#at least I can get cell service all the way there

[antiterf]

Happy first day of pride!

I'm going to another town that's in the middle of corn fields to fuck and cuddle.

[luvsavos]

i deserve financial compensation for the amount of fucking hoops i had to jump through to enable tipping on here

[starlit-writer]

in sickness and in health, ch. 1 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

ah, look at that. have some omegaverse angst inspired by this post here <3 if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

well, this turned out to be miles longer than i expected it to. there's not really a solid ending, so let me know if you want more! have so much fun getting your heart ripped out <3

word count: 4,764 chapter two masterlist ao3 link

Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes. 

After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Sure, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.

So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.

You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told. 

You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him. 

So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega. 

Come to my quarters.

The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry. 

You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you. 

You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open. 

Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask.  He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and he had a poorly bandaged bullet wound wrapped, the white medical wrapping blossoming with a red mark. Pulled stitches, definitely. 

“Close the door,” came the rough demand as his arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “And c’mere.”

You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.

“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong. 

Simon growled, the sound of an alpha not used to not getting his way, as he rolled onto his side to look at you more squarely. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry. 

That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”

Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?

That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.” 

He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.” 

As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold. 

“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”

You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”

His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life. 

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”

His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”

As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal. 

And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there’s something there now. 

When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat. 

“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage. 

You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing. 

He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally. 

As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you. 

But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped. 

He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight. 

You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells. 

“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”

Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds. 

“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”

You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands digging directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own. 

“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!” 

His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin. 

He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this. 

“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair. 

His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers like shards of glass digging into his very being, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.” 

You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.” 

The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest. 

“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.” 

“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly slowly through your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart. 

“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.” 

Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever. 

“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.” 

Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?” 

The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you. 

“Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better,  baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”

You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you. 

You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.” 

Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free. 

His fault. All his fault. Always his fault. 

He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears. 

“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.” 

He gingerly laid you on the bed, surrounding you with blankets and pillows, anything he could find that was drenched in his alpha scent, before his body came to blanket you. He couldn’t lose you. And he will keep his promise, even as his own silent tears fell down around your now-unconscious face. What’s that old saying? Oh, right. You never know what you have until it’s gone.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Don’t Call Me Kid - Aaron Hotchner

“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Hotch, they have an angsty yet adult conversation about it.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I was originally not going to give this a happy ending but I got too sad writing it and changed my mind, also yes i’ve been writing a lot don’t criticize me lol

TW: alcohol mention, angst, age gap, slight physical touch (all respectful, nothing sexual), slight implied daddy issues, fem reader

Rating: G

——

Aaron Hotchner was not a man one could approach without a level head. He was rational, always thinking of the most reasonable course of action, weighing every outcome before making any decision. He had to be, as hasty decision-making had cost him more than he cared to discuss.

You knew that, you’d worked under him for two years now and although he didn’t discuss his private life all that frequently at work, these weekly team meetups at the local bar taught you more than enough about him as a person. The usual stoic head of the team was kind, funny, encouraging, albeit a bit quiet until he knew you a bit better.

About a year into your time with the team you let slip that you’d never explored the city, and Rossi wasted no time letting Aaron know about it. A week later he was driving you around, explaining the history behind the popular monuments you had requested a visit to, then spending an hour at the Folger Shakespeare Library to admire the historic architecture and impressive selection of literature, and ending the day at the Moongate Garden, watching the sunset on a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms.

From that day you knew if there was anything you needed, all you had to do was ask. He’d shown you your favorite restaurant, the coffee shop you sat in every free morning you had, reading books he’d suggested you read. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen hard for him, and over the last year those feelings became harder and harder to push down.

It was 2 a.m. and the bartender had announced last call, earning a disappointed groan from Penelope.

“We were just getting started!” She whined, her speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight Babygirl, let’s get you home.” Derek caught her waist, steadying her as she rose from the booth the team had been sitting in.

“I better get going too, Will has to work early so I have to take Henry to school in the morning.” JJ added, playfully rolling her eyes.

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, wrapping up the current conversation before shuffling out of the bar. You said your goodbyes, giving parting hugs before pulling out your phone, ready to order yourself a rideshare home. Your cell service was almost non-existent and the app was taking forever to load, the chill in the air causing goosebumps to form on your bare legs. You raised your phone in the air, trying to gain a better signal as you walked back and forth in front of the bar, growing increasingly frustrated.

Aaron exited the bar as you made another pass by the entrance, tripping as your ankle wobbled in your heels. He was quick to catch you, helping you find your footing once more.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked, offering you his suit jacket for warmth.

“I’m trying to order a taxi but the app won’t load.” Your frustration was evident, each tap of your finger against the glass of your smartphone just a little too firm.

“You don’t live far, correct? I can walk you home.” He offered, his hand still lingering on the small of your back to steady you. You weren’t drunk, not by a long shot, but you didn’t handle your liquor the best and although you were mostly there mentally, your center of gravity had been better.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.” You countered, always raised to decline at least once when offered anything to remain polite.

“I want to make sure you get home safe, it’s really no trouble.” You knew he was earnest, always such a father figure to every member of the team. You put your phone in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder before turning to walk down the street that led to your apartment building.

You walked in silence for a while, his hand hovering behind you just in case your clumsiness kicked in along your walk. His suit jacket was surprisingly warm, the stiff fabric shielding your bare arms from the cold. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen to wear a short sleeved blouse when it was nearing the end of fall, but you suspected it subconsciously had something to do with how well the v-neck showed off your cleavage. You felt a bit pathetic sometimes, finding any way you could to attempt to pull his attention. It never worked, Aaron respected you too much to stare at your figure no matter how provocatively you dressed.

After a few blocks your heel caught on a storm grate, making you stumble forward. His reflexes were impressive as ever, his arm reaching out to catch your waist.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You joked, straightening your skirt as you started again on your journey home. He didn’t say anything, but the slight smile his lips formed told you he found your try at humor in an awkward moment amusing.

“It’s just around this corner, I’ll be fine from here.” You tried to wave him off, dying to disappear into your apartment to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

“I’m walking you up to your apartment, I need to see you home safe.” He stated, turning the corner with you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, his domineering yet caring tone making your heart race. This was all becoming too much, the protectiveness, the slight touches, you could feel something burning in your chest, the urge to spill your guts growing stronger by the minute.

He waited for you to punch in the code to the front door of your apartment building before holding it open for you, following you to the elevator up to your floor. You took the quiet ride up, him continuing to follow you down the hallway to your apartment when the doors opened. You opened your bag, fiddling around for your keys for a moment before finding them, your hand shaking as you tried to unlock the door. You finally got it, pushing open the front door and stepping into your messy living room.

“How are you getting home?” You asked, setting your bag on the small table next to the door.

“I’ll order a taxi, I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He began to pull out his phone, and the liquid courage coursing through your veins told you to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” You offered, handing his suit coat back to him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure to lock it, never too cautious.

He laid his suit coat over the back of your coach, taking a seat before taking out his phone again to order his ride.

“It won’t be ready for another 30 minutes, I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” He was far too courteous, and all you wanted to do was tell him how badly you wanted him to stay forever.

“You could never.” You told him, kicking off your heels before sitting next to him on the couch. You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself as you picked up the book that was resting on your coffee table. You watched over the top of the pages to see him glancing around the room, scanning the contents until he stopped on the media console across the room. He stood from his place next to you and walked over to it, taking a knee to get down to the same level as your record collection.

“You have impressive taste.” He stated matter-of-factly, his long fingers brushing across the spines of each album. You gave a quiet ‘thank you’ as he began to pull a record out, and you placed your book down again to see what had caught his eye.

“I didn’t know you listened to The Beatles.” He held up the jacket of the band’s white album, looking to you in slight disbelief.

“Of course, The White Album is one of the greatest of all time.” You were excited to talk music with him, it was a topic you’d never discussed before and you were always eager to learn more about him. That may have been to your own detriment, because the more you learned about him, the harder you seemed to fall.

You knew a relationship between the two of you could never happen, he was your superior, not to mention twenty years your senior, but something felt like it was pulling you to him no matter how many guys you tried to distract yourself with.

“You never fail to surprise me.” He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling just so. You could’ve died right there, content to collapse into a puddle of yearning. You didn’t know what came over you, but you found yourself clearing your throat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something.” Your voice shook, but you remained strong in your conviction.

His faint smile turned to a look of concern, quickly rising from his knee to join you on the couch again.

“What is it?” He questioned, brow furrowed as he angled his body toward you.

“I-It’s, nevermind.” That burst of adrenaline quickly faded, his eyes on you feeling like a cigarette burn.

“Y/N, whatever it is, you can trust me. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling me, but don’t let fear hold you back on my account.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your knee sympathetically. You had to do it, there was no way you could face him every day if you brushed him off without an explanation.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, hanging your head, too afraid of what his reaction would be to dare look him in the eye. The silence that sat between you two felt like it carried on forever, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, still holding his hand on your knee.

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked, trying to understand where this was coming from. He couldn’t deny that he had felt chemistry between you, but it wasn’t something he could ever entertain acting on.

“Over the last year I’ve gotten to know you in ways I never dreamed I would, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, even those I once thought I loved in the past. You’ve been so kind, Aaron, you’re an incredible friend, father, leader, how could I be anything but amazed by you?” You felt as though you were rambling, but he seemed so invested in your answer that you didn’t care if what you said was rational.

“I understand.” He confirmed, turning silent as the gears turned in his mind. You could tell he was fighting something internally, the look of concentration on his face seeming almost painful.

You pulled your knee out from under his hand, your nerves convinced that he was looking for a way to fire you without creating an HR nightmare. As quickly as you pulled away he had moved closer to you, his hand finding its place on your knee once more.

“Look at me.” He said, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. You did as you were told, tears threatening your waterline as you did your best to hold his gaze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very charming young woman and I’d be honored to pursue something more intimate with you, but we can’t. I’m your superior, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He explained, the pain in his expression serving to break your heart in two.

“I don’t care.” You were not thinking rationally in that moment, your heart speaking for you instead of your head.

“You should, this is your future.” His tone held frustration this time, finding your childish response disappointing.

“I am not a child Aaron, I can make my own decisions.” You told him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you grew increasingly frustrated with his stonewalling.

“I know that, but you’re young, you have so much to experience and you shouldn’t put that on hold for me, or anyone else for that matter.” Even through his anger he was just trying to steer you in the responsible direction, thinking more about your future than whatever desires he held.

“I have all I’ve ever wanted, my dream has always been to work for the FBI. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I never have. I want a job where I’m doing good and a family to come home to when all is said and done.” You explained, and it wasn’t a lie. It’s not that you weren’t driven, you clearly had to be to even make it to the bureau, but that was as far as you wanted your drive to take you.

“For this to work, I can not be your boss, and I won’t ask you to step down.” He continued evaluating each possible risk in your dynamic, and for once you were one step ahead of him.

“You don’t have to, I put in for a transfer to the financial crime unit last week.” You finally let the other secret you’d been keeping slip, and you watched his face drop in disappointment.

“The team is going to miss you more than you know.” He told you, wishing he had known so he could have convinced you otherwise.

“I know, but I couldn’t bare the thought of being around you every day while I feel like this, and I was fascinated by the way their team handled the case we partnered with them on last month. The timing felt right.” You explained, needing him to know that it was not his fault, but a conscious decision you made.

“I just want to try.” You pleaded one last time, hoping he’d let his walls down just this once.

“If this is really what you want, I’ll take you out next weekend. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way, you deserve that much.” He gave in, letting himself do something personally risky for the first time in years.

“I would love that.” You agreed, all of the anger and frustration that had been building up over the last year finally starting to dissipate ever so slightly.

How it would pay off, only time would tell, but for now, you were content to just get to know him more and show him who you are the best you can.

——

Part 2 can be found here

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or Aaron Hotchner taglist :)

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍒 ̟ !! SAY THAT YOU MISS ME. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇx

✿ ─ characters: bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, rin itoshi ✿ ─ cw: somewhat angst, nsfw, smut, gn!reader, afab!reader, no pronouns, aged-up!characters(21+), established relationships??, exes to lovers, kissing, groping, dirty talk, semi-public sex, lots of jealousy, alcohol use, posessiveness, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, toxic behaviors/dynamics, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread?? ✿ ─ notes: they are straight up drabbles. i wrote hyoma's first and i was like, omg this is way too long. fuck it, hope i can get the others close to this word count. and then they were longer. im so sorry i promise next time i wont be so long winded.

BACHIRA MEGURU is unsettled by the silence that lingers in your absence...

he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. the heavy loneliness he feels in a bed far too big for just one person is almost enough to push him to call you, staring at your contact for at least an hour. you were best friends. partners in crime. a power couple. how could things be over? he misses your voice more than anything else, all the time in his day usually spent deep in conversation with you now feeling empty.

he could tell that he reached a real pathetic stage of heartbroken when he started listening to old voicemails from you at night, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as he smiles at your laugh and tears up at your i love you’s. that turns into scrolling through photos he has of you, and then that has his mind drifting to the hidden album he has dedicated to you, full of the numerous risqué shots you’ve sent him over the course of your relationship. meguru doesn’t dwell on the moral dilemma of keeping the pictures, they were his after all. either gifted to him or taken by him, so he feels he has some sort of right to them. when he scrolls to a particular video from his point of view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his tip, his hand almost immediately moves to palm his crotch. he tugs down his boxers to stroke himself to the scene of you deepthroating his cock, the sweet sound of your moans and sputters through his phone speaker making both his dick and his heart ache for you.

after some time spent desperately trying to create a cheap imitation of the pleasure you make him feel, bachira grows frustrated. it’s really unfair now that he thinks about it. how could you indulge him in all his deepest fantasies and give him the wildest hottest fucks of his life only to leave him high and dry in the end? finally giving up on cumming, covered in a thin layer of sweat, he opens his phone again in some lust fueled bravery, texting you hey can we talk?

in your apartment, you were dedicating your evening to trying not to think about all the ways you missed your ex, knowing that the first few weeks of a break up were the hardest. you stand up from the couch, breaking out of your thoughts and hoping to just distract yourself for the time being. picking up your cell was extremely counter productive in that regard, your heart jumping at a text from megs ‹𝟹. he wants to talk. seeing that the text was sent half an hour ago, you jump to reply yeah sure. when? you don’t even think before accepting, the chance to bask in his attention one more time is too tempting when missing him this much. the contact picture you set for him pops up, indicating an incoming call.

you take a breath in the tense silence, offering a somewhat unsure, “hello?” his end of the call comes to life all of a sudden, finally connecting through his current shoddy service. he sounds slightly out of breath and you hear a faint ding in the background. the grainy noises let you know that he probably wasn’t in the quiet privacy of his home as he usually would be at this time. “meguru? is now a bad time to talk?”

“no! now's a good time,” he reassures, “i’m in the elevator up to your place.”

“you’re what?”

there’s some more shuffling from him and quick footsteps that echo both from the call and the hallway outside your apartment. “open up.”

there’s apprehension floating somewhere in your mind, but the big part of you that was very much not over him moves your feet towards the door, unlocking it. as soon as the physical barrier between you and him is gone, there is a completely different tone that settles and you almost sense it before it happens when he pushes forward to crash his lips onto yours. he didn’t exactly have a plan showing up, but seeing you, there was only one thing his body wanted to do. your back collides with the wall of your entryway, one of his hands already on the back of your head to cushion the blow, his other arm coiled around your waist to press you flush against him. unaware of it, the two of you share the same thought. this is 1000 times better than being alone tonight.

“meguru.” you call out trying to gently push against his chest to create some room between you. trying to be the rational one and state the obvious facts. you broke up with him. he shouldn’t be here. it’ll just cause more heartache for the both of you. but tingles run up his back when you say his name that way, breathless as he steals all the air from you. fuels his need to hold onto you tighter and not let you go this time around. eventually you manage to get your hand over his mouth to stop him from kissing you before your resolve really breaks and you let this go too far. “megu we shouldn’t. this is hard enough as it is-”

he pries your fingers away, and just when you think he is going to say something, convince you, justify himself, he dips his head down to capture your lips again, gently sucking on the bottom one to draw out a gasp so he can shove his tongue in. greedy hands grab at your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he can shamelessly rut his hips against yours. he makes it hard to think straight, pulling away after a moment to stare into your eyes, giving you that signature wild look that causes your knees to go weak. “tell me you don’t want me.”

“huh?”

“look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me.” he watches you expectantly, his impatience showing when he begins softly rocking into you. “cause we both know nobody else can make you cum like i can. let me make you feel good.”

you don’t find the strength to turn down his offer, not when you’re already panting at the affection he’s given you and soaking from the rhythmic press of his hard cock against you. bachira relishes the relief and arousal that floods through him when you wrap your arms around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, and you feel his grin grow against your lips. the competitor in him recognizes a challenge, his heart pounding in perverse excitement. he has one chance to prove to you just how much you need him. lucky for you, that’s the kind of risk your ex gets off on.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is unreasonably bitter...

you and him are a perfect match, and the thought of you ever replacing him makes him sick. the egoist in him can’t stand the idea of someone stealing his role in your life. someone else taking you out, having your attention, putting their hands on you. deep down some rational part of him knows that he doesn’t stake any claim over you anymore, but the sinking pit in his stomach does nothing to alleviate the gut instinct that you’re his.

it eats at him. chigiri feels childish stalking your social media or casually asking mutual friends about you. he doesn’t want to seem affected, but he just can’t help but give into his curiosity. this same ‘curiosity’ is what leads him to hanging out in the bars he knows you frequent, either with friends or without. he hardly admits to himself that he’s hoping to run into you, but when it actually does happen, hyoma doesn’t hesitate to approach. he’s unsure if it’s the irresistible pull of being within arms reach of you again, or the selfish intuition to make his move on you before anyone else has the chance.

it seems innocent enough. he’s as charismatic and lighthearted as ever, offering to catch up, buy you a drink or two. chemistry you’ve always shared slowly surfaces through conversation. there was no denying that he had his charms, ones that hit all your soft spots just like the first time he won you over. so when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on your way out of the bathroom, and wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall over from tipsy imbalance, you barely even question it. being in his embrace is familiar and there is a glance shared between you with a certain spark to it that it’s only natural he leans down to kiss you. hyoma is nothing if not an opportunist, smoothly steering you back into the small bar bathroom, his lips and tongue never leaving you.

he’s panting into your mouth between hungry kisses, hands already tugging at your clothing. his teeth find your neck, sucking and biting warm bruises in his wake, eager to mark every inch of skin he can latch onto. before you get the chance to playfully tease him about crawling back to you, your body is twisted around and bent forward over the sink. your eyes dart to the mirror in front of you, meeting his smug grin as he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs.

hyoma reaches his hand around to dip between your folds, deft fingers rubbing languid circles into your clit the way he knows you like. if it werent for the cocktails you would be embarrassed by the way you immediately melt into his touch, whimpers readily escaping you. “you’re already whining like that and i’ve barely even touched you, this pussy must’ve really missed me, huh?”

pleasure shoots up your core, arching your back at the feeling, pressing your ass into the bulge straining against his jeans. a moan bubbles up in his throat, but he’s quick to close his mouth, muffling the sound to a soft grunt, not willing to indulge you in the reactions you always seek to draw out of him. his hips push forward to grind into yours, the hard outline of his cock enough to remind you of what more you could be having instead of this PG13 dry humping session. you try to catch his gaze in the mirror, but it never leaves the place where you connect, giving you only soft thrusts while his fingers are unrelenting against your clit. “hyoma.” you manage to get out between heavy breaths. pink eyes finally travel up to meet yours. “please give it to me.”

and on a normal day, your ex-boyfriend would’ve dragged out the foreplay and teased you until you’re near tears and begging him for more, but something about the way you ask feels like a confession. that you wanted him just as desperately as he had been craving you. it sparks a fire up chigiri’s spine, wasting no time shoving the tight denim down to release himself. soon enough the tip of his pretty dick is squished against your entrance. his jaw is clenched from the restraint it takes not to immediately bury himself balls deep, grabbing your waist to keep steady.

any doubts that he had about still pining after you are gone, because the first tight clench of your cunt around his tip confirms what he’s always wholeheartedly believed. you were fucking made for him.

“god fuck,” he mutters breathily, biting down onto his bottom lip as he watches your hole swallow his entire length. his hips wind back, not getting far before the grip your walls have on him forces him to slowly sink back in. “anyone else fill you up this good, angel? get you this wet?” he asks, one of his hands grabbing hold of your hair to make you properly face him in the reflection again, wearing a cocky smirk that makes your stomach do flips.

a pout forms on your lips at his leisurely thrusts, far from enough to satisfy you, especially when you’ve seen firsthand the speed and effort he is depriving you of. “i don’t know, im getting a bit bored here princess,” you mock, despite the way you’re barely able to contain your noises as is.

without warning his pace becomes the staple unrelenting and overwhelming one you fantasize about while futilely trying to get off on your own. hyoma lets go of your hair in favor of clamping down over your mouth, loud moans already beginning to spill out around his fingers. the sight of the typically cool-headed prince losing his nonchalance, fucking you with pure ego and a savage glimmer in his eyes isn’t something you’ll easily forget. “this what you wanted? only satisfied when i fuck you stupid, right?"

ITOSHI RIN is not a fan of losing you, but loves getting you back...

rin doesn’t fall in love easily. he doesn’t know exactly how you managed it, but you barged into his life unannounced and dragged love out of him with your unrelenting company and killer smile. and rin was no willing victim either, figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way with his many cold moments and guarded emotions. in the end you won, with him wrapped helplessly around your finger. while rin would prefer to deny you any power over him, there’s a fire that burns in his chest for you that demands he give you everything he has. and he does.

but his love proves to be too much and not enough. too much in the ways of his possessive tendencies and clinginess and toxic defensiveness. and not enough in the way that it doesn’t keep you around. not that he blames you for it, although he does get the occasional bitter thought that you should’ve known to leave him alone from the start. deep down he knows he doesn’t really mean it, preferring even this pitiful longing you leave him with to the dark cloud that was his life before you. and it’s what he fears of returning to if you ever manage to fully pull away from him one day.

the first time you break up, rin admittedly doesn’t deal with it well. after endless calls and texts and showing up at your place with flowers and vulnerability, you take him back, only to return to the same arguments when his jealousy issues get out of hand. he wished he could say the second or third time went differently. fourth time around, however, rin gains some semblance of dignity and decides to keep his distance. maybe it was time to give moving on the good old college try. what other option did he have? as in love with you as he was, he couldn’t force you to stay and wasn’t well equipped to do the soul searching necessary to rid himself of all the behaviors that bothered you. maybe this was a lesson he needed to grow into the type of guy you could see yourself with. at least he intended to take that route, until you showed up at his house a few days later begging for him to forgive you for ever thinking you could live without him. he doesn’t even feel embarrassment over how easily he caves. it can’t be his fault when that night you swore you’d always belong to him while screaming his name. that same night he resolved that no matter what happened, you were it for him, and until you told him without a shadow of a doubt that you no longer loved him, he would return to you every time.

it started this viscous cycle of an on and off again relationship, fueled by passion and possession from both parties. one that rin never planned on ending as long as it was the only way he got to call you his, feeling a deep sense of comfort in the fact that you were weak for him too. that’s why he’s unsurprised hearing a knock on his door at 11PM. a new record considering it only been a day since the huge fight that caused your latest break up, not that rin was keeping count.

he has to stop himself from running to the door, because if he was honest he was thinking of grabbing his keys and heading to you minutes earlier. it doesn’t take more than a, “i’m so sorry baby,” to have him scooping you up into his arms on instinct. the familiar security of your legs wrapped around his hips, hands grabbing at your ass as he carries you to his bed, makes up for the self-loathing mess he becomes in the aftermath of every separation.

none of that other stuff matters when he gets to have you under him like this, already whining in anticipation as he peels away your bottom layers. rin can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss to your clit before looking up at you from between your legs. a finger ghosts along your slit causing you to squirm and lean up towards the touch before one of his strong hands pushes you firmly to the bed, resting just under your navel. fortunately for you, rin is terrible at denying you the things he knows you want. especially when he’s practically drooling for you, letting the excess spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your cunt. you feel him lick long stripes from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around it.

rin eats you as if it were his first meal in days. being apart from you always seemed a whole lot longer when he has to fear if you really mean it this time when you say you wanna stop seeing him. so he allows himself to be greedy, laves at your slick ravenously with a loud groan and humping his hips against the mattress to relieve his cock that’s already leaking in his boxers. your hands bury themselves in his hair, throwing your head back in pleasure as he bites down into your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “god you taste so good. you’re fucking criminal for trying to keep this perfect pussy from me.”

his free hand wanders to your core, two fingers easily slipping inside from a mix of your juices and his drool, curling to just the right spot. he sucks your clit into his mouth, your sweet moans fill the air and he has to stop his thrusts to keep himself from cumming in his pants at the sound, pulling away from you with a lewd pop. “��ts mine,” he grunts out, “you’re fucking mine, and no one can make you feel like this but me. say it.”

“only you rin! ‘m yours!” you choke out, bucking against the pressure he puts on your stomach. satisfied with your response, he dives back in, fingers pumping into you with steady rhythm and using his tongue to lap up everything that leaks out. his intense gaze stays trained on yours with a newfound determination to make you feel so good, you’re ruined for anyone else but him.

“all mine.”

◑.◑ its honestly tempting to write a whole fic for rin…

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

I squat between your spread legs as you push. Your huge, bare belly tenses around your womb with every effort you make to birth the head of our baby.

The cool mountain air and smell of spring leaves might have been calming if this was at all intended. We came up here to get labor Kickstarted, not to have the baby for God's sake. I should've turned us around when you started clutching your belly. I should've turned back when I realized there was no way your cargo pants were damp from sweat. But what could I really have done? We've had several false labors so far, you're stubborn as hell, and this labor progressed faster than either of us were told. Not even one damn hour and you're already crowning.

Your back arches suddenly, the head surges forward with a gush of fluid into my waiting hands. Your effort sends the shoulders and the rest of the big body into my hands. In less than a few moments they begin to cry loudly.

I can hardly allow myself to feel elated. We're in the middle of the wilderness with a newborn, you exhausted and no cell service. It takes all of me not to lose it at this moment.

I just need to get down the ranger cabin to get help. Despite your protest, I hand you our baby and lift you to your feet. I support your weight as best I can. You hold our new baby with one hand and rest your other arm around my shoulder. The walk is longer than it was coming up and the afterbirth is taking way too long to come out in comparison to how fast your labor was.

"It hurts..." You mumble and I try to pick up the pace.

We finally make it to the ranger cabin and your loud groans are more than enough to make the ranger investigate.

"My wife just had our baby, the afterbirth is stuck or something please help!" I yell.

The mountain ranger nods and runs to our aid. Your moaning even louder now and your knees begin to give. The mountain ranger rushes to help me usher you and our newborn into the cabin. We lead you to a couch and you immediately plop down with your legs spread.

The ranger aids our baby first, then he examines you. His face goes rigid as he palms the still swollen skin of your belly.

The mountain ranger turns his gaze to us and then looks again at your still large belly. "You sure yall were only having one baby?"

Just when he says it, your water breaks again.

We all look at the puddle on the floor, the breaking of the second waters almost comically timed.

“What… no… that’s not possible… mnghhhhh!” My sentence is cut off as another contraction squeezes my belly and everything inside. There was no way it was twins; they would have seen two babies on the ultrasounds, they would have heard two heartbeats… it just wasn’t possible. And yet, the moment the ranger asked the impossible question I could feel it - movement. There was still movement inside my big belly.

“Oh god, babe… I can feel it. I can feel another baby. And they’re coming down… hoooo”

Your face was white as a sheet as you looked between the newborn in the ranger’s arms and my squirming labouring body on the couch. Despite your obvious shock, you bent down and held my hand and stroked a dampened strand of hair behind my ear. “I guess we’re having twins then. Its okay just breathe through the contractions, just like you did before.” You try to coach me through yet another birth.

The ranger quickly called an ambulance but given our location it wasn’t going to be here for at least 45 minutes. The baby in his arms was crying and wouldn't settle. You tried, swaying the infant in your arms and cooing softly, but to no avail.

“Give her here.” I breathed heavily after an aggressive contraction. You handed me the newborn and put the babe straight on my chest and she latched immediately. She was hungry.

“You’re a natural.” You smiled with affection at your new family.

I started to whimper and groan when the next contraction hit. You offered to take the babe but I didn’t want to let her go, she was happy feeding. The unfortunate side effect of breastfeeding triggered more contractions. The noises I was making quickly turned primal as the head of my daughter's sibling pushed into the birth canal. I needed to move, the sofa was putting too much pressure on my pelvis. I threw my arm out towards you and shuffled painfully on the couch. You seemed to instinctively understand what I needed; to squat. You helped me off of the sofa to drop into a deep squat, my back against the edge of the couch, my knees jack-knifed apart. You squatted in front of me and held me steady, I grabbed onto your shoulder with my free hand, the other supporting the suckling baby.

“Ooooohh it’s coming down…gnnnhhhh!” I grunted suddenly and the baby shifted further. “Mnnnghhhh c-can you see it?” I panted.

“Not quite honey, oh wait! Yes. The top of the head, I can see it. Do you need to push?”

“Mmmm n-not yet…. Trying to wait… let the baby come down b-bit more… oh god it’s so big!” I cried out. “How did I not know there were two in there!?”

“They were obviously very good at hiding.” You tried to joke, not dwelling on the frightening fact we were coming out of these woods with two babies.

“Hoooo okay… okay…. There it is-mnnnghhhhhh!!!!!!” The baby and my body decided it was time and I found myself pushing. Hard.

The ranger came and took the baby from my arms when I started pushing, you stayed poised between my legs for the second time that day ready to deliver a baby.

“I can see hair, they’ve got hair! Keep going darling! Push!!!” You cheered, watching the bulge get bigger as the baby parted my lips.

Bracing my hands on my thighs I grunted and mooed with every push, bringing the surprise baby to a full crown in next to no time. “Get it out, get it out!” I cried, my body already exhausted and sore from the first birth and doing it all over again was too much for me to bear.

“It’s coming, just breathe, and push. Slowly darling, gentle pushes.” You instructed as your hand cupped the full crown.

I struggled to calm my breathing, my body trembling with the efforts of labour.

“Hey.” You said softly, “you’re doing brilliantly. You got this.” And you leaned forward to kiss me. A reassurance washed over me, your comfort and support and love all conveyed within the kiss.

I felt calmer, more in control, when the next contraction struck and I gave it my all on the next push. The head flew out with a gush of fluids and before you could check for a chord the rest of the baby slipped out into your waiting hands.

“A boy! We’ve got a boy!” You exclaimed with a tear in your eye, pulling the baby up and placing him straight on my chest.

“Hey little guy…” I said as I took in the first glance of my newborn son.

The ambulance arrived 20 minutes later, checking all three of us over and delivering the placenta, before taking our new family to the nearest hospital.

[these rp asks are giving me life!!! More like this please!]

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

It's difficult to write anything about the safety of Pride events without either greatly downplaying or exaggerating the potential risks of attending.

This is, at least partly, an online issue: the internet is international but there’s no international standard of safety for lgbt+ people. Someone reading this blog may be from a country where Pride events are generally safe and counterprotests are uncommon (or at least stay small and nonviolent) - but it'd be grossly negligent of me to pretend that this is true for everyone everywhere.

On top of those differences by country or location, there’s also individual safety concerns. Some things may pose a potential risk to certain groups or individuals while other people are unlikely to be negatively affected by them. This includes factors like crowds, loud music, exposure to alcohol or drugs etc. but also factors like the risk of being seen by someone who knows you or the risk of racist or antisemitic attacks etc.

All this is to say: I will happily share some general advice on safety with you – but if you’re trying to make a personal decision regarding the safety of attending Pride (regardless of whether that is “Is it safe for me to attend an event at all?” or just “How can I prepare for an event, so it’s as comfortable and fun as possible for me?”), don’t rely solely on me… or on any one voice you hear online. They may be in a totally different situation than you and inadvertently give you a totally wrong picture of it!

Tip Number One actually ties in with everything I said above: do you have friends (or other trusted people) who have attended Pride in your area before? If so, they may be a more reliable source of advice than a stranger online! Maybe you could even ask them to come along? Having an experienced Pride-goer with you is one of the best ways to ensure a safe and comfortable experience.

Other tips and pieces of advice that may be helpful:

Look the location up before you arrive: Which public transport stations are nearby? Where would you go if you need to buy a quick snack? Are there public toilets available? Where’s the nearest hospital or emergency room? Also note your surroundings when you arrive: Where are the exits? Are there any easily recognizable spots you could look for if you get lost? Where will you meet up with your friends or group if you accidentally get separated from them? 

Make a plan beforehand and share it with at least one trusted person. Let them know where you are going, who you are going with, how you plan to get there and back home (public transit, your own car, your friend’s car etc.) and when you intend to be back home. Make sure to keep them updated on any changes in your plans and ask them to check in regularly. Also agree on what they should do if they haven’t heard from you at the agreed time.

If you go with a friend or a group, agree beforehand how you’ll handle potential scenarios: what if one person wants to go home and the other(s) want to stay? What if one of you gets separated from the other(s)? (Don’t rely solely on texting/calling each other in such cases (phones can unexpectedly die, get lost, get stolen, have no cell service etc.))

Pride events often take place in summer, so make sure to keep sun/heat safety in mind! Wear sunscreen, stay hydrated, don't overexhaust yourself in hot weather and read up on the symptoms of (and first aid for) heat exhaustion.

If you want to stay safe and alert, your best bet is to stay sober. Don’t drink alcohol or take drugs. (If you do plan to do either of these things, then please keep basic harm reduction measures in mind: don’t drink on an empty stomach, don’t mix alcohol and meds, have at least one person in your group who stays sober, don’t drink & drive etc.) 

Make sure to take everything with you that you may need, such as a water bottle, snacks, any necessary medications, face masks, first aid supplies, a portable charger for your phone, emergency contact info (written down in case your phone dies), sunscreen etc.

Learn your rights when it comes to getting stopped by police (Make sure that what you read up on is actually true for your country and is up to date).

Read up on safety precautions for chemical irritation if the use of pepper spray/tear gas is a concern in your area. Same goes for active shooter situations. It may be a worst case scenario but it’s better to read up beforehand if it’s something you worry about.

Don’t engage with counterprotesters. Even if they seem nonviolent, keep in mind that they may just be waiting for you to provoke them, so they can “justify” escalating to violence. Just keep your distance, don’t talk to them, don’t let them bait you into conversation. 

Lastly, you want to keep everyone else safe too, so: make sure you don’t accidentally out anyone. Pride is supposed to be a safe space. Don’t take pictures of strangers, don’t upload anything on social media that shows anyone’s face or name if you didn’t get explicit permission to do so. 

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[edward-munson]

good partner

Summary: You get a call from Sam asking to help him and Bucky find the Super Soldiers, and get Zemo out of prison. You're still not done with your mission, but the former Winter Soldier doesn't like the idea of you around. This is mostly based on episode 4 of the show, "The Whole World is Watching". I wanted to write something light but you can request a smut.

Warning: Angst, mentions of The Winter Soldier, fluff | Word count: 4k

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

A loud thud echoed through the loft as Zemo hit his back against the hard floor. You stomped your foot on his chest and heard him grunt against gritted teeth.

"I'm in this case as well. You're just a rat who got lucky from getting out of a cell" You spat out. Both Sam and Bucky trying hard not to snort.

The baron still kept his gaze at you, holding your foot so tight you almost stumbled. He got up on his foot and wrapped a hand around your bicep.

"Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage. I can't trust you" He locked his eyes on yours and squeezed his fingers on your skin.

You let out a dry scoff. They should've let him die in that prison. Behind your back, Sam was about to step in. Zemo had shifted his demeanor to a cold look. "You let them do it. Stay out of it".

"And who are you to say shit about what I should or should not do?" Raising your voice, he didn't flinch.

The man pointed a finger at you as a warning, still holding his damn tea cup. Only a slight second later, Bucky shattered the glass against the wall and pulled him by his collar.

"You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?" The soldier asked him. He tightened his metal wrist and you could see his shoulder grow wide.

Sam stood next to him, resting a hand on his forearm. "Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing".

Bucky still had him in his grip. Zemo didn't hold any expression, otherwise. It was infuriating. "You want some cherry blossom tea?"

You watched as the taller man twisted his collar. "You fucking touch her again, I'll break your neck". He shoved the baron backward and left the living room.

You were surprised, to say the least. Bucky was annoyed you were on this mission with them. He thought you were actually missing a few points and messing with their plan.

But much to his dismay, Sam agreed to have you on board and didn't complain about your work. Said his partner was just being grumpy.

The former Winter Soldier was leaning against the countertop, his hands gripping tightly against the edge. You offered a glass of water, which he denied.

The Falcon was somewhere else making a call, which left you alone with an irritated soldier and a trash bag of an ex-prisoner.

"Don't let him get through your head" You whispered, standing close to Bucky. He didn't look back at you. "It's what he likes to do. Ever since the last time you engaged".

He gulped harshly, it was back when he was being accused of planning a bombing in Vienna. And then, when he was held hostage in Germany, where Zemo broke him and brought Winter Soldier back.

"I don't like him either. But it's easier if we just ignore" You tried to humor him, but he still wasn't in the mood for interaction.

"Would that work if I ignored you as well?" Bucky lifted his eyes to meet yours. He had a stupid faux grin on his face.

As soon as he didn't get a response, he walked past you and made his way back to follow Sam, leaving you alone with Zemo.

~~

You're all gathered around as The Falcon goes through the plan again. Refusing to tag along with Zemo, you had to agree and make Bucky company.

They tracked Karli Morgenthau to a memorial service. But John Walker and his partner figured out the exact same plan. All you wanted to do was get all the serum back.

That is, if you didn't run into the shittiest Captain America while you and Bucky walked up the alley. You could literally hear him tightening his fists, his metal arm already functioning.

"Ah! How’d you find us now?" The soldier carried an unamused tone in his voice. You watched as John and his partner got closer to you both.

"You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?" He wasn't wrong, but you knew Bucky was past that now.

The Captain motioned his head towards you, measuring you from head to toe. "New Avenger?"

You snorted out loud and cracked a laugh. Your stomach was starting to cramp and the soldier next to you watched as John held a confused look.

"She's just a partner" He shrugged. "Sam asked for her help".

"Yeah, but not just a partner. So you better not step foot on our plans" Bucky knows how much of a menace you are.

He can't disagree with the fact that you can actually start a fight with the wrong people and not fear them.

John snorted and you narrowed your eyes at him. "Yeah, right. You wanna meet Karli, there will be civilians there. There's a high risk of casualties".

"No one's asking for your opinion, Cap. Sam is gonna talk to her and reason her" You tried to face him, but his demeanor didn't go down on you.

"She blew up a fucking building with people in it. If he's in there alone with a Super Soldier, he's getting himself killed".

Bucky rolled his eyes. "He's dealt with worse".

You were waiting inside the building while Sam tried to convince Karli. John couldn't stop pacing back and forth, even Zemo seemed annoyed already.

He started complaining about how dangerous it was, but the soldier next to you made sure it hadn't even been ten minutes yet.

Already done with his bullshit, you shifted on your foot. Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. You weren't supposed to be there in the first place. He knows you're highly qualified and if shit went down you'd protect yourself.

And even though he's still pissed you're there, he can't wrap his head around the fact that this could be really dangerous for you.

John almost towered over Bucky, he was deadpanning at the Captain. "This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins".

"Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?" He tried getting into his head, but the man next to you did nothing but chuckle.

"You really don't know Sam, do you?" You chimed in and watched as John narrowed his eyes at you. "You come in here parading this new shield which, by the way, doesn't fucking belong to you and you want to dictate shit?"

By this point, he really wishes he could hit a woman. Bucky notices how John moves his body and tries to face you, but he doesn't let him.

"You better keep your distance" He warned the Captain, who took a few steps back and raised his hands in surrender.

John didn't wait five more minutes and decided to intervene in their conversation. Karli was fast enough and knocked them down before running away. You couldn't find her in the maze, but Zemo made sure to destroy the serums she had. Or he thought so.

~~

Back in the loft, the German man was lying on the couch with a soft fabric covering his eyes. He was talking about how Super Soldiers weren't allowed to exist.

In gets Bucky as he sighs before taking his jacket off. You couldn't take your eyes off his firm body, his strong arms, and perfectly shaped abs.

You were sitting opposite to him as he was on his back, just staring at his entire body. He poured a glass of whiskey before speaking up about his suspicions about John.

"Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy" He says as he rests his lips on the rim of the glass.

"Good thing you recognize that" You let out a laugh, and he snaps his eyes at you.

Bucky rolls his eyes and speaks through the glass. "You should have a look in the mirror".

You're taken aback by his response and open your mouth, ready for retaliation, but he speaks up again. "Shouldn't have given him the shield".

Sam stood next to him and pointed a finger, but you defended him. "He didn't give it".

You're sitting on the couch with your arms crossed against your chest. The former Winter Soldier walks toward you before crouching in front of you.

"Steve definitely didn't. And you're past the point of giving an opinion here. I said this mission wasn't for you".

He was too annoyed today, that's for sure. But that didn't give him the right to be a brat with you all the time. And you should ignore him, but the bickering gets him all the time.

You lift your torso and fill the gap between your faces. His brows are furrowed. "You don't get to say what I should or should not do".

The staring lingers for a while until the new captain barges into the loft asking for you all to turn Zemo over.

"Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth. Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today" Sam walks over to him.

John tries to tease your friend before the Wakandans enter the loft. They peacefully ask to turn Zemo as well, but a fight bursts in the room.

You run towards the corner of the room behind a pillar, while the wakandan knocks the captain and his friend down. The other three men are standing there, watching him get beat up with amused looks on their faces.

"Looking strong, John" Bucky teases and you snort loudly. He snaps his head your way and grins.

The soldier tries reasoning with Ayo, but she pulls herself away from him and continues to fight against John and his partner. Both him and Sam are too busy to notice that Zemo is trying to get away.

You run after him and hold the door knobs before he can lock himself. "Where the hell you think you're going?"

"Let go, or I'll shoot you" He warns, but you paid no mind. Only then, he gripped his gun quickly before shoving you backward, locking himself.

You looked over your shoulders and watched as Bucky was kneeling on the floor, grabbing his metal arm.

"Shit" You mutter and rush to him. "Everything okay?"

He carried a different look for a slight second, almost vulnerable. He reattached his arm back. Bucky looked at you and nodded. You grabbed his limb and carefully inspected it.

"Did you know they could do that?" He was still glancing down at you. His blue eyes were soft and light. He shook his head and clanked his arm.

Later on, Zemo was still nowhere near to be found, while Sam and Bucky were pissed they missed him.

"How could you not hold him back?" Your friend was messaging a few people he knew might know about him.

"I tried. He pointed a fucking gun to my head" You snapped.

The other man sat next to you on the stool by the countertop. He let out a sharp inhale. "Was it even loaded? He could've just tricked you".

"How the fuck would I know?" Your face was millimeters away from his once again. Your breath was fanning his face and you watched as he tightened his jaw.

"Know why I hate this fucking plan? Because you had one job today and you couldn't even do it" You closed your fists and clicked your jaw at his words.

"As much as I know Sam would bow down to you and say you're a great partner. I beg to differ" He got from his seat and walked with his heavy boots against the floor toward the couch.

Your voice cut through the air with bitterness and you immediately regretted it. "Sometimes you're no different from the Winter Soldier".

He stopped his tracks and spun around. Quickly, Bucky captured your face with his metal hand and squeezed your cheeks, making you pout.

"What the fuck did you just say?" His forehead was brushing yours and you could see rage in his eyes.

"Let go of her. She's just disappointed" Sam gave you a cold look before handling his partner. He grabbed Bucky by the shoulder before the man shoved your face.

You were sitting alone in the loft during the night, trying to book a flight home. Obviously, your plan to help with the mission became a disaster, nonetheless, from the beginning you knew Bucky didn't agree on this.

He thought you couldn't keep up with the plan and he was right. You were making things worse at this point. You wanted to help them, you tracked the Super Soldiers and you helped with Zemo, but that was just it.

Now you're debating whether you should just go without warning or not. Sam is going to be pissed at the end of it. He knows you're better than that, and after what you told Bucky there's no way you can face him again.

Your friend watched you from the corner of the hallway. He knows you're hurting from what happened, you wouldn't snap like that if his partner didn't push you. Sam talked to him, but he was too angry to actually forgive you.

He didn't blame him either.

"Hey, you going to sleep or what?" Sam asked as soon as he dropped his weight on the couch next to you. He peeked through your screen and saw it. "Woah, you're not leaving right? This isn't over. I still need you. We need to find Zemo".

"You can do that without me. You did it before. Besides, he's out there because of me. And Bucky is tired of my face".

He closed your laptop, and you glanced at him. "I can do it, but I don't want to. S'why I reached out to you. And we're gonna find him, he needs us too".

"And Bucky... I think it's just his sexual frustration talking" He laughed as you gasped at his words.

"Sam, what the fuck?"

"Dude doesn't even go on dates, he's probably nervous having a woman around. He's always been grumpy, I think it's in his nature. He'll come around at some point" He grinned at you.

"That's not my problem. He keeps pushing me, I'll fight back" You didn't need to look at him to see he was definitely enjoying the playfulness.

"You guys should just have sex. This is so annoying" Sam grabbed his phone as you choked on your own spit.

"For the love of God, drop this conversation before I snap at you too".

He handed the phone to you, saying Karli was threatening his sister and his nephews. She wants to find him, alone.

He has other plans, of course. But you can't even think about accepting the idea before Bucky gets to talk.

"He doesn't need to know. I'll go with him, you meet us there".

~~

You watched as he and Bucky fought the Super Soldiers along with John and his partner. They were beating each other up relentlessly.

One of them pulled a pocket knife and tried stabbing Bucky and you gasped. He shielded himself, dropping the object close to their face.

He had a snapped cut on his nose, and his jaw was split up. His knuckles were bloody red. Sam was in better shape than his friend, though.

You were shocked when you saw John's partner sitting unconscious on the floor. The captain rushed to him, too desperate to make any sense.

You pulled Bucky and Sam away and ran out of the building. "We gotta get the hell out of here now. He's gonna kill the kid" Your hands were shaking, and you almost tripped on your foot.

"Hey, woah. What are you doing here?" Bucky stopped in his tracks, looking back.

"Let's argue later, dipshit" Sam shouted at the soldier as you kept running.

In the loft, you asked Bucky to sit on the stool as you worked on his injuries. Starting on his nose, he hissed at the contact with the wet cloth.

"Keep steady, crybaby" You whispered and he looked up at you.

You cleaned the dried blood from his face and managed to apply some saline solution. The entire time, he kept his gaze on you. He noticed how focused you were on his injuries and how gently you managed it.

He held his hands up as you cleaned up his knuckles. They were red from all the punching, and it surprised you how he was still human besides the serum.

You squeeze his hands lightly, too embarrassed to look back at him before apologizing. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. It was a really shitty thing to say, and you don't deserve it. I was an asshole".

Bucky trailed his eyes to scan your face. He had a peaceful look. "I shouldn't have pushed you either. I was just annoyed Sam brought someone up to this mess".

"I accepted it. There's no right or wrong, I wanted to help". You were both still brushing your fingertips against each other.

"You're not bad after all" He mused and you chuckled. "I just- I don't think I can keep losing people".

You saw his raw personality right in front of you. That man who kept his serious and defensive demeanor was showing his true self. It was hard to miss it.

Your hand grasped his jawline, carefully rubbing his skin. He almost faltered. "That won't happen. I got two Avengers to protect me".

He snorted, showing his teeth when he laughed. "Should've seen that coming".

"And more than anyone else, you deserve that happiness. You just need to stop lying about your nightmares".

"How do you-" He was about to ask and you tilt your head.

"Sam and I talk. I know it's hard to erase the past. But you're James again, you're you" Your other hand is still holding him tightly.

Bucky refuses to look at you for a moment. And when he does, his eyes are glassy. "It means I remember. It means a part of me is still there. Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me".

You smack your lips. "You need to stop thinking you're making amends. You need to give them closure, be of service for them. Stop thinking like you still owe them just an apology".

He drops his head and bites his lip. You hold his chin up and force him to look at you. "You're not that guy anymore".

You were about to get closer for the hundredth time. Maybe close the gap between you and pull him in for a kiss. Not because you feel bad for him, for his past. But because you feel warmth when you're close to him.

You feel like he could hold the world above your head and fight for you.

That was when his phone started ringing. John killed that kid out of revenge.

~~

You finally meet Sam's sister, Sarah, after he invites you and Bucky home to help him fix his boat. A lot of their neighbors are also helping. There's a gathering with food and drinks by the lake, and every kid is excited to see the soldier. They're all lining up to hang up on his metal arm.

You're watching in the distance as he and Sarah chat about something, while two kids hang themselves on his limb. He seems lighter, happy even.

He has a different look on his face. Especially after Sam finally decided to become who he was supposed to be.

Bucky walks toward you holding two cans of beer in his hand. "You want one?"

He holds one out for you, and you accept it.

"The kids love you, you know?" You speak after sipping on your drink.

"What can I say? I'm pretty charming" He leans against the wall next to you, watching as the sun sets. There's a hue of orange in the sky.

"They only like you because of your arm. Don't get too cocky" You shove him by the arm playfully and he holds your hand for leverage.

Bucky pulls you closer to his body, his chest is heaving against yours. He's taller, so he has to look down at you.

"So you don't think I'm charming?" His words are too soft, but his grip on your waist is almost tight.

"I didn't say that" You smirk and he uses his other hand to rub the pad of his thumb on your lower lip.

The moment you felt his skin against yours, it felt like everything slowed down. Even though he was desperate to finally give you the kiss he'd been wishing for, it was obvious he was too nervous.

Sam's words lingered in your head. He was definitely in need of dates and he refused to accept it. Whatever changed his mind made you realize he had a soft spot for you.

That's what made you take the first step. You finally closed the distance and crashed your lips against his. It tasted like beer. The tiniest movement of your tongue had him groaning in the back of his throat and it almost made you smile.

He slid his tongue against yours and tilted his head for better access. He wished he wasn't holding a beer right now because all he wanted to do was cradle your face and pull you in for a deeper kiss.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and Bucky faltered as you grasped his lip between your teeth. Both tongues were fighting for dominance and you shivered.

The fresh taste of beer in your mouth made his heart flutter inside his chest. His heart was racing and pounding against his ribcage and he felt like the air got knocked out of his lungs.

You both had to pull out for air, his hand not leaving your body for a second. Resting your forehead against his, you watched as he kept his eyes closed.

"I'm glad you're happier now. I can see it right through you"

"Someone gave me a nudge. And Sam is a great friend, much to my disappointment" He joked, giving your lips a chaste peck.

"He said some pretty nasty things about you the other day" You laughed as he displayed a surprised look on his face.

"Oh, he's a dead man".

"Hmm, he might be right" You sipped on your beer, watching as Bucky placed a hand on his hip.

"What was it about?" The soldier mirrored you with his beer.

Getting closer to his face, you spoke against his lips. Voice low and teasing "You'll have to find out".

You gasped as he pulled you harder against his body and kissed you again. This time, it had a different impact, he was rough and needy.

A growth beneath you brushed against your body, and you chuckled between the kiss. Bucky had to pull away from you. He lowered his head and shook it.

"I might know what he meant" He barely had time to laugh as you pulled him in for another kiss.

You didn't even have time to tell Sam goodbye. Next thing you know, you were both in his hotel room, filling the air with a lot of passion and moaning.

You woke up the next day with a weight on you. His metal arm was spread above your body.

Jesus, they needed to get blackout curtains in the bedrooms. You slightly opened one of your eyes and peeked through your lashes as you saw Bucky peacefully sleeping close to you.

A smile escaped from your lips at the thought of the previous night.

Happiness crossed your mind when you cradled his face and traced his jawline. He was definitely happy. And hopefully, soon, the nightmares would go away.

[carlsangel]

STUPID

carl grimes x reader

(you punch negan at the lineup.)

tags: angst, fluff

masterlist here!

Sometimes, you do things without thinking which was very prevalent during the lineup. Sitting there silently while watching Negan torment and murder your family was complete torture. Coming along on this trip wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Carl didn’t even want you to go in the first place.

During the lineup, the two of you were separated which somehow made everything much worse. You were sat between Michonne and Abraham. That definitely wasn’t the most ideal position to be in. Directly next to Abraham. You didn’t look, you couldn’t. You knew Carl had probably watched it all to make sure he’d remember it.

You thought it couldn’t get any worse but Negan decided to torment Rosita about it. You knew they had some sort of issue before all of this, that they’d broken up. But it was still cruel and just as hard to watch. Negan thought he was funny. So you clocked him in the jaw which is fair, who wouldn’t?

You were tackled and pinned to the floor as expected, you had heard the others protest while they screamed at Negan’s men telling them you’re just a kid. They weren’t planning on having mercy on you, but Negan did. He scolded you and told you there’d be consequences to your actions. You sometimes wish it was you. Glenn was a huge loss to the group, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault.

After everything you thought you’d be given the liberty of going home with your family. But he took you as punishment. He’d told you on various occasions that you were brave. Brave makes a good soldier, so he would try and break you. Turn you into a savior, into Negan. You were under the control of Dwight who locked you in a room and basically starved you, feeding you dog food and made you suffer by repeating songs over and over. He made you spend time with the dead, and that was the next time you’d see Carl.

You saw him through a gate first, he killed some of Negan’s men and that already stressed you out to no end. You were worried about what he’d might do to Carl. You finally got to leave the dead to service Dwight and Negan once again. You held a tray of snacks for the man, it was quite humiliating to say the least. But you were able to see Carl. The look he gave you was heartbreaking. He was so worried to see you there in that state. “Why’s he here?” You ask Negan. He sort of laughed at your question. “Well the last time I checked, that was none of your business. Don’t make me take out the only eye he has.” He teases. So you stay silent, that was probably the first you’d spoken in a while.

Later that day you were able to see him two more times, once during the iron and right before he left back to Alexandria. You knew that if he didn’t have his bandage, Negan had definitely tormented him. Eventually you were back locked into your cell, but not for long because you were soon given the supplies you’d need to leave. So you do, effectively disguising yourself and escaping. You made to ur way back to Hilltop, thanks to Jesus.

There you were well taken care of, you were given a shower and real food. Somewhere to sleep. You had nightmares about the Sanctuary, about Negan and Dwight. It sounds stupid but you were worried, you’d thought about it and realized you were still an escaped hostage, they could look for you at any moment. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to see Carl. Your plan was to leave Hilltop early in the morning to head back to Alexandria. You wake up early and grab a couple things you’d need in a bag. You sneak off to a side wall and before you can start to try to escape, you hear Maggie calling you and Sasha.

You walk further into the settlement to see that the gates are opened and he’s there. Carl is there. You let your bag slide off your back and the both of you make your way to each other’s embrace, still sort of shocked. He hugs you so tightly, tighter than he ever has before. He shoves his face into your neck. “Thank god.” He mumbles against your skin. After a moment you pulled back to look at him. He looks at you a bit wearily as the last time he’d seen you it wasn’t in the best condition. He leans forward and plants a kiss to your forehead, his eyes shut as he feels a wave of gratefulness flood his body.

Soon you guys would be sitting down in Barrington house while you guys caught up. Although, he seemed to be doing most of the talking. You were very silent. “After the Sanctuary…he went back to Alexandria. People died. He took Eugene.” He explains solemnly. He looks at your face for any expression and there is none. ��Cmon you gotta say something.” He examines your face and realizes how much pain you’re in.

“I just…I feel so stupid.” You mutter. He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “If i hadn’t done what I did…Glenn would be here. I wouldn’t have gone to the Sanctuary. It was bad Carl it was so bad.” Your voice trails off as tears fill your eyes, you can’t help but cover your face but all you can think of was the cell they’d keep you in, constantly being taunted and picked on.

He immediately went to comfort you, running his hand over your back to calm you down. He wasn’t sure what to say, he didn’t know how to help you. But all he knew was that you needed comfort. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. It was almost like he was telling you that you were safe now.

Negan wouldn’t hurt you again, and he’d make sure of it. “Whatever happens next…you have to sit out.” He tells you, still holding on tightly. You pull back and look at him puzzled. “Sit out?” You sniffle, “This isn’t a game, Carl. This is war.” He breathes in deeply and considers your response, although he can’t agree. “That doesn’t matter to me…but you do.” You shake your head and stand up from the couch.

“That’s unfair. I can fight and I’m going to.” You retort. “No. You’re not. Not like this.” He demands. How doesn’t he understand? You can’t let whatever it was stop you, not now. “Is this for revenge?” He questions. You turn back to look at him with a small glare as he remained on the couch. “If that’s how you want to look at it, yes. But to me it’s justice. Not just for me… but for Abraham and Glenn.” Carl keeps quiet and looks at you intently.

“Even though what happened to Glenn was my fault.” You say sort of quietly, looking. down at your feet. Your words struck Carl hard. So he stood up and forced you to look at him, just to make sure you understood. “That’s not what happened- we were put in a shitty position. None of that should’ve happened anyway.”

You say nothing. It’s hard to feel any other way. Like it wasn’t your fault. Carl took you in his arms anyway, it was probably the most comforting hug you’d gotten since the start of it all. He pulled away from you to hold your face gently in his hands. “If fighting makes you feel better then you can fight. But you have to stay by my side. Can you promise me that…please?” His voice was gentle and reassuring, it really made you feel better.

You nod. “I promise.”

a/n: the rest of the match ups are gonna be done somewhat soon, i’m having quite bad mental health issues currently so they’re kinda getting hard for me to get through T-T

anyway mannnn 0-0 this was FUNNN it was just so depressing but i suppose that’s the point shrug THANKS FOR THE REQ ANON IT WAS BANGER also sorry for it coming out A MONTH LATER HDHDHDHD

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11

SERIES MASTER LIST

---

***Okay I know I said 21/1/2025 but I'm weak, okay? The next chapter will be uploaded Wednesday. Twice weekly. Yes. I can do this. I can stick to a schedule. Yes. I can. I can too stick to a schedule. Yes. I definitely can.

😳😳😳

Also, please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or be removed from it. Hope you like the story.***

---

You will never forget that day. You were on a bus going back home. Your Papa called you at work. Your Mama’s cancer was back, and the prognosis was not good this time. She had beaten it once when you were five, you didn’t remember much from that time, and again when you were 12, but apparently, by the time they found this one, 13 years later, it had spread. Your Mama decided against treatment, wanting to live the last of her days anywhere but in bed recuperating from yet another chemo.

That was why you were going back. To try to talk her out of it. She had a year left, at best, maybe two or three with aggressive chemo, but no, Elena, I’m done, she had told you. You kids are grown, I’m a happy Mama, please, let me live what’s left of my life happy, let me live among you, not in bed being sick, counting the days death comes for me.

No. You packed up your desk and told your boss you needed a few days. You worked in the city, a few hours’ drive away from home. Nothing special, just a secretary. Not like the world would collapse if you took a few days off.

Alas, it did collapse. While you were on the bus. You remembered how the smooth ride just… veered. There were people running everywhere. The bus got trapped between crashed cars and people just started… losing their minds. You remembered just grabbing your bag and gunning it for the forest next to the highway, your survival instinct just kicked in.

There were a few people with you, one was an FBI agent. Marcus, he told you. Those first couple of days you travelled with him and others, he made a few calls, found out what they thought happened. You managed to call your house with his phone once, telling your father you were on your way. Your brothers were on deployment, and your parents hadn’t heard from them since the whole thing happened. The next day, everything shut down. No cell service, no electricity, no nothing. All the advancements the world had worked towards for hundreds of years just sort of stopped.

In those ten days you travelled with this group, you watched as common social etiquettes and civilisation collapsed, even if just among the few of you. The perfectly nice, caring, considerate, selfless people who gave the clothes off their backs to help strangers suddenly turned into snatchers and robbers out of pure desperation and loss of hope.

Not to say you were any less guilty. You stole too, you had to. But you tried, at least, not to kill anyone who was still human while doing it. Marcus protected you as best as he could, but even he got more and more ruthless as the days went by.

You were thankful growing up with two older brothers then. They had forced you into taking every martial arts classes you could get into, Benny sparring with you every chance he got, Will encouraging from the sidelines. They wanted their sister growing up tough, they said. No men will ever take their little sister down without a fight. They took you out camping, roughing it every time, wanting you to be okay should the needs arise. Despite your many tantrums and eye rolls, you went along with their demands. You looked up to them. You mourned the days they joined the army, looking forward to them coming home. Every time, they had a new skill to teach you, still wanting to make sure their sister was as safe as you could be, even if they were not around. But the one thing they refused to let you do was enlist. No Elena. We taught you these things to keep you safe, not to have you running head on into this life we didn’t want in the first place.

You spent the nights talking to Marcus, getting to know him more and more, and when the day came for you to go your separate ways 15 days later, he begged you to go with him, to not separate. No, you told him. You needed to get home to your family. You needed to know. He couldn’t come with you, he himself needed to find his own family. His Mama was alone, he needed to get to her. The world had gone to shit, everyone needed to restart. So the two of you went your separate ways, but not before he took you in his arms and kissed you, telling you how much he wished he had met you in a different world. It took everything in you to pull away from him, and he stood there watching you walk away until you disappeared from his sight.

**********

You got home four days later to an empty neighbourhood. You ran into your house hoping for a miracle, but your parents were nowhere to be found. No one was anywhere to be found. You walked around the cul-de-sac looking for someone, anyone, a person who could at least tell you what the fuck happened, to no avail.

You were about to walk back into your house when the sound of a gun cocking stopped you. You immediately raised both your hands, telling whoever it was not to shoot.

“Miller Girl? Elena?”

You turned around, willing yourself to go slowly, and came face to face with your reclusive neighbour, Bill. He was a bit… odd… so you didn’t want to chance it. You kept your hands up, asking him if he knew what happened to your parents.

He lowered his gun slightly, telling you to go inside. He followed, looking around to make sure no one else was around.

“You alone?”

You nodded.

He sat across from you, gun still in his hands, his eyes looking around for any threats. He told you the army came five days ago. Took everyone, your parents included, off to God knows where. So far, the neighbourhood didn’t have much threat from those things, he told you. He killed maybe ten in these two days. He planned to lay low for a day or two more, and then he’s going to start setting up.

Setting up?

Yeah, he said. Get supplies. Raid the stores, get fuel, build up a storage for everything. Water, food, medicine, guns, ammo.

Okay Bill, you said, remembering all the rumours you had heard about the guy. Although, that was a good idea, when you think about the shit you saw in the last three weeks or so.

Then he asked when you were planning to leave.

Huh?

“I’m not leaving. Where the fuck would I go?”

“Well, you can’t stay here.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I haven’t got the time nor the will to take care of some girl.”

“And who, exactly, asked you to do that?”

He stood there, raising his gun at you. You didn’t care. If the world had gone to pot, maybe he was doing you a favour. He eventually left in a huff.

You went about collecting your own supplies, though limiting yourself to the area. You were a woman, a lone woman, threats to you were more than just those things and men robbing you. So you made do with the smaller stores and pharmacies in the cul-de-sac, the houses in it, you went through them all. You siphoned the fuel out of the cars, got the guns and ammos from the houses you knew had some, got whatever you needed to basically live for a few weeks. You’ll think of the next few weeks after that next week, you thought.

Bill either left those places for you to raid, or avoided you, huffing every time he saw you. He had gone all out, not that you were surprised, he would drive out and not come home for hours, always coming back with his truck full of supplies, even bringing home a boat at one point. He’d had… a reputation, let’s just say, since you had known him. His late mom was always nice to you, but he was an odd one. Benny told you there were rumours that he dug a secret basement under his basement. He’s a prepper, apparently, believing since he could form an opinion that the world was going to shit. And when it did, he would be ready.

Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

You stayed out of his way but couldn’t help but keep an eye out for him. Having him across the street made you feel safer, less alone, as cuckoo as he might be. One day, about a month in, having not heard him putter about for a couple of days, you got worried. His truck was there, but he was nowhere to be seen. So you armed yourself with a gun and a couple of pistols, a baseball bat too, just in case, and went over. The door was locked, obviously. You went around looking for an opened door, a window, and saw the bathroom window upstairs slightly cracked open.

Here was when Benjamin Miller’s climbing lessons turned out to be a good thing, despite the broken arm that resulted. You climbed up the gutter pipe and went inside. The house was dusty, but otherwise rather clean. You went from bedroom to bedroom, and finally found him, shivering in bed, almost delirious from a ridiculously high fever.

He was so out of it, he didn’t even protest when you tended to him. You did as best as you could, giving him medicine, getting his temperature down, making sure he ate something, sleeping on the floor in his bedroom just in case he needed you. Took you days, but you woke up one day to him sitting up in bed, sweating profusely, gun pointed at you. You rolled your eyes at him and told him you’ll be back with some food for him.

He kept his gun on you throughout the day, but cooperated, nonetheless. You didn’t even speak to him, per se, unless it was to tell him to eat or drink something. A couple of days after that, he was feeling better, able to move around and take care of himself, so you went home, sending him meals for a further few days, just to make sure he had something to eat.

For about a week after that, things went back to normal. The two of you went back to ignoring each other in relative peace and harmony. Until one day when there was a knock on your door, him standing a good distance from the door when you opened it, asking you if you wanted to come with him to scavenge a chain store. Might as well, he said.

And that was how you and Bill became friends.

Well, sort of, if friends worked together and never talked to each other unless it was discussing how to fortify the area.

As much as Bill was the stoic man he was with you, you sort of knew he cared about you. Always had your back. Checked on you daily. If you were late in answering the door, he would come in, making sure you were okay. You slept in once and woke up to him prodding you with his gun, grumbling that he thought you were dead as he walked away when he saw you were awake. You lost count of the amount of times you opened your front door to see firewood stacked up on your porch, or dead rabbits or pigeons on your doorstep, or some delicious stew he had concocted. Say what you want about the man, but he could cook.

He was your neighbour Bill. And he sort of cared for you, just as you sort of cared for him. You and he got along just fine, so long as you left each other alone.

**********

Frank joined the two of you a few years later. Frankly you were shocked Bill allowed him to stay. But you understood. He was lonely. And as much of a sort of company you were to him, he never saw you the way he saw Frank. You were the little girl he grew up around, you were Will and Benny Miller’s little sister. And Frank… well, he was his soulmate. Didn’t take you long to figure that out.

Having Frank around was like a breath of fresh air. He was just a shining ray of positivity. Very unlike Bill. You felt like you had the best of both worlds since Frank came into the picture. A friend, and a protector.

Frank was also, you found out really quickly, Bill’s Achilles Heel, apparently. Cause suddenly lawnmowers were no longer a waste of resources, neither was making the place a bit more… presentable. You and Frank would spent hours gardening, making the place look better, chattering endlessly, with Bill loitering somewhere near doing whatever it was he was doing, and you and Bill would go on rounds checking the perimeter, the traps and everything else, making sure things worked. You knew how it all worked, obviously, you helped the man build everything.

But the most shocking change of all, was the fact that there were people visiting for lunch, a couple from the Boston QZ apparently. Bill had somehow persuaded you to stay out of sight, just in case the two attacked, you would be the next, unseen line of defence, much to Frank’s chagrin. But you told Frank it was okay, give him this, you know what a big deal it was for him to open up the place for strangers. He’s not wrong, if you think about it.

So there you were, perched on a treehouse in one of the neighbourhood front yards, hidden from view with a camo blanket and a sniper gun, watching as the couple walked in.

And that was the first time you set your eyes on Joel Miller.

**********

When you first saw him, you felt like time stood still. It was like seeing a ghost. He looked so much like Marcus. You had often wondered what happened to him. If he got to where he was going. If he was alive after all these years. But of course, you later found out his name was Joel Miller, from Austin. No relations to you, obviously, despite the similar surname. He had a brother named Tommy. And that he was a contractor, not an FBI agent. It took a few more visits over a whole year before Bill trusted the couple enough to introduce you to them. And even then, the first meeting wasn’t exactly planned, nor the most… conventional of meetings.

You were on that treehouse as usual. Frank was taking them to the boutique down the road, and they had to walk past the treehouse to get there. As they got closer, you saw Bill, who was walking behind Joel, look at you. He gestured with his head for you to come out. So you jumped down, landing to Joel’s right side.

He was startled, taking a step back and ended up falling backwards, rolling head over heels before ending up on his knees, gun cocked and aimed at you. You stood over him, gun aimed right back at him, Bill with his own pointed at Joel, shouting at him to put his gun down. You and Joel were at a standstill, neither willing to disarm, until Frank swatted the gun away from him, telling you to stand down.

You straightened as Joel got back up, taking the camo blanket off your head. When he realized you were a woman, his expression changed. He picked his gun up and stood there, eyes away from you, as Frank introduced you to the two of them.

“Our neighbour, the closest thing we have to family, Elena Miller,” he said. Joel’s head turned slightly at the mention of your last name. He nodded in acknowledgment, but his eyes were surveillant of the surroundings, in case more of you would pop out.

Tess, the woman, stepped forward, having stood in shock as the whole thing took place. She shook your hand, telling you how impressed she was that you managed to shock Joel Miller. She was tough, but friendly. She wore the pants, apparently, Joel was merely her guard dog. She did the talking, and Joel loitered, watching, but never participating. That first day you were introduced, you felt as if he was watching you the entire time, but every time you turned, his eyes were always somewhere else. Bill’s, as usual, were always on him.

As the visits got more and more regular, things with Joel never changed. In those first few years, you heard Joel speak maybe five times, never to you. He wasn’t a talker. He was Bill the Second, basically, seen, but not heard.

Every time they visited, you and Tess would spend some time together, and you felt normal again for a few hours. It was nice, having a woman to talk to. Joel would loiter when you and Tess hung out or do business with Frank, but generally, he stayed away from you, just watching from afar.

She told you things. Her husband, her son, Joel’s daughter, and you, in return, told her about your parents and brothers. You mentioned Marcus maybe once, in passing. Marcus was, as far as you were concerned, an unmentionable. You couldn’t live your life wondering about him. You needed to let go.

She told you the arrangement she had with Joel. They were… together… sort of. He was not her boyfriend per se. Just a trusted friend. A partner. Someone she trusted with her life. He was… damaged. His life ended when his daughter died. He wouldn’t let anyone in, and Tess wasn’t going to try. She loved him, you could tell. But she loved him enough for herself to not want to force his hand, she would rather be in this one sided lovefest than lose him. She knew if she told him how she felt, he would leave. So she didn’t.

Over the years, when the two visited, Tess would bring you stuff. Trinkets. A wooden carving of your name, at first, tied to a piece of black string. You used it as a keychain. A bracelet next, a series of wooden dices with your name carved into them, a letter each, followed by a necklace of similar style. Your happiness must have been obvious, she always looked so happy whenever you put the things she brought you on. If they got damaged, she would ask for them back and brought you a replacement the next time she was there. If you talked about missing a certain book or movie every now and again, she would bring them to you, and never asked for anything in exchange. And every single time, Joel remained at a distance, just watching, in case you decided to attack his woman.

You had two brothers in your new life with Bill and Frank, and a friend in Tess.

Joel was your… you were not even sure.

You couldn’t help yourself sometimes. He reminded you so much of Marcus, but all you could do was steal a look every now and again. He was not Marcus. You knew this. Of course, eventually, you stopped thinking about Marcus when you look at him, and he became just Joel.

But that in itself presented another problem.

The five of you would have your meals together when they visited, and every single time, after Tess and Joel left, you spent the night crying yourself to sleep. The sight of the two couples together, even Tess and Joel, the two who had never shown any physical romance at all, made your heart ache. He may not declare his love for her, may not hold her hand, but he showed her he loved her in his own way every single day. You saw how protective he was of her, how he always had her back.

You wondered if push comes to shove, would anyone come to your rescue? Would Bill choose to save you over Frank?

So you went to bed after every one of these visits and cried. Cried about how lonely you were. Cried that there was no one there for you, and only you. Cried that you were doomed to live in this fucked up world a tagalong in someone else’s perfect relationships.

Inevitably, you developed a helpless crush on Joel.

Then again, your life revolved around four people. One was a woman, two were gay and might as well be your brothers, and the other one was taken. But even the blind could see Joel Miller was an attractive man. And apart from the old pictures in the magazines you managed to sneak from Frank’s private stash, Joel was the only living, breathing man you had access to, albeit only mentally, in Fantasyland. Tess was a sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that to her. You would never act on it, of course, you were raised better than that. But you couldn’t tell her you thought of her man every time you rutted yourself against your pillow at night. So you indulged. Stole some looks for later use, studied his arms and imagined what it would feel like being held in those arms. What it would feel like to kiss him. A harmless crush, one that you could never, would never act on. You promised every time he visited it would be the last time, but you couldn’t help yourself. Heck, he was the only man around you could crush on. There was literally no one else.

It got to a point that you had to deliberately stay away from him. You were convinced that people could see. That Tess could see. Frank could see. So you conveniently found other things to do whenever he was around, far away from him. Tess would always come find you, sans Joel, so things were okay for a while.

It wasn’t as if the man had ever looked at you anyway. In fact, you were convinced that he hated you. He never spoke to you, never looked your way, and managed to make you feel as if you didn’t exist whenever he was around.

One day, Joel came alone. He had a bit of a limp, having snagged his foot on a root on his way over. He stayed over for two nights in Bill and Frank’s guest room to rest his ankle. You were working on a new vegetable garden then, the weather just turned, and it was the perfect time to plant. What you did not count on was that Frank was feeling rather under the weather, and Joel came out to help you instead. For two whole days, he helped you plant seeds and watered the ground. You made sure never to look at him, scared out of your mind that you might do the unthinkable. Not that there was a chance, anyway, he stayed away from you, never talking the whole time.

But being alone with him… it wasn’t helping. Each grunt or heavy breath he produced was making you imagine things, feel things.

He’s with Tess, you kept telling yourself. Don’t.

The day he finally left, you cried for hours. You just felt so fucking frustrated. So lonely. You lived in a world where there were more infected than there were humans, and you had access to a handful of people, only one who you were attracted to, and there was nothing you could do about it. You had exactly four friends in this world, and acting on your desires would mean losing at least one friend. And Tess’s friendship meant more to you than anything in this fucked up world.

The last time you saw Tess, she said something to you after a whole day of you ignoring Joel’s presence, and he yours, yet again, after almost 15 years of knowing each other. She was hugging you goodbye, and whispered to you – “You know, we have been lucky thus far, but our luck might run out sooner or later. You should be nicer to Joel. He’s really not a bad guy if you give him a chance. Cause you never know, this might be the last time you saw him, and if something happens to him, you don’t want to regret being an asshole to him, right?”

You remember giving her an annoyed look, rolling your eyes at her.

“The man hates me, Tess. Let him hate me in peace, and I, him.”

She laughed and gave you a big smacking kiss on your cheek before leaving. That was the last time you saw your good friend Tess.

**********

That day Frank didn’t feel too well didn’t stop. He never got better. You helped care for him, kept his spirits up, but you could tell that as the years went by, there were less and less of it to keep up. Joel and Tess helped, bringing him medicine, anything that could help make him more comfortable, but eventually, the inevitable would happen.

Bill came to see you one day, telling you that he and Frank were having a romantic dinner that night. He brought you a plate. It was a special meal, he said. He asked that you come over in the morning and help him with Frank. Of course, you said, don’t I always, Bill? He nodded slowly, looking at you with a different expression than you had ever seen him with before.

“You know, I never thanked you for saving me when we first started,” he said.

“Oh, come on Bill, you’re not getting all sappy on me now are you?”

He laughed a little, shaking his head.

“Glad to have you in my life kiddo,” he said, taking a step back to leave. You were about to close the door when he came back, pulling you in for a hug. It startled you. 20 years since the outbreak, 45 since you were born and lived across the street from him. And your neighbour Bill just hugged you for the first time.

“Love you kiddo,” he said, his eyes glistening.

“Love you too, Bill,” you replied, still shocked by his gesture. He nodded, gave you a teary smile and walked home. “See you tomorrow!” you called out, but he just turned his head slightly and kept walking.

**********

You found them the next morning, lying in each other’s arms, looking so peaceful you couldn’t help but sit and stare at them for hours. Bill left you a letter, telling you everything that had happened. Frank’s request, the pills, the wine, the wedding, all of it, telling you he already sent the radio signal to Joel and Tess – they should be here as soon as they could. Please stay with them, Elena, here or otherwise. He’s sorry he was being selfish and leaving you alone. But he couldn’t imagine a life without Frank, and he was too weak to say no to his love’s one request.

Be safe, Elena, find people again. Be free. Love again.

You buried them near the strawberries. Took you a while, but you got it done, eventually. You sat with them for a long, long time, feeling like the life you knew had gone. You realized that you didn’t even mourn your parents or brothers like this, seeing as you didn’t know exactly what happened to them. The likelihood that they had survived was slim to none, but you hoped. Somewhere in your heart, you hoped. Until you know for sure, you hoped. But with Bill and Frank…

You sat with them every day since then, wondering what would happen next. Wondering if Tess and Joel would even show. You remember Tess telling you it takes about two days to get here by foot. You were even wondering what you would do if and when they did show up. Would you even want to go with them? Go where? From what you understood, the QZ was not exactly safe. And there had been rumours that QZs were about to be obsolete. Frank left one years ago, so why would you go running to one? Might as well stay here and wait to die. At least you get to die somewhere familiar, where you loved, where you were loved.

You could ask them to stay. At least you wouldn’t be alone. And then what? Watch the two of them live the life you would never have? The way you watched Bill and Frank? At least you were not pining for either of them. But watching Joel, your long time crush, live happily ever after with the woman you considered your best friend across the street from you? The thought alone made your lips tremble and your heart cold.

You laughed out loud at the thought. You were a 45 year old woman. Having a crush. Like a silly little girl. On a man who was so closed up, hated you, and would never reciprocate. A man who didn’t even openly love the woman he’d been with for the past 15 or odd years. Stupid.

The sounds of the gate opening snapped you out of your stupor. You got up and slowly made your way to the gate. As you turned the corner, you saw him. With a teenage girl. No Tess in sight. He was looking around, clocking in the less than perfect area. You and Bill ran behind the upkeep of late, Frank needing more attention than the potted plants and lawns. He saw you and said something to the girl. When the two of you finally faced each other, you saw it. The empty look in his eyes. And he saw the same in yours. No words were needed. You both nodded, lips trembling a little, before he introduced you to Ellie, the teenager with him. You invited the both of them over to your place, made sure they had something to eat, let them rest and shower. You waited on your porch – still mulling what to do, now that Tess was no longer in the picture.

The door opened, and Joel came out, two cups of coffee in his hands. He sat in the chair next to yours. The two of you just sat in silence, drinking your coffees, silently mourning the three people you had both known and come to rely on in this life after the outbreak.

“She got bit,” he told you.

“They took pills.”

You both nodded.

“What now?” he asked. “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know. Bill asked me to go with you and Tess, or ask you guys to stay, so… it’s up to you, I guess. It’s okay if you don’t want me tagging along. I’ll be fine.”

“The girl,” he said, “Ellie, she’s immune.”

Your head snapped towards him.

“She got bit three weeks ago, and the wound just healed. She got bit again yesterday, so did Tess. Tess’s wound spread, hers remained a scratch.”

You kept quiet, processing this information in your head.

“We were hired to take her to the Fireflies, they were taking her up north for some testing, maybe come up with a cure, but the Fireflies are gone. So now she’s with me, and I don’t know what to do with her. Tess told me to take her here, but now…”

“Where were you planning to go if Bill and Frank had still been here?”

“Look for Tommy. He’s in Wyoming somewhere, Jackson.”

“Well… rest, decide, let me know,” you said, getting up. You stopped at the door, telling him that you were sorry for his loss.

He nodded, thanking you, before telling you he’s sorry for yours.

“Sorry for our loss,” you said, and he nodded, before quickly turning his head the other way, drinking his coffee with shaking hands.

**********

After dinner, he came to find you. He was taking Ellie with him. Tommy might know where the Fireflies were headed.

You nodded.

“Come with us,” he said. “I don’t feel good about leaving you here all alone.”

“Why? Cause I’m a woman?”

“Come on, I don’t mean it like that... It’s just… Ellie… she might need you.”

“Cause I’m a woman?”

He huffed a frustrated breath, looking like he was about to implode.

You laughed softly in return, “Just pulling your leg Miller.”

His lips twitched slightly.

You took a deep breath.

“I just don’t see how that would work out though. We hardly know each other, and you hate my guts. I’m struggling to see how you would trust me enough to have your back on the road. I don’t even know if you would want to have my back. I might slow you down. I don’t know, Joel.”

He stared at you a while.

“Well,” he said, getting up. “I’m gonna start prepping for tomorrow. Can I at least take what I need? Bill’s car? Some food and clothes?”

You nodded.  

He called Ellie out. The teenage girl came bounding out, smiling shyly at you.

“Think about it,” he said, beckoning Ellie to go with him.

You thought about it as you laid in bed that night, Ellie in your guest bedroom, Joel in your brother’s old room. 20 years since the outbreak. 20 years you had been in the safety of these fences. Sure, you helped defended it, and Bill taught you well. Not to mention your brothers way back when. You could take care of yourself. Everyone who survived outbreak day had to learn somehow. But the thought of leaving this place made your heart tremble with fear. There would be no electric fence, no landmines, no booby traps for your enemies out there to protect you. All you would have was yourself, a teenage girl you barely knew and Joel – the man you had barely spoken to ever.

Those two conversations you had with him were the longest you had ever heard him speak. And the man was distraught – he just lost his partner of more than 15 years. He was also the man who did not make any attempt to get to know you in the past 15 or so years, who did not hide the fact that you were no one to him but the woman who talked to Tess sometimes. Not that you were any better, ignoring him because of the stupid, one-sided crush you had on him.

Can you trust him to have your back? He met the girl a few days ago, apparently, and already he seemed a lot more comfortable with her than with you – a woman he had known for 15 some odd years. If you were to leave with them, you felt as if it would just be a repeat of the past 20 years – you will be the tagalong, yet again, as if that role was the role you were born to fill. Already, that thought made you feel lonely.

But then… if you stayed, you would be alone. Alone, alone. No Bill, no Frank. You would just be a sitting duck. Someone or something will come. Raiders, infected, disease, injuries, illness. And the defences will fall. And you will be killed.  And truth be told, the prospect of just dying and rotting with no one to put you to rest, no one to mourn you was just…

Not to mention the silly, stupid 45 year-old grown woman teenage crush you had on him. Of course, you would never tell him about it. You had kept that information to yourself for 15 years, you could keep it to yourself a little longer, forever, even, perhaps. But what if you slipped? What if you couldn’t hold it in anymore and told someone? You could just see his disgust if he were ever to find out you’d been pining for him all these years, all the while being friendly to his late partner. Worse, what if he laughed at you?

Then again, maybe, just maybe, spending more time with him, getting to actually know the real him, could snap you out of your stupid love-filled stupor. People say never meet your heroes. Maybe he was just the perfect man in your head because you didn't know him all that well. Maybe you'll end up hating him and the crush would just dissipate.

Maybe.

You went to sleep not really knowing what to do.

But when you woke up, you knew. Somehow, you just knew.

So when Joel and Ellie came downstairs, they were greeted by a good breakfast spread and a packed bag of your own. You went to say goodbye to Bill and Frank, and as Joel drove out of the compound that morning, you found yourself not even looking back, worried that you would tell him to stop and run back.

20 years. Time for a new start.

---

Part 2

[octuscle]

Fewer wheels, more balls

Stephen cursed everything. His parents, because they hadn't paid for him to study medicine and he had only become a nurse. St. Peter because he sent a shower of rain at the exact moment he rolled out onto the road on his new motorcycle. The mechanic, because he had offered him the motorcycle as a replacement for his car, which had finally died of old age. And himself, because he hadn't had the backbone to insist on having the car repaired and had this bike sold to him instead. Yes, he had taken his driver's license back then. But he hadn't ridden a motorcycle since driving school. And this beast, a twenty-year-old Triumph Rocket III, was far too big for his frail body. And with the silly rain overalls that the mechanic had given him, he looked more than silly.

Especially in this weather, Stephen hadn't expected to get home on his bike without breaking down. But even he was surprised that it should be so far after just four miles. With the last of his strength, the bike rolled under the highway bridge. At least it was dry there. And now? Stephen had no idea about engines. He was an ambulance driver. He knew all about cars. At least a little. But with motorcycles?

If you're at a loss, ask ChatGPT. Stephen pulled out his cell phone and described the problem. He was advised to remove the spark plugs and dry them out. Shit, yes, he'd heard about that. It was a common problem with that model year. He had an oily rag in his upperall. He dried and cleaned the spark plugs. And the machine started. Perfectly! Nevertheless, Stephen sent up a prayer to heaven. And it was answered. The rain subsided and he made it home without any further problems.

Stephen dried his bike and hung his wet leather suit on a hanger. His garage, which was also his own little improvised workshop, was kept tidy. That was important to him. Otherwise, he wasn't the tidy type… As he stood in front of the toilet in his wet underwear and pissed, it occurred to him that he could clean again. Shit, this was a man's household. And he worked in the Red Cross workshop on engines and car bodies. He didn't need a sterile environment. He still had some pizza left in the fridge. He didn't have to leave for work for another hour. That was enough for food, drink and a wank. Then he put on a dry leather suit, sat on his 140 hp baby and set off for work with the engine roaring.

Stephen liked the late shift. He could wait for the vehicles in peace and didn't have to constantly watch out for vehicles coming in and out. The bad weather also meant that there were fewer people on the road. There were fewer motorcycle accidents in particular. Stephen didn't care about the weather. He had once had a car. But he needed the wind around his nose. He drove in all weathers. Nevertheless, he preferred it when no bikers had to be taken to hospital after an accident. Here in the neighborhood you can. Most of them were at least distant acquaintances. I mean, Stephen was an authority in the biker scene. When it came to engines, nobody could fool him. And whether it was his Triumph, his BMW or his Ducati, he had every bike under control.

It was almost 05:00 in the morning. The replacement would be coming soon. Stephen was standing in the coffee kitchen with a couple of paramedics, smoking a cigarette. His parents had always wanted him to become a doctor. He was sure that he could do a much greater service to the health service with his job. And tomorrow it would continue, tomorrow he would give it his all again. But not today, today he was happy when his baby was in the garage and he was in bed.

It was 08:00 when Steve was woken by a honking horn. Shit, he had slept in his clothes again. It had been a long evening with the boys. And yes, he'd probably had one too many beers to drive home. But his machine knew the way. Another honk. Bloody hell, couldn't anyone wait these days? "I'm coming" boomed Steve's bass over the service station. Some fucking city slicker who was too stupid to fill up the tank himself. Steve had a hard time hiding his morning wood when he went to the gas pump to fill up the show-off Porsche. Steve positioned himself so that the driver had no other chance than to stare at the bulge in his pants. "That'll be 80 bucks, buddy," Steve grunted. "Anything else I can do for you?"

Steve had once seen a drawing of a gas station where the attendants not only refueled and repaired cars, but also served hot customers in other ways. It was some guy from Denmark, Sweden or something… Tim? Tom? It didn't matter. Steve turned around, his hand on his bulge. Three, two, one... He would have bet the 80 dollars that the Porsche driver would come up behind him. The first coffee of the day would have to wait. He had an ass to fill for now.

Interested in your own TF story? DM me, there's a community on Tumblr for that!

[sourpatchys]

•Pretty Boy•

You weren't sure when and you weren't sure how— but you were definitely falling for the blue eyed archer.

You'd been with the group since the beginning, doing your best to survive with them, but completely unsure on how to interact with them.

Even before, you weren't much of a people person, always enjoying your alone time just a little too much.

But somehow, you're alone time wasn't so lonely anymore— and you couldn't say you minded.

You started taking watch with Daryl as a way to get away from the chaos in the prison. One person was better than several— that's what you told yourself.

But now— looking over and seeing his unkept hair flutter just a bit in the wind— you weren't so sure.

It was cold, the hot Georgia heat plummeted at night, the humidity storing itself away for a few hours, waiting for its chance to strike once more.

He was wearing a god awful poncho, and you'd told him as such when you'd sat down together an hour prior.

"I'm not lookin' to win a fashion show anytime soon."

You couldn't even argue. But the absurdity of it all did make you laugh just a little.

The silence you had between you was comfortable, no one was talking because neither of you needed too— completely content.

It was somewhat of a routine at this point.

You'd crack a joke about what he was wearing, maybe about how long his hair was getting, (it was curling out by his ears making him look like a fox) or he'd do the same to you— and then you'd just sit, and watch.

Sometimes you'd fall asleep, the cool air and the breeze reminding you of your old box fan that never had a days rest.

When that happened you somehow always woke up back in your cell.

You never brought it up, Daryl didn't seem to want to talk about it, and you didn't want your curiosity to stop it from happening.

It was like a fun little adventure, a piece of the old world you got to keep with you. Why would you ever want it to stop?

A particularly cold gust of wind blew into you, and while it wasn't as harsh as the cold from last winter, it still made you shiver.

"Cold?"

You almost didn't hear him, his voice was so soft.

"Yeah, I guess I should've brought my own ugly poncho."

He scoffed at you, a faint line of a smile on the corner of his lips.

You had expected that to be it, a little light hearted banter to keep the mood up.

But Daryl apparently had other ideas.

He sat up straight, pulling off his crossbow— shaking out of the poncho in question.

Within seconds he had it draped around your shoulders, a content look on his face that told you he felt like he'd done a wonderful service.

"Ya can have this one for now."

Reaching your hands up, you wrapped the fabric closer into your body— the faint smell of, what could only be described as *Daryl* wasping into your nostrils.

You supposed it wasn't your least favorite smell.

"Thank you."

He hummed, turning away from you again— pulling his bow into his lap.

You stared at him, without the extra layer you could see him fully. The build up of grime on his arms, the rise and fall of his chest.

It was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

It was a stupid notion to make, you'd  seen him plenty, hell— you'd known the man for probably over a year at this point.

But something about seeing him in the night sky had you unable to turn away.

He's beautiful

"What er' you lookin at." He griped, glancing your way with something not far off from irritation.

It definitely wasn't a question. But you answered anyways.

"You."

He leaned back on his hands, turning his head towards you, staring you in the eyes. Like he was looking for something.

"Why?"

It was a question this time— and it took you a moment to process. His voice was soft, much softer than you'd ever heard it before.

His walls weren't up right now.

"Because I think you're pretty."

You saw a look of— bewilderment? Crossed his face. A look that said— "what the fuck are you talking about".

It honestly made you giggle.

"I ain't pretty."

That got a real laugh out of you. Which seemed to only confuse him more.

"I think you are." You said, in between soft chuckles.

Scoffing he turned away, but you could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say next— or if he should say anything at all.

Seeing Daryl Dixon speechless was something you'd pride yourself on for years to come— you were sure of it.

You were feeling quite brave tonight— and maybe a bit mischievous. So you leaned into his space, placing one of your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance as you shuffled to your knees to face him.

"I can prove it"

He tensed under your touch, as if you were made of fire and he was afraid to get burnt.

He didn't say anything, just looking at you— that same wonderstruck look in his eyes. His walls still hadn't been build back up— he was allowing himself to be vulnerable.

Just for you it seemed.

Bringing your other hand to his cheek, you felt him flinch slightly.

Suddenly he knew what you were about to do.

And suddenly he realized— he didn't want to stop you.

Leaning down, you bright your lips to his. They were chapped— but they still had an underlying softness you hadn't expected.

It was just a peck, and you were satisfied with how it went down, leaning back on your heels to look at him.

"See—" you started, a slight chuckle already forming.

He looked at you, the last bit of his walls breaking down entirely at the look in your eyes.

"I only kiss pretty boys."

[kisskissbanggang]

SLATED

[7.4k Words/30min. Read - Demon!Minho x Human!Reader - NSFW/Smut - First Time Rage, Playing With Fate, Getting Prolifically Dumped, Ouija Boards, Divine Intervention, Sorting Out Our Feelings, Violence and Threats of Violence, Death of a Side Character (Sort Of), Claws, Angels, Demons, Impulsive Sex, Surprising Use of Kim Seungmin]

[a/n: happy halloween! because two different users requested the same thing for my Trick or Freak event, here's a surprise full fic. 🧡]

[Masterlist | Feedback]

You were mad as hell. 

A feeling that was, at its inception, so foreign to you and now was fully realized. The sensation had taken a few minutes to settle, not unlike gaining sea legs. It began so small–a fragile, imperceptible thing–before it whipped up into a frenzy. This was nature taking its course. You were a thunder cloud on the verge of cracking lightning.

The note had been sitting on the entry table; Seungmin didn't have the gall to leave it at your bedside. No. You had roused late in the morning, serene and loved. Seungmin couldn't give you the peace of leaving the scrawled note in the loft of the cabin, and instead left it on the table where he’d first put his keys a couple days previously. 

I don’t expect you to understand, sweetheart, the note read, because I hardly understand it myself. All I know is I can't do this anymore. I hope you can forgive me.

You stood by the entry table at eleven in the morning, having previously been thoroughly adored just the night before, and currently buzzing with electric anger as you allowed yourself to enter this emotion you'd heretofore never let yourself fully experience… This was rage. 

There was more written on the stupid piece of paper: he could arrange a ride for you after the party; he was going to that wretched party after all; he was sorry.

Maybe there was another woman, you mused. Maybe you were the other woman. Why else would he ditch you to go to the bullshit party when he’d sworn up and down that he wouldn’t dare? Maybe this was all an illusion. There was a chance that you had been too trusting, too hopeful. Truthfully, honestly, and begrudgingly, you knew that this was a clear possibility from the beginning. Seungmin first saw your art only a month ago. He placed you in your first gallery two weeks later. The godawful Halloween party tonight was supposed to help you meet a possible buyer, a local gallery owner, but Seungmin himself advised you that this wasn’t the right event to meet a potential patron. Unless that wasn’t really the reason. 

You were still fuming. This was a helpless, raw feeling that you weren’t used to. You let the note fall to the floor, drifting like the fall leaves outside. The first order of business was to find your phone. Two days ago, you were cooing and poring over every inch of the cozy cabin as Seungmin serenely looked on, but now it was a suffocating prison cell. None of Seungmin’s belongings were left–he’d been able to fully clear out before you ever woke up, and took off in his stupid truck. That jerk, it was like he had never even been here, having vanished like some sort of phantom. Finally, you found your phone, having fallen off of the bedside table and into your open weekend bag on the floor. You took one look at the screen and hucked the piece of electronic garbage onto the bed. Just like you found two days ago, there was no cell service. Seungmin deserted you out here. Yes, Arcadia Shores was 15 minutes away–by car. That same trek by foot was easily an hour at least along the rural highway, up and down steep, forested inclines and navigating hairpin turns that vehicles took much too quickly. You were, for practicality’s sake, actually stuck out here. 

This was miserable. 

You forced yourself to get showered and dressed, still steaming with no release in sight. Following that, you packed up all your things and dumped your bag by the front door. It was one thing for Seungmin to abandon you out here with no practical way back into town, let alone back to your lonely little apartment, but it was another thing entirely for him to make you wait until after the fucking party for a goddamn ride. That was the part that was doing your head in.  

You were almost a little put off by how angry you were. This sort of felt like you’d been holding back for a long, long time, but that also meant that being this mad was sort of cathartic, maybe a little comforting. It was how alien the sensation was that made it difficult to contend with. Sitting down with a huff on the rickety, old couch in the cabin, you were taken aback by the first moment of true silence you were confronted with since you found the note earlier that day. You were suddenly struck by a feeling of unease, of restlessness. There might have been a possibility of going for a little walk around the property, maybe down to the creek behind the cabin, but that felt particularly helpless with the thickening gray clouds looming outside.

Sure, there were things you could do. Your small journal was stowed in your weekend bag. You could write your feelings out, be the bigger, calmer person. A notepad sat on the counter in the tiny kitchen, likely the same notepad that Seungmin wrote to you on. Maybe you could write your own letter, maybe pretend to say everything you wished you could in that moment.

How humiliating, though, being forced to process this all on your own after being miserably humiliated by the first man you ever let yourself sleep with within the first day of meeting him. 

He said he loved you within one week. He encouraged you to say it back. He’d had the nerve to sound nervous about how quick this was all moving, and you’d been foolish enough to think it was sweet.

No, you decided. Just because Seungmin forced you to deal with this on your own didn’t mean that you had to deal with it calmly, but no readily apparent reaction felt appropriate. The bookshelf across from you in the small living area was filled to the brim with all sorts of things–board games, atlases and almanacs, chapter books and miscellaneous compilations of classics… and something else.

Your eyes passed over it a few times before you truly noticed it, and once you did, you kept returning to it.

Wedged at the bottom of a dusty pile of old board games and puzzles, haphazardly stacked on top of the bookshelf was a ouija board.

You smirked when you properly let yourself notice it for the first time. In recollection, you’d never used a spirit board before, nor ever even had the chance to. These were always comically off limits. This was a toy that was supposedly evil, supposedly fraught with negative consequences.

This was something good kids didn’t do.

It was this singular thought, paired with your unprecedented anger that ultimately drew you nearer. Every nagging, fearful thought that ever stopped you from acting out replayed in your head while you got up from the couch. A floorboard squeaked concerningly underfoot as you crossed the modest living area, almost like the old floor could crack open and suck you under. Ignoring that, you pulled over a chair from the old kitchen table. The chair groaned when you climbed on top of it, wobbling in a way that made you hurry your actions. A book fell out of the shelf, practically flying off and onto the ground, and you peeked downwards to see what it had been. Hilariously, a Bible looked up at you, almost accusingly. The absurdity of this made you nearly laugh out loud. You settled on pulling the whole stack of games and puzzles on top of the ouija board down entirely, gingerly tip-toeing off your makeshift step stool before setting the whole heap on the floor beside the coffee table. 

You’d never done this before, but it seemed easy enough. In the aged cardboard box, there was a handsome wooden board with letters and words painted on. A heavy planchette sat on top, just big enough to fit perfectly in your palm. You cleared off the coffee table and knelt in front of it, before you suddenly realized that you felt nervous. This was fitting, probably, considering this was apparently a day full of firsts for you.

In the center of the heart-shaped piece of wood in your hand was a small, round lens made of glass. The surface was covered in dust, an interesting discovery given that the item had been sitting in a box, unexposed to the surrounding air. You pulled your sleeve over your palm to clean it off and placed the planchette on the board. At this point, you wondered how this was supposed to start. Were you supposed to greet the supposed spirits by starting at the “hello” painted in the corner, or was that for the spirit to theoretically signal its arrival?

Not that any of this was real, obviously. This was simply to pass the time. Maybe you’d make yourself some tea and try journaling after this. Outside, the impending rain finally began to come down.

You ultimately decided to place the planchette on a blank space on the board. Your fingertips lightly laid on the pointer’s edge, like you’d seen in movies. This felt ridiculous, which led to an acceptable first question.

“So,” you stiffly began, “this is bullshit, right?”

You almost laughed, the inquiry was so dumb. It was hardly even a joke. You waited a mortifying 30 seconds, feeling incredibly self-conscious, when you decided this whole endeavor was stupid and it was time to put the game back where you found it.

However.

When you went to retrieve the flimsy, old box from where you laid it beside you on the floor, you did a double-take and the box fell from your hands.

The planchette wasn’t where you left it.

It was sitting on top of “yes.��

Well, you were a sucker for a good sense of humor. And if this was a delusion like you were certain it was, your friends were going to get a kick out of it when you told them about that time you got callously dumped and stranded and started talking to spirits.

“Am I going crazy?” you half-heartedly asked the board. Much to your amusement and horror, the planchette moved on its own, sliding across the board until it sat on top of the “no.” You sat up on your knees, more attentive now.

“Does Seungmin love me?” you asked. What a pathetic question. You stared at the board, waiting. The wooden pointer slid off the “no” but it also didn’t slide all the way to “yes.” The planchette stopped firmly in the middle. “Fair enough,” you replied under your breath. Still, this was nowhere near cathartic enough for you. There were some regrettable desires sitting in your gut.

“Does Seungmin feel sorry for what he did to me?” you staunchly asked.

“No,” the board answered. You wrinkled your nose and grimaced, like you were suckerpunched. How embarrassing. That rage inside you ran like a bolt up your spine.

“... How do I make Seungmin feel sorry?”

The planchette moved down to the letters below. “A-S-K-M-E.”

“Ask you? Ask you what?”

“T-O-H-E-L-P.”

You gazed down at the board. This was all suddenly feeling far more serious than you’d originally set out with the intention of. 

But what could it hurt?

This was quickly becoming reckless.

You took a deep, shaky breath before you realized you were trembling. “How do I ask you?”

“N-A-M-E.”

“My name or your name?”

“M-I-N-E.”

 Your ribs ached on your rapidly beating heart. “What is your name?”

“T-O-O-L-O-N-G.”

“Too long?” you sputtered. “Are you kidding me? This was your idea. What can I call you instead?”

The planchette wavered for a minute before ultimately drifting, through the painted letters on the board until it landed on one.

M.

M? Just an initial? That seemed dumb, but it was what was being suggested. You took another steadying breath, but it wasn’t helping. There wasn’t a hint of confidence in your voice, instead betraying the full bundle of nerves in your throat. “Help me, M.”

The ensuing silence made you feel like an idiot.

None of this was real. This was all a surreal fever dream, and you were going to beat the snot out of Seungmin the next time you saw him because of it.

Or not, because you were a coward. The only reason he did this to you, surely, was because he knew you wouldn’t do anything about it. You felt sick, and that wasn’t even mentioning how you felt like your face was warm, like you were blushing.

Except then there was a knock at the door. You gawked across the room, unsure if it even happened at all, until another knock came. On shaky legs, you got up on your feet and opened the door, just a crack. On the other side, damp from the rain, was a man dripping on the porch. He was young, maybe your or Seungmin’s age, with umber waves, somewhat flattened by the growing storm. There was a surprising softness in his intense gaze, his brows furrowed to keep his dark eyes dry. He grinned apologetically, a gentle, handsome expression.

“I’m so sorry to intrude,” he pleasantly began, “but can I borrow your phone? My truck broke down out on the highway and my phone is dead.”

The highway? While you weren’t too far from the road, there was a fork that ultimately led down here to the cabin. Still, you folded. As usual.

“I’m also sorry,” you winced. “I only have my cell phone, and there’s no signal out here… but you can come in, if you need. You can charge your phone while you wait for the rain to stop. I can make us some tea if you want.”

“Thanks,” the man replied, his grin spreading into an appreciative smile. He crossed the threshold and came in, shucking off his wet work coat and exposing a casual henley underneath. “Sorry for barging in. I know I already said that, but I know it’s spooky letting in strangers, especially on Halloween.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t think I’m worth the trouble,” you reassured him. You strolled into the kitchen and filled the kettle. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“You can call me Minho,” the stranger answered absently, still taking in his surroundings. “Neat cabin. You just renting, or do you know the owners? Mind if I look around?”

“Uh,” you attempted to answer, but Minho was already out of sight, peeking upstairs in the loft. The small stove bringing the kettle up to temperature creaked and moaned, mirroring your unease. Minho trotted downstairs and continued his tour, checking out the bathroom and deck. He made a few rounds of each room before he ultimately returned to the kitchen.

He looked perturbed.

“Alright,” Minho grumbled, almost out of breath. “This is a set-up, right? You’re fucking with me?”

You starkly leaned back against the kitchen counter, your hand resting on the handle of a drawer you hoped contained the knives and other cooking utensils. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Minho reeled. “Sure!” he sarcastically retorted. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. I get ripped out of my realm and plopped into yours, and the summoner isn’t even here!”

“The summoner?” you asked. “But I…”

“Sure,” Minho repeated. “You’re the summoner. I get here and it reeks of angels. The handprints of the Powers that be are fucking everywhere. You’re either the summoner or you’re one of the risen, or you’re fucking with me. Or–and there’s a big possibility of this–there’s a combination of the three happening here.”

The expression on your face must’ve been what convinced him of your honesty. Minho almost went pale, his eyebrows softening into concerned confusion and his hands dropping to his sides. “Holy shit,” he realized, “you’re not just the summoner… you're slated.”

“I’m what?” you scoffed. Your hand was still clutched around the handle of the knife drawer. Minho stalked closer, and you thankfully reacted. You yanked the drawer open and were relieved that you guessed right, wrapping your hand around the handle of a large kitchen knife. However, this wasn’t swift enough for the stranger. Minho clutched your wrist, easily taking the knife from you.

“I’m right. You can’t see it, but I can.” With this, Minho held the knife by its tip, as if he could show you whatever he was looking at on the handle. “It’s not as prominent yet, but it will be once you pass or accept the bypass. Not all the handprints in this cabin belong to you, but enough of them sure as hell do.”

“I’m sorry,” you flustered, “but what the fuck are you saying?”

Minho raised an eyebrow at you. At this distance, you could smell him. He had a masculine scent, but somewhat sweet, maybe a little cloying. Your heart was beating fast again. “What I’m saying is I can’t help you, angel, nor would I want to. I’m surprised you even managed to get me here.”

With that, he leaned away, letting the knife drop onto the hardwood, piercing it and making you jump in reaction. You stumbled after him as he walked to the coat rack.

“So you won’t help me?! And this,” you babbled, “all of this, this means you’re a spirit? You’re the spirit I summoned?”

The man sighed impatiently. “Yes, angel, you summoned me. And, given the nature of our exchange, I assumed you would’ve deduced I’m a demon by now.”

A charged pause shut you up for a second. The young demon seemed amused.

“What? You’re staring.”

“I, uh,” you stumbled on your words, “I was expecting more, like…”

“Horns?” he sneered. “A cute, pointy tail?”

You cringed compulsively in response. He was right. You had been picturing a mischievous little imp, not a… Well, not a hot guy, if you were being frank with yourself.

“Look, angel–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? It’s true. You’re slated, you’re already on the path.”

You crossed your arms stubbornly. “It feels like an omen or a curse or something.”

“It’s none of those things. It’s only–as of this moment–your destiny.”

“But if you can already see these handprints, if I actually smell like an angel–don’t think I didn’t catch that, I still have questions about that–does that mean I’m going to die soon?”

Minho sighed again, sounding more like a groan this time, and firmly put his coat back on the rack. “I don’t know, angel. I’m not your Arbiter or anything. You’re probably about to be offered a bypass to ascend, like I said a minute ago.”

Your head was swimming. “What does that even mean? I just skip the dying part and become a fucking angel? That sounds insane.”

“Insane or not, it’s true,” Minho shrugged. “Hence all the reasons that I’m not going to help you. Can I put my jacket on and leave now?”

“Wait wait wait!” you cried, rushing over and putting your hand on his arm. His eyebrows shot up, looking from his arm to you. He was weirdly warm, but you did your best to ignore it. “Wait,” you pleaded again, “don’t you have some contract to stay? I’ve never been this angry in my entire life. All I want to do is make Seungmin sorry. You told me how to ask for your help and I asked.”

Minho looked at your hand on his arm again and back at you, conflicted as he frowned and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “No way,” he decided. “Sorry, angel. This is too much. I can tell you've never done a bad thing before in your life. Stay on your path and ascend, okay?”

With that, Minho peeled your hand off of him and finally pulled his jacket back on before breezing out the door. 

What a bizarre fifteen minutes that all was. 

The worst part was now you were somehow even madder. You grabbed your own jacket and shoes before heading out the door yourself. Obviously, Minho was already nowhere to be seen, but that didn't matter anymore. If some dumb demon wouldn't even help you, you’d go after Seungmin yourself. You trekked all the way back up to the fork up the road and out to the highway. Once you were out there, you stuck out your thumb for a ride and just started walking.

Being left alone with your thoughts like this was dangerous. However, you didn’t let yourself stop long enough to come to your senses. It was almost exhilarating to not only be this angry for once in your life, but to be justified in doing so. Like, you weren’t just going to make Seungmin feel sorry for what he did to you, but you’d be right. 

Even if you still didn’t know what you would do when you saw him.

You were twenty minutes into your march to Arcadia Shores when someone finally took mercy on you and gave you a lift, but it was already beginning to turn dark. A doddering old man, probably a local, looked sick over the fact that you were out on the side of the road. He asked what on Earth could possibly make you do such a thing in this rain, and on Halloween, no less. When you replied that it was because of a man, you were convinced he was on the verge of offering to help you regardless of whatever it was you were planning on doing. You told him to simply drop you off at Arcadia Lodge, the venue for the ridiculous party. He took this mission with stoic pride, and wished you luck when he dropped you off. 

Sprawling in front of you was a gracefully aging seaside resort, a huge property with its own beach and hemmed in by the woods on either side. The Halloween party was set to take place in the lodge's grand hall at its center. You warily approached the hotel, guests milling about in various degrees of costume. It was easy to feel out of place, not just because you weren't dressed for the occasion, but because you weren't even really belonging to this crowd. Arcadia Shores was pleasant enough to visit, but being a local required a certain level of financial comfort that you weren't privy to. Even as this occasion seemed to be more attended by younger family members, none of these people felt like anyone you would meet organically. That was what you needed Seungmin for. In these throngs of people, the gallery owner you were supposed to be introduced to was supposedly among them, but you’d never know it since your stupid ex wasn’t here.

The party was in full swing as the sun continued to sink under the horizon. It felt like it was going to be impossible to find Seungmin in here, and for a sickening moment, you almost doubted yourself for coming all the way out here. Then again, it was that overwhelming sense of being right that kept you steadfast in your objective. 

It was at that moment, as if it were a reward for remembering why you had to see this through, you caught sight of Seungmin. Your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach. He was gorgeous as ever and–appropriately–dressed like a devil, looking more like what you'd originally guessed Minho would appear as. In the sea of partygoers, he stood out perfectly. You kept careful watch of him, hanging back and seeing if you could figure out whether or not he was here with anyone.

Or, at least, this was your plan until a hand clapped down on your shoulder. You spun, startled, to find Minho looking annoyed. 

“What?” you asked pointedly, matching his energy. 

“Look,” he sighed, “I'm surprised you made it out here, okay? You proved you could do it without me.”

“Too bad that's not my point,” you shrugged. 

“What is your point?” he groaned. 

You pointed across the grand hall to where Seungmin was socializing. “You already know, asshole! I want to make him feel sorry for what he did to me!” 

Minho’s eyebrows raised curiously, and yours did, too. You’d never called anyone an asshole before. Minho was looking past you, however, and you almost wondered why until you turned to see for yourself. As it turned out, Seungmin finally noticed you were here, but when you turned back to shoo Minho away, the demon was already gone.

Asshole, you silently repeated. You turned back around, and this was when your confidence crumbled. Seungmin was also gone. You frantically scanned the room, and caught sight of him exiting out the back of the grand hall. Costumed partygoers grumbled at you as you shoved past, running after him. The setting sun was working against you, but thankfully the various lamps and lanterns around the resort grounds helped you keep track of Seungmin as you rushed along behind him. You followed him out, beyond the proper resort property, and out to the scenic path up the hill to Arcadia Lighthouse. If he knew you were in pursuit, he showed no sign of it, never looking back over his shoulder as you both followed the path along the bluffs over the crashing waves below.

Your thoughts were racing again. What would you say when you finally caught up to him? What would you do?

Seungmin stopped suddenly in his tracks, causing you to do the same. Your breath caught in your throat. 

Your ex turned then, looking conflicted. “You weren’t supposed to come here!” he called out.

Words attempted to materialize in your mouth, and you choked on every one. Here was your moment, and you were fucking it up. You took a helpless step forward. All you could imagine was pushing that son of a bitch for what he did to you. Seungmin took a step back.

Right 

over 

the 

bluff. 

A gasp shot into your throat, ripped from your lungs as you sprinted over. You dropped to your knees and scrambled to look over the edge. Down below, Seungmin lay in a heap on the rocks.

The miasma of thoughts that had been falling in an endless avalanche through your head all day tripled, hitting a fever pitch that made you feel sick, before everything went silent. The words finally came.

“You asshole!” you screamed, so harshly that your eyes scrunched closed. “This was my moment, you jerk!”

Only the raucous waves replied, but soon, a tangible voice did as well.

“I’m sorry, but what the actual hell?”

The voice over your shoulder made you feel violently ill. You were going mad but, surely, this was all rational. Seungmin was down there, not up here and you were simply hallucinating. You opened your eyes, and you were immediately nauseous. Seungmin was not down on the rocks below the bluff.

With shaking eyes, you could hardly look over your shoulder. It had to be done, though. Your chin wavered as you looked behind you.

Seungmin.

“Are you kidding me?” he huffed, putting his hands on his hips. There wasn’t a scratch on him. Did you only imagine him falling? 

“Seungmin…” you finally uttered. “What are you talking about?” 

He threw his hands up condescendingly. “All of this just to be mad?! You’re not here to forgive me?!”

You pressed your hands into the dirt, damp from the sporadic rain, to get up to your feet. “I… Why the fuck would I forgive you?”

“Because you’ve forgiven everything else that’s ever happened to you!” he ranted. “This was such a sure fucking thing! And sure, there was some trepidation there at the end, but I was convinced you’d come to your senses when it looked like I fucking died of all things but no! I can’t believe I wasted all this time slating you.”

He growled the last part, and you almost didn’t hear it. You were too busy watching Seungmin materialize a goddamn sword, one almost as long as you were tall. The rain picked up again, making the gravel underfoot muddy and slick when you nervously backed up. When Seungmin impossibly held the imposing sword aloft, you saw it–the ghost of his halo–just a hint, but stunningly obvious once you understood it.

Minho was right. There were angel handprints all over the cabin.

They were Seungmin’s.

“Seungmin,” you nearly whimpered, “what happens when someone you slated doesn’t make the cut?”

The sword glinted despite there being no sun rays in sight. “I’ll give you one guess, sweetheart.”

You strayed from the path, instead running straight into the woods to try and lose him. Brambles and branches tried to catch you and trap you, and you tore past, your heaving breath blaring in your ears. Trees creaked and groaned behind you where Seungmin was following, until you tripped over a jagged rock lodged in the ridgid earth and landed in a clearing. A white light seemed to part the foliage behind you, and you scrambled back on your hands and kicking feet while you couldn’t help but stare in awe.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way,” Seungmin sighed, somehow clear as day.

“Me, too,” quipped a voice from behind you. You shot a crazed, unbelieving glance behind you.

“Minho?!” you exclaimed. 

Sure enough, your reluctant demon stood behind you on the other side of the clearing. His coat was soaked through, and at the end of his sleeves, you could see his fingertips had extended into blackened claws. In his hand, in contrast to Seungmin’s sword, was a flail.

“What did I tell you,” he grumbled rhetorically, “you were slated. And not just by anyone, but by the Powers that be.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” you asked both men, fully exasperated. Seungmin looked over your new companion, apparently taking this all in.

“It means you need to fucking move, angel,” Minho sighed.

“I agree, sweetheart,” Seungmin frowned, lifting the sword again.

You scrambled away through the sodden grass right as Minho charged forward, deflecting Seungmin’s attack with a swing of his flail. Watching the two was a sight, arguing even while sparring with such formidable weapons.

“You don’t have any stake in this, accursed!” Seungmin hissed, yanking his sword free of the chain of Minho’s flail.

“Sure I do!” Minho scoffed, “I was summoned, wasn’t I?”

“You’re a common whore,” seethed your ex, drawing the sword up over his head for another swing. “A slave to any master who calls you.”

“How is that any different than your enslavement, you little prick?” rebuked Minho, practically giggling. “Our Father who art in Heaven is going to be pissed at you for losing this one.”

Another gasp pierced you when Minho failed to fully block this next attack. He fumbled back, landing against the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree. Seungmin smirked, a truly wicked expression that made your stomach twist in knots, and swung the huge sword back to get more momentum for a killing blow…

Except Minho had other plans. From under his jacket, he produced–of all things–a revolver. It was still intimidating, hefty with a long muzzle, and Minho pressed the snout to his adversary’s chest. Seungmin hardly had a chance to react before you all heard the hammer click into place.

You held your breath. Only the rain had any commentary to provide for a moment.

“Have her,” Seungmin spat. “She’s flawed, anyway.”

“That’s fine,” Minho retorted with a shrug. 

Seungmin’s glare narrowed, but instead of swinging for Minho, he turned his attention back to you. You feebly tried to retreat again, but not before a harrowing shot rang out through the deepening night amongst the trees. Your eyes snapped shut in terror, and remained so. This was far too much. Your head swam, until a warm hand gently grabbed your shoulder. When you opened your eyes, it was only you and Minho in the clearing. Even the rain had vanished. Seungmin was nowhere to be seen; rather, only golden specks of dust drifted in the air.

“What now?” Minho softly asked you. 

Your gaze could hardly relax despite your eyes feeling exhausted. “The cabin,” you uttered. “I left all my stuff. Take me there.”

Minho soothed a hand across your shoulders, rubbing your back. Serenely, the forest by the ocean bluffs melted away and left you in the familiar setting of the cabin. Your tea from earlier sat cold on the kitchen counter. The demon didn’t appear to be in a rush. He simply eased down to sit on the couch, observing as you got your bearings. There were still smudged flecks of gold dust all over him.

Your feet didn’t feel attached to your ankles. It was as though you’d been walking for days, the way your whole body sagged under the weight of the evening. This was so much to take in. Seungmin never loved you, more than likely. Infatuated with you, yes, but his ulterior motives stung more than him trying to dispose of you so savagely. You felt foolish. Embarrassment tugged at your throat. You’d all but scribbled his name down in the margins of notebooks, surrounded by little hearts. It had been so fast. It had almost felt innocent, the way you fell so wholly, so quickly.

Maybe you fell for him because of the whole angel thing.

Maybe it wasn’t even your idea from the start.

The thought made your bones feel like they were made of ice.

You finally moved from your spot in the center of the cabin’s living room, back to the kitchen. The Bible from earlier that day nearly tripped you from where it still lay on the floor. You stared at it, realizing that something had tried to stop you from summoning Minho. It may not have been Seungmin, but maybe you really weren’t supposed to stray from your path. You frowned and continued towards your objective in the kitchen. The mug was neutral in your hands–not cold, but only room temperature. You tipped the contents into the sink and watched the wasted tea seep down the drain.

When the moment had arrived, back on the bluff, all you wanted to do was push Seungmin.

And he fell.

For a confusing second, you wondered if you would cry about any of this, before you realized you already were.

You hardly got a moment to let it sink in, though, because Minho was there. He looked almost impatient as he pulled you into a comforting embrace. You clutched onto his damp jacket.

“Were you supposed to let me die?” you asked into his chest.

“It doesn’t matter, angel,” he answered. “That prick was out of his mind.”

“He loved me,” you weakly insisted.

Minho stroked your hair. “Only conditionally. They all do.”

“What do I do now that I’m not slated anymore?”

“What were you doing before? Do whatever you want.”

You were both silent for a while, holding each other in the kitchen. A weighted pull kept you clinging to him, likely similar to how he continued petting your hair. He reluctantly stopped after a time. “I should go,” he murmured. When he pulled away from you, he seemed surprised to see you searching him with your eyes. 

“Don’t,” you pleaded, shaking your head. “I’ll just summon you back.”

The way Minho kissed you in that moment made you blush, flooding you with heat. He cupped your face, his claws gently pressing into your skin while he held you to him. The progression of what came next was so graceful yet so charged. Minho kissed you, all the way up the stairs and into the loft, but he gasped when you pushed him away. He clutched the railing opposite the bed, chest rising and falling as he watched you. You warily opened his jacket, watching him for the most minute reactions as you peeled the article of clothing off of him. He had on a holster underneath, carrying the intimidating revolver from back in the clearing. A breath seemed to catch in Minho’s throat when you slipped the gun out and held it in your hands, inspecting it.

“Careful, angel,” he gently cautioned you..

“What would’ve happened differently if you decided to help me from the beginning?” you asked, before tossing the gun onto the old quilt covering the bed.

“Knowing you were slated?” Minho asked. His hands needily grasped your hips in wanting. “I would’ve demanded devotion. Non-negotiable.”

“Devotion?” you echoed, easily as you let him herd you onto the bed with another kiss. “Of your master?”

“Of me,” he huskily clarified. “As long as I’m out here, and you called me, you’re my master. I only want the same devotion I’m giving you.” 

Minho’s groan more resembled a growl the first time you kissed his neck. “You’re devoted to me?” you implored.

“Seeing what you did with your slating, angel, I’m devoted to you in more ways than one.”

A hunger erupted in you that you’d never experienced before. It was like you’d never eaten a proper meal and were suddenly faced with a feast. Your faithful demon grunted when you tugged at his henley, pulling the shirt up over his head and dropping it off the side of the bed. He didn’t rush you, choosing instead to simply watch as you moved to match him, removing your jacket and shirt underneath.

“If I was slated,” you wondered aloud, “and I was going to be offered a bypass to ascend… Is there an equivalent in your realm?”

Minho’s gaze shook in a way that told you that you’d just unleashed a dangerous possibility. That same hunger you felt, he felt it, too, and it was liable to consume you both if you kept indulging it. “Careful, angel,” he repeated.

“Maybe I’m still slated,” you slyly grinned, pulling Minho on top of you in the bed you’d previously shared with Seungmin only the night before.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Minho half-heartedly argued, all while you pulled at his belt, and your starving teeth and tongue coaxed moans from his throat. When you threaded your fingers into his hair, he keened, wincing despite his blissful expression. His hands hardly tried to pry yours off of him.

“I’m asking for your devotion,” you rebutted. 

His hands stopped trying to halt your actions. “Well then,” he breathed, “that’s all you had to say.” Minho’s hands smoothed up your thighs and easily removed your jeans. The tips of his clawed digits ghosted over your bared skin. 

“Would we still be doing this if you had helped me from the beginning?” you asked.

Minho took his time answering you, instead opting to get a taste of you between your legs. You were impressed to feel him retract his claws before his fingers caressed into your depths. The inhuman warmth that radiated off of him seeped into your core, making you dizzy. You weren’t the only one, either, apparent from how Minho practically came up for air to check on you. 

“There was no chance I was ever going to help you, so no,” he admitted. “The second I felt the energy in here, the energy coming off of you? I wanted no part of it.”

“And now?” you probed him.

Minho seemingly stopped himself from answering right away. He paused, absently kissing the inside of your thigh while chewing on a thought. “If you’re asking for a bypass,” he said carefully, “I want to know why.”

Your heart quickened in your chest. “I never felt this free before. You were right earlier. I’d never done anything bad before in my life.”

“This isn’t just about being bad, angel,” Minho said, wrinkling his nose at you.

“I know that,” you argued. “But the only reason I’d never done a bad thing was that I was terrified of judgment. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I wanted to be perfect.”

Minho shook his head in disbelief. “You’re already perfect enough.”

“That’s why I want it,” you insisted. “I never felt at peace like this before. I want more, whatever that means in your realm.”

“I understand that,” Minho answered stoically. “But I can’t simply offer you a bypass. Your ex–Seungmin, he used as his name? He could do that because he’s a Power. Well, he was.”

“Are you going to be in trouble?” you worried.

“No, angel,” he reassured you. “Not when the Arbiters see how reckless he was being. He’ll be recalled and reincorporated. As for letting you join me like he was going to offer you… I might be able to do something similar.”

“So devoted,” you affectionately teased. 

Minho pulled at your hip, sliding you underneath him as he crawled up between your legs and absorbing your quip in stride. “How can I not be? I said no to you because I refused to be the one who influenced your path. That being said, if you’re choosing this, I’d do anything I can to make you happy.”

“Why me?” you marveled. The quilt pulled and stretched under you as you clutched at it, the way Minho teased himself up against your wetness driving you mad with desire.

“The blessed one wanted you because of all the potential inside you. I can feel it, even right now. You’re potent. The Powers saw you as a divine being, but they only connected the dots between your spotless record and all that energy.”

“So you just want me to yourself?”

“Not at all,” Minho shook his head. “I watched you deny your slating and stray from the path to go your own way. You went after what you wanted despite me refusing to assist you. Angel, you pushed Seungmin without laying a hand on him. You just wanted it bad enough. There’s something powerful in you, sure, but I'm in awe of you. It’s rare to meet humans like you.”

You met Minho’s gaze and he held it, unrelenting as his effusive warmth rocked into you. His moans made you ache between your legs, the way his lovemaking was so methodical yet so raw making your head spin. The difference between him and Seungmin was stark, a thought you never predicted you’d have, but it was glaringly obvious. Whereas Seungmin lauded how reserved you were, how modest and shy you seemed to be, Minho actively encouraged each sigh, each cursing gasp that escaped you. You didn’t feel stifled into trying to be quiet and pretty as Minho ravaged you. Instead, the corporeal spirit on top of you shivered and shuddered as he explored you and experienced you, adoring and savoring the tryst as a whole.

“What’re you going to offer me, Minho?” you finally asked him, your voice almost hoarse from the impassioned overuse of it.

“Let me be with you, angel,” he pleaded, burying his lips in the crook of your neck as he angled his hips into your sweet spot. “I’ll show you everything that I can without taking you to my world, and when we’re ready… I’ll make that journey with you.”

“Do it,” you impulsively demanded. “What do you need from me?”

“Nothing,” Minho assured you. He jolted and groaned when you thrashed against him, his perfect member drilling into your core just right. “Nothing but you. Just let me have you, angel.”

“Take me,” you whimpered. “I’m gonna–oh, fuck, Minho, it’s too much, I can’t–”

“You can,” your lover urged you. “I got you, angel, just let it happen.”

You clutched wildly onto each other, Minho’s sharp fingertips raking into your waist where he held you as he brought you to your peak. The precipice approached quickly, almost violently, and wracked you to your bones. You never recalled practically feeling an orgasm in your neck before. Minho wasn’t far behind, seemingly biting down into your shoulder for support more than possessiveness when he arrived at his point of no return. He cried out, bucking into you as he spent himself deep inside you, that warmth almost feeling more like boiling in the feverish rush. 

Minho eased down onto the bed as gently as he could without collapsing on you, trying to catch his breath. “Unbelievable,” he marveled. 

“What’s that?”

“I’d always been warned that humans are too fragile to mate with,” he explained. “I’m beginning to think this was all part of some grand plan. Maybe this was meant to happen.”

“You mean I’m slated,” you giggled. Minho nodded in a daze. The quiet surrounding you felt ominous, but the air in the cabin was charged. You felt electric. “What now?” you asked.

Minho wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head on your chest. “Whatever you want, angel,” he vowed. “You already have my devotion.”

[vinaxxo]

17+ | I want you in my bed 🩶 (song by millionaires)

A/N: I live tomas. I laugh tomas. I love tomas. I wanna treat this beautiful man to dinner, and i want him to *********** my ***** and *************. This came out longer than expected, oops! LISTEN TO THE SONG. If you listened to it tell me in the comments!!

I think Tomas would really appreciate your help. Lucky for him, YOU ALL BOUT THAT!!! (you should be if you’re reading this)

CONTENT: nsfw, fem reader. we’re all pervs, next.

Tomas had the longest day. During training, recruits screwed up drills, causing Bi han to punish them all with even more taxing ones– to which he had to demonstrate and practice with the other ninjas ten times as hard.

While he was sparring with Kuai Liang, Tomas missed more than a few hits that would’ve been guaranteed had he been in top shape. Not that he isn’t now, but off days are inevitable, as nobody is perfect.

Tomas, frustrated, silently headed to the bathroom near his quarters, hoping to wash the day down the drain.

As the water ran down his toned back and arms, he let his head roll, completely forgetting about the plans he made with you to grab dinner at Madame Bo’s. The water soothed Tomas for a while before the frustration came clawing right back at him. He turned the water off soon after washing his body with a sigh.

After finishing your work for the day, you refresh yourself with a quick bath and fix up your appearance. You’d die before you let Tomas see you looking crazy, as if he hasn’t seen you beat up and disheveled after a fight. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good for him, he’s your biggest crush. Everything from the way he walks to talks has you leaping over the moon, and you wonder if he notices. You don’t think he has. Even if he’s teased you back before, you were never sure if he was flirting or not.

You checked your phone, which read 10. Tomas said he’d come by to get you, but it’s been at least thirty minutes after the time you both agreed on. You hope that he didn’t forget, but you open messages and send him a text. He’s been good at keeping up with newer technology with your help, cutely enough. You wait a little for a response, but nothing comes through.

Maybe Lin Kuei territory cell service isn’t the best? Shit.

Since you know where Tomas stays in the temple, you take it upon yourself to meet him at his quarters. He could be sleeping, which makes your steps unintentionally light as you approach his door. Dim light came from under the heavy wood, further fueling your curiosity.

The door made no noise as it was pushed aside, revealing Tomas on his bed. No shirt on, dick in hand, Tomas panted as he stroked himself, dying for any type of relief. It was beyond concerning that he didn’t notice you— he must’ve really been off his game. Not knowing what the fuck to do, you stand there and blush, feeling your heart beat in your head… and core.

“Damn it.” he huffed, letting go of his dick and running a hand through his hair. Tomas finally looked at you for a second before his eyes widened, face paling, and he immediately shoved a pillow into his lap. He wished his abilities would make him disappear without hesitation, but he was frozen.

He looked almost defeated. He was at a loss for words, but you weren’t that far off his wavelength. Tomas’ rosy blush from a moment ago returned, and he met your eyes again. His expression was bashful, but not as much as you’d expect from him.

“...How long have you been there?” he asked, clutching the pillow.

You respond quickly, not wanting silence to overcome you both again. “Not that long…” You feel bad for doing him like this, but really, this has got to be your biggest break. You can’t miss such an opportunity! (Fuck dinner when you can have Tomas instead.)

“I can help… if you want me to,” You offer with a sheepish smile, stepping into the room and letting the door slide closed behind you. Tomas looks you up and down with those silver eyes, and you can see his fist tighten its grip on the pillow, his knuckles going white. He studies you hard, weighing all the possibilities in his head. He’s tired and unsatisfied, but you could be the solution to that… He briefly wondered why he hadn't approached you before.

Though his mouth didn’t move, his eyes said everything for him. He wanted you to help. He needed you to help. He needed you. Taking his silence as a yes, you crawl onto the bed and put your hand on his, slowly moving that pesky pillow out of your way. He hissed at the chill of the air as his cock twitched, looking down at his lap before making eye contact with you again, this time with a lustful glint in his eye.

He placed his hands on the bed by his sides, lounging back slightly, watching you like a hawk. You reposition yourself and kneel, taking his dick into your hand and giving it a teasing stroke, to which Tomas’ breath hitched. Your body was thrumming with anticipation.

All you’ve ever wanted was to kneel before Tomas like this and show him how much you wanted him; he was so big, and feeling the weight of his cock made your underwear stickier than it already was. Tomas was sensitive because of his previous attempts to try cumming, so every touch you gave him made his cock twitch even more.

Without any warning, you went down on him with your drooling mouth, humming in delight when one of his surprisingly soft hands buried itself in your hair. He groaned, letting his brows become furrowed as he got used to the feeling around his cock. Your mouth was sucking him in so tight. It was like lava the way it made him feel like he was fucking melting.

“It’s so warm,” Tomas moaned and bit his lip, slightly moving his hips closer to your mouth. You gagged slightly, struggling to take him to the base in one go as your hands wandered to his thigh. Tomas felt his dick throb again as you lowered your head, and it was hard for him to not just manhandle you in that moment. He wanted nothing more than to push your head down further on his cock, but he decided to be gracious for your sake. He’d feel a little bad if your throat ended up being sore because of his greed. How sweet of him, right?

As you started to bob your head, lewd wet noises sounded through the room mixed with Tomas’ heavenly moans. They weren’t overly loud, but the edge to them added to the satisfaction you got from pleasing him. Your saliva and his precum made his dick glisten in the warm light as you hollowed out your mouth, earning you a grunt.

“Ugh..!” Tomas whined, gripping your hair tighter as he started feeling lightheaded. His hips were starting to involuntarily buck up into your mouth, which you welcomed with a moan of your own. He was starting to lose it, and bad. As his mind started to swirl with more and more filthy thoughts, he found it impossible to be gentlemanly any longer.

“I’m sorry—“ was all he murmured before he started moving your mouth up and down on his cock, releasing his loudest groan yet. It felt too good, the stress he felt from earlier dissipated completely as his mind turned numb from the way you gave him head. He never knew how much he’d been missing out on until this moment. Your beautiful face choking on his cock, sticky fluids coating your lips, your eyes glossy and glittering, he couldn’t have asked for a better sight.

You eagerly returned his greed with your own, choking briefly and breathing through your nose before swirling your tongue where you could while sucking on his dick harder than before. Tomas’ head and eyes rolled back as he swore in what you presumed to be czech. He looked so sexy like this, your fantasies could never compare to the real thing. You were getting wetter by the second. Tomas tried to keep his voice down, not wanting his brothers or any passerby to suspect anything, but it was hard. Really hard.

Before he knew it, your scalp was being tugged on enough to make you feel a burn— Tomas was signaling that he was close without saying a word. His pants grew a little faster as his thigh muscles clenched under your hands, and his eyes were lidded as they looked down at you.

“I’m— I’m gonna cum—” Tomas grunted, trying to pull your head off. How unclean would he be if he let himself release into your mouth? He only ever imagined it in his own fantasies, but he was under the impression that you wouldn’t like his cum in your throat. That’s why he was surprised by your resistance as you kept your pretty lips suctioned around the head of his dick. His expression was confused for a moment before it melted back into pleasure as his high came over him like a tidal wave.

He came in your mouth with a another grunt, the huge load leaking from your lips. You took in a breath after pulling off, the sticky strings connecting your tongue to his cock still keeping you both together in a way. Tomas put a hand in his hair and eyed you down, partly speechless.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” He asked, cracking his cute, classic smile. He was trying not to look at your lips that were still connected to his tip with the white strings of his cum— he’d be damned if he got hard in front of your face.

You licked your lips and playfully squeezed his thighs, silently admiring the solid muscle they carried.

“Just now.”

Tomas’ brow raised. You really never gave any head before? That was the best thing he’s ever felt. You ruined his hand for him. He then noticed the way you observed him with your eyes, the way you pawed at him, the way your thighs were squeezed together… fuck. His dick stood right back up against his will, which was the queue you were waiting for.

“I’m assuming you can help me with this too?” Tomas asked, letting himself pull you into his lap. He looked up at you curiously, allowing his hands to rub your lower back and trace the skin there. He sent shivers down your spine, made you weak in the knees— you couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

“Yeah… I can help.” You manage to say meekly, suddenly feeling shy under Tomas’ gaze. The way he looked at you never failed to make you feel like jelly, helpless to his effortless charm. He allowed his back to rest against the pillows, giving you the chance to do what you want. His hands, however, never left your body.

Eagerly but nervously, you pull your pants off and discard them, revealing dark gray lace. You forgot you had that pair on, immediately feeling heat rush to your ears. Tomas was never supposed to see your panties tonight, even if you did wear them because you were planning to have dinner with him.

Tomas tore his eyes off your underwear to smirk up at you, even being bold enough to snap the hem of them against your hip.

“Did you wear these for me?” He chuckled, bringing your hips down so you sat in his lap once more. When he pulled you down, your hands automatically planted themselves on his chest. It was soft, yet firm, you realized. A perfect match.

“My color looks good on you. Would you be mad if I told you I wanted to see you in these again?” Tomas peered at you with a mischievous smile, insinuating that he wanted to do stuff like this again with you in the future.

Susceptible to his mere existence, you nodded your head, letting him guide your clit to his cock. You started to grind against him, the wet spot on your underwear growing at a rapid pace. Tomas bit his lip and helped you, the delicious friction of fabric making his cock leak like crazy. As your low moans rang in his ears, he felt something inside of him snap. He needed to hear more.

Tomas pulled your panties aside and slid his middle finger up your cunt, surprised at how easy it went in. “You’re so wet,” he commented incredulously, looking at you for answers as he was able to slide in another thick finger. You whimpered above him, grinding yourself down on his fingers as all your inhibitions melted away.

“I wanted you so bad…” you mumbled, pussy clamping down on whatever he gave you. It was something, but it wasn’t enough. You really couldn’t wait any longer, the need to beg for more bubbled in your throat. Tomas blushed a little at your confession, feeling the heat rise in his stomach. His dick was aching to be touched again.

“Just let me on it already, Tomas, please,” you sniveled, already pulling his hand from your cunt and holding his dick. He didn’t object as your sopping pussy lowered onto his cock, swallowing it into your warmth. Tomas swore in czech again, this time a short string of different words, grabbing your ass with both hands on either side.

“Ngh, so tigh—“ cutting him off with a kiss as you easily let him bottom out, you both moan against each other’s lips. He gropes at the soft skin of your ass as you run your hands over his chest, letting your tongue play with his while your hips start to move back and forth in his lap.

This sensation made him bite your lip, enjoying the small sound you make when he does. He could feel his cock twitch between your velvety walls, ugh, he could never go back to his pathetic hand after this. Not after he’s had a taste of heaven.

When you reposition your legs at Tomas’ sides to get a more stable position, you feel him easily lift you up just to pull you right back down on his cock. It pulled two loud moans from you both as you got drunk off each other. Tomas felt his greed take the reins again as he helped you to start bouncing on his big dick— you were really starting to feel the stretch now. He was thick, and even with how wet you were, the strain on your pussy made you shake.

Sparing you the work like the sweetheart he is, he helped you ride him at a faster pace, causing you both to make more noise adding to the sounds of your sloppy cunt gushing around his dick. It felt unbelievably amazing, the way he massaged your walls and repeatedly rammed into your weak spot.

You weighed nothing to Tomas, so moving your body up and down quickly like a doll came easy. He watched your face as he dug his nails into your hips, memorizing every expression of ecstasy you made.

If nobody in the temple heard you both before, they sure did now. Tomas fucked up your insides like there was no tomorrow and you couldn’t escape him if you tried— not that you ever wanted to. You tried kissing him again only to be get open mouthed messy ones, your tongues being the only thing that could keep you both close together. Tomas groaned against your lips when you put your hands in his hair, your tits pushing up against his pecs as you did so.

Tomas never wanted to leave this moment. You got him addicted to this feeling, there’s no way he’d ever turn back. His cock was being squeezed and fucked so well, he felt his orgasm creeping up on him earlier than he expected. Oh well, that's what more rounds are for, right?

“T-Tomas, I’m g-gonna cum!” you whined, squealing when he started to slam you down on his dick even faster. He was kissing your cervix at this point, he’ll probably leave it bruised! As you babbled to him about your impending orgasm, Tomas nipped and kissed your neck after he sat up, his cock starting to twitch once again deep inside your pussy.

“L-Let’s cum together, just cum with me,” Tomas said breathlessly, rolling his hips up into you. You saw stars, Tomas’ voice commanding you with ease. As soon as your core clenched tightly and spasmed around his cock, he came, spurting his thick, hot cum up into your cunt.

He groaned loudly and panted again afterwards, the spasms of your pussy milking him dry as his release oozed down his cock from your entrance. You shook and whined in his ear, struggling to control how your body trembled in Tomas’ arms. He held you closer to him and stole your incoming thoughts away with a sensual kiss.

Not even a second after said kiss, you felt Tomas’ cock harden again inside you, and he gave you a wry smile. He wasn’t done, as he had so much pent up energy from even before today. You were in for a long night. Not that you minded, you always wanted to provide for Tomas, because you’re madly in love with him— and now you know he’s madly in love with you.

© vinaxxo 2024. Do not use my works for ai, or reposting to different platforms.

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Konig has a bit of personal time while thinking about you during a mission. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

Fun fact – the sound of blood splattering on the ground is very similar to the sound of hand lotion being squeezed on his hand as he desperately palms his dick at the thought of your legs and the curve of your ass perking from that short skirt of yours. 

Even more fun fact – the way his hands are snapping the enemy's necks are very similar to how roughly he squeezes his cock every time the mere thought of your glossy lips wrapped around that damn pen or twisted in a shy smile appears in his mind. 

Not so fun fact – he is still in the middle of the battlefield, with a huge boner. 

— Sector 3 cleared, sir. 

— Affirm, taking the position on the balcony. Hutch, the breach. 

— On it, sir. Getting company out ‘ere. 

— Horangi, get on Hutch’s sector and help him. 

— Thought I had my break, sir. 

— Scheisse, get on with it!

— Affirm, sir. 

Hutch is in the service of breaking windows – König just hopes that no civilian living in that building would be even more mad at them for doing it than they were before. They aren’t doing much, of course, just saving their lives – but he knows better than anyone how harmful for the reputation it might be. Horangi would help with the extraction of enemy soldiers, and newer recruits would finally have a chance of proving themselves without being a total crapsacks of uselessness. 

They all have their duties and König feels weird for not doing anything particularly important. He kills enemies, of course, he already lost count at how many soldiers he killed once they entered the building with possible threats that are spreaded among the multiple rooms. He gives orders and it’s such a weird motion – he was in charge before, of course. He didn’t get the colonel rank right off the bat, but for the first time in at least 20 years of his service, he feels…bored. Dangerously bored, that kind of bored that makes people do crazy and dangerous stuff just to feel something. 

He might just clear a whole section by himself – he has done it before, he got his first few ranks for being able to kill dozens of enemies while not getting major injuries himself. He almost forgot the rush of bloodlust that a good fight brought him – and he is almost bored enough to not even care whether he would survive this fight or not. Adrenaline is pumping in his head, that urging desire to do something fun is breaking all the doctrines and rules that he obliged when climbing up the hierarchy. 

It’s not really fun, to make your soldiers kill people for you – he would love to do it himself, of course, feel their pulses slowly dying up under his grasp. It’s not really fun, being forced to do everything by the rules, checking if there really are no civilians in these locations, to ask anyone who is not shooting at him immediately, if they want to yield before killing them anyway because they decided to attack him with some secretly holstered weapon. 

He can break his own orders and just eliminate the whole cell by himself – he has done it before already, when he had nothing to lose but his 3 months of experience in the army and some cash that he got from parents when they were still talking to him. It would be fun, really, it might make life worth living again, even for just a second. He picks up his gun in a more productive, dangerous manner, almost falling to the desire to fight hand-to-hand, to see life slowly dying out in their eyes. He can…

There aren’t a lot of things that can really distract him from his bloodlust. The desire to kill, destroy, to do everything in his power to make someone else suffer, pay for the sins of his traumas without knowing shit about it. He never snapped out of it on someone else’s accord before, it was always because he got tired or adrenaline rush washed off from his system. Nothing is able to really calm him down, even the fancy toys his therapist is trying to provide to him as some dumb rituals – breathe, count to ten, please don’t kill everyone in this room because they looked at you funny, all of these useless things. 

There isn't a lot of stuff that comes to mind when he is in battle – except for the desire to kill. But then he thinks of you again, the way you are definitely going to be tight around his cock, probably bulging with outlines of his shaft ravaging your smaller body, how sweet your moans can be while you are screaming his name and making everyone on base know that no, their commander isn’t some sexless and faceless monstrous creature that can never experience human emotions. He thinks of how perfect you would look like under him, begging him to let you cum – and suddenly, even when another enemy is charging at him, feeble attempt to take him by surprise, he isn’t really thinking about how sweet the sound of bullets going through his flesh is. 

Jerking off in the middle of the battlefield isn’t the craziest thing he had done, but he would rather think about your ass in a more comfortable environment. 

— Pick your guts off the floor. 

It’s funny, how the enemy soldier is clenching on his wounds before inevitably falling down. He wants to take some trophy off his body, he seems like an officer of some sorts – and König would gladly bring you a gift. Maybe a finger or an ear – barbaric, of course, but he wants you to understand all parts of his life, not just some lush gifts he can and will also bring you. A perfect girl of his dreams – you and your adorable little smile every time he does something that he almost considered too creepy – would love him for coming home with blood of his enemies on his hands. 

Love of his life – you and that nice pair of legs you have, that would look just perfect on his shoulders as he bullies his whole length inside your body – would adore him for each kill he has, for each life of his enemies that he took. He wants to imagine your face if you knew how dangerous he is – would you be scared? He would calm you down immediately, he would try to be gentle, but you have to know how strong he is, this is the point! 

Love of his life – you and that pretty mouth of yours that he stares all of the time, wondering how cute you would be with lips wrapped around his cock, throat gagging at his shaft – would appreciate him for his job, no matter how many lives he took. You would understand that in order for you not to have to work, he needs to be as strong and capable as possible – he has enough savings and enough paychecks to keep you afloat, making you his adorable little housewife. With kids running around, possibly – he never thought about children before, never had the right time and a right person but with you and your caring nature, creating a little family would be just perfect. 

— Holy shit, sir. Permission to enter? 

Horangi looks at the room in front of him – bodies of enemies laying around, some with knife stabs, some with nothing more than one deliberate bullet. He knows his colonel’s work, he was working with König from his first deployment in KorTac, but this…he would never get used to the way his commander can just throw people around like sacks of apples without a care in the world. He smiles under his mask, appreciating how they won’t have to clean up after. Perks of being a merc, not a member of the actual army. 

— Granted. Don’t slip on blood, sergeant. 

König smiles under his mask and wipes some of the blood that splattered on his hood. Shit, he would have to wash it later – he has spare ones, of course, some of the old ratty shirts he has from that weird rock phase he has at the start of his deployment with mercenaries. His thoughts trails to your body and how adorable you would look in his clothes – you are so much smaller than him, and he is simply too damn big to anyone, so no matter your body type, you would look like an angel in his T-shirt. 

Fuck. 

The thought of simply jerking off in the middle of the battlefield to get off with some tension from thinking about you in his clothes trails on his mind. No one would notice, probably, they are already running faster than scheduled for this mission – and judging by the way he just murdered a whole rooms worth of terrorists while dreaming of your body stretched on his cock, he still has a bit of time for himself. What was this weird shit about taking care of yourself that his therapist suggested? Flower masks? Drinking blood of his enemies? Sipping cheap alcohol while calling it self-care because he can always find a really nice snack in between those perfect legs of yours? 

— Are you alright, sir? Can’t believe you did it by yourself. 

Horangi takes a note of the bulge growing in his commander’s pants and hell no, he isn't going to be a part of this. He appreciates everything that König is doing, he is a great soldier, a father to his men, even though he is barely older than some of them, he isn’t that type of monster that would lead troops to certain death – but Hong-jin won’t take a part of whatever deranged kink he has. He might appreciate it from afar, he might send his condolences to the poor girl that caught his attention – but he doesn’t want to be here when the deranged monster of his commander would want some warm body to bury his dick in. 

Maybe he should get that girl’s number and call her immediately. 

Maybe he should do what a good sergeant is supposed to, and call a graveyard service right away. And some plan B in case the girl would survive. 

— Not broken. What is the situation in other sectors? 

— All good. Hutch broke a computer, sending the data to base now. 

— Think we got the lead? 

— Who knows, sir. They are sneaky bastards. 

Honestly, König wouldn’t be so sad about having to stop in this country for a bit longer. He just needs some more time to court you, to find you a right ring – he knows that he can’t propose right away, mother raised a gentleman who doesn’t want to hurt his bride by forcing her too much. He would possibly need another month, with how rare your encounters are. Fuck, he wants to be with you, find time to at least visit your house at night when you are probably asleep, not even thinking about a silent force protecting you from not just terrorist scum, but anyone who can hurt you. 

You would love something shiny, he knows it – maybe a big diamond in the middle, probably platinum as a metal of choice. He hates how cheap gold looks sometimes, he hates how flashy that is – but he would buy you anything your heart could possibly want. Maybe a necklace, something to remember him buying – you would look adorable with bruises from his grip on your neck, and some delicate charm in the softness of your collarbones. 

Thinking about you on the battlefield only makes his life tighter and his dick harder – he doesn’t want to be indecent in front of his soldiers, so he dismisses Horangi and calls on the comms to finish the mission. 

*** He has enough self-control to not jerk off at the thought of your body in the middle of the mission. 

However, he doesn’t have enough self-control not to jerk off at the thought of your body, glossing in the water next to him as he fantasizes about you two sharing a shower. Not on the base, obviously, even without dozens of naked bodies of his men around him – he technically has a separate shower room, but something about people staring at each other’s naked butts makes their bond stronger, and he tries to be close with his men, so they would stop being so fucking scared of their commander. Even though some recruit already started to prepare funerals for whatever poor girl their colonel has an eye on – mostly because no woman should be subjected to the sheer torture of having sex with…that. 

He enters showers the last, hoping that no one would stare at him this time – having a boner after the mission is normal, adrenaline kicking in, the urge to reproduce making soldiers into a horny bastards, but he still doesn’t want anyone to stare too closely. 

He palms himself at the thought of you with him, helping each other shower – he will buy you some expensive body lotion, stuff that all the girls are obsessed with, as he thinks. He would never tell anyone how much he also likes bath products that smell sweet, like roses or candies – that he visited that extremely bright body shop too many times per months, buying all of this expensive bath bombs to just stare at them and remember that yeah, even the colonel’s apartment on base doesn’t have bathtub and he can’t really use it. 

He thinks about buying a house with a large bathroom – so you can take baths together and indulge in shower sex way more often than a man in his years should. He would love to take you to the mall or something like this, to hold the stuff you bought while you would later for it on your knees in front of him. He would…

König knows that he is big – that he would probably destroy your pussy the first time you two would have sex. You would squirm under him, begging him to take it out – he won’t, of course, you need to learn how to take his cock properly, how to please your future husband as a good girl you are. He will try to be gentle, but the self-control he has is slipping very thin lately – he can’t even sustain the modest thoughts about you in battle, when he is supposed to be worried about saving his life. 

He spread the lotion on his dick – nothing flowery, the fragrance isn’t even distantly sweet, he doesn’t want his soldiers to think of him weirdly for not having a typical manly shower product, of course, he has a bloodthirsty reputation to uphold. He palms his dick with zero gentleness, knowing already that softness isn’t going to cut it out for him right now. He wants to know how you will do it – will you be soft with him, scared of making him feel pain from your actions? Or will you try to be faster, make him beg for release only to tease him more and more, completely subverting the power dynamic you have? He would be alright with everything, as long as it's your hands on his body, as long as you are giving him your full attention. 

He tries to be quiet, not to moan your name – adorable fucking name, how could someone so goddamn perfect even exist on this earth, let alone actually be in his presence. He doesn’t just have a chance with you – he will take you no matter what, knowing exactly what your little smiles and silly giggles left. You might not be as obsessed with him as he is, but he will make you, eventually. He touches himself with roughness, not allowing even an inch of gentleness as he palms his dick, teasing his tip and imagining your hand instead of his. 

He is completely normal and totally not a creep while imagining a woman that is probably twice younger than him. He can be a little bit weird, of course, but you were giving him nothing but the right signals – he already got used to rejection in the past, but something in that adorable look in your eyes told him that you wouldn’t be like his past crushes. He would be embarrassed at liking you so badly, but what can he do if you are just so damn adorable? 

He cums in his hand and thanks god that water is quick enough to wash away the evidence of his shame – he doesn’t want to jerk off anymore, he wants to be with you, as close as possible. You were already seeing each other for more than a week, and if you count your meetings as dates, you would be at third already – and like a good girl you are, you now can have sex with him without looking like a slut. He would wait for you, of course, but every day spent without hearing your voice is making him go crazy. And, well, this isn’t very good for his job performance – as a good soldier and amazing leader, he is obliged to have an obedient little thing on his lap, as a way of making him relaxed. He wonders if there is some government program for that case. *** You think about this guy – König, colonel, fighter with terrorists and a supposed hero in rusty, camo armor. He is so much older than you – you saw the news about him, not really talking about the age, of course, but you did the math already. He can’t be any younger than late thirties, and the thought of having such an older man pinning over you is…scary. And a little bit delightful. Not like you need to have someone as dangerous as him with you right now, you have too much troubles already while living in a terrorist infested country and working at a shitty low wage job without any protection, dating a guy who probably has a girlfriend in each country he got deployed in isn’t something you need. 

You know how military men are like – a bunch of teenagers in adult suits, they are being spoon fed with propaganda about the glory of their arms and have absolutely zero respect for women and the general population. Guy probably already has a wife! She sits somewhere in secret, maybe raising some adorable Austrian kids, all while her husband is doing very unfaithful stuff with other ladies overseas. 

You don’t even like him – you never saw his face and while yes, he is kinda mysterious and it makes you want to do things with him, you are also value your safety and desire not to get used by some rich military asshole who is…actually very shy and can’t even look you in the eyes while giving you money and whispering a bit dirty things in your ears. 

However, you have a really important thing tonight – a really nice guy from the cafe you work at, the waiter from the second shift, asked you out! Not on a date, as he said, but you wouldn’t be against going out to drink with him and possibly taking your relationships a bit further. Dating your coworkers might be the only possibly fun thing you can do at such a devastatingly shitty job as yours, and you are going to turn that into the situationships of a lifetime. 

You are too excited to be out with someone your age to even look around you. 

König, just spending his free time after a successful infiltration op that lasted 3 days – without you, terrible, terrible situations – wasn’t as unaware of your presence. And he already crossed the reasons why he should even let you work at this cafe at this point. 

Maybe, the owner deserves a little visit. Right after the guy you went out with, of course. No one knows who can be a possible criminal, right?  (Comments & asks are appreciated!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ TAG LIST @shigbby @honeeybeezzz @herefornanami-s-cake @pendalikespasta @lucylou302 @yxllowtxpe @sunbathed-sweetgrass @sarah-ardini @teenagegever2k22 @lastwordsofadyingstar @lavenderskye29 @karrotsforyou @inlovewithcodmen @onegami @keithehe @lilahbunny @ameneminimo @beepyboopbop @ms-munchkin @dinonacho @undeadgod

[kittysdiary]

Beauty Diary

Chapter 2: Building A Maintenance Routine

Let’s girl talk about how to build a maintenance routine, how to schedule, when to book appointments + understanding medical esthetic procedures.

How to Build a Routine:

Understand yourself and your beauty needs/desires. Do you want to start getting manicures? Are there any skin concerns you want to address + treat? Any enhancements you want? Are you ready to start keeping up with your hair? Once these questions are answered you can start building a routine!

Know what services can be done at a salon or at home.

Research for the best salons and spas near you

Take note of what you learn about yourself from your appointments so you know how to keep up at home. Ex.) Your skin type, curl pattern, hair porosity, ingredients that work best for you + your skin undertone.

List out what services you want done, how often you want them done and what you’re looking to achieve after each service.

Set beauty goals and plan to save for special beauty services.

Facials:

Basic facials should be done every 4-6 weeks.

When it comes to medical spa procedures they should be done at least once a month!

Here’s a short list of my favorite medical spa treatments to gain an understanding of what they are and how they benefit you.

Hydrafacial: a non invasive procedure that combines cleansing, exfoliation, extraction, hydration and antioxidant protection by removing dead skin cells and impurities while simultaneously delivering moisturizing serums into the skin. (Skin type: ALL) should be done every 4-6 weeks.

Chemical Peel: a solution applied to the face to remove dead skin cells and stimulate the growth of new cells. (Skin type: ALL. Darker skin complexions can experience post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation) should be done once a month.

Microdermabrasion: a minimally abrasive instrument is used to gently sand your skin in order to remove the thicker, uneven outer portion of skin. Best for light scarring, discoloration, sun damage and stretch marks. (Skin type: Skin prone to acne scars, age spots, unevenness, discoloration and sun damage.) should be done very 4-8 weeks.

PRP aka Vampire Facial: a procedure that involves drawing the clients blood, spinning it and injecting it through microneedling to increase collagen, reduce fine lines/wrinkles, improve moisture retention and enhance skin tone + texture. (Skin type: typically ACNE PRONE SKIN) should be done every few weeks and maintenance sessions are done 2-4 times a year.

Hair Removal

There are many types of hair removal procedures to invest your time and money into. Waxing, sugaring, threading, laser hair removal and electrolysis. It’s best to go in for a hair removal service when your hair is the size of a grain of rice.

Waxing: every 2-5 weeks. face, underarms and bikini can be done every 2-3 weeks. hair length should be 1/4 of an inch.

Sugaring: every 2 weeks. hair length should be at least 1/8 of an inch.

Threading: every 2-3 weeks.

Laser Hair Removal: every 4-6 weeks done in about 4-6 treatment sessions. maintenance treatments can be done once every 6-12 months.

Electrolysis: every 2-4 weeks done in about 8-12 treatments. can take any where from 8 months, 12 months and 2 years to complete the treatment.

Cosmetic Injections

Cosmetic injections tend to be a yearly treatment routine. I recommend investing in packages in order to get more treatment sessions for a certain amount of money. They can also include a free treatment. Packages can be used for medical esthetic procedures such as laser hair removal packages, body contouring packages and tattoo removal packages as well.

Participating in Botox parties are also a good way to get a discount and purchase Botox packages. I used to assist hosting botox parties which included champagne, mimosas, cute desserts and discounts for clients if they brought a friend!

Botox: once every 4 months.

Lip Filler: once every 12-18 months.

Chin Filler: once every 1-5 years.

Non Surgical Rhinoplasty: once every 6 months.

Nails

During the summer time is when I go into the nail salon more often than usual to keep my nails and toes ready for the sunshine.

Gel Manicure: every 3-4 weeks between fills.

Gel Pedicure: 2 weeks to 1 month.

Acrylic Nail Set: filled every 2-3 weeks. every 8 weeks to replace fake nails.

Hair

Your hair should be healthy and kept in good maintenance by using an effective salon routine.

Hair Color: every 4-6 weeks between each hair coloring session.

Haircut: every 6-8 weeks or every 3-4 months.

Extensions: glue and tape extensions every 4-8 weeks, sew-in extensions every 6-8 weeks and micro-link extensions every 2-3 months.

Wig Installations: every 1-6 weeks.

Other

Lash Extensions: every 2-3 weeks.

Lash Lift: every 6-8 weeks.

Lash Tinting: every 4-6 weeks.

Bow Tinting: every 4 weeks.

Brow Lamination: every 4-6 weeks.

Microblading: touch ups 1 or 2 times a year.

Appointment Layout:

Week 1: hydrafacial & extraction session.

Week 2: eyebrow wax & tint.

Week 3: hair cut & color.

PSA:

How often you get any procedures done depends on you, your budget, your skin, your hair, your nails, your stylist, your esthetician or your health care provider. Please build a beauty routine that fits you and your life style the best!