuckled as he started getting dressed, the sound of your moans and pleas almost like background noise. Gojo had you on your hands and knees on Geto's bed, the white haired man pounding into you from behind mercilessly. Both of you were still dressed in your uniforms, your pants and underwear simply pulled down while Gojo just fished his dick out.

"Thought you would keep it in your pants long enough to not delay us from leaving, Satoru." Geto said as he pulled up his trousers.

"Huh?" Gojo responded, hips still thrusting into you, too focused on his pleasure, "You say something?"

Geto rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed before grabbing you by the back of the head and pushing you down harshly. You yelped as your face collided with the mattress, your moans now muffled by the fabric. Geto's grip on your was rock solid, rendering you unable to move an inch.

The man clicked his tongue at you in annoyance, "So fucking loud...anyway," he turned back to Gojo, "I said, I thought you'd be able to not fuck her when we need to leave soon."

"I- shit - I wasn't planning on fucking her." Gojo said, raising his hand before giving your ass a sharp slap, making you squeal into the mattress, "But I was just casually groping her tits and fuck- got horny~"

Geto sighed, letting go of your head and finally letting you breathe, smirking as he heard you gasp and take in deep breaths. "Well, if the others get mad at us for being late, i'm blaming you."

"Blame this bitch." Gojo said, giving you another spank, "Not my fault she's so fuckable. Isn't that right? Hmm?" another slap to the ass and you knew your skin was turning a flaming hot red, "Why don't you apologize to us, hmm?"

"I-I-I'm s-sorry~" you babbled, head in the clouds as you took your pounding, Gojo's balls slapping against your clit every-time he thrust in, "i'm sor-ry for being s-so fuckable- ah!"

Gojo barked out a laugh, his grip on your hips bruising as he chased his pleasure, loving how pathetic you were for him. Once he cums inside you, he was going to take a picture to add to his collection under the folder : Sex toy~, just as he always did.

~~~~~

After that night in the classroom, after Gojo and Geto took turns fucking you and making you cum over and over again on their tongues, fingers and cocks- you were now their personal toy. To bully. To play with. To fuck whenever they wanted.

They left you in that room on the floor, pussy dripping with cum, your chest covered in white and your jaw aching from all the sucking. But before they left, they made sure to take plenty of pictures before Geto told you:

"You're our personal fuck toy from now on, understand? We wouldn't want these pictures to float around now, do we?"

A silent threat but everyone involved knew you didn't need to be threatened. And ever since then, this was the life you've accepted.

Wake up naked between the two men, still exhausted after a long night of sex. Gojo's mouth would be on your nipple or Geto's hand would be between your legs, having slept in that position. They'd grope you some more as you wiggle out of bed, your movements waking them up as well. After taking a shower and getting dressed, you'd head to class where you had to deal with their bullying as usual. In front of the others, they were the same nuisances but behind their backs, they'd grope your ass, squeeze your tits, swipe through your nudes on their phone in front of you-

Geto one time cornered you in the hallway, making sure no one was around before he gripped your top and lifted it up, exposing your bra covered chest. You whined and stayed still as he harshly pulled the cups of your bra down enough for your nipples to pop out, the man immediately bending down and sealing his lips over them. You slapped a hand over your mouth, body trembling as his sinful tongue suckled on your nipple like he was trying to milk you, knowing full well how sore your nipples would be later.

Gojo was starting to form a habit of taking a shower with you everyday. He'd break into the bathroom while you showered, regardless of when you were taking it. He always had a sixth sense and knew when you were cleaning yourself. You learned you lesson when you tired to take a shower at 2 in the morning, only for Gojo to break into your room and barge in anyway. He didn't appreciate you trying to shower without him at some ungodly time which was how you ended up with an ass spanked hot red, preventing you from sitting down without wincing in pain for two days straight.

In public, they harassed you discreetly, the others not noticing anything off about your dynamic, but little did they know that right before everyone sat down and waited for class to start, the two of them fucked your face in the hallway. You excused your red face and told everyone it was due to a cold- and not because the two men slapped your face with their heavy dicks before.

And all of that happened within the span of a few days and you had no doubt it would just get more and more intense. You couldn't help but shiver as your mind was brought back to the present, walking along a wide yet abandoned street with your group of friends.

Everyone decided to go out drinking, a celebration marking the end of a long week of exorcising curses. Utahime invited you along with, Nanami, Shoko, MeiMei, Haibara and of course, Gojo and Geto. After Gojo came on your ass, you quickly cleaned up and got back in your uniform to join the group just as they were about to leave. Utahime snapped at Gojo and Geto, accusing them of being bad influences and making you arrive late as well. They simply joked and waved it off, the group thankfully not noticing your blushing face.

Everyone naturally divided into smaller pairs as you walked on the road, Utahime claiming this was a shortcut. You, Geto and Gojo trailed behind the rest of them, a few steps slower but still able to involve yourself in conversation and respond when you need to. You laughed as MeiMei told everyone another story about how she managed to extort money off of some random guy, a momentary peace among the chaos you'd come to expect.

There's no way they'd try anything when you were right behind the group, right?

Right?

You were too focused on listening to their conversation and having deluded yourself with the false confidence, that you failed to see Geto and Gojo slow down their pace so they were a step behind you- and you failed to notice Geto pull his phone out and start recording- two actions that would normally have you on guard.

You were only reminded of them again when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, Gojo's long fingers digging into the fabric of your pants but before you could say anything or even move your head to look at him-

He tightly fisted your pants and pulled them down in one fell swoop.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from screaming as your other hand went between your legs despite that doing nothing to help your situation. You were in public- right behind your group of friends with your pants on the ground- bare legs and panties exposed to the world.

Blood rushed to your face so fast it almost made you dizzy, quickly bending down to pull your pants up before anybody saw you. Your only focus was to cover yourself back up so you just had to ignore the fact that when you bent down, you were practically showing off your panty covered pussy and ass to your two bullies.

As you grabbed your pants, you could feel Gojo hook a finger into the crotch of your panty before pulling it aside, exposing your bare pussy to the cold evening air. With a wink to the camera, he leaned forward and took a greedy lick of your cunt, tongue dragging from your clit upto your hole. He would have kept eating you out were it not for you pulling you pants back up and straightening your body. And it was just in time too as Utahime looked behind her shoulder, wondering why the footsteps behind her stopped.

Luckily for you, your pants were pulled up and all she saw was Gojo and Geto laughing at you.

"Hey! Are you two bullying her again?" Utahime snapped, taking note of your red face which she chalked up to frustration, "You're so annoying! Leave her alone!"

"Just friendly banter, Utahime." Gojo said, still in his crouched position on the ground, "Isn't that right?" he asked, directly addressing you. You gulped as you looked into Gojo's piercing blue eyes, eyes that always took your breath away. You could tell Utahime about what actually happened and you knew, even if it was Gojo, the others would rush to your side to help-

"I-It's fine, Senpai." you said, trying to keep your voice stable, ignoring Geto's snort of laughter behind you, "they're just teasing."

"Well, if you say so." Utahime said, pouting, "But you tell me if they're annoying you too much!"

"Oh, and what are you gonna do about it, Utahime?" Gojo teased, hopping back on his feet to skip towards the group, "You're a weakling, afterall~"

"Hey! Watch your manners!"

You stiffened as Geto walked up behind you, the man throwing an arm around your shoulder before the two of you started walking, a few steps behind the group. His fingers kept brushing against the curve of your chest, not enough to feel good but enough for your nipples to harden, Geto even running his fingers in circles gently over the hardened bud.

"Fucking slut~" he growled into your ear, "You'll just let us do anything to you, won't you? Oh, dinner's gonna be fun~"

"Y-You're seriously not gonna- not while everyone's around!" you whispered to him, whimpering as he suddenly gripped you tit tightly, giving it a greedy grope before letting go.

"And why do you think that? You're pretty fucking stupid, aren't you?"

Before you could say anything, Geto pushed you towards the group, both of you seamlessly joining the others as you walked. You couldn't focus on the conversation anymore, your mind only filled with countless possibilities of what Geto and Gojo were going to do to you. You gulped, hoping that the others won't see the nervous look on your face and hoping that the two men won't notice the way you were pressing your thighs together as you walk.

But of course they noticed.

~~~~~

Ok. Ok! This was ok!

A semi-crowded restaurant with bright lights. Sure, the table that was given to the group was against a wall and the three of you were sitting on the couch against said wall- and yes, the table had a long tablecloth that covered your bottom halves- but even so, they surely wouldn't do anything-

Right?

"Here you go." Nanami said, handing you a copy of the menu. You thanked the man, getting up from your seat so you could reach it, the man sitting diagonal to you. Gojo and Geto were sitting on either side of you, pressing against your sides. Fortunately - or unfortunately- nobody else wanted to share seats with the two bullies so the others adjusted themselves accordingly, leaving you at their mercy.

But since it was public and everyone was around, they'd behave themselves-

Just as you were starting to sit down, you felt the two of them grab fistfuls of your pants before they started dragging it down and within a fraction of a second, your bare ass was against the cushion and your pants were pooled down on the floor.

Oh fuck.

Blood rushed to your face, your cheeks and ears turning a bright red as you took in your predicament, so taken aback by the situation that you barely processed Gojo copping a feel of your butt. Your body trembled as you gripped onto the menu tighter, a hundred things rushing through your mind. You were pansted by these two assholes in a restaurant and the only reason no one realized was because of the table cloth covering you.

"Hey, everything ok?" Shoko asked, noticing your red face and wide eyes, "You look like you've seen a ghost. There are no curses around, right?"

"Oh- no - I- um-" you sputtered, brain lagging as you couldn't think of anything to say. But thankfully, Geto swooped in, taking the menu from your hand and starting to flip the pages.

"I think she's nervous cause we're getting alcohol." he teased as he looked through the drinks, "Poor baby doesn't wanna have a big girl drink? Maybe we can get you some milk in a sippy cup?"

"Sh-shut up!" you squeaked, his teasing now excusing your red face as you snatched the menu back from him, "I've had alcohol before! I'm an adult!"

"Oh, really?" Gojo asked, leaning into you obnoxiously, placing an elbow on your head as he applied his weight on you, "Then has this big strong adult had sex before?"

"Gojo!" Utahime barked before you could say anything, "Stop being nasty- hey, you can come sit by me if you'd like." the woman offered to you. But how could take her up on the offer? There's no way you could move- not when your pants were still on the ground. Besides, even if you did move- there's no telling what the two of them would do to compensate.

"I-It's okay." you said, trying you best to sound nonchalant, "I've gotten pretty comfortable here."

"Yeah, stop butting in!" Gojo said with a pout, "You think we're bullying her but it's all fun and games! You just don't get how we joke, Utahime."

"Again- have some manners!"

As the group got louder, arguments between Gojo and your senpai mixed with the others figuring out what to order, your mind raced, trying to figure out how to get your pants back on (a predicament you'd never imagine being in). Maybe you could drop a utensil, get under the table and use that as leverage to pull your pants back up...

But almost like he could read your mind, you saw your phone (which you had thankfully taken out of your pockets and placed on the table before your pants were pulled down) brighten up with the signs that you got a message. Geto bumped you lightly with his elbow, a silent order that you needed to read that message. With a gulp, you picked up the phone, eyes widening slightly as you read a text from the raved haired man:

If you try to put your pants back on, we're taking off your panties too.

Fuck.

"So, is everyone ready to order?" Nanami asked, offering to keep track of what everyone wanted so they could give it to the waiter. You managed to squeak out your decision, hoping that the alcohol will excuse any redness that would definitely be on your cheeks. You jumped as you felt Geto start to grope your butt as well, the man running his warm palm in circles over a cheek before his fingers started tugging at the fabric of your panties.

The environment faded into the background and your body was on autopilot mode. You were reacting appropriately to things that you weren't even processing, shoveling the food into your mouth without sensing any of the flavor, downing the alcohol without registering the burn of the liquid. All you could think about was how you were in your panties with the two men groping you to their hearts content.

At one point, Geto grabbed your panties harshly and started pulling up, making you squeal as gave you a wedgie, your underwear pulled tight against your cunt, the cloth now lodged between your ass-cheeks, making you look even lewder. Gojo let out a low whistle, pulling his phone out before discretely taking a picture, Geto holding up a peace sign next to your butt.

After pocketing his phone and pretending to be invested in other conversation, you shivered as Gojo slid his hand to your thigh, caressing your soft skin for a second before sliding it between your legs. You pressed your thighs together, trying to deter his movements but Geto simply grabbed a knee and pulled harshly, giving you no choice but to spread them. You prayed to any deity out there that nobody would drop anything that makes them go under the table as they could easily see what was happening and you'd never live it down.

MeiMei was saying something to you as Gojo's fingers found their way to your pussy, giving your mound a gentle pat pat pat before he started running his fingers up and down your slit. Your pussy was drenched, the humiliation and risk of the situation making your body run hot, Gojo's satisfying snickers telling you that he could feel your wetness even through your panties.

Geto eventually got his hand between your legs as well, softly laughing as his fingers touched Gojo's hand before he fingered the fabric of your panties and simply pulled them aside to expose your pussy. Your bare pussy. Out in the open. Just a tablecloth away from everyone seeing.

Even picturing it put you on edge- the hypothetical faces of disgust directed at you from friends and strangers alike. They'd call you a whore- a slut- a dirty woman who's being touched in public-

"Fuck- you're so fucking wet~" Geto purred into your ear as his fingers found their way to your opening, drawing circles over it, "Nasty bitch~"

"Are you surprised?" Gojo asked, not as careful as the others were tipsy enough they weren't paying attention to their conversation, "Getting off on being humiliated like this- what a pathetic little rat!"

"Spread those legs wider, bitch. Yeah, that's it~ Good little slut~"

You couldn't help yourself as you obeyed Geto's command, spreading your legs wider and giving them more room to touch. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Geto slid two fingers inside you, starting off strong thanks to how wet you were. He started thrusting them in and out, in and out, in...and...out...curling them deliciously inside you. Gojo's fingers were rubbing circles over your clit, the perfect balance of gentle as rough as he toyed with your sensitive bud.

You were grateful that the sound of people talking and music was drowning out the nasty noise of your pussy getting fingered, Geto hitting your g-spot with practiced ease, your juices starting to stain the cushion of the couch and you could only imagine what the worker would think about said stain when you all left, the very thought making your ears a bright red. You sipped at your drink, trying your best to bite down your moans, your body trembling under their touch. Gojo was scratching at your clit with his nail, the pleasurable pain making you jump with every flick. Your legs were shaking and your toes were curling, your grip on your glass tightening and you were worried you might even crack it.

"woah, hey." Haibara said, eyes wide as he looked at you, "Maybe you should stop drinking? You look pretty drunk."

You couldn't even imagine what you looked like but no doubt your face was as red as a tomato, your panting fogging up the glass against your lips. But instead of stopping, the two of them suddenly picked up the pace, making you lurch forward and slam your head against the table. You didn't know how else to cover up your expressions, ecstasy plastered on your face as they finger fucked you.

"Oh my-" Nanami said, eyes wide, "Did she pass out?"

"Hmm? Did she?" Geto asked, leaning over to you like he wasn't knuckles deep inside you cunt, "You awake, dumb little bitch?"

"Hah! Some adult she is." Gojo teased, poking you on the back of your head, his fingers almost a blur as he rubbed at your clit in a fast pace, your juices flying everywhere, "Can't even handle her alcohol."

"Hmm, maybe we should take her home." Shoko said, "wouldn't want her to get hurt."

"Ah, but the night's barely begun!" Utahime complained, already drunk.

"We can take her home." Gojo suggested, surprising everyone with his thoughtfulness, "I'm kinda tired anyway. C'mon Suguru, let's pick her up-"

You immediately sat back up and straightened yourself, eyes wide and heart pounding in your chest. His silent threat to make sure you got back up was noted, Gojo definitely more than capable of picking you up and showing everyone your bare bottoms, panty pulled to the side.

"S-Sorry." you said, your voice noticeably slurred, "I just needed a second- i'm good."

"You sure?" MeiMei asked.

"Y-Yeaaah!" you babbled, body thrumming as the boys picked up the pace again, "S-Super good- let's k-keep drinking!"

Deciding to not argue, everyone cheered, still eager to drink the night away. You leaned back against the couch cushion, your body slightly slouching as you hoped the others couldn't see the way your body was twitching from how vigorously Geto was fucking your cunt.

And Oh. Oh.

Oh, you were going to cum.

You whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes at the inconceivable pleasure. In the span of a few days, these two assholes managed to figure out just which buttons to press- just how to curl their fingers and just how you like to have your clit rubbed. But were you really gonna do it? Were you really gonna cum here and now? In public? In front of everybody? How were you even going to hide it?

Gojo leaned back as well, his shoulder pressed against yours while still having easy access to your clit. "If you want to pull your pants back up," he said, loud enough for you to hear, "You have to cum."

"B-B-But-"

"B-B-but~" Gojo mocked with a laugh, raising his pitch to match your voice, "Pathetic. Just do as I say or i'll slam you on this table, rip these panties off and spread your pussy wide open for everyone to see."

"Th-they'll notice if I c-cum now-" you gasped out, toes curling and the familiar knot in your abdomen making itself known, just seconds away from snapping.

"Sounds like a you problem." Gojo said, "So, what's it gonna be?"

"I-I don't have a choice!"

"Finally, that tiny brain of yours figured it out. Now cum, you dirty bitch~"

With the final order, your body moving ahead of you, you came. But what took you by total surprise, was Geto surging forward and kissing you. You yelped into the kiss, his tongue getting shoved down your throat as you climaxed, his fingers still thrusting in and out of you. Gojo hooted at the sight, rubbing at your clit mercilessly, his phone out to film as he watched you cum, your only saving graze being Suguru. The others gasped, eyes wide and jaws open as they watched the raven haired man make out with you, never expecting that to happen.

Pleasure hit you like a truck, your orgasm so intense you felt like you were close to blacking out. You panted and moaned like a bitch in heat, all of your noises being swallowed by Geto's tongue in your mouth, the man's piercing eyes open to see every expression. And what a treat it was. You looked pathetic and broken, your body trembling and your pussy gushing around him, some of no doubt staining the floor at this point. Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head and your fingers gripped him tightly, you were a sight to marvel at.

"Hey, where's my kiss?"

You felt a hand in your hair just as the orgasm was about to wash over you, your scalp being tugged at as you were forced to break up the kiss with Geto only for Gojo to take his place. Your eyes widened and everyone gasped again as Gojo kissed you, the lip lock with him filthy- all tongue and no love. Just how he liked it.

Oh, they weren't done with you. Not by a long shot. You still had a long night ahead.

~~~~~

Part 3 will be out soon(ish)! This was getting way too long lmao so look forward to some filthy sex in the next part!

[pirateprincessblog]

accidentally sending a nude to ateez (hyung line) - fake texts

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you are a rookie idol in kq, and accidentally send a nude picture to ateez 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x y/n, khj x y/n, jyh x y/n, kys x y/n 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: a little angst?, sexting, insecurities, fingering, squirting, oral (f! Receiving) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: reader is of age!

𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

*offense not offence omg

the practice couldn't end fast enough. when it did, you shook as you exited the practice room. and you shook even more when you found park seonghwa's figure leaning against the wall with his back, one foot resting on the wall behind him and one on the ground, with a hand in his pocket and the other one scrolling on his phone. when he noticed you, he gave you a sweet smile and offered to take your backpack.

in no time, you find yourself back inside the now locked room, sitting in front of the mirror with your legs spread out and slender fingers slowly pumping in and out of you.

"look how pretty you are." "you moan so sweetly." "look at you glowing." he chants against your ear, hot breath caressing your face and lips grazing your neck and jaw.

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

your third award show already as a rookie, and you are still nervous. you excuse yourself, and the members offer to go with you.

"i'm fine, just need fresh air."

you exit the venue, breathing heavily. once you step over the threshold, you lean against the wall. the air is cool and biting against your bare arms, but the adrenaline rush inside you is keeping you warm. you miss the way the door opens again, a figure with his hands in his pockets slowly approaching you with a smirk.

"hey."

"fuck- where did you come from?"

"do i need to teach you manners, little rookie?" the playful glint in his eyes isn't gone, even though his face is dead serious when he grabs your jaw to look at him.

you are at a loss for words. a person standing aside might think that you were scared or in danger, but the arousal between your legs proves different.

"nervous?" he asks, seeing your distressed face. you nod, not able to break eye contact with him. it is so addicting. "let me help."

legs over his shoulders, and back uncomfortably pressed against the cold wall, you moan against hongjoong's hand. he has his head buried in the layers of your dress, tongue relentlessly lapping at your aching core and ridding your body of any remaining worries and troubles.

if someone once told you that kim hongjoong would be accepting his award and giving a speech with your arousal coating his lips, you'd call them a madman. but you sit and watch it happen, lips shinier than any lip gloss in the world.

𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

opening the door and finding jeong yunho standing there just as you were mid blocking his contact was a punch to the chest.

"hello." he smiles. "is alex here?"

"i'm here, you don't need her now." you step aside to let him in.

you guide him to the living room and continue into your room, hoping he'd stay there. but he doesn't, instead following to the room which you've managed to clean this morning. as you search for where you left the disc while you were stressing over the accidental nude, yunho busies himself with touching your things.

"ah, the fateful joystick."

"stop, give me that." you reach for it, but yunho uses his tall card, simply holding the gadget high in the air. "not fair."

standing on your tiptoes as your fingers desperately try to grab it, you lose balance and fall on the man. he catches you with one hand around your waist, pressing you further against him. "careful."

"take it, i don't care. it's a stupid game that i keep losing in, anyway."

"want me to teach you? this would be my second playthrough. i lost the disc and when you said you had it, i had to."

when you agreed, you didn't think he'd teach you while he also makes you moan. every time you don't listen to his instructions and fail, his hips stop and he denies you an orgasm, leaving you whining and groaning in frustration. his hand rests on your arched back, while his other one pulls your hair so your eyes stay on the screen. his hips work slowly, giving you enough sensation to keep you focused too. once you finally get through the toughest level, he pushes your head into the mattress, slamming his hips against your ass and finally giving you a reward for your hard work.

𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

conveniently, you sat in the front, next to yeosang who was driving. your cheeks redder than ever, your heart beating loudly, and your thighs pressed together. you felt wrong, but couldn't stop the gawking. his hands looked pretty when playing the violin, the guitar, and driving. it drove you insane.

"oppa, can you stop at a gas station so i can get some water?" one of your group members asks from behind, and the man doesn't take long before finding one and stopping.

all of them step out to refresh, leaving you and yeosang alone.

"i'm sorry." you don't hesitate to apologize as soon as they're gone.

yeosang is sitting on the edge of an open trunk, scrolling on his phone and avoiding you. or so you thought. he looks at you confused. "why?"

"for the picture. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to."

"i know you didn't, it's okay." he smiles assuringly.

"but- you didn't respond to my messages. i thought you were angry."

"i was..." he lowers his gaze, his cheeks a light pink colour. "i was in a dilemma. no man would stay careless after seeing a picture like that. especially me, since it's you."

"what?"

"you think i didn't notice all those clicks of the camera and you zooming in on my hands?"

and those very same hands have you bent over the open trunk, fingers drilling into you from behind as you moan into his other hand. you fear that the members might be back already, but yeosang assures you that he has it under control, urging you to relax and enjoy.

light squelching fills the trunk, along with his palm colliding with your bare ass with your skirt flipped over. in no time, the orgasm hits you like never before, and you hear yeosang gasp behind you.

"a squirter, huh."

well, now you were.

[endlessthxxghts]

Lay Off The Flannels

DBF!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: 1.3k

Summary: Joel gets handsy while your father temporarily steps away.

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified - obviously a legal one though, hello??). No physical description of reader (pic above is used for aesthetic only!). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (F receiving). Using a flannel to clean up🫣... Awkward interactions with an oblivious father. Fluffy/light-hearted ending :). I think that's it! Let me know if otherwise!

Author's Note: Hey y'all! Soo my personal definition of a drabble is when something is written and posted on a whim, and that's exactly what I'm doing here.. This was only proof-read once by me, so if you see any typos and confusing wording... NO YA DIDN'T. Anyway, I have a bunch of WIPs needing to get done, but the stress was getting to me, so I took a break from those and wrote this fun little scenario to calm my mind and give me a good little laugh. I hope you guys enjoy!💚

MASTERLIST

“We shouldn’t be-”

“I know,” he says. 

“It’s too risky.”

“I know,” he says. 

You pull his lips back onto yours, breathing in each other’s breaths, consuming each other eagerly as if the world was going to end if you didn’t. 

His lips drag down to your jaw, to the sweet spots on your neck that make you mewl such addicting sounds he’ll never tire of, tasting the product of the hard work you did today with your father. His best friend.

His best friend, who- 

“He should be back any minute now,” you say breathily as Joel drops down to the ground, his knees cracking from the sudden change. 

Joel is desperate. Frantic, even. The speed he unbuttons and unzips your jeans and yanks them—underwear included—off of you has your hands flying to grasp at the edge of the workbench you’re sitting on. “Don’t care,” he says, inhaling in a breath, inhaling your arousal. “Need to fuckin’ taste you.” 

Your father’s car crapped out on him a few days ago, and being the untrustful man he was, he bought the parts that needed replacing to do it himself. He had you working on his car with him, teaching you what to do if you were ever stuck in a similar situation—”It ain’t worth the bill, takin’ it to them mechanics. It’ll cost ya an arm and a leg just for them to diagnose your car’s issue even if you tell ‘em ya know what’s wrong, never mind actually fixin’ it,” he said to you this morning. 

As soon as your father left, Joel was making his way to you, large strides cutting the time in half. His arms wrapped around your waist, picking you up from the seat you were situated on and lifted you to the bench against the wall behind you. His lips were on yours immediately, open-mouthed and needy. His hand slammed onto the black button beside your head, the garage door sliding down thereafter.

Joel grabbed onto your thighs, settling them onto his broad shoulders, stabling you and opening you up to him all in one. Wasting no time, his entire face dives into you, tongue immediately going to your sobbing entrance, hooked nose pushing directly onto your clit. 

“Fuck,” you gasp out loud, “Joel, oh my god,” your head hitting the wall, eyes rolling back. 

The moans you’re feeding Joel has him groaning into you, his hands tightening his grip on the bottom of your thighs, the dull ache of it an indicator that you’ll have bruises forming within the hour. 

His tongue—god, you love his tongue—always reaches places you never thought was possible, offering you a glimpse into Heaven each time he tastes you. The squelch of your pussy and his groans equivalent to that of an angel’s choir. You never want him to stop. Especially because his mouth is the closest to Heaven either of you will ever get. 

Your hole begins to flutter around his tongue, your slick pouring out of you at this point. You’re close. Joel knows it. His tongue leaves your hole and is quickly replaced by two of his fingers, sliding in with ease because of your level of arousal. His tongue meets your clit, licking and circling and absolutely worshiping it as if it’s the most unique of pearls to ever exist. 

The combination of his fingers and his tongue—plus his whimpers—are what do it for you. After a few more circles from his tongue, you’re cumming and you’re cumming hard, your liquids running down his wrist and soaking the rim of his sleeve. He gives one last suck to your clit before he lifts off of it, tilting his head up to watch you come undone, his fingers never pausing as he works you through your climax. 

“Baby,” you’re whining, reaching that point of oversensitivity with his fingers, but your hips betray you as they grind into his hand. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, gauging the contradictions of your body’s needs and wants. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, greedily sucking them into his mouth, not letting a drop of your liquid gold go to waste. 

He stands at full height again, his hands on your thighs to scoot you back from the edge, giving you more stability, so he can let go of you and take his flannel off so he can wipe you down with it. 

He sets his flannel beside you, reaching for your bottoms on the ground. He puts them back on you, gentle as ever, and guides you off the bench—albeit, on some wobbly legs. Once you’re breathing returns to semi-normal, you’re grabbing him by his t-shirt and pulling him in for a heady kiss. Your tongue breaches his mouth, and he lets you in selfishly, sucking on your tongue for anything more you can give him. You taste yourself on him, tangy with a hint of something that lights your neurons on fire, turning you on more even though he just pulled one of the most draining of orgasms out of you. 

Joel pulls away from you, and like clock work, the garage door is whirring open. Your father. He’s walking up the driveway with a Harbor Freight bag. 

“Got what you needed?” you immediately ask, trying to control the topic of conversation. 

“Yeah. Why’d you close the garage?” 

Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before going back to normal. “The heat was getting a little much. Was gonna open it up when you got back,” you say. 

He nods his head, then looks to Joel. “Hey, bud,” he says as he sets his bag down, walking up to give his best friend a handshake. “What’re ya doin’ here?” he asks, “Not that ya need a reason, of course,” he adds quickly, a light chuckle leaves his mouth. 

“Just thought I’d swing by. Thought your girl here was workin’ on your car all by herself, was gonna make sure the damage was minimal,” he teases, looking at you with a wink. “But now you’re here,” Joel smiles. “I gotta take a leak anyhow, I’ll see y’all later, yeah?” Joel says as he makes his way to the end of your garage. 

Your father offers a quick yeah, his eyes zoning in on the flannel atop his workbench. Before you can stop him, your father grabs it. “Oh, Joel, don’t forget ya flannel,” he says waving it in the air as he lightly jogs to him before he gets too far. Joel’s face immediately flushes, as pale as if he’s seen a ghost, as he realizes what your father is holding. His eyes dart to you, your expression just as traumatized. 

“Oh, y-yeah,” Joel says as he quickly takes it in his grasp, “T-thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” he says as he begins walking back to you, stopping midway to turn back to Joel. “And Joel?” your dad yells out.

Joel turns around, reluctant. 

“Maybe lay off on the flannels during the summer, yeah?? That shit was soaked in sweat!” Your father says as his laugh grows to an uncontrollable level. 

Joel’s jaw drops to the floor as your face turns to absolute terror. 

“Dad!” you exclaim, absolutely stunned at his comment. “I’m done helping you for the day,” you say as you shake your head, gathering your things and heading inside.

Your dad’s laugh turns into a howl at your reaction, not realizing (thankfully) what’s got you so uncomfortable. 

As soon as you make it to your room, the entirety of the situation finally hits you, and you’re gasping for air at how hard you’re laughing. 

As you lay on your bed to try to calm yourself down, your phone rings. It’s Joel. Your laughter immediately starts back up again, and you answer, skipping all forms of introduction.

“Better lay off the flannels, Miller,” you say, barely able to keep it together by the end of your comment. 

“Shut up,” he says, stoic as ever.

A giggle erupts out of you, causing the biggest of butterflies to flutter all throughout his belly. “Can I come over later?” 

“I was expectin’ you to, darlin’.” 

End note: I'm sure there are a few fics out there with a premise similar to this, of reader doin some ✨things✨ with dbf!joel in reader’s dad’s garage 🫣 — I think it's pretty common given that Joel is a pretty laborious kinda guy, so if you've read anything similar, please share them in the comments or message me them! I'd love to read them and also give credit where credit is due. This fic fandom we've created is about spreading creativity, and that's exactly what I would like to do here. :)

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @teatree121 @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[starhvney]

can you do an angsty laurance mcd (romantically) where reader has been waiting for his return and they reunite after he was stuck in the neither?

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: he can’t stay with you as long as the war underground calls to him. to stay with you he has to leave, not returning until three years later. 

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst, lots of resent and crying, but then hurt/comfort, malachi is reader’s adopted son with laurance cause i said so

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: omg the past two weeks have been so busy i actually thought i might have gone insane if i didn’t have this day off to write this. but i'm back from the dead(work) anyways this prompt has actually been in my mind a lot so thank you for the request! hope it hurts

𝐌𝐀��𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“please come back with me. you don’t have to do this.”

your chest hurt. whether it was from the man in front of you or the unbearable heat, you weren’t sure, but you found yourself choking on the air, lungs constricting and heart rushing cold blood uncomfortably fast through your veins. 

you could tell he was angry that you came here. not at you. no, never at you. but the fact you came alone and risked your safety for him again had him nearly spiraling, his jaw clenched and hands gripping uncomfortably tight against your arms.

it was still him, you reminded yourself, as you pleadingly looked up to the pools of blood red that pierced through you. it was an unsettling shade, the color startling against his face yet somehow dull and dark at the same time. it was so different from the steel blue before it, and the beautiful green before that. 

yes, you’d seen him in many different ways, and though he was naturally taller, and the air around him sent an anxious wave down your spine, it was still him.

the same olive skin and caramel hair, though a duller shade.

the same shape of his face.

the same determination in his eyes. 

the same urge to protect you, no matter how much this new form of his ached to do the opposite. 

“i told you not to follow me. you shouldn’t be here—”

“i couldn’t just let you leave!”

he sucks in a breath, your name leaving his lips with a sense of urgency and irritation.

“…i can’t go with you. you know i can’t.” his voice is tight, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your eyes glossing over. “it would be selfish. i put you at risk just by being next to you.”

you start to shake your head, but swallow down your next words at the way he says your name again, desperate for you to understand. 

“he’s in my head when you’re near me. i can’t keep you safe when it’s just us, because it isn’t just us. that calling clouds my mind and—he almost got to me, and you know it. i almost killed you.”

you’re silenced by this, knowing he was right. the horror on his face when he realized his blade was raised against you had set forward the timeline that got him here. he’d forever feel chained to this place unless he broke the chains himself.

“if i ever want to have a future with you, i have to do this. don’t you understand? until this war is over you have to stay away.”

“no…” you shake your head, tears beginning to spill from your lashes.

it was out of your control. the salty crystalline that slipped down your face. it was the same as the man in front of you, each second left with him like trying to hold water in your hands, continuing to slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to grasp it. 

his eyes close, face pained, looking like someone was about to end his second life right there where he stood. 

“i love you. i always will. you have to know i’m doing this for you.”

he dips down, lips crashing into yours with a desperation that you couldn’t put into words. it’s not enough, too short-lived as his hands suddenly grip your waist, manhandling you up as he carries you to the portal.

“no, no! laurance, put me down! you have to come with me!” tears have turned into hysteria, your fists pushing and beating against him to no avail.

“i’m doing this for you.” his voice wavers shakily, contradicting his firm hold and long strides. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m hurting you again and i’m so sorry.”

“stop! i won’t go through that portal unless i know you’re coming with me.”

your name leaves his lips once more, pleading and desperate for you to understand. “i’ll return to you. i swear i will.”

his arms tighten around you, face shifting to rest in the crook of your neck and lips pressing against the skin for just a moment. you think he could’ve changed his mind, but the next second your feet are back on the ground, and his hands are gently pushing you through the portal in your disorientation.

you stumble through, cool air meeting your back as the nether fades from your vision and is replaced by the overworld. your feet trip over the other as you try to catch your step, falling back and turning to look back at the portal through your hazy vision. before you can scramble back the purple mist solidifies, shattering and collapsing to the floor into crystallized pieces.

you started in shock for who knows how long, curled on the stone beneath you as sobs wracked your whole body.

you don’t remember the trip back to phoenix drop after that. you only recall the horrid feeling that your heart had just been torn from your body, left behind in the fiery hell it’s owner had condemned himself to. 

that emptiness never evaded you either. you went through day-to-day life completing your duties as normal. but at night when you were left with your thoughts, your mind wandered to him. the space in your bed felt bitterly cold, almost as if the emptiness was taunting you of the lack of his presence.

the boy the two of you had taken in as your own all that time ago was extra sweet on you, despite all the time you had missed with him. when you returned that night he had looked at you expectantly, only for his green eyes to fade in hope as he saw your puffy eyes and grieved expression.

soon a whole year had passed. then another. then another. it was what you had presumed to be another ordinary day, as you prepared a lunch for you and malachi to share on his break. you recognize his footsteps, but when you turn to greet him you’re met with a concerned expression and heavy pants from the boy.

“he’s back.”

you hate how you immediately knew what he meant, even after all this time. how your heart swelled tightly in your chest and rushed the adrenaline into your veins. 

you can only stare blankly at the boy in the doorway, mouth open in shock and mind scrambling for some sort of reaction to give. he turns to look at something approaching him from out of sight, a protective frown forming on his face.

“mom, do you want to see him? you have to tell me now.”

a small part of you wants to say no, to resentfully send that man away for the loneliness he left you with. your head is nodding before your thoughts can resist, following the desperate tug in your chest rather than your brain screaming for the opposite.

your breath hitches when the taller man who had been haunting your mind for so long steps into view. you wonder if maybe you had fallen ill and this is all just a fever dream, but you know it’s not a hallucination or a memory as you take in his appearance. 

he looks like a man returning from war, circles under his eyes darker than they had been all those years ago. new scars are littered across the skin that you could see, and his posture was that of extreme exhaustion.

him and your son stare at each other for a moment in the doorway, a silent and sort of awkward moment that you couldn’t decipher being exchanged. malachi gives you one last wary glance, before disappearing from your sight and leaving the two of you alone.

you want to scream at him, hit him, something. but you can only focus on the lump building in your throat, choking your airways as a painful sob threatens to break out from your chest.

he takes a step forward, then another. then another. soon he’s right in front of you, not in the haze of your dreams but tangible and real. 

his hand, rough and scarred, lifts up to cup your soft cheek, fingers trembling as if you had sent a shock through them just by the contact. your name shakily leaves his lips, and you finally look up to his face.

you’re greeted with steel blue, glazed over with pain and guilt. something about them is much more hardened than when you saw him last, yet he still manages to look at you tenderly, full of a deep devotion he could never get rid of even through his years spent in hell.

his thumb brushes away the damp streaks from under your eyes, and you finally realize you had begun to cry. you had thought about this moment many times. how you’d call him a bastard for leaving you alone and kick him out to get a taste of his own medicine. or maybe you’d tell him all about the loneliness he’d put you through, watching his face drop with guilt.

instead of using any of the dialogue you had prepared in your moments of spite, you can only utter a few words, voice choked on your tears. 

“is it over?”

he nods, eyebrows furrowing together and lip curling as if your voice had caused him physical pain after years of deprivation from the sound.

you collapse forward into his arms, years of raw emotion crashing down on you all at once as you begin to sob.

“it’s over. if you let me in i’ll never leave again.” his hushed voice speaks into your hair, the deep and roughened tone vibrating through his chest. “but if you want nothing to do with me anymore you only have to say the word and i will obey.”

you can only shake your head, chest heaving as you grip the linen shirt he wore and attempt to steady yourself on your feet. there’s not much need for your efforts though, when he picks you up into a tight embrace, holding you to him as he trembles at the feeling of your body once again pressing into his. 

“i’ll never leave you again. i’m so sorry. my light in the darkness. please forgive me.”

he carries you to the nearest chair, fingers running through your hair like they were delicate strands of gold and continuing to hold you to him like you were the only thing worth any value in this life. as you continued to cry you felt tears that were not your own drip onto your skin, the shaky breaths and hitches in his chest proving you weren’t just imagining things as he too wept into the crook of your neck.

you two stay there for a long time, until the afternoon sun faded to a dim evening light, casting a warm haze into the room. it’s not until then that you feel composed, lifting yourself from where you had limply collapsed into his arms.

his hands gently hold your face, rubbing away the leftover tears and puffiness from your eyes. his own eyelids were red, eyes glossy. now that you’re looking at him you can see just how much his time away had changed him. 

his once lovely olive skin had sallowed into a paler shade, leaving him sickly looking. his cheeks were thinner, and the lack of body fat wasn’t just on his face. he remained muscular, yet he somehow looked malnourished at the same time, his scarred skin stretching over his bones and muscles in a way that didn’t look healthy.

your fingers trail along healed over cuts that hadn’t been there before, gulping down the urge to cry again. how many times did he have to patch himself up, suffering in pain while fighting to get back to you?

“hey.” he gently pinches your cheek in his hand, noticing your eyes unfocus as your mind wanders. 

you look up to him, taking in a shaky breath as you reach up to cup his jaw in your hand. immediately he leans into it, a deep sigh leaving his nose as he practically deflates at your touch.

“when did you get back…?”

he sighs, looking up at you through his lashes.

“i came here as soon as i came back through the portal… malachi was on patrol and spotted me at the gates.” his eyes grow distant. “he was… pretty angry with me. looked like he wanted to kill me as soon as i walked in the village.”

he chuckles dryly, looking at the wall behind you. “he cussed me out pretty good before leading me here. he had some good reasons for doing so, too…" he takes in a shaky breath. "i’m proud of him. i’m relieved to know he was watching over you when i wasn’t. that kid’s grown up to be a good man.”

“he is.” you agree, voice quiet in the moment, unable to come up with any words.

his hand drifts to brush your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing to brush along your jaw. “you have plenty of reasons to hate me, too.”

“he doesn’t hate you.” you quickly say. “and i don’t either.”

“i was scared you would. sure you would.”

your eyes drift from the guilty pull of his brow and the pain in his eyes, down to the slope of his nose and the curve of his mouth.

“i couldn’t.” you whisper, before leaning down and connecting your lips with his.

he wraps his arms tighter around you, breath stuttering as he returns the affection. very quickly it evolves to you being left breathless as he practically devours you, kissing you like a man who had been starved of his lover's touch for three years.

reluctantly he pulls away, gritting his teeth as he once again finds himself reigning his self control in with you. he doesn’t go too far though, his huffs of air meeting your lips as he whispers.

“it’s late. i should go.”

“go where?”

“just the inn down the road—”

“no. stay here tonight.”

he stares at you before closing his eyes, a low groan leaving his throat. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you quickly respond, hands cupping his face.

he gulps, before pulling you tightly to himself and lifting you in his arms, carrying you to your bedroom.

“okay. i’ll stay.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[ofcourseiwillmydarling]

❗I accidentally deleted the draft where I answered to the ask so I'm reposting it like this. Anyway, TYSM anon ! Means a lot to me ! I always feel like what I'm writing makes absolute no sense LOL. I hope you enjoy! 🫡🩵

a/n: Tomorrow I go back to class but we're up to a slow start, so I'll try to post as much as I can during these months ! If you guys have any other requests - about any soa character (both male and female) - dont be shy to send them, I have so much fun doing these & I looove hearing your thoughts ! ♡

! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

TW: mean !Jax & rough sex.

"Aw fuck - darlin' - what'd he do?" Your eyes are puffy and red - lashes clumping together from your tears - lips swollen from biting them. Jax makes a soft mouth sound as he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone, rubbing slow, soft circles meant to soothe you.

"Clay," you sob. "He said I was jus' a cheap lay to you," your voice cracks and more tears fall across your pathetic, broken expression. "Jesus Christ," He hisses between clenched teeth. He's seething. "Where is he?"

You shake your head, digging your fingers into the lapels of his vest. "He left," you murmur. "Jus' leave it alone." The words hitched in your throat - blathering something incoherent.

"Baby," he urges. He can hear your heart beginning to thump - pounding too hard and too fast against your chest. "You're with me. You're okay." He rubs his cheek firmly against your own - skin sheathed in cool sweat - his nose probing your hairline.

It ends like it always does. He threads his fingers through your hair - tugging the strands gently - before he crashes his mouth against yours. "I love you."

**

He wraps his fingers around the bends of your knees - forcing them apart. He is hard between your legs; tip leaking and heavy as it presses against your belly. Fisting his cock, he sinks into you in one brutal stroke. He's meaner today. He had hurt you with his words, even when he'd slam the thick of him inside your cunt till you'd bruise, but it never mattered. You were too in love for it to ever matter. This was for him. Not you.

You don't know the specifics about his 'jobs' - he couldn't tell you - but you do know the state that he comes home in. You let him use you as he needs.

"Jackie," You mewl - brow wrinkling in discomfort - as you reach for him. You're full of him. You wonder if you could feel him if you placed your hand on your belly. You cradle the hinge of his jaw and you're blathering against the slope of his cheekbone. You hiccup and sniff - you couldn't help it - he's stretching you apart and it aches something fierce. "Quit whinin'." he bits out as he hits balls deep - cock hitting something deep and sensitive inside of you.

You meet each thrust - even though your cunt is raw - lifting your hips to take his cock again and again. "Don't stop - fuck - m'close." He rolls his hips into you - grinding his pelvic bone against against the peak of your sex - knocking a sharp cry from your kiss-swollen lips. Rough and sharp. It's aggressive and a little ugly - still, you kiss him like you're dying.

He tightens his grip on your waist as you writhe against his hold. He ducks his head - rubbing his cheek firmly against yours - as he presses deeper. He can feel you tighten up - muscles clamping down his length - and fucks you through it. "That's it," he exhales against your teeth - you feel his cock pulse inside you - hips stuttering against your own. "Fuck - I love you."

Still — he leaves. But oh - it feels just like love.

[magniloquent-raven]

I'm getting distracted from my current projects by someone else's post again someone tell me to stop going on tumblr while I have WIPs lmfao

@rosetterer this isn't EXACTLY what you posted about but it does get there in the end

**

Twenty-four hours has never seemed like such an insurmountably long time.

Buck's had long shifts before, the boring ones when he'd stare at the alarms on the wall, willing them to go off—he can picture Maddie's disappointed scowl if she ever found out about that, but he swears he was only hoping for something small and harmless to break up the monotony—and the busy ones. Ones that leave his ears ringing with phantom sirens by the end. Those days only ever seem long in retrospect, when he's bone-tired and trying to remember all the names he asked for.

But now every shift seems to find new and shittier ways to be gruelling. Eddie's miserable and trying to act like he isn't. There's this weird, uncomfortable tension brewing between Hen and Chim. Ravi got himself transferred to B shift—probably to get away from Gerrard, and Buck can't exactly blame him, but he sort of does anyway and their new probie is terrible, and... then there's Gerrard.

Like, Buck already knew he was a piece of work, but. Knowing and experiencing are two very different things. He could barely stand keeping his mouth shut at the medal ceremony when he met the man for five seconds, and now he has to put up with him making smug, belittling comments towards all his friends, all the time. Constantly needing to remind himself he doesn't want to get fired is actually killing him.

It doesn't help that every so often he'll remember Tommy's offhand Captain Gerrard was like having the dad I already had, with a pang as he wonders what exactly Tommy grew up with. What parts of Gerrard's condescending tyranny were familiar to him. Phillip Buckley may not have been father of the year, but maybe never being looked directly at was better than being raised neck deep in toxic waste.

Every time he remembers he gets the urge to pull out his phone and call Tommy up just to... he doesn't even know. Just to hear his voice, maybe. Know if he's doing okay.

Another reason work days seem so long now, if he's being honest. He's always counting down the hours until he can see Tommy again. Like a kid on the last day of school, watching the clock tick closer and closer to summer vacation.

So, of course, right near the end of a particularly busy shift, Gerrard gets them all lined up for a lecture about how sloppy that last save was. Everyone did something wrong, and everyone needs to hear about all the ways they could have gotten someone killed, like they don't all know how risky the job is already.

By the time he's finished telling Chim it's a miracle he managed to convince anyone to let him out on calls, Buck is clenching his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache.

"I'm sure Captain Soft-Touch loved telling you all it was okay to be mediocre, and that you were trying your best," Gerrard sneers at them all, waving a dismissive hand at very idea of Bobby's captaincy. "But the coddling ended when he retired. Sparing your feelings is going to get people killed. Diaz!" He shouts, abrupt, turning on his heel towards Eddie. Eddie doesn't flinch, but Buck does.

"Yes, sir?" He's coolly polite, and his face is carefully blank, but his posture is tense.

"If I ever catch you checking your phone at a scene again, I'll make sure you're mopping floors for the rest of your life."

Eddie's expression hardens. It was a fender-bender and Eddie didn't even touch his phone until everyone was accounted for and packed into the ambulance. "It was a text from my son. Sir." His tone veers a little to the left of polite.

"I don't care if it was from the goddamn Pope, when you're in the field your focus stays on scene. Next time your brat needs something tell him to go cry to his mother about it."

This time when Buck flinches, everyone else in line does too. Hen bites down on a grimace. Chim hisses quietly through his teeth.

"I can't do that," Eddie says flatly. "What with her being dead and all."

The firehouse is silent for a long, horrible moment. That might've taken the wind out of any decent person's sails, Buck thinks. At the very least most people would've retreated into awkwardness and ended the lecture entirely.

Gerrard's brow pinches angrily. "Don't get smart with me, Diaz."

Buck's not sure it's possible to hate someone more than he hates their new captain right now.

"I don't care about your little sob story excuses, I care that you're sloppy and distracted. If you can't handle the job and the kid, drop one of them."

Oh, he was wrong.

He hates this man so much he's choking on it, it's clogging his throat like bile and he's running out of strength to care that he shouldn't spit it out, spew it everywhere and ruin everything just for the chance of hurting this man in the process. He feels like his skin is bursting at the seams.

Eddie's biting the inside of his cheek, rage and sorrow warring silently on his face.

And Buck breaks. Bursts. "Hey, Captain, that's—"

"Can it, Buckley," Gerrard cuts him off before he can even start. It's not angry, it's not anything, he brushes Buck off like he's an annoying fly buzzing in his ear, barely worth glancing at for the two seconds it takes to tell him he doesn't care. "You're all dismissed. Get out of my sight."

Some of them flee, scurrying to their lockers, the kitchen, anywhere but here. A couple of people throw backwards glances before they walk away. Hen and Chim exchange grim looks. Eddie disappears out the back door in an angry haze. And Buck...

Buck feels. Empty. Small. Like he cut himself open trying to relieve the pressure and now there's just nothing left. No one to patch up the wound, and no reason for any of it, he didn't make an impact, he didn't help anyone, he stood there listening to his friends get degraded, and now—now he's feeling sorry for himself?

It's stupid. He's stupid. He feels like shit because, what, because he didn't get yelled at? Because his piece of shit captain took a break from implying he's a disgusting pervert?

He thinks himself in circles about it his whole way home, the pit in his stomach getting a little deeper every time he tries to will it away.

He's wallowed himself halfway through a six-pack, staring sightlessly at his TV, by the time his front door opens.

"Evan?"

One of the knots in his chest loosens. "Yeah," he calls out, not bothering to sound less pathetic than he is. "In here."

"Hey." Tommy's stopped next to the stairs, eyeing him. His gaze is assessing, but his tone is soft. He's always so careful with Buck. "Bad day?"

Buck takes another sip of his beer. Shrugs.

"Ah, one of those."

The couch cushions dip as Tommy takes a seat next to him. He's close enough that Buck doesn't have to look at him to know he's there. There's warmth radiating off him. The woodsy scent of his aftershave. Buck presses their knees together, and exhales properly for the first time in hours.

He knows he could talk about whatever he wants and Tommy would let him. He's waiting for Buck to take the lead here. Buck could avoid the issue entirely and decide to talk about anything. The fact that he can't really tell the difference between the fancy beer Tommy insists is better than the crap Buck's drinking right now. The documentary about bees he's pretending to watch. The goddamn weather.

What comes out of his mouth is a quiet, "I feel like an idiot."

Tommy pulls the beer bottle out of Buck's loose grip, puts it down next to the couch, and then takes Buck's hand in both of his. "Why?"

Buck scrubs at his eyes. "I..." He catalogues the tiny scars on Tommy's knuckles. Two, three, little dots on his index finger. A lopsided vee on his thumb. "Something happened at work."

"Did Gerrard say something to you?" There's an edge to Tommy's question, something sharp and flinty. It makes Buck's heart do dumb little somersaults.

"No." He stops, shame burning his cheeks. "Not. Not to me. That's... He was lecturing everybody, and I..."

"Evan." Tommy grips his chin, firmly, gently, guiding Buck's face until he looks him in the eye. There's a sympathetic twist to his mouth. "Tell me."

He does. As best he can when it feels like what's didn't happen is more important, and he can barely put into words why that is. But trying helps, a little. Trying to whittle it down into an explanation forces him to look at the whole of it, and realize it's not looming over him anymore.

Maybe it's just Tommy's hands on him, soothing the hurt away.

"I dunno. Feels like I could have done something differently, maybe"

Tommy hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "You could've."

Buck winces.

"But it wouldn't have turned out any better."

Oh.

A flower blooms on the TV, purple and white petals reaching for the sun. Buck toys with Tommy's fingers, and shifts his leg closer, hooking their ankles together.

"It felt so shitty," he mutters.

"I know."

He would, wouldn't he. Buck gets that pang in his chest again, and he pushes the rest of the way into Tommy's space. Tommy wraps his arms around him, and drops a kiss into his curls, seemingly content to let Buck situate himself however he wants.

He kind of wishes Tommy wasn't still wearing jeans, but asking him to take his pants off might send the wrong message.

"You don't think I'm, like...a bad friend, right?" He cringes his way through the question.

"No." Tommy responds matter-of-factly and without hesitation. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. "I think you're a very good boy."

Buck's entire head feels like it's on fire. A grin starts to creep across his face. It might be the first time he's smiled all day. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

Maybe he should ask Tommy to take his jeans off after all.

[itsphoenix0724]

Hi! Could I please request Lavander with Eris?

- 🪷

Lavender (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, allusions to smut

Word Count: 1097

❀° Event Masterlist ❀°

A/N: I love me some Eris, thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it because I loved writing it! Please come visit again soon <3

EDIT: You're my first named anon, I'm SO excited! Thank you so much I really appreciate you, I hope you'll come again!

The fire crackling in the hearth flares in time with your husband’s frustration. He’s been bent over his desk all day, the furrow in his brow now seeming a permanent fixture. The title of High Lord had been hard on him, trying to repair everything his father had broken. You’re exponentially proud of him, however, your mate needs a break. You lean against the door frame of his study, clad in a silk nightgown and a barely-there robe. 

“Eris,” your voice breaks the quiet in the room like booming thunder. 

“One minute love, I promise.” He mutters, amber eyes scanning over another report or trade agreement. 

“Eris,” you try again, taking another step into the room. His eyes flick up to you for one second, the pupils going wide just a fraction. 

There’s no other tell that your husband wants to bend you over his desk, but every fire in the room burns hotter. 

“You look delectable, but I have to finish this.” He sounds mournful as he runs a hand through his hair. You hum, walking around to the back of his chair, and lazily draping your arms around his neck. Eris leans into your touch for a moment, exhaling a long sigh of relief. You drop a kiss onto his hairline as you rub circles into his shoulder planes. He practically purrs at your ministrations, melting into your soothing hands. 

“Take a break.” You mutter, planting kisses at the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear and he groans. “Let me take care of you, please.” 

“Are you asking or demanding?” Eris chuckles finally setting the documents down. 

“Your High Lady demands it,” You purr, “How about a massage?” You question and he hums his agreement, his eyes slipping shut as he lets you lead him away from his desk. Eris follows you like a man in a daze, blindly stumbling after your form like you’re leading him out of the underworld. When you finally enter your bedroom, Eris’s body almost crumbles in relief. He missed being in here with you, the comforting touches of the space you two share. You turn to face him and he’s knocked aback by your beauty, clad in your nightgown and robe as you begin to undo the buttons on his shirt. Finally, the fabric falls to the ground as you run your hands over the strong planes of his shoulders, down his biceps, and clasp his hands in yours. You press a featherlight kiss to his lips. 

“Lie on the bed,” You whisper against his lips, urging him backward toward the invitation of the soft mattress and cool sheets to fight against the ache in his bones. Eris follows your instructions leaning back on the bed and flipping over on his stomach. He feels your body, delicate and soft as you straddle his waist. You pause for a moment to uncork the bottle of sweet-scented oil before warming it in your hands and slathering it across his back. You run your hands across his back, skipping across like stones on water. Your fingers work each notch of his spine, trying to work out the knots that nest themselves between each vertebra. Eris wants to dissolve beneath your fingertips, forget everything he is, and all that weighs on his shoulders. 

The only thing he wants to be is your mate. That’s all he’s ever wanted anyway. 

He sighs letting himself sink down into the mattress as his mind finally settles. Eris has been so busy recently trying to rebuild the scraps of the court his bastard of a father left behind for him. You’ve been busy too, the newly established duties of High Lady eating a massive portion of your free time as well. You’ve missed each other, the restless golden thread is finally at peace now that you’re back in each other’s presence. After every knot in Eris’s back has been worked out, his eyes slipped shut and his breathing even you slip off his back and lie next to him on the bed. He reaches for you instantly, rolling onto his back and pulling you into his chest in one smooth movement. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips as he finally kisses you, sweetly and lovingly as he circles the back of your neck. You hum a response, deepening the kiss as you fist the sheets next to his head. You let yourself be kissed, enjoying the way he caresses your ribcage with a harpist's grace, gently plucking a tune in time with your sighs. Eris lays your head on his chest as he warms his hands, letting the fire in his veins soothe the cramping in the crook of your neck and shoulder blades, his other hand running the silk of your nightgown between his fingertips. 

“I’ve missed you,” You mumble into his chest and he noses along your hairline, taking a deep breath.  

“I miss you too, my love” Eris promises, “We will have more time once everything settles I swear.” You know he means it, and you can’t wait until everything settles down once more. Your eyes are beginning to slip shut, but Eris isn’t quite ready to let you drift into your dreams yet, too greedy for your presence. “Would you like some tea?” he asks, barely a whisper into the night and you nod against his chest. He slips away slowly, and you roll into the warm spot he left behind. He leaves the door open when he leaves, padding his way down to the kitchen instead of bothering a housekeeper so late at night. 

However, what he didn’t think of was that his hounds were also feeling neglected, and they missed their mother especially. Five of his hounds found their way into the room as soon as he left, quickly taking up their own territories on the bed. 

You didn’t protest as your personal favorite nestled his way underneath your arm. 

When Eris returned with two steaming mugs of tea he found himself ousted, and you fast asleep surrounded by a pack of sleeping dogs. Laughing to himself he set the mugs of tea down on the dresser, waving his hand to put out the candles in the room. He manages to worm his way back into the bed, rolling his eyes at the disgruntled sighs from the sleeping hound being moved. Eris finally fights his way onto his pillows and arm around your sleeping form as another dog lays its head across his lap. 

And for the first time in what feels like weeks, Eris Vanserra sleeps soundly. 

[whimsicalpolitical]

Could I easily fill his shoes? // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: I’d love some requests!

content warnings: smut, fluff, dirty talk, praise, cheating, just let it happen ;) 18+ MDNI

summary: since the night Matty and you slept together your boyfriend can’t fulfill the job anymore. You need Matty to help you.

────────────────────────

“Hmm?” he purrs, his voice is low and throaty, perfect for this time of night. You catch your lip between your teeth.

“Shit, did I wake you?” The digital clock on your nightstand displays the numbers 02:28.

There is a low chuckle on the other end, laced with a hint of amusement. "You could say that. But I'm wide awake now. What do you want, love?"

Your cheeks flush at the sultry tone in his voice, your mind racing with possibilities. "Uh-“ You think that everything you’re going to say is going to sound ridiculous. “Shit,” you mumble, not knowing how to phrase it.

“Cat got your tongue?” His chuckle rumbles through the line, a sound that sends a wave of heat coursing through your veins.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, your cheeks flushed red from only his voice. God. Matty’s voice does more to you than anything your boyfriend does. “Can you come over?” You ask.

“Is he gone?” You hear shuffling, a blanket being lifted and a fast movement of fabric on skin.

“He left 15 minutes ago, told him I have a migraine,” it’s wrong to lie and it’s even more wrong when he tried to make you feel good for an hour. How could you possibly tell him that your minds on someone else the entire time.

Matty tuts, “that’s not true, is it?”

“You know it isn’t,” because he knows it’s his fault, “come over please,” you whisper the last word and hope he doesn’t hear your desperate plea.

“Already begging? That little twat left you desperate didn’t he?” His words hit her like a cold shower.

“Matty-,” you didn’t even know what to say but it doesn’t matter cause Matty interrupts you.

“Leave your window open,” you leave it open anyway every night, hoping for a surprise visit. You hear a zipper and the flick of of a lighter. “Oh, and hands off.” He hangs up leaving you burning with need.

-

You’re laying over the blanket, letting the cold air hit your nipples which are hardening through the thin shirt you’re wearing. You’re not wearing any panties, the shirt long enough to cover your thighs. You’re squirming, squeezing your thighs together to try to get rid of the ache, unsuccessful.

Turning the little light off next to you, you close your eyes, distracting yourself from the desire rushing through your body and the wetness already dripping down your inner thighs. Your room has a blue glimmer now, the full moon only shining on your bed.

You hear rustling outside your window and a quiet grunt. Your room is on the second floor and to reach or to sneak out of your window, one has to climb a rocky wall.

“There you are,” Matty takes one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it out the window.

His hair is tousled, dark strands falling across his forehead in a disheveled yet undeniably sexy manner. A hint of stubble lined his jaw, adding to his rugged appeal.

The last time Matty came over to finish what your boyfriend couldn’t end was a week ago and that was too long. You can’t wait any more.

You get up from the bed and pull his leather jacket off him, not waiting another second to kiss him. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against his body.

But just as quickly as it had begun, he pulls away, leaving you breathless and wanting more. A smirk plays on his lips as he his eyes twinkle with mischief. “So eager,” he bends down to throw his shoes off in slow motion, driving you up a wall.

“Did you touch yourself?” He asks, sitting on the bed, leading you towards him by grabbing your arm. You stand between his legs, his hands going under the shirt to squeeze your ass, groaning when he notices you’re not wearing anything else. “Fucks sake.”

You shake your head at his question, pulling one leg over his lap to sit down on him, the seam at the crotch of his pants rubbing against you. You whimper, still not moving because you don’t want Matty to think you’re not doing what he says.

“C’mon, take what you need from me,” your thighs getting a light squeeze from his hands, encouraging you. “You deserve it.” He groans as you roll your hips instinctively. 

“He couldn’t even get you off like this?” It’s a stupid fucking question because your boyfriend is the most vanilla boy you’ve ever met. That’s the problem: he’s a boy.

You shake your head and he grunts when you roll your hips again and whine as the friction presses against your clit.  He’s kneading the meat of your ass, every time you’re on him, he pushes you further up. “But you can, love, get off like this?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Not even wearing anything, s’ easier to rub yourself on me,” maybe you should care a little more, but all you can think about is fucking yourself against his bulge, his hands clamped over your hips as he guides your pace.

“That’s right,” he grunts, looking up at you with dark eyes. “Grind on me, make yourself feel good.”

“I know how to make my girl feel good,” my girl. The moan of his name that leaves your mouth is a surprise and he’s totally taking the piss out of praising you like this.

It hits you out of nowhere, your cunt pulsing, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as you gasp and writhe. “Yeah, you’re so good love,” he murmurs. 

Matty strokes your back, trailing wet kisses down your neck. You look down, seeing the wet patch on his crotch. “Made a mess,” he says.

It turns you on so much more, now that you’ve finally let go you don’t want the feeling to end. “Want you Matty.”

“Yeah?” He grabs your hips and lets you fall onto your back. He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing all his tattoos but your eyes drop to his boxers. His cock is already licking with pre-cum, forming a dark spot. He gets rid of the pair as well, bending forward to look for his wallet.

You stop him by grabbing his neck to kiss him. “Don’t, I’m on the pill.” He grunts, and throws himself on top of you, finally lifting the shirt off of you.

“Did you let him fuck you raw?” He asks, swirling his tongue around your nipple while his thumb rubs slow circles on your clit. The sensation is too much at the beginning, your back arching of the bed.

“Never,” it’s the truth.

“That fucking Tosser is missing out.”

“He ever even ask you what y'like? How y'wanted it?" You shake your head and Matty notices your eyes have squeezed shut like you're trying to not fall apart.

“So fucking wet,” he fucks his fingers in and out of you, spreading them inside you to open you wider for him. You're squirming, unconsciously grinding into his touch to force him deeper. His tattoed hand over your stomach to hold you steady against the mattress. 

“Just fuck me please,” you need to feel him again. On you. In you. All the time.

“Want me like this or-“ you nod, your hand reaching between your body’s, lining up his tip with your entrance.

He's grabbing at your ribs and hoisting you on him, sliding into your soaking cunt too fast, burying himself in your walls and hissing a breath in through his teeth. “No one knows how to treat you right, only I do.”

"Matty," you're gasping. You're so fucking tight around him, squeezing him so perfectly.

“He’ll never manage to make you feel as good,” he falls forward over you, pressing his body weight into yours as he begins a blistering pace. He fucks you deep and fast into the mattress, every inch of your body colliding with his. He can feel all of you this way, every piece of skin.

“Jesus-“ he groans next to your ear, “you’re mine.” He grabs your wrists on either side of your head, bites down on the skin of your shoulders, trying to make you feel so good.

“Matty-“ you repeat his name over and over again, and he responds by lazily licking into your mouth, his thrusts increasing in speed and ferocity, jostling you under him as he tries to make you cum again.

You’re squeezing him, arching your back against his body, eyes rolling back and slamming your nails into his back. “Fuck-“ you whine.

“Gonna cum again? Do it, c’mon.” He’s hitting your spot over and over again and he feels you let go around him again.

Your hazy mind can still process his groans and flushed, sweat-slick skin, and the stutter to his hips as he fills you up. “Too good to me, fuck.” He whispers.

He’s pulling out slowly, a whine slipping through your lips at the loss of his warmth.

“Fuck-“ you say, throwing your head back, “thank you.”

“How could I ever deny you?” He asks, pulling his boxers on, then laying next to you, kissing your shoulder lovingly. “You don’t have a migraine do you?”

You giggle and smack his chest, before burying your head in it. “No, stay for a while.”

It’s not what you usually do but he consumes you. The sex is everything, his touch, his lips, his words, those things consume you.

“You deserve better than that wanker,” Matty never says his real name, only insults are slipping out of him and it makes you smile every time.

You shrug against him until his hands cradle your face, “you do.” His lips are on you again, promising you that he’s better for you.

“Are you ever gonna leave him?”

You think about it. You’ve known your boyfriend your whole life, he’s a good boy, he goes to church, your parents know him. He dates to marry. You’re his first love. He’s not yours though.

“I don’t know,” you whisper and you miss the flash in Matty’s eyes. He nods understandingly without understanding why you would stay with him. You call Matty every time after you had sex and didn’t finish because Matty’s the only one who ever could.

“Stay the night.” You cling to him, draping a leg over his thigh, his body burning up.

He does everything to make you happy because he knows he won’t ever.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

interlude three

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm alive!!! I don't want to talk about how long it's been since the last chapter because it's a little bit embarrassing. Anyways, I'm back! Hopefully! So here's a brief little Bruce POV to hold you over until the next real chapter, which should hopefully only be a week or two maybe? (Also, I apologize in advance....)

Series Masterlist

word count: 1.2k

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 

Bruce's POV

“Bruce, my dear boy, I don’t tell you often enough, but you are…so stubbornly stupid it makes me feel twice my age.” 

Bruce startled and whirled around to face Alfred. The older man was leaning casually along the work station where Bruce’s video equipment was, his cane next to him, legs crossed at the ankles. 

Bruce opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

It was noon now, and he still hadn’t been to bed. He’d been out late staking out Maverick’s again, hoping to catch a lead on Frank Gallo or anyone that could lead him to the man, when Alfred’s call had come. Security breach. Elevator. The panic had almost killed him. Alfred’s next call came in when Bruce was almost home, telling him that everyone was safe. So he had changed direction and left to clean himself up to make an appearance as Bruce instead. 

And still the fear lingered. Someone had been in his home, feet away from y/n, and he had yet to find any proof of how they had done it. 

He wouldn’t–couldn’t–sleep until he was certain she was safe. 

“What did I do this time?” Bruce finally asked. He turned back to the security footage he was pouring over. It terrified him that they could have been so close to y/n. That he could have been too late. That he could have–

He shut the thought down as quickly as it came. No use dwelling on it now. 

“What haven’t you done? You imploded the most important relationship you have–repeatedly, if we’re being honest. You keep secrets from her but toe the line so recklessly it’s going to blow up in your face. You let your emotions get the best of you. And that’s just lately. Shall I go on?” Alfred recrossed his ankles in the other direction. 

Bruce grit his teeth but said nothing. He restarted the security footage from the beginning and paused it frame by frame. A loud clack echoed around the abandoned station each time he smashed the button to go to the next frame. 

“Let’s change tactics then. How long are you going to let her live in fear before you tell her that the Batman is watching over her from inside her home?” 

Bruce’s jaw ached with the force of his clenched teeth. Still, he said nothing. First y/n had yelled at him, now Alfred. He knew his behavior was…abysmal to say the least. But he had more important things to focus on than everyone’s emotions, his own included. 

He had to find Frank Gallo, and take down the rest of the family, once and for all. When that was done, when y/n was safe, he would think about all the ways he had ruined his relationship with her. 

“Are you listening to me, Bruce?” 

“I am trying,” Bruce said with a smack of his fist against the table, “to figure out who the fuck broke into my home and threatened y/n!” His voice echoed loudly around him, setting the bats to fluttering and chittering above them. He restarted the footage once again. 

Alfred made a noise in his throat. “She hasn’t slept at all.” 

Something oily slid down Bruce’s spine. “Neither have I.” It was a deflection and they both knew it. It killed Bruce to know y/n was so scared. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it–other than find those responsible and make them pay. She wouldn’t want his comfort, wouldn’t want him to hover, so he was doing the next best thing and trying to end it. 

Alfred sighed. “All I’m saying is–” 

“I know what you’re saying.” 

“Then why do I have to keep saying it?” 

Bruce went back to ignoring the older man. Let Alfred think what he wanted. Bruce had work to do. Nothing would get better until Frank Gallo and the rest of his family and cronies were gone for good. 

What gives you the right to act like this? she’d asked, all of her anger turned towards Bruce like a roaring inferno. What gave him the right? He had admitted it to her right before that–I give too much of a shit. 

She didn’t know he was still in love with her. That he always had been. 

He’d hurt her so badly she couldn’t see what was right in front of her face–who he was, how he felt, what it was doing to him. If she would just open her eyes, she would know. 

Instead, she had yelled at him. 

He deserved it. He knew he deserved it. But walking in and seeing her hold Officer Martinez’s hand…it made him crazy. He had acted like the worst type of bastard without even thinking. It was pure instinct, the urge to protect her even from a guy like Martinez rising so strongly within him that it was almost as if he had blacked out. Like someone else had taken over his body. 

She rarely ever got mad at him. It had only happened a few times throughout their many years together. It was a sight to behold, her rage, and he had been equal measures impressed and angry both. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Bruce said after long stretch of silence. His voice was raw with exhaustion and emotion. “Either help me figure this out or go back upstairs.” 

He felt rather than saw Alfred bristle. He waited to get berated yet again, but Alfred merely pulled up the footage on another screen and got to work. 

They spent a few minutes in silence, Bruce’s eyes burning from lack of sleep, his thoughts churning. She hasn’t slept. He ached to go upstairs, to tell y/n that she was safe with him, that he would never let anything happen to her. 

But it already had, and all of it had been his fault. 

He knew without a doubt, just as he had known three years ago, that she was safest far away from him. And look what had happened already–the more she’d become entangled with him, with the Batman, the worse things got. She had spent three years in Bludhaven, far away from him, perfectly safe. And the minute she had come home to Gotham, come home to him…it had all gone to shit. Really it had gone to shit before that–when her grandmother had left the tower for the last time. 

Bruce liked to think that was his fault, too, not that he’d ever it admit it out loud. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Alfred said into the silence. His voice was gentle, almost placating. 

“Mm.” It wasn’t working, then, Bruce thought. He already felt guilty enough. 

“I hate seeing you like this. Both of you.” Alfred sighed again. “I just think that talking about it–all of it–would help you both. It might ease the strain of…everything else going on.”

Bruce couldn’t see how it could help, only how it would make things worse. But he didn’t say that to Alfred, merely nodded and kept working. 

Two nights later, all Bruce could think about was that Alfred had been right. 

He should have told y/n the truth while he had the chance.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet @spencerrxids @giulia2372 @katara-is-a-goddess-changemymind @janezat @incorrectmarvelquotesss @spiritdetectivel @i-have-no-life-charlie @ilovemybabes @curseyouperrytheplatypus @lightsinmycity @yondiii @spideybv28 @fictionalmansl4t

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter One

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n | thank you to everyone who has expressed interest in this piece. I can't stress enough that while this work does deal with very dark, difficult subject matter, I always strive to speak to these things with as much care and respect as I can. I'd love to talk, if you'd like to share your thoughts on this one. thank you for reading.

.................................

Well the devil has been known to chase angels from their homes

And I know I got some angel left inside me

But my halo's hanging low

My halo's hanging low

And I'm nine hundred miles from my home

Angel Ballad as performed by Hurray for the Riffraff

................................

Quiet. It’s what he likes best about this job. The night comes on close and cool, even in the slow simmering slump of the summer. And nobody is ever out here at this time. No thrum and thrush of cars passing by on the highway. Just the jittery yips of coyotes, and maybe the growl of something bigger and meaner from time to time. Nights like this, he settles down in the drivers seat, letting the radio fizzle and thread through the quiet, whispered pasts and mournful words that he can hum along to. 

But tonight is different. 

He hears different before he sees it. That low murmur of an engine, and then the slow flood of headlights rounding the bend. Too fast, impossibly fast, there and gone. He fumbles, flicking on the siren and the lights before peeling onto the road, his car whimpering under the heavy demand of his foot on the gas pedal. 

His whole body is a closed fist curled around the wheel, waiting for this person to give up, surrender in the flash of their brake lights. But they hold on for a while, long enough for his jaw to start to ache with the way his teeth grit and grind. But eventually, the slow give in. 

Never gotten a taste for this, never liked this, the slow saunter up to the car, palm on the hood and the lean down, the spiel. He prefers the coyotes. 

But tonight is different.

Different stops his words in his throat. Wide eyes, unblinking and unmoving from his. A quick glance to hands still on the wheel, knuckles tensing over and over again, ready to bolt. The strap of her tank top has fallen down the slope of her pallid shoulder. He blinks, twice, hard, half-expecting an apparition to dissolve into gossamer breath before his eyes. But she just stares at him, lips parted in breath that catches somewhere in her sternum.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” 

“I’m sorry, officer.”

“Probably a hundred and ten in a sixty-five. Where are you going this time of night anyways?” 

“Do I have to answer that?” Said meek, a little warble, though her boldness still surprises him, a clip of laughter getting stuck in his throat, disbelief bubbling up.

“License and registration, please.” Her brow pinches and falls, eyes darting out along the highway like she’s looking for an answer. Knee bouncing, a jolted wire of a woman. Drugs, he thinks, maybe. Though he’s seen drugs, and drugs don’t look like this exactly. Fear, pure and simple. 

“I can’t do that, officer.” 

“Why not?” It startles him, fingers instinctively jumping to his holster when she suddenly jerks her hand off the steering wheel. But it’s only to draw her curled fingers to her mouth, worrying at split and sore-looking skin between her teeth. 

“I just can’t.” 

“If you don’t, then I’ll have no choice but to take you in.” She doesn’t respond to that, just continues to stare at him. Part of him wants to let her go, catch and release, a quiet warning to slow down. Harmless enough, he thinks, shivering like a beaten dog under his stare. But he knows he can’t do that.

“Please step out of the car, ma’am.” Relief when she complies, her eyes staying turned down to her sneakers as she shuts the car door behind her. He keeps his eyes on hers as he clicks on the radio on his shoulder.

“I need to get a plate checked, H-W-G–” Before he can read out the rest of her license plate number, her whole body jolts, a stuttered step toward him, her hands stretched out, palms stark white with the splay.

“No! No, please don’t do that. Please.” For some reason, he listens, clicking off his radio as he squints at her. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” She’s washed out wan in the headlights of his car, her frown slanting in harsh shadows. No answer, he moves to speak into his radio again.

“It’s my husband’s– my husband’s car.” No ring on her finger, her eyes follow his in their quick sweep of her hand.

“It’s complicated.” He huffs, a tilt of his head toward his car. She takes two steps forward before stopping, considering him.

“You’re not going to cuff me?” “Ain’t got a reason to.” Not yet, at least. Still unsure just what this is, still trying to figure it out. He opens the door to the back of the car for her, not missing the wary flit of her eyes before she ducks into the backseat. Reluctant but willing to settle her anxious plumage in this cage. 

They leave her car, or her husband’s car, on the shoulder of the highway, the station not too far away. He finds himself stealing glances at her, her expression unreadable in the bare glow of the few lone streetlights they pass. 

And then, somehow, he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of somewhere other than the station, catching her confused look in the rear view mirror. There’s nobody else at the diner this time of night, the only building for another few miles before the small town comes into focus. A blinking, chipped beacon in the night.

“Are you hungry?” No answer, though he thinks that she presses herself back into the seat, a small shrinking. He sighs, getting out of the car and opening her door, somewhere between leaning down and hovering over her in what he hopes is a less intimidating posture.

“Just wanna talk, get the whole story from you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what all this is about.”

“Help me?” Said like it’s foreign to her, a concept she can’t even imagine. 

“You like pancakes?” She does, he discovers, with blueberries and a thick swirl of syrup. She eats like she’s getting away with something, hurried, her eyes sweeping around the diner every so often. Hunger, a deep kind, like she hasn’t had a full meal in a while. He tries not to watch her too closely, taking cursory bites of his own meal.  But his eyes get caught on the fragile flex and flick of muscle in her forearms. Elbows on the table, the fluorescent lighting shocks into focus a dark bloom of bruises running up both her arms. Half moons of pain, waning gibbous and gruesome. Like fingerprints. He pushes his plate away from himself, swallowing hard.

“You can have the rest of mine too, if you want. Or we can get you something else?” Her eyes go wide again, freezing mid-chew before she swallows with a shaky gulp, setting fork and knife down, hands tangling in a close fist in her lap, ashamed. He wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“Where are you from?” 

“Nebraska.” He’s a little surprised when she so quickly responds, though he nods, trying to school any expression from his face.

“And that’s where you’re coming from?” She nods, one palm absent-mindedly coming to curl behind her neck, her elbow resting in her hand that’s crossed over her stomach, a small defense, or at least the posture of it.

“You said that’s your husband’s car. Does he know you have his car?” 

“I imagine he has an idea by now.” 

“Does he know where you are?”

“I hope not.” She says it with a weak laugh, though her lashes stay dropped to her cheeks, not looking at him as she says it. He’s starting to feel a sick curl in his stomach, getting tangled up in something that he shouldn’t be, and he hasn’t the slightest idea why.

What he should do. What he should do is take her to the station and let someone else handle this. Someone who knows how to handle this. What he should do is let work be work, and what he should do is not get involved any further than the meal he bought for her.

“My name’s Joel.” He holds his hand out across the table, though she doesn’t take it, just works her fingers a little harder into the nape of her neck.

“I’m Dolores.” How fitting, he thinks. Our lady of sorrow, and she certainly looks every bit of it.

“May I ask what you were planning to do with a stolen car, going a hundred and ten in a sixty-five, Dolores?” She sniffs back the swim in her eyes, chin tucking up, a pantomime of conviction.

“I was getting away.”

What he should do, he doesn’t. What he does do, he shouldn’t. 

“You understand that if you keep driving that car, eventually you’re gonna get tracked down one way or another?” 

“I was gonna get rid of it once I got into Utah.”

“You got any money?”

“No.” 

“You got family in Utah?”

“No.” He almost doesn’t want to ask anymore questions, seeing the way she starts to wilt with each no, her shoulders curling in like a despondent cage. 

“So, what exactly was the plan?” He tries to ask it quiet, trying to temper his doubt, though she still winces.

“I already told you.”

“Getting away?” 

“Yes.”

“You’ve already done that. What, eight hours worth or thereabout?” She nods.

“I think you need a better plan, Dolores.” Her lips collapse in an instant frown, and he regrets the words, digging the knuckles of his fist into his thigh to keep anything else from coming out of his mouth. 

“I don’t know any more.” Like a child, like a hopeless child. Before he can respond, the waitress comes back around, filling up their coffee cups, a friendly, familiar word to him and an uncertain look to Dolores who keeps her eyes down on an invisible spot on the table. Just enough time for him to think over what he shouldn’t do. 

“Do you want my help?” 

…

When Sarah went off to college, and when Austin got to be too much, and when the work got to be too much as well, he decided he needed a change. Sold his half of the business to Tommy and used that money to buy a palmful of land. Small town, strange town, right in the curve of a mountain, just a few hours outside of Boulder. Sarah calls, and comes home for the holidays. Tommy not so much, a sour spat that has lingered between them ever since Joel left. Both of them too prideful to be the first to break, little brother that wanted more and wanted it fast, and big brother that was ready for everything to slow down and get silent.

He has enough money saved for his job at the station to be something that keeps him busy a few nights a week more than anything else. And in the meantime.

“Do you have animals?” She sits in the passenger seat now, pointing out to the dark outline of the barn and coop as they pass it.

“Got sheep, and chickens. But between you and me, I don’t care much for the chickens.” An attempt at lightness, he bites down on his own smile when he catches the small curve of her mouth in his periphery. 

Small house, sleeping house in a thick flare of brush and trees. He lets her do it on her terms, leaves the front door wide open and tries not to watch as she steps through the threshold, busying himself with linens and towels for her. Part of him is surprised that she agreed to come with him at all. But the other part of him knows why she did. It was this, or going back, and she wasn’t about to do that. 

“There’s a guest room down the hall. My daughter stays there when she visits so it shouldn’t be too bad.” She just nods, hands held loosely in front of her, quick sweeps of her eyes when he turns on a lamp, warm shadows and light. It takes her a beat to follow him down the hall, leaving a wide swath of space between them even when she steps into the room, watching him set the sheets down on the bed and flick on the light, her back pressed against the wall. 

“Bathroom is the first door on the left. And I’m upstairs if you need anything.” She still doesn’t move, only offering him another nod.

“We can go into town tomorrow. Get you some clean clothes and see about some work for you.” 

“Okay.” He doesn’t miss it, the way she takes two shuffled steps back when he moves closer, even though it’s only so he can get to the doorway. 

“Try to get some sleep.” He doesn’t think he’ll get a response from her, already making his way out of the room, but.

“Thank you, Joel.” He stops in his tracks, turning over his shoulder to look at her, though he doesn’t say anything, just a puff of breath that’s loud enough to sound like an answer before he shuts the door to her room behind him.

He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. Repeats to himself what a bad idea this is with each step up the stairs to his room. He shouldn’t, but he did.

What he offered her was time. And place. Time and place for her to find a better plan for herself. Make some money, stop the shake in her limbs, unbothered and unnoticed in a quiet town like this.

The husband’s car is a problem he hasn’t worked out yet, though he has some ideas. Pop off the plates and squirrel them away, let the car get found by some other patrolman, let it be a mystery. Or just leave the car as is, abandoned on the side of the highway, and let the husband wonder where his wife ran off to in the middle of nowhere. Not a fitting punishment, he thinks, but something nonetheless. 

For now though, there’s a stranger sleeping downstairs. A stranger that he has decided to help. He has been so careful at alone. At keeping people and place at arm’s length. And tonight, he has ruined that in one maybe, probably, stupid choice. But he’s never been one to change his mind, stubborn to a fault. So he lets one more shouldn’t fizzle out in his thoughts, and then resolves himself to this reality. A stranger sleeping downstairs who he is going to help. And not really a stranger now. Her name is Dolores. An old-fashioned name, he thinks. A weeping name, a wailing name. A name that demands it be said on a sigh. He wonders if she would like a new name, if she will need a new name. A problem for later, already getting ahead of himself. 

…

She’s sitting on the couch in the living room when he comes downstairs, her legs tucked up under her, head propped in the cup of her palm, looking out the window. Part of him half-expected her to be gone. A finely threaded figment slipped through his fingers. But she’s there, and she doesn’t notice him at first. 

“Morning.” It startles her, that close curl in on herself as she finally looks at him, and he again finds himself wishing he hadn’t said anything, had just let her be in that quiet moment.

“Hi.” 

“Get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” Said from behind her palm, he’s pretty sure it isn’t honest. Dark, drooping eyes and a heavy pull in her frame, truth without telling. 

He’s not sure if he should ask, so he doesn’t. He hides a smile when she follows him anyways, out onto the front porch and toward the coop. 

“Do they have names?” Her eyes brighten when the first of the ladies strut out of the coop, dipping and bobbing their heads with self-righteous clucks and chirps. 

“No, I can barely tell who’s who.” Her brow furrows, mouth screwing to the side as she watches the chickens, already bowing beaks to the dirt to pluck fresh crawling things for their breakfast. 

“Still, they should have names.” It seems to be an absent-minded thought that happens to come out in words, her eyes still focused on the fuss and flutter of the birds as she says it.

“Well if you come up with any, let me know.” He says it halfway over his shoulder as he ducks into the coop, swallowing down how strange this is. But we are so good at reconfiguring around strange, aren’t we? Fitting strange into our lives as if it was always meant to be there. So, he collects the eggs from the coop, listening to the faint sound of what he thinks is her quietly murmuring to the chickens, though she’s quiet again when he joins her. 

Two for her and two for him, he gets no answer when he asks her how she likes her eggs, a ghost lingering in the doorway to the kitchen, like she’s surprised when he acknowledges her presence. Fried, fizzled fat around the edges, he hopes it will do, setting two plates down at the table.

“Coffee?”

“Please.” His back turned as he pours two cups, his ears prick to the sound of the chair scraping out, and then a long sigh, a settling. She waits for him to sit down before she lets her hands stray from her lap. A careful bite of her eggs, yolk splitting and spilling gold against the edge of her fork. 

“Thank you.” 

“Not a problem.” Quiet, he keeps his eyes on his plate and his mug, only quick flickers up to see that she’s doing much the same. 

“There’s a drugstore in town, and a secondhand shop. We can head in after breakfast to get you, uh, situated.” Situated, because he’s certain she’s been wearing that same tank top and jean shorts for a few days now, rumpled around the edges. 

“Okay, I’ll pay you back for it, all of it. Soon as I get some money saved. Just– just hold onto the receipts?” Question more than command, he just nods. 

It used to be a mining town, way, way back. Then it went dormant for a while, picked back up and polished over by the commune movement in the seventies, the vestiges of flower power and free love still evident in some of the older residents. Long hair and bluejeans and leather sandals and skin. But mostly, it’s quiet folk. Ranchers and farmers, the occasional dirtbag blowing through, looking to climb something he has no business climbing, wary looks passed at the prospect of a large backpack trundling down the main, and only, drag of town. Newcomers are spectacle, something Joel learned when he moved here four years ago. But the novelty is fast to wear off, everything and everyone blending together in the thin mountain air. Jobs to do and seasons to plan for, after all.

Dolores is new though, and especially unexpected walking through town with him. Eyes lingering hot on the back of his neck, he can only imagine how she’s starting to feel, a small mercy that they’re already stepping inside the secondhand shop. It smells like cedar and damp. He only comes in here when he absolutely needs a new something after something else finally wore itself out, but he knows the owner well enough.

“Patty?” 

“In the back, give me a minute!” She doesn’t take a minute, already blustering out from the back of the shop, a crooked grin when she sees him.

“Joel Miller, been a while since you’ve been in here. Did those jeans of yours finally–” Patty stops mid-sentence, mid-stride, her eyes stuttered stuck on Dolores, who looks about ready to dissolve, hands clasped across her waist like she might cave in on herself. 

“Patty, this is a friend of mine. She’s gonna be staying with me a while and needs some clothes.” Patty looks perplexed, clearly waiting for him to explain the rest, though she doesn’t press when he stays silent, her attention settling back on Dolores.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you then. I’m Patty, but you already knew that.” Surprise when Patty holds her hand out for a shake and Dolores easily reciprocates, though he supposes the terms they’re meeting on are a little less jarring than what happened last night. 

“I’m Dolores, nice to meet you.”

“Huh, you don’t hear that name too often these days.” Patty has always been something of a force, and now is no different, Joel barely getting in a low murmur that he’ll meet Dolores outside of the store when she’s finished. Patty nods absent-mindedly when he tells her to put the cost on his tab, too busy coaxing Dolores further into the store, something about jeans and sweaters for the soon to come snap of fall the last thing he hears as he steps outside. 

…

“Is Sarah visiting soon?” Joel pauses in placing the items on the checkout counter, at first confused by Rod’s question. But then he realizes that yes, this haul looks much like what he picks up when his daughter comes to visit. Toothbrush and toothpaste, because she always manages to forget them, and feminine products that he’s been buying long enough for her that he doesn’t feel the least bit bashful about putting them in his basket. His best guess for what Dolores might need. This time, not for Sarah.

“Uh, no, no. Just have a friend staying with me for a while.” He knows that everyone in town is going to run with the word friend. In his mid-forties, he’s one of the youngest members of the community, and there’s been plenty of times when one of his well-meaning neighbors has tried to set him up with their daughter who’s just visiting, but it could be more than just visiting, you know. Yeah, right. He prefers the coyotes. 

Rod finishes ringing him up, a nod and another comment about the oncoming fall that Joel agrees with, friendly enough, always speaking in terms of seasons out here. For now though, the mid-day sun is still unforgiving, burning the tips of his ears as he sits down on the bench outside the secondhand shop. A few people pass, all greeting him by name, and he does the same. It’s easy in a town like this, not too many to remember anyways. 

Eventually, Dolores comes out with a thick stack of folded clothes in her arms, a pair of worn-looking work boots settled on top. 

“All set?” 

“Yeah, thank you.” 

“I think I did okay at the drugstore, just let me know if you need anything else.” He rests the brown paper bag on his hip, stepping into stride beside her as they walk back to his car, reminding him of that mistake he needs to set right.

“Gotta get this car back to the station and pick up my truck. We’ll stop there on the way back.” She stiffens and stops instantly, her shoulders hiking up high and hackled as she frowns at him, making no move to get into the car now.

“That’s not– not like that. You can wait in the truck, I just have to go in for a minute, okay?” Cagey, a broken bird getting ready to attempt lift-off. He feels himself holding his breath for her response. It doesn’t come in words, another nod as she ducks into the passenger seat, her bundle of clothes settling in her lap, palms smoothing over fabric again and again and again. 

The thought occurs to him again as they drive toward the station. What the fuck is he doing? This jagged woman, all skittish and sharp around her worn-away edges. Though not much time to consider it as they pull into the lot, a new problem presenting itself.

“You go wait in the truck, alright? Don’t worry about this.” She scoffs, a broken piece of a laugh in the back of her throat as her eyes stay trained on the tow in the station’s lot, her husband’s car still hooked to its cable. He doesn’t give her time to question it, just nestles his truck’s keys on top of her pile of clothes and reaches across her to open her door, mindful to keep plenty of space between his arm and her. Wordlessly, she acquiesces, shuffling over to the truck Joel had jerked his head toward. 

“Morning, Miller.”

“Morning, what’s going on out there?” John sighs behind a swig of coffee, leaning against the front desk in the office of the station. Big man, amicable man, lived in this town his whole life, wife and two kids still in elementary school that they have to ride the bus a half hour to get to. He was who offered Joel this job about a year after he moved to town, something about not minding an extra pair of hands and eyes on the team.

“Someone reported an abandoned car on the side of the interstate early this morning. Just ran the plates, turns out it was called in stolen in Lincoln, Nebraska two days ago.” A longer than eight hour drive, he thinks, though he keeps his face unmoving, just a hum of acknowledgement to what John tells him. 

“Well that’s something else.”

“That isn’t all. Apparently, the guy is pretty sure it was his wife who stole it, because she went missing the same day. If you ask me, a woman’s gotta have a real good reason to just pick up and run away like that.” That sick feeling starts to slurry in his stomach again, though he tamps it down with a hard clear of his throat. 

“It’s quite the story, John. But where’s the wife then?”

“That’s the thing. The car was abandoned, not a sign of anyone around. All we found inside was a ratty-looking book in the passenger’s seat.” 

“Huh.” He glances back out into the lot over his shoulder, rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s still thinking through what John just told him. What he’s really doing is checking on Dolores, still in the passenger’s seat of his truck, worrying at her thumbnail between her teeth. 

“Anyways, if you see a lost-looking woman wandering around, bring her in. Though I reckon she’s long gone by now, God bless her.” Joel nods, talking numbly through all the requisite things he must, shifts and schedules, relief in his ringing ears when he steps back outside into the hard bake of the sun. He takes one more look at the tow from over the hood of his car, a shake of his head, a sigh, a conclusion, and then the slam of his car door.

…

“Can I help?” He nearly drops the pail of water he was carrying she startles him so bad. All cleaned up, in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, already fitting into the landscape, squinting at him through the late-afternoon glare. 

“If you want, you can grab that other pail and come help me top up their water.” A little unsteady with the slosh of it, she still manages just fine, following him out into the pasture, the flock already nosing closer to their water troughs. 

“Are they all girls?” Something like wonder laces through her question, taking a tentative step closer to one of the sheep, too domestic for Joel’s taste, though Dolores just laughs when the animal noses at her open palm.

“There’s two rams, they’re always a little late to the party, but you can just see them over that hill. The one on the left is Casper, and the one on the right is Lloyd.” 

“So you can tell your sheep apart, but not your chickens?” That’s new, a crackle to her words that makes him laugh as he finishes filling the water trough. But she’s still focused on the lady who is now demanding her full attention, snuffling at the hem of her shirt as she scratches between her ears. 

“Does this girl have a name?” 

“That’s Avril. My, uh, my daughter named her when I first got her.” She smiles, a little laugh when the sheep starts to jaw at the fabric of her shirt.

“Like that pop singer?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She was a big fan as a teen.”

“My little sister was too.” Her face falls the instant the words leave her mouth, the bitter flavor of the past turning her quiet all over again. Another piece that he tucks away somewhere in his mind, still quick to change the subject, to keep her in the present.

“Forgot to mention, I talked with Sal in town– he owns that diner. Said he was looking for a new waitress to work day shifts. I know it ain’t much but–”

“No, that’s– anything is good, perfect.” The sheep is starting to pull at the bottom of her shirt, Dolores too polite to do anything more than pat her lightly on the head, a small sound of protest when the fabric starts to get rucked up her stomach by the animal’s continued mouthing. 

“You know better than that, c’mon now, get.” He gives the sheep a gentle shove, earning himself a dejected bleat, though she finally gives up Dolores’ shirt, joining the rest of the flock in their huddle around the trough. For her part, Dolores doesn’t take two steps back to his two steps closer. For his part, Joel tries not to pay too much attention to this fact.

“So, should I go talk to Sal tomorrow?” He has to resist the urge to reach out and smooth the crumpled hem of her shirt, settling for stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yeah, I’ll take you over there tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Mmhmm, uh, yeah, thank you.” She seems to be holding words back beneath the pinch of her brow and the tight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Joel waits, watching her rub her palms down the front of her jeans, like a little quick heat will coax more voice out. Finally, she lets out a breath that clips itself like a laugh, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I guess I’m waiting.”

“Waiting?” 

“Yeah, you know, like, for the catch?” She says it squinting, her arms crossed over her chest, bottom lip pulled between her teeth when she finishes.

“I– that’s not– there’s no catch. You seem like you need some help, and, well, I can.” Help, still a word she’s not familiar with, something falling in her face when he says it. 

This woman who is a stranger to help. This woman who is still a stranger to him, if he’s being honest. What he knows, she has a little sister. What he knows, the bruises painted dark and dull along her arms make him sick with the want to do something for her. What he knows, the small slip of delight that slackens her frown as she watches the sheep nudge and nuzzle against each other makes him giddy with the want to do something for her. 

Stranger or not, help, because he can. Care, because he can.

...........................

taglist (lmk if you want added or dropped) : @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @darkroastjoel @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @softlyspector

[strongheartneteyam]

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems

Part 6

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: a lot of angst, tension between neteyam and reader, heartbroken neteyam, sexual tension, heartbroken reader, insecure neteyam, jealous reader, neteyam just won't leave reader's head, hurt/comfort (?), TRIGGER WARNING for some sensitive themes like reader showing signs of low self steem and not thinking she's worth it, friend group dynamic among reader, adeline and kate, kiri being sweet, reader misses neteyam and regrets dumping him, reader thinks she's protecting neteyam from hurt by staying away from him, spider makes an appearance, kiri being protective over neteyam's feelings, reader tells kiri she likes neteyam. Tell me if there's more, pls.

Here I come, finally updating this incredibly angsty fanfiction :') I hope y'all enjoy this. Writing this fic breaks my heart, guys… it feels raw, honestly. Maybe I'm just speaking like this bc I'm on my period + I'm listening to a sad Taylor Swift song but omg my heart aches rn

Not proofread. I'm sorry, babies, I'm dead rn. So freaking sleepy and finishing this at 5 am bc my mind just wouldn't let me sleep and kept forcing me to think about and write this chapter.

Part 5: The sand hurts my feelings

𓇼

It hits different 'cause it's you

I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost

Rip the Band-Aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw

Freedom felt like summer then on the coast

Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings

And I never don't cry at the bar

Yeah, my sadness is contagious

Hits Different (Taylor Swift)

𓇼

"Hey." Neteyam greeted you in a dry tone. He found it hard to look into your eyes so he just gazed rapidly into them and then kept his eyes on the ground.

His heart was broken, aching and his pride was shattered. Neteyam hated to see everybody around him looking at him with pity in their faces, knowing that he had been dumped by the girl he loved. He wondered if the boys - Lo'ak, Rotxo and Ao'nung - looked down on him now. Neteyam suddenly felt like he was not a good hypothetical mate. He had always thought he would make a good, reliable and loving mate to the girl he would one day choose to be his but you made him start doubting that after last night. He knew it was probably stupid but still he couldn't seem to get rid of those feelings.

You tried to hide your uneasiness but it was written all over your face.

"Hi." You answered Neteyam, your heart pounding in your chest, anxiety leaving your hands cold.

The pain you were causing Neteyam could be easily seen in the way his jaw clenched, in the way he weirdly looked insecure instead of confident as he always seemed to be. You wanted to say "I'm sorry", you wanted to say "Maybe I did the wrong thing when I refused to become your mate" but you had seen him with Munì. It was useless now, anyway.

Lo'ak looked at Neteyam, then back at you and then he would redo the whole thing all over again, like he was waiting for the both of you to exchange more words. Poor thing. He seemed even more tense than Neteyam and you.

"Rotxo, Ao'nung" Neteyam rapidly called, looking now at the Metkayina boys "Tonowari is waiting for us. Clan business." His voice was serious and seemed slightly annoyed, his face stern 

You wondered if Neteyam said "clan business" instead of giving more detail because you were sitting there too and he was mad at you. Well, you didn't blame him if that's how he felt. You deserved it. You could have been nicer to him this morning.

"Let's go!" Lo'ak spoke loudly, like he was trying to get out of that awkward situation as fast as he could

"Chill out, forest boy. We're going." Ao'nung teased and Rotxo laughed 

"I'm Metkayina now, fish lips. Stop calling me that." Lo'ak responded 

Frenemies indeed.

The boys left and your gaze was fixed on Neteyam's back as he walked away next to the other Metkayina. As you looked down at the beach floor, you wished that ache inside you would just vanish but life doesn't work that way.

When you looked up, you saw Tsireya's and Kiri's big feline eyes fixed on your face. It scared the crap out of you. They seemed even wider now.

"What?!" You sounded legitimately startled

"Neteyam told me and Lo'ak he was gonna ask you to be his mate at the party." Kiri stated

"And how the hell did every person in this tribe find out about that? Did he tell them too?" You didn't mean to sound rude but you really were overwhelmed by the situation

"It's just me, my brother and Rotxo. Only we know, other than Kiri and Lo'ak. My stupid brother overheard Kiri asking Neteyam how it had went, what answer you had given to Neteyam and he told Rotxo. I saw them laughing like idiots and asked what was so funny. That's when Ao'nung told me." Tsireya said, like she was sorry about the fact that so many people knew about yours and Neteyam's intimate business

𓇼

The day after that, you and the girls went back to Hell's Gate. You decided it was better to leave things the way they were. To let Neteyam have a nice, healthy and proper relationship with someone of his own kind. Like your father always used to say, na'vi and humans will never be equal. But he meant it in a derogatory way, with prejudice against the na'vi in his words while you meant something totally different. It was just natural that na'vi would marry other na'vi, not a human. The differences between both cultures did not just speak loud, they actually shouted like a mad person. You knew you could never get accustomed to being a na'vi male's mate. Not even if that male was Neteyam and just thinking about leaving him behind, thinking that you felt absolutely nothing for him, made you feel a burning, painful sensation in your heart. And of course Neteyam would be better off with an emotionally stable mate. Munì seemed perfect for him. 

You totally did not feel anger boiling inside your guts anytime you thought about her stupid smiles and giggles back when she was talking to him at the beach. She would make him happy and you were totally happy for them. The next step for you would be actually believing the words you just thought.

𓇼

One month and a few days had passed. You felt grateful that you had been able to dodge all the demands to go conduct scientific researches on the Metkayina tribe that you had received until now, asking to exchange positions with colleagues and staying in the lab, doing paperwork instead. You were doing everything in your power to avoid Neteyam. But you could never seem to be able to avoid the pain that washed over your body and the tears that wanted to come out - but never actually did because you were always strong enough to hold them back - whenever a sad love song started playing in your earbuds or in one of your friend's phones. It seemed like every fucking dumb love song reminded you of him.

After Kiri sent you a message almost begging you to go visit her, making you feel guilty and saying that she missed you a lot and now that she had her own marui, you just had to go to the reef and see it, you couldn't say "no". She was being too adorable and you missed her too. You asked Kiri if Kate and Adeline could come along and she excitedly agreed, so, the three of you used your next couple of days off to travel to the Metkayina beach again. It was a blessing that Neteyam had traveled to the Omatikaya tribe to see his grandmother Mo'at and was gonna be gone for a while, as Kiri had guaranteed you.

Kiri always had a very human side to her, just like Lo'ak. Neteyam didn't even seem like he was half human at times. He was extremely proud to be na'vi and wore his indigenous culture with honor all over himself. You could never see Neteyam asking to have his own place. He was too attached to his family - and you thought that was extremely cute. It wasn't traditional amongst the na'vi for an unmated young girl to leave her family's marui like that but Kiri was clever and she found a way to get what she wanted out of her parents.

𓇼

Adeline, Kate and you woke up as early as the Pandoran skies got clear and dragged your sleepy and tired asses to the Metkayina tribe. Being a scientist would never not leave a person overworked and exhausted. Like most mornings, you had drank way too much caffeine already for such an early hour in the day.

"Girl, how do you always look so beautiful? I could never." You pointed out as you watched Adeline make two thin braids to frame her round, delicate face and put her black curly hair in a voluminous bun on the top of her head, while the both of you were inside the science team's helicopter, heading to the Metkayina reef.

You had always found Adeline extremely pretty with her dark skin, voluptuous figure and feminine style. She always made sure to look cute.

"I don't know. I guess I'm God's favorite." She joked around and the both of you started to laugh

Adeline was also funny. She could put a smile in your face anytime, even when you were sad. You considered her a sister from another mother.

"You guys are stupid." Kate teased as she was laughing too and holding an energy drink filled with caffeine in her pale hand. She'd drink those often to help wake her up.

Kate's long, blonde, wavy hair fell gracefully over her chest. Her eyes were blue and she was tall and had an athletic but slim body. Damn, you only had breathtaking friends.

𓇼

Kate and Adeline had decided to take a nap after lunch in Kiri's marui and they asked if you would come too but you refused as you were far too restless to be able to sleep. That beach brought back too many memories…

So, now you found yourself sitting in the sand, watching the ocean waves break as they hit the shore with Kiri by your side. She had managed to make you say the truth about why you seemed so troubled.

"Yeah, (y/n), you fucked up big time." Kiri stated with that aura of wisdom beyond her years that only herself knew how to effortlessly exude.

You wanted to dig a hole in the sand under your feet and jump inside of it, hiding and never coming back up again. Of course you'd fuck it up with Neteyam. You had a cursed tendency to self sabotage. You did not know if being so freaking aware of it made you better or if it actually made you worse.

"Are you mad at me?" You ask nervously with furrowed eyebrows 

"(y/n)! It's not my feelings that you should be worried about! It's not my heart that you broke." Kiri scolded you as she looked at you with those big feline yellow eyes like she was actually horrified. You felt so bad for thinking it was kind of funny. "I know you don't wanna be Neteyam's mate but do you not care about him at all? Not even a little bit? He hasn't been the same ever since you dumped him and left. Poor thing can barely go train with dad. I think I saw him sniffing while hiding one of these days. Eywa knows that prideful teylu" (edible Pandoran bug) "would never cry in front of us."

"I swear I didn't mean to be cruel. I just did not know… how to react. It was sudden, you know? It's like, I don't know… a cultural shock? Humans don't go around asking people they just met to marry them. Or… become their mates." It would never feel normal to say "mates" to you

Apparently you had acted just like Kat Stratford in 10 Things I Hate About You, when she would cold heartedly refuse Patrick Verona over and over again. You used to always watch that vintage movie with Tracy. It was one of her favorites. 

"Don't act like it was the first time you two had met. Neteyam stared at you all the time when you came to our tribe. I swear to Eywa I've never seen him nervous to talk to a girl before but you have a power over my brother… it's fucking crazy to watch actually. He's like a needy, dumb dog drooling over you when he looks at you. It's even freaky." Kiri couldn't hold it back so she burst into laughter, hiding her mouth with her big but delicate hand

You were nervous as fuck but you started to laugh too. It seemed like the nervousness and guilt and tense vibe of the situation only made it worse, making everything even more funny and absurd.

"You know the worst part of it all?" You looked at her like a child who just broke their mom's most precious vase

"Great Mother, don't tell me there's more." Kiri said, incredulous

"I think I like Neteyam." You confessed like you were a good catholic girl confessing her sins to a priest

"You like him?!" She almost screamed

"You don't need to declare it out loud for the whole reef to hear!" You got slightly mad

"You teylu!" She smirked as she moved her head from side to side in disapproval "Why the hell did you dump him then?"

"I don't know, Kiri. Don't judge me, okay?" You put both your hands over your face, hiding it and moving your head from side to side yourself this time. 

At least you knew your attitude had been controversial and confusing to say the least. They say the first steps to recovery are realizing and admitting you're insane.

𓇼

It was now eclipse. You were inside Kiri's home with her and your human friends. Kate and Adeline were finishing unpacking their bags.

"Guys, I'm going out for some fresh air, okay?" You said, trying to find an excuse to get out of that marui filled with girls - human and na'vi.

"You've been acting weird lately." Adeline pointed out "Spending too much time alone."

Kiri discreetly looked at you with a look of concern in her face, as she was the only one of the girls who knew the reason behind your strange demeanor.

"I just need some air. I'll be back soon." You spoke as you walked towards the door of the marui

"Don't go in the ocean! It could be dangerous!" Kate yelled. She was the "mom friend" of the group.

"I know!" You laughed "I'm not stupid. I'm a scientist too. But thanks for your concern."

You walked through the beach for a while, trying to take a certain tall, handsome blue alien out of your mind when you saw Spider walking in the area too. He waved at you and you waved back.

You weren't as close to Spider as you were to Kiri and Lo'ak but you did love his company.

You sat on the sand with him, looking at the ocean, just like you had done with Kiri earlier and you two started to catch up and eventually the talk got deeper, more philosophical.

"Don't you feel crazy, Spider? Living among beings of another species? Don't you feel… left out?" Your eyes looked at him with genuine doubt in them

"I do, sometimes." He sighs "Especially because of how Mrs Sully acts towards me, at times" the both of you laughed quickly "But this place is my home. I was born in Pandora, I know nowhere else that I could call home. And also, I grew up around Lo'ak, Kiri, Neteyam and Tuk. They're family to me, even if not related by blood. It doesn't really matter in the end, family are the ones who are there for you. Not your bloodline." 

"Oh my God, I totally agree!" You rapidly say in a slight loud tone, chuckling, like you wanted to emphasize how much you shared the same opinion with him

"So..." You pondered if you should tell him or not "Neteyam talked to me last-"

"Yeah, I know. Ao'nung told me." Spider interrupted

"Of course he did..." You rolled your eyes and sighed. So everybody knew already...

Spider chuckled softly.

"Anyways, Neteyam calls me tawtute. I think it's funny that he calls me "human", but in na'vi"

"Yeah, that's him being affectionate towards you. He likes you. A lot." Spider pointed out

You stoped smiling and your heart started feeling painful.

"He probably hates me now, actually. I totally blew it off. I was really insensitive towards him." Shame and regret covered your face, as you were crestfallen

"Have you ever thought about apologizing?"

"Yeah, of course I have. Many times. I just…" You hesitated "I guess I can't face him now."

"Oh, c'mon. I know you can do it. Isn't it worse to be feeling guilty and sad and let Neteyam think you don't feel sorry for hurting him?"

"You have a point, Spider. God, I hate it when you're right." You laughed and slapped his arm softly, in a playful manner

𓇼

Adeline and Kate slept peacefully next to you, each one of them in a different mat - but the three mats had been placed next to the other. You, on the other hand, hadn't been able to sleep well in almost two months. Kiri told you and the girls she was gonna stay up and she now was, at the corner of the marui, making herself a new beaded necklace in the light of a tiny fire she had lit up.

As you laid quietly in your mat with your eyes closed but wide awake, you heard footsteps inside the marui. You could not believe it when you opened your eyes and you saw it was Neteyam. His tall, slender figure and head full of thin braids that danced in the air as he moved made you recognize him immediately, even in the dark of the eclipse.

Damn! Wasn't he supposed to be in the Omatikaya tribe right now? And what the hell was he even doing here instead of going to his parents' marui?

𓇼

Taglist:

@iman-lu

@leaveitbythewave

@creepytoes88

@live-laugh-neteyam

@swaggygurlbae

@neteluvr

@layla2-49

@a-blog-name-2003

@lala-1516

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@yeosxxx

@iaratezaewa

[znitsamluv]

Hiii if ur not busy can you do this?

Soulmate AU Chifuyu x fem reader (who is a valhalla captain). Its the one where if your soulmate gets injured you get the same injuries too. So during the time when chifuyu got hit by the first punch by baji in the valhalla arcade, reader quickly realizes and basically runs out bc obviously she can't risk seeing being soulmates with a rivalling gang member.

The rest is up to you on how it goes. But if you don't want to do this its fine!

Fate !

Note: had some much writing this and I hope you liked it too anon since I am not really good with writing oneshots , anyway have fun.

Chifuyu x FEM!reader

Warnings: Kisaki, mentions of Bruises and fighting but not overly detailed just mentioned a few times.

" you are late ... Again "

I glanced at kisaki for a second and shrugged my shoulders not really feeling intimated

" My bad "

I walked away but didn't fail to hear kisaki scoffing, even though he is younger and weaker than most of us he wasn't a person to be taken lightly which makes me patient around his bratty attitude and lack of respect to those around him.

I walked further in the hideout and saw hanma grinning widely as two blonde boys wearing the toman uniform stood in the hideout, my eyes widened for a second they are really asking for death !

It all happened so quickly, I made eye contact with one of them and I felt an electric shock that lasted for a second leaving me with goosebumps.

'Huh?!' I couldn't even have time to process as Baji started beating up the blonde one which I heard his name was chifuyu, every blow and punch I felt it deep in my guts , I can feel my lungs struggle to breathe just like chifuyu must be feeling , I could feel my head spinning, he is going to pass out if I didn't do something.

I quickly pushed Baji away and looked at Hanma and kisaki.

" that's is enough we don't want to kill someone and cause problems"

My breath was shaky but I managed to hide it well , I was a higher rank member in Valhalla and my orders were as important as kisaki and hanma so other members started clearing the way.

" I will take care of that boy before toman realize he is missing "

I didn't wait to hear an answer as I bent down taking a hold of chifuyu's arm and pushing him to stand then making him lean on me as I dragged his half conscious body outside the hideout.

His pain was mine , I could feel how his jaw aches from Baji's earlier punches and how his left eye kept twitching in pain and I could only imagine the ugly bruise that will form later.

I couldn't walk really far with how heavy he was but I know that we were far enough to be out of sight , I gently placed him on a public bench in the park , looking at him from a closer angle made me realize he was quite handsome despite his visibly swollen face .

I continued to stare at him for a minute, a part of me telling me I should leave already as I saved him enough, and the other begging me to stay to make sure he was ok .

I sighed and messed with my hair in frustration seeing how no matter I tried to leave him like this it felt like a force was holding me back, if I can't leave then I should at least treat his face wounds since I could feel them as well .

I opened my backpack and took out my first aid kit , I took a deep breath as I held his chin softly wiping the dried blood before I use any treatment, my eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

'i'm doing this for me'

Even though my mind thought like this my soul knew otherwise, if it was another person I could have let Baji killed him and I wouldn't care , I wouldn't be standing here cleaning his wounds like I have known him for years .

I could feel Chifuyu stir awake and once he opened his eyes fully I was met with a push making me stumble back a little.

" What the hell?"

I looked at him with confused and irritated expression not really expecting this type of reaction, I saw how his eyes scanned me until it Landed on my Valhalla uniform and how visibly tensed he was.

" Where is Baji ?!"

" huh ?!"

I looked at him in disbelief, he must have hit his head hard to be thinking of someone else let alone the one who beat him like this when he was in this condition.

" I said where is Baji ?"

I can see how he tried to be intimidating but I couldn't help but let out a chuckle in amusement.

Chifuyu didn't know what was wrong but just hearing her chuckle made butterflies swim in his stomach.

" I think you should be caring about something else"

I touched the bruise on his cheek making him hiss in pain .

" look , I am not here to hurt you, just let me finish helping you and I will leave"

I looked at his eyes as I talked trying not to lose focus, Chifuyu knew he couldn't move after what happened not long ago and he wouldn't mind staying here .... You felt oddly comfortable to be around , his heart beating faster once he noticed the string tattoo on your arm which just looks like his , he always heard how soulmates have matching indicators and for him it was the tattoo.

" You- "

The words got stuck in his throat, seeing how close you were to his face , feeling your breathe fan at his face , the string tattoo starting to get tighter making him hiss slightly.

" just stay still, I will be quick"

The ability to talk was taken out of chifuyu, he just nodded in a dazed state , maybe because he was tired and couldn't think straight but he felt like he could stay here all day, under your gaze seeing how much you tried to look like you don't care and you hate him , but your expressions betrayed you as your eyes softened everytime chifuyu would groan in pain or jump slightly from the stinging feeling of the cotton pad brushing softly against the ugly bruise on his cheek .

Seeing how you stood just close enough to see the details of your face , the way your eyes sparkled in concentration, the way the orange sky of the sunset kissed your skin as you looked at him. He could look at you forever if he could.

And of course I didn't miss the way chifuyu looked at me , the way he blushed at the slightest touch on his skin , the way he avoided eye contact, i couldn't help but feel warm inside. It felt peaceful for once .

Once I finished treating his wounds I moved a few steps back, seeing his pretty face all covered in plasters and patches made me feel some kind of rage inside of me , not knowing exactly who I was mad at but it felt right to feel like that when you see the one the universe chose for you in this state .

I sighed and sat beside him on the bench massaging my temples as I felt a headache coming.

" If I knew I was going to meet my soulmate today I would have at least tried to look cooler and fight back "

Chifuyu mumbled loud enough making me giggle slightly as I looked at him noticing his embarrassed red cheeks.

We stayed in silence watching the last stream of light go down before exchanging places with the moon , neither of us wanted to move nor talk , just stay close like this in silence.

" i think I will be taking my leave"

I stood up only to halt when chifuyu's hand wrapped around my wrist gently making me stay still in my place , his eyes saying million words a second and yet nothing seemed to get out .

" you don't have to"

We both stared at each other , the universe made us for each other but the pathes and choices we took in life making a repulsive reaction whenever we thought of staying . It feels ridiculous to be in a situation I always laughed about, to be torn between two choices you want to chose both of them .

" we can work this together slowly... Just the two of us "

It felt like a magic spell putting me in haze , I think I know which choice I am going with this time .

I took out a small piece of paper writing something on it and placing it in chifuyu's hand , before starting to walk away.

" wait ! "

Chifuyu sighed in defeat seeing you walk away , noticing the paper in his hand he unfolded it and couldn't help but smile widely and feel his ears getting warmer reading your note .

' Here is my number.... Call me when you need to get your wounds cleaned '

Chifuyu chuckled and shook his head in amusement thinking to himself.

' I think I will need my wounds cleaned up every hour '

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey! I really enjoy everything you write! :) Can I request a blurb with Daemon and Stark!Reader in which she tells him she's with child and his reaction to the news? Thank you so much! ❤️

Moon Cycle

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: He smiles, reaching out to me, "so, are we having a dragonling?"

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, smut (reader in heat?, emotional fucking, she cries mid fucking, spitting, vaginal penetration, degradation kink, biting, breeding kink?), feminism has fled me fam, soft!daemon kinda, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HI THIS OPENS WITH SMUT COS 🙈 MINORS DNI you said you wanted a blurb nonnie but i say i want to write a whole fic (: cos my targ x stark duo have called to me again I HOPE YOURE OK WITH THE SMUT DAMN YOU SHOULDNT BE READING ANY OF MY STARK!READER FICS IF YOU ARENT T_T Tagging: @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog @pinksirensong @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @sloanexx @nyctophilic0vitnir I'm too lazy to put all the parts so please be advised this follows a whole universe though i would think you could still read it by itself :D here's its masterlist cos of course it has a masterlist it got too big and my head was fried previous fic p3 | Stark!Reader Masterlist

It hurt. It's been hurting.

Every fucking moon, I go from wanting to butcher Daemon for, well... being Daemon, for strutting around with his big head and puffed chest, or should I say, following me around with his big head and puffed chest, to very literally getting on my hands and knees with tears in my eyes begging him to make me feel better.

Because it hurts.

It fucking hurts so bad, because I want him.

There was a pressure in my belly, an ache between my thighs that I couldn't fucking rid of by myself. My treacherous body wanted, no needed, no pleaded-- groveled for him.

And normally, if Daemon laughed at me or called me names, I'd pay him back worse with pettier tomfoolery. But never like this. Never when my eyes were blown at the sight of him towering over me while I'm lied in bed, never when I was very much so at his mercy, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting ever so patiently. Waiting like his--

"Pretty little eager whore," he traced my lips with two of his fingers and slowly brought them in my mouth.

My heart was pounding so hard that by entire body was vibrating. My tongue swirled around his fingers as he pushed my jaw down.

I was doing a pretty good job at obeying, in keeping my hands on the side of the bed, gripping the sheets for dear deliverance, and not touching him though I so badly wanted to.

My legs were wrapped around him, unwilling, absolutely selfishly, haughtily, greedily refusing to let him go. His furious, hard member was so tragically left uninvited in my eager baby house. Yes, my maniacal fucking womb that has been overriding my brain in decisions every moon. Every. Single. Moon. where, regretfully, I have been without the prize it so eagerly wants to get... so to speak.

"Look at you," my husband presses with his body, bound in muscles I so desired to be ripped apart with. His body, burning like molten dragon fire, hotter still against my skin that burned for him. The feel of him was so blistering in these moments that I, in fact, no longer could be proud of my own heat that has kept me warm in the harsh winters in the North.

His fingers in my mouth pushes my tongue down, "you would let me do anything to you."

The sound that leaves my open mouth would not have been a sound any sane person would make. And yet I made it a point to even nod my head at his words.

I let out another disturbingly lewd sound when he hisses and rocks himself against me in response.

I arch my back. I rip at the sheets. I close my mouth and suck on his fingers. I use my entire body to tell him how fucking badly I need this, how desperate I was to have him have his way with me. Anyway way with me. Please.

Daemon growls, "gōntan nyke epagon ao naejot bībagon, ao rene?" Did I ask you to suck, you slut?

My stomach burned at the recognition of his crude words. They were, in truth, the few ones I could make out because of how often he uses them on me.

Daemon's long, silver hair spills over to me as he leans and curls his lip in disdain, "open your mouth, haughty bitch."

I open my mouth for him, as I was his haughty bitch.

He pulls his fingers out and I feel the warmth of his fingers as he squeezes my jaw. I begin to allow my mouth to relax and slowly close, but that was my mistake.

"Open!" he barks, tightening his grip on me.

My belly drops and the pulse in between my legs intensifies. I open my mouth and dart my tongue out to my lower lip.

Daemon licks his own glistening mouth and chin, shining still from the desperate release I had embarrassingly quickly when he kissed my delirious womanhood. He then pulls his tongue back in and I watch as his Adam's apple bobs. Then, he lazily turns his violet eyes at me like I was the most uninteresting thing in the world and spits into my throat.

I should not have made the sound that I did, but I did, and I eagerly swallowed his thick spit.

Daemon goes wild. His hands claw at my breasts as he rocks his hips against mine and moans like he ran 50 miles, "fucking hell, my love."

I whine when he takes my hands and puts it on him, wordlessly giving me the dominion on his body I had been longing for. I eagerly relish his skin. I touch him everywhere, hands clawing and rubbing his taut back, crying out at the texture of his skin I sought to memorize with my palms.

Daemon sinks his head next to mine as he shifts above me, allowing me to suckle on his prized shoulder like a hungry babe.

His fingers dig into my fleshy thighs and when he finally grants me some form of relief by entering me, his words nearly go deaf to me with my needy squeak. He mutters against my ear, "you're so washed up by the need to be bred, I almost feel bad for you."

I rip at his scalp when he begins to thrust into me.

"Almost," he chuckles, "I do say, I like you best when you're cock drunk and broken by me."

I pant against him and pull him closer, as if he wasn't the closest he could be already, "Daemon, ᵈ𝐚ｅм𝑜ภ, pleeeaaaase- wan you- wan- so-soooo bad-"

He kisses my cheek, "I know." He lifts himself up and I whine, fighting against him, not wanting him to move away. He shushes me like a child, scolding me for clawing at him. He swats my hands away as he pushes my legs into my chest. He repeats rather impatiently, "I know, ñuha jorrāelagon, but you have to let me work."

I throw my head back with my hands, lamenting his loss. My eyes begin to water in my desperation, "darling, please."

Daemon huffs as he quickens his pace, folding me like a piece of paper, rutting into me with purpose. The sound of his brutalizing echoes in our empty chambers. It is clouded by my pathetic sobs and moans, as well as the prince's sore displeasure, "such a spoiled brat. You cannot have everything all the time."

My mind is reduced to nothing but pain and pleasure.

Truly like a brat, saddened over the fact I could not reach and press against my husband as he fucks me into oblivion, my mouth quivers as my tears stain my cheeks. But at the same time, so excited and so pleasured by his rough hands and his thick girth ramming into me, my very same mouth that was quivering was calling out in ecstasy.

I ripped at my own hair then. I was so feral and there was nothing better to do. I screw my eyes shut, neck straining with desperate calls for my love.

Daemon locks his grip on my hip bones and chastises me for my tears, "you dare complain to your prince when I've been generous to such a whore?" He heaves deeper and thrusts sharper into me. My voice is unstable as I scream out because of it.

"I ought to come in your mouth to teach you a lesson," he growls, making it a point to dig his fingers into me, intent on leaving bruises.

My eyes shoot open, my lashes laces with tears. I shake my head and whine, "please, please, no, no-"

"Then thank me for my generosity."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

I continue to thank him as I continue my descent to madness. I begin to clench against him. Daemon hisses as leans forward, hands sinking into the cushion by my sides, allowing him to pivot so deliciously and brutally into my sopping heat.

I groan as I reach for his face, reaching back to his nape, hell bent on pulling his hair and riding my incoming high.

"Daemon," I hoarsely whisper, "please."

"Yes, pretty girl," Daemon mutters, "I'll give your tight cunny what it wants so desperately," his one hand reaches down to my thigh, "kesan mazverdagon ao māzigon sȳz." I will make you come good.

Nothing but strangled breathing and obscene noises are left for a long moment.

And then.

My body coils around him. My stomach tightens. My legs constrict. My head thrashes back. My neck strains. My jaw drops. My voice cracks.

And then I grow rigid and hot and wild and absolutely relieved. I call out to him as my tears prick in the corner of my eyes and my nails dig into his flesh.

And then the sensation is intensified by the fullness of him erupting into me. Daemon comes with a thick string of cusses and an even thicker string of hotness, unrelentingly focused on reaching the very depths of my flesh, of my entire fucking being.

I wail like the maddened woman I am, his melted ragdoll, his starved bride, cunt clamoring for cock.

In his constant drive to destroy, he tramples into me until all my delight ripples into sharp stabs of discomfort. But it doesn't last very long until his tempo loses its pace and the terseness of his form mimics my liquified one. With his body aflame and pulse racing, Daemon sinks down onto me, pressing together our two chests, fighting for air.

I seal him in my limbs and tightly pull him into me, even though we were both overheating at this point.

Daemon's hot breath sears my neck but I don't care, I cradle his head and adjust my legs around him, needing him there, needing him to stay, needing to be full of him.

He calls out my name between exhales and kisses my jaw, he speaks to me in High Valyrian, something, I knew, meant he was not going to run away. I don't care. I wasn't about to let him go. He was staying here. He was staying here. I need him here.

He sighs as he brushes his nose against me. He must have felt the dampness of my tears, which was why he began to lick on my skin. He lifts his head as much as he could with me still pulling him down. He looks at me, "are you alright, pretty wife?"

I loosen my hold a fraction to turn to him. I readily nod. I take his face in my hands and pepper him with kisses, "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you-"

He silences me by pressing his lips on mine. He rubs his nose against mine before sinking his face down again, "don't thank me yet. We may well continue with this song and dance next moon cycle, or tomorrow," he chuckles, "not that I'm complaining."

I trail kisses on his shoulder, kissing the war scars on his skin, "I love you so much, Daemon, thank you."

He laughs, making me whimper. Daemon rubs his face against mine, confessing in his mother tongue the same sentiment, "avy jorrāelan." He breathes out in self-satisfaction, "remember this feeling when we're not joined to the hip. You would do anything for me."

"Anything," I mumble back. I then tighten my grip at his indirect threat to pull out of me, "you're not allowed to leave. Never. Never."

Daemon laughs again, pulling his head up, nipping at my lip, "what a brat."

"Don't fucking call me that," I snap raising a finger at him.

Not even a whole day has passed and Daemon was already extremely disappointed that my hedonistic want for him dissipated, was nonexistent really, especially after hearing his plans to bring my wolf, Havoc, off with him to a fucking banquet.

I roughly adjust the ties of his dress shirt on him. Daemon watches as I do this, lips curved into a smile, "you liked it last night."

"That was because you weren't spitting out nonsense."

"Oh," he takes one of my hands, "but I did spit in your mouth."

I glare as I rip my hand back, hitting him with his coat before helping him put it on.

Daemon licks his lips as he chuckles and allows me to finish dressing him. He pushes my hair back and tilts his head as he puts his sleeves on, "I'll keep her outside. I promise."

I ignore him as I button down his coat.

"Havoc wouldn't attack-"

"You." I cut him off, turning to him with an annoyed expression. I shake my head, "it took her ages to even tolerate the people here. You think it's a good idea for her to be taken to a strange land at a house you're meant to be the king's envoy?"

Daemon makes a face as I drag him by the arm to the chair of my vanity. He winces when I roughly brush his hair in distaste. He groans, "gently."

I glare at him from the mirror and rip at his head.

He repels the action and crosses his arms, "you know well enough that if it is I my brother is sending as an envoy, he means to send a message. And not of a pleasant sort."

"So? Bring Caraxes," I say as I hand him the brush and gather the hair at the top of his head.

He pouts, "but they already know we have dragons. I want to show them my wife's beast."

I roll my eyes as I tie his hair.

"Come with me then."

I scoff, "aren't you the same man that convinced the maesters to tell me off for even breathing because you're convinced I'm with child?"

"Well," Daemon smirks, "when you woke up unwanting to fuck, I figured I might have done the trick last night."

I drop my hands to his shoulders after finishing styling his hair, "you know, just because I wasn't so eager this morning, doesn't mean I don't want to-"

I don't even get to finish as Daemon stands and grabs my face.

I step back when he leans in to kiss me and push him off, saying the few of his native speech that I knew "gīda ilagon, doru-borto zaldrīzes." Calm down, stupid dragon.

He hums, "I love it when you talk to me like this."

I am unable to dodge his attack further and sigh against his kiss. Before I could let him undo all the work I put in dressing him, I push him back, "Daemon, you have places to be."

He narrows his eyes, faux thinking, then shakes his head. "I really don't," he mutters.

I whimper when his hand darts between my thighs, forcing itself to my core even with my skirt on.

When I don't push him off, Daemon sinks into my neck and laughs, "I see..." he licks my skin, "you're still my needy bitch."

"Daemon..."

He pulls back, taking his hands with him, smiling as he brings his arms behind his back, "then I shall leave happily, knowing you will suffer without me."

I feel my stomach burn, both in spite and need.

Daemon smiles as he presses a quick kiss on my lips and walks off, "see you in a week, my love."

"A week?" I call, "but it takes 3 days on dragon back."

"Ah... but I fear Caraxes is too tired as of late," he marches across the room, "I must take the horses. Or actually, perhaps I should walk. Poor steeds, overworked as it is."

"When did you start to fucking care?" I hiss.

"Today," he chuckles.

I scoff, crossing my arms, "walk then! See if I care."

I did very much care.

I cared oh so very, very much, especially when he had not returned home after 8 days. Especially after learning the news the moron's hunch was correct, and I was, in fact with child.

I got so restless over the idea of not only carrying a life inside my belly, but with the one where the degenerate cretin must have walked to prove a point, to spite me. It was driving me insane. What if he ran into trouble? What if he got lost? What if he died?

Havoc could not bare to be apart from me after the day the maesters told me the news. I had gotten so anxious that she got so anxious, very much so that she did not let anyone near me, not that I wanted anyone near me in the first place.

What I wanted was the fucker who did this to me. I needed him to come back to- to... us.

Today, I was at the dragon pit, seriously debating taking Caraxes to find his stupid master. Would he even let me ride him without Daemon? Don't know. Will he even know what the fuck I want him to do? Probably not. But here I was at the dragon pit, face to face with a dragon keeper, speaking at me with a language I did not understand with not only a restless me, but a restless direwolf and a restless dragon. Not my brightest moments, but I was rather desperate as of late, if you couldn't already tell.

I wrapped my arms around myself as the man that cared for the overgrown fire lizards explained something to me slowly. Caraxes may have disagreed with what he said, considering that he began to hiss.

It was a series of tense events after another at this point.

The next thing I knew, Havoc was going insane, growling and barking at Caraxes out of nowhere.

I bark at her and point a finger, "down girl!"

Havoc's ears shift back but she continues to snarl.

I turn to where her eyes are locked, at Caraxes, who was shaking his head and whining. He snarls and steps back slowly, blowing smoke through his nostrils until he was laid down. He makes a screeching nose as he drops his head in front of me.

Havoc finally calms, literally shoving the dragon keeper away in order to come to Caraxes and lick his face.

I watch in confused horror of what just happened, what was happening, then turn to the dragon keeper as he exclaims and throws his hands up.

I let out a sigh as I inch close to the direwolf and the dragon, placing a hand on each of their bodies, stroking them, "that's right... gīda ilagon, be calm, the both of you."

"Princess."

I turn at the sound of the call. I suck in a sharp breath, shoulders dropping in relief when I see the smug face that I do.

"You fucker," I mutter through tears, gathering my skirt up and walking over to man who was already walking over to me. I pick up my pace and jog to him, scowling as I did.

The ass stops in his tracks and laughs. He smiles, reaching out to me, "so, are we having a dragonling?"

Daemon grunts when I jump into his arms. He latches onto me and breathes in deeply, pulling me up until my feet left the floor, "oh foolish girl. So worked up for nothing."

"You were gone for eight days, Daemon!"

"I said I'd be gone a week," he sets me down. He pulls back and rubs my lips with his thumb, "it's been a week."

I punch his chest, "it's been eight days!"

"Same thing," he grunts and recoils, breaking into a laugh. "Fine," he grabs my hand and tugs me close to him, "you have my apologies," he kisses the back of my hand, "but... you've not answered me though."

Daemon purses his lips into as smile. He places his hands on my waist, pulling me into him. I scowl at him as he pushes my hair back. I reach out to him, wrapping my arms around his torso. His smile magnifies, "have you made me a kepa, darling?"

His violet eyes twinkle when he asked this. The glint in his eyes is bright, not just because it held the telltale mischief it did normally, but also because, behind them, I could see his hope, I could see was looking forward to this, in knowing his hunch was right all along, smug fucker... my smug rotten fuck.

I bite my lower lip at the though. It is overwhelming real for me so suddenly. It was like my life was flashing before me. I feel tears prick in the corner of my eyes.

Daemon's expression goes lax. He releases a breath. He calls out my name softly. He speaks it in a way he has not done before. He says it as a means to comfort me. He says it in a tender way. He's misread my reaction.

He kisses my forehead, "It's alright. We haven't been trying for long. I'll make it up to you, darling. I don't want you to cry, unless you're begging for my-"

"I am with child."

His mouth ceases. His words go dry.

I release a chuckle as I feel my tears fog my vision, "I found out a few days ago and I've been frantic ever since."

Daemon releases a chuckle and shakes his head, "you're with child."

I nod as tears stream my cheeks.

He laughs and seals me into a hug, "well done!" He kisses my forehead.

I begin to choke on my tears.

"Oh, no more. Fret no longer," he tightens his arms around me, laughing again, "my wife has blessed me with a dragon."

My lips quiver, "Daemon, I started to think of the worst scenarios possible. I thought you died"

"Shhh," he pulls away to kiss my lips, "it takes a lot to kill me," he grins, "shall I fuck your fears away?"

I groan, "Daemon."

He laughs, pulling away, "you've made me a father, my whiny pup," he grabs my hands, "it's the least I could do."

I groan, "I'm being serious, Daemon."

"As am I!" he says, looking around in excitement. It seems he only now caught sight the two creatures across us, "has Havoc been licking Caraxes' face this whole time?"

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Much-Needed Hiatus

Hi hi! I really liked “Out of Commission” and was wondering if you’d consider writing another chapter for it! In my head it’d be very angsty at the beginning as the others have to come to terms with how their actions affect Roman (especially since Virgil and Patton don’t know yet) but ends with a fluffy cuddle pile and a promise of things getting better. Anyways, love your work and I hope you’re well! – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3704

Roman wakes up with a hand in his hair and his head pillowed in someone's lap. There's a soft voice murmuring to another soft voice and something quietly humming a few feet away. He mumbles something that's supposed to be a question and the hand stills, before moving to cup his cheek.

"Darling," he hears floating through the quiet haze, "darling, are you awake?"

Yes, he wants to mumble, but then there's another hand on his knee, toying very lightly with the seam of his pants, whispering how it's better to let him sleep, he must be so tired, and he suddenly feels a rush of fear at what being awake would mean.

If he's awake, the lap he's resting on might decide not to let him rest there anymore. If he's awake, the gentle hand on his cheek might decide to leave. If he's awake, he'll have to actually be a person and confront what the hell is going on and that—that might be the worst thing he's had to do in a long time.

Memories float back to him piece by piece. Of the meeting, of his hands aching and wanting to cut them off at the wrists, of afterwards and Logan finding him and everyone coming and being so, so, so scared and not being able to do anything other than lie there and cry, which wouldn't be good for him in any world because Logan already thinks that he's weak and pathetic and bad at being professional or at least good enough for the videos, and then having the most wonderful dream of coming back to awareness with Logan's voice all soft and sweet in his ears, with Janus sitting there too and telling him it's going to be alright, that everything would be alright, and—and—

"I think he's having a nightmare," comes the murmur of Janus's voice now, "shh, sweetie, it's okay, you're safe."

A quiet noise of concern that he only belatedly recognizes as Logan's as the hand on his cheek smooths down to cup his jaw, tilting his head to rest against his hip. "Don't fret, darling. Everything's alright."

"Is it—is it better to wake him up?"

"I'm not sure. I've never…I've never known of Roman's nightmares." Is he imagining it, or is there some genuine remorse in Logan's words? "I've half a mind to summon Remus just to ask, but…"

"I think he's still busy with Patton and Virgil." Janus's fingers smooth over his knee again. "Hush, sweetie, shh-shh-shh…nothing's so bad."

His chest is beginning to ache again. If he—if he wakes up now, what will happen? If he calls an end to this—will they leave him? Will he lose this? He can't remember the last time someone held him like this, showed him this much concern, will he…what will become of him if he lets himself ruin this?

"Roman? Roman, darling, can you hear me?"

Fuck. How is he supposed to ignore Logan when he sounds this plaintive?

"Open your eyes," Logan's coaxing now, fingertips tracing small circles near his temples, "please, little one, you're safe, take a look and see, come now."

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to—what happens when he has to watch Logan's face slip back towards that cool neutrality? What happens when those warm hands leave him and he's left all cold and alone again? What happens when he has to keep moving even though all he wants to do is stay here, forever, in the quiet and the warmth and never, ever know what it means like to hurt again?

"Please, little one. Please, just—just open your eyes."

Roman is, at his core, a people-pleaser, and his eyes are opening before he registers what's happening. He's immediately greeted with a frowning Logan, a furrow between his brows and a tightness in his mouth that splits into a slow smile when he lets out a confused noise. Behind him, he sees Janus, lying down with Roman's legs outstretched over his lower chest, fingers still stroking absentminded patterns on his knee.

"There you are," Logan murmurs, drawing his attention back, "were you having a nightmare?"

"N-no."

"No? That's—well, that's a relief, to be sure, but then why—" he sighs— "I only mean to say you looked quite terrified, my darling. Did something scare you?"

This. This right now is scaring him. Because Logan doesn't talk to him like this. Logan doesn't look at him softly and touch him gently and worry about him being scared. Logan rolls his eyes and scoffs when Roman tries to bring up something that concerns him. Logan dismisses him and tells him he's being stupid. Logan—Logan—Logan doesn't do this, he doesn't do soft and gentle words and sweet murmurs and he's—at some point, he's going to remember that too.

"Sweetie," and no, Janus is sitting up and putting his hand more firmly on his knee— "sweetie, breathe."

Breathe? Why breathe? Roman's fine, he's breathing, his chest is doing the normal thing where it snaps around like a rubber band and his body feels like it's on fire and his hands are—oh.

"Look at me," Logan says sharply and Roman's eyes dart to him, "that's it, Roman. Focus on me. You are safe. I am not going to hurt you. Janus is not going to hurt you. If you need to be afraid, that's alright, but you do not have to be."

No. No, no, no, he can't panic around Logan, Virgil will get summoned and then everyone will come—and then—and then—

Of course, part of his brain thrills at the delicious irony of panicking over the need not to panic. The rest of him is building the storm in his chest higher and higher and higher until everything is interrupted by something terribly soft pressing against his cheek.

"Shh," Logan whispers, breath brushing delicately over his ear, "shh, little one, you're alright. You're okay. Everything is okay."

"I think you broke him," he hears Janus murmur with nothing but gentle affection, "oh, sweetie…you're still so scared, aren't you? What's terrifying you so?"

"Yes, now is a good time to ask him," Logan says wryly, "while he's still coming out of having a panic attack."

Still, when there's a gentle hand on the underside of his neck coaxing him upwards so he can sniffle into a tissue, Janus's hands are running soothingly up and down his legs like he's trying to calm a skittish horse and Logan doesn't even let him apologize for being a mess. Instead, he's shushed with another kiss to his cheek—and when the hell did that start happening regularly?—and coaxed into leaning against Logan's shoulder. Only then does he realize they're in Janus's room, curled up against the headboard with one of the thick comforters laid over them.

"Wait—how'd—I thought—weren't we in my room?"

"We were," Logan says softly, "and then you started to get cold and we couldn't get you warm, so we moved you in here."

"I was cold?"

"Yes, little one. I intended to ask you about it when you woke up, but it seems there are other things that take precedence right now. First and foremost: are you alright?"

"I'm—I'm not sure." He tries to move his hands and winces, only for Janus to take each between two of his own and begin to massage his palms. "It's—it hurts still."

"Does this hurt?"

"N-not really." Janus brushes his lips against each set of knuckles with a soft smile. "What's—how long has it been since the m-meeting?"

"A few hours. You've been drifting in and out for a while. I'm not sure how much of that you remember."

"What's the last thing you remember, sweetie?"

"B-being on the couch. You—did you pick me up?"

"Yes," Logan chuckles, "yes, I did. You look so surprised, darling, what's the matter?"

"Logan," Janus scolds when Roman's only able to splutter, "you're being mean to our poor prince. How do you expect him to answer when he's all flustered like that?"

"I don't know what it is I'm doing that's making him blush so hard."

"You're making him admit that your strength flusters him, what about that isn't blush inducing? Oh, I know, sweetie, now I'm doing it too," he murmurs, giving his hands a squeeze, "shh, shh, let's all…let's all just take a moment, okay?"

"What's going on," he whines, before he can remember that behaving anything less than perfectly in front of these two is a bad idea, "I don't—I don't understand what's happening!"

"You're here, in Janus's room, sitting on my lap with your legs in Janus's," Logan says immediately in that low, soothing voice that makes Roman want to cry all over again, "you've just come off of a panic attack in the wake of…quite a severe attack from a meeting. I am—that is, we are currently attempting to offer you comfort. I'm growing less certain that we are performing adequately in service of that goal, and as such, I'm going to switch tactics."

Before he can ask what that means, Logan's hand cups the back of his head and pulls him in close. Lips brush his forehead and his breath warms the side of his face.

"Hello, little one," Logan whispers, "it's good to see you awake. Are you still in pain?"

"Y-yeah, a little."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Not really."

"Alright. I am more than happy to stay with you until you feel better, if that's alright with you?"

"W-why?" No sooner has he asked does the panic spike in his chest but Logan's hand cards through the hair at the base of his skull and he hates how much it settles him instantly. "S-sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, darling, it's all okay. I've recently learned that I've played a big role in making you feel unsafe, and I'm…hoping to rectify that."

"As am I." He'd almost forgotten Janus was still here. He looks over to see his concerned expression, hands still wrapped around his. "You've been alone for a long time, sweetie, and I'm sorry that I've played a part in making you feel like you had to be."

There's a lump in his throat that won't go away. There's a pit in his stomach that's growing wider and wider and wider. There's a voice in his chest whispering nothing lasts forever.

"Talk to me," Logan murmurs when he's quiet for a little too long, "what's going on?"

"I don't understand."

"Understand what, little one?"

"You…you were…you both—I—I'm—"

No, bad, shut up, wrong, be passive.

"That is more than enough out of you," Janus growls. Roman flinches and Logan opens his mouth to scold him only for Janus to reach out and pluck something invisible from the air in front of his chest. He draws it back, a scintillating, glistening line following the movement until he balls it up and flicks it into nothingness. "I've little patience for such lies in my room."

His expression softens when he notices the way Roman's staring at him.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Y-you—how did you do that?"

"They're lies, sweetie, that's all it is. You don't need to be quiet, you're not wrong, and you definitely don't need to listen to that poisonous little monster masquerading as the voice of reason."

"No, it's not."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not a lie. It's—I have to. Because if I'm not, then you all yell at me or tell me I'm an idiot and then everything's worse," he mutters, "and my hands stop working and then I can't do anything and everything's cold—"

"Shh," Logan murmurs, adjusting the blanket almost unconsciously, "easy, my darling."

"—and it's your fault," he spits, "and I can't—you know what it does to me, you do, because you do it on purpose and I can't stop it and that's not my fault!"

He's panting by the end of it. Logan and Janus don't say a word for a long moment. Then, Logan lets out a breath that shudders across his temple and he leans down to press their foreheads together.

"You're right," he says quietly, "of course you're right, Roman. You're not to blame for something you can't control."

"Why do you hurt me? What did I do so wrong that you decided you'd just hurt me for it?"

"Because you were good at it." Both of them turn to look at Janus, who winces but doesn't take it back. "You were good at getting hurt, Roman. You would—you wouldn't snap back, you wouldn't let it show, you would…you would just take it. And that doesn't make it right—it makes it worse, I know, but that's…that's why it was easier. To hurt you."

It stings. No, it doesn't, it aches. It reaches deep into his chest and finds that part of him he tries so hard to keep buried beneath every single part of his fake princely persona. It hurts because it means that they knew at some level how much this was doing to him, and they didn't care because it was easy. Even if Janus knew more than Logan did, Logan's been really quiet ever since Janus started talking and he's—he's still not denying it, which means Logan knew enough too—

"I didn't know how badly you were hurting," Logan says, "I knew—I knew it made you upset. But I swear to you, Roman, I didn't know how bad it was."

"J-Janus?"

"He's not lying, sweetie. I'm…I will take the lion's share of the blame for using what I knew against you, but—" and here his voice grows firm once more— "I will not be held responsible for making it so you were so unaccustomed to any sort of positive attention that you leapt at the first person who offered it to you."

Logan flinches as though he's been struck. "No, that…that fault I believe lies more completely with me."

"I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you, little one," Logan promises. "I thought—there is no point in attempting to justify myself now. I don't hate you. You don't deserve to be hurt just because I'm too careless or inconsiderate. It's not your fault."

"Why now," Roman says, making a fist but unable to do anything more than that, "why are you being like this now?"

"Because now I've seen how awful it is for you and I never want to play a part in making things get so bad for you ever again." The conviction in his voice makes Roman shudder from the rush of warmth. "I've gone far too long being nothing but your tormentor, if Remus and Janus are to be believed, and I'm not interested in doing that any longer."

"O-oh."

"He's telling the truth," Janus whispers as tears slip like razor blades down his cheeks, "oh, sweetie…"

"Come here," Logan whispers, drawing him into a proper cuddle, "that's it, let me…let me hold you for a little while."

***

"I didn't know," Patton whispers, still staring into nothingness as Remus's absolute tirade comes to an end, "I didn't know."

"Oh, fuck," Virgil's still mumbling—and it says something, doesn't it, that Patton isn't calling him out on his language— "we—we fucked up so bad."

"You did," says Remus, remorseless, "and now you're going to fix it."

"How?" Patton stares up at him with wide eyes. "How do we—if we've messed things up this badly, how—how do we ever hope to fix it?"

Some part of Remus softens the barest amount when he hears the sheer hopelessness in Patton's voice. He sits on the floor, setting his Morningstar next to him, and steeples his fingers. "Roman, for better or for worse, cares an awful lot about you. That will make it easier for him to forgive you, but then you have to actually put in the work to be better."

Patton sniffles. Virgil puts a hand briefly on his shoulder before looking at Remus again. "We don't—how do we do that?"

"You of all people don't get to ask me that, Emo. You've already done your whole little redemption arc, haven't you? To fit in with the Light Sides?" He flinches slightly at how cold Remus sounds when he says that. "Surely you can find it in you to put a little more effort into treating Roman better."

"That's not what I—I know, I know, I'm gonna, I just—I don't know where to start."

Remus's expression darkens again. "Seriously? We just spent how long talking about how much you've fucked up Roman by making him feel unsafe and now you're telling me you don't know where to start?"

"I'm gonna apologize, obviously, but I mean—I don't—"

"We'll ask him," Patton says quickly when Virgil starts to tug at the strings of his hoodie, "when he's—if he's okay with it, we'll ask him what we can do."

"And if he says no?"

"W-well, at some point, maybe he'll be okay to—"

"And what're you gonna do until then, nothing?"

"N-no, we'll—" Patton swallows— "I'm gonna try and be better about making Roman know that he can—by making it clear that I wanna hear what he has to say and that it's worth hearing. I'm not—that's really where I messed up."

Remus nods and turns his glare to Virgil. Virgil shuffles. "I'm…I'm not gonna insult him so much and try and stick up for him when there are—when things get said that are unfair."

"See? You do have some idea of how much you've fucked up and how to fix it." Remus gets to his feet, dusting himself off. "Now, if anything like this ever happens again, I'm going to run an experiment with how much Kraken strength affects the resilience of a Side, are we clear?"

Both Virgil and Patton nod frantically as Remus sinks out, presumably to go and check on his brother. It takes a few more moments of tense silence for Patton to sniffle again and Virgil to lean against his side.

"I didn't know," he whimpers, holding a hand over his mouth, "I thought—I thought Roman was—"

"Stronger?" Virgil winces at how awful it sounds to say out loud. "I know. Me too, but I guess I didn't—I didn't really think about how fucked up that is."

Patton wipes a hand under his nose. "I really didn't know that Roman could get hurt by just what we said."

"I mean it makes a lot of sense now that Remus has said it, you know? He's the Ego. He gets bruised. He needs—he needs positive stuff way more than the rest of us do."

"I never thought of it that way."

"Neither did I."

"Are we—" he sniffles again— "are we ever gonna be okay again, Virgil? Like—are we ever gonna be able to do dinners and movie nights and everything? Or is it…"

The is it all gone goes unspoken but echoes about the room anyway.

"I don't know," is what Virgil eventually settles on, "I just don't know, Pat. I think…I think that's not up to us right now. I think we gotta let Roman set the pace on how things go for a little while."

"I can do that."

"And that means if he doesn't wanna talk to anyone except Remus for a long time, then…then we just gotta deal with that."

"I know," even as he says it like he's just been told his favorite show is being canceled, "that's fair."

"And if he decides that it…" and here Virgil has to take a deep, steadying breath, "…if he decides that he doesn't want things to be better, if he decides that it's not—that it's not ever gonna be better…"

"Then we'll have to deal with that too."

More silence. The fridge buzzes. Someone outside honks their horn and drives off.

"Do you think this is how Roman feels," Virgil asks eventually, "when he's…upset?"

Patton takes a long time to reply. When he does, it's with the slow and solemn voice of someone who has just learned that everything they thought they knew was a terrible, horrible lie.

"I don't think I've known how Roman feels for quite a while now."

***

They don't make any videos for a while.

They don't have meetings. They don't really eat dinner together. There are no movie nights.

Roman stays in his room, or in the Imagination. Remus is with him more often than not. Occasionally, he'll allow Janus to come with, but he never stays for long and he never says anything about what's happening when the others ask him. Even Logan, who notoriously chases down every clue or lead he can find, stays resolutely quiet about what goes on without him.

It's a sobering reality, life without a prince.

***

Roman curls up on the couch with his head in Remus's lap. They're watching something about penguins. Patton sits on the floor near his arm, playing with his hand in his lap. Virgil perches on the back of the couch, his feet tucked securely under Roman's side. At the other end of the couch, Janus has his feet in his lap, one hand wrapped around his ankle. Logan sits on Remus's other side, his hand tangled in Roman's hair.

It's an occasion that's quite far off, still, but it is coming. Slowly, but surely, as they work towards it. Past the somewhat awkward dinners, past the difficult conversations, past the sleepless nights where all Roman wants to do is stay there forever, because it's less scary that what awaits him in the morning. It's a long and hard road, but they're all walking it together, moving steadily towards this moment here, in front of the TV, cuddled together around their prince.

Nothing lasts forever, not even the worst of times, and more good times are always around the corner.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

[silbeni]

Ouch.

In which: Ryoma wakes up at Rohan's after a transformation. Everything hurts.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort. 99 percent hurt in this one oops.

Pairing: (TSKRLA) Inkspots (Ryoma/Rohan)

TW: Body horror. lots of pain talk. Mention of blood.

Part 1 of 3. Part 2 can be found here.

\\\something I've been thinking about over a couple of days...... trying to enjoy writing again waaaghhh. It's fun but I get embarrassed.

So I'm being brave .. here. Sort of pointless plot wise, mostly thinking about body horrors stuff. But it'll get somewhere interesting I hope! the next part will have some inkspots character moments. Perhaps an argument OOO... That remains to be seen. Anyway enjoy. Leaves. 🍃. I'll make some art for this eventually

Uncoiling from their slumber, Ryoma awoke to an immediate searing pain in their retinas. They became aware of the immense, overwhelming golden light surrounding them, - too painful to bear, even as they squeezed their eyes shut. They let out a reflexive groan, unknowingly alerting the person sitting nearby.

"You're awake."

They shelved the noise, occupied with the stinging world of red behind their eyelids. They brought their hands to their face in an attempt to shield their eyes from the visual assault. The action cascaded waves of soreness everywhere else on their body, but they persisted, trying to solve one pain at a time.

They rubbed the roundness of the offending organs and slowly but surely, they began to note an increasing coolness and another strange sensation- The feeling of thin, plasticky strips emerging beneath their eyelids. It was uncomfortable, but it was much preferred to the prior burning.

The small reprieve allowed them to strain and think about how they could've ended up like this. Gadzooks overreacted, took over, likely terrorized some people and crashed, hard. Rohan must've been involved somehow, since it felt very much like they were in his house.

They could tell, Gadzooks interference with their body granted them some sharper senses. They didn't know how to categorize it exactly. They could vaguely approximate their surroundings, and visualize it, but it wasn't sight. Perhaps an evolved offshoot of hearing or some kind of extra sensory perception?

Either way, they could tell that they were in Rohan's living room, laying on the couch, just as they could tell someone was standing a couple feet away from them. They were sure who it was, but just to be sure, they tasted the air, catching enough of a whiff to identify the mystery person.

A familiar essence filled their system. "...Rohan." They called, hoarsely. Speaking proved to be painful too. The attempt added their teeth, jaw and throat to the extensive list of aching body parts.

They tasted something else besides the air. Their dry mouth was marred with the strong taste of blood. They tried not to think if it was theirs, or someone else's.

"You were out for a couple of hours. How are you feeling?" They felt a soft impact, and an added weight on the couch. He was leaning on the arm rest nearest to them.

"Not... great." They were in too much discomfort to try and hide how they felt. It would be pointless, anyway.

They tried to get comfortable, but it was hard to when their body felt like one big bruise. They didn't know how they weren't torn to shreds whenever their insides became outsides. When their bones, knives, or whatever, poked out of their body through their skin-

...Or, how could they be so sure their skin was actually skin? When they tallied it up, how much of them was actually left? Ryoma ended up lying face down, burying their face into the couch cushions to drown out the barrage of incoming thoughts.

"Yeah, you look terrible." Taken back, they found some humor in his dry retort.

"Gee, thanks, Ro."

They pressed their face in deeper when they heard him emit a closed-mouthed chuckle in response.

The following moments were filled with peaceful quiet. Now that they weren't in acute pain, or in existential anguish—thanks to Rohan—they noticed the moist layer of towel beneath the blankets. Tomoko would do that too, at home, the last time they transformed. It soothed their bruising, while the blankets keep them from losing too much heat.

It was an usual sleep set-up, but they found themself drifting off with a placid smile on their lips. For a second, images of Phasmatodea flashed in the forefront of their mind. A Remulus Mikado, a Lamponius Portoricensis, and then–

Movement, the couch dipping and rising by a few centimetres.

Ryoma barely had time to register vanishing footsteps, rushing to get something out before he left the room. "You- You're leaving??" They asked, a bit faster and a bit louder than they intended.

He stood still. "I have to pick up a few things. I'll be back soon."

"...Okay."

With that, the front door swung shut with a distinct click, and Ryoma's heart sank with it. The ambient silence was no longer peaceful, and they seriously considered restoring their vision, as painful as it would be.

Mulling it over, they fashioned a cuccoon out of blankets, trying to find solace in the soft fibers. Parts of their skin, here and there, peeled away into shuddering slivers of film. As they curled further inwards, they felt something foreign slide up against their arm. They were about to scream until they realized just who it was.

"Ryoma! Ryo-ryoma!"

...