#hell bent is still untouched

[one-hell-of-otaku-is-here]

do you sometimes have an urge to just scroll through fanart and other fandom content even though you still havent finished reading the book ( or original material) so you get spoiled anyway or is it just me?

[byuntrash101]

sharing is caring?

hongjoong x f!reader x mingi smut | mdni 5.2k of course hongjoong cares about his friends but when mingi gets too close to his girl it’s time to remind him sharing is not always caring. nsfw tags under the cut

dom possessive bf!joong, sub simp!mingi, exhibitionism, voyeurism, joong has a point to prove, fingering (f), oral (f), squirting, multiple orgasms (f), a dash of spit kink, unprotected sex (don't), nipple play, praising (f), hair pulling (m), slight degradation (mingi is called desperate and a dog), masturbation (m), dry humping, some mxm but not really (just trust me), leg humping, slight edging, cumming untouched, cum play, cum eating

a/n: idk what happened. i was horny okay? (what's new ?lol) and im not even sorry for the absolute filth that follows.

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Hongjoong, Mingi and yourself have been in the studio for hours now, it was well past into the night but neither of you were complaining. You were way too focussed on producing this song to even feel the effect of fatigue tensing the muscles of your neck and laying heavy on your eyes. 

You were all too focussed. Well, you were definitely the one that was the most focused right now. Because as you bent over the mixing board to point out on the screen the section that seemed to require more work, you accidentally found yourself crowding Mingi’s personal space. Of course, you made nothing of it. Mingi was your friend, you’ve been physically close to him dozens of times, it didn’t mean anything in particular. But Mingi has had different feelings about you for a while. Maybe even ever since you started dating Hongjoong and right now the only thing he could see was that the loose fitted tank top you were wearing hung slightly around your chest which resulted in your breasts being on display, in close proximity and right at his eye level. 

Subconsciously his eyes were attracted to the exposed skin and he had to bite his bottom lip to repress a small gasp of surprise. He innocently pulled back on the beanie that was falling low on his forehead and his eyes just to be able to look a little better. He didn’t even need to turn his head, only look slightly to the side and he could see everything: the black lace bra you were wearing, the crease between your breasts. He could smell your delicate perfume. Hell, you were so close he could even feel your body warmth radiating on his face. Or maybe the warmth he felt was actually from his own boiling blood rushing to his face… and to his groin. 

Hongjoong that was slightly leaning on his office chair saw the whole scene unfold as he peered at the both of you through his large silver framed glasses. Inexplicable anger started to seep into his blood when he saw his friend eyeing you in that way. Hongjoong knew you were beautiful, there was no possible way not to look at you. But he still didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. 

“Don’t you think so?” you added when neither of the men you were directly addressing responded. 

Mingi only shifted uncomfortably when you stood back straight, oddly averting your eyes and Hongjoong only nodded absentmindedly. You figured they were just too tired to continue and as you were opening your mouth to suggest you should go to sleep and continue later, Hongjoong spoke up.

“Why don’t you go in the recording booth to sample some of the voice lines and we can all decide which one sounds better?” He suggested and you lit up.

“Great idea” you said, grabbing the music sheets and disappearing behind the door of the soundproof recording booth to reappear through the small window. You slipped on the headset, adjusted the mic stand and spread out the music sheets while Mingi and Hongjoong looked at you silently. You gave two thumbs up when you were ready. 

“Okay great” Your boyfriend’s voice resonated in the headset. “Let’s start with the first one” you nodded and soon after heard the music cue.

Both of the men in the small space right next door were strangely quiet. Mingi couldn’t stop shifting on his chair as he tried to find a position that would conceal his hard on. Trying to concentrate on your voice coming through the speakers and not the way you smelled or the slutty lingerie your were wearing under such unsuspecting clothes or your beautiful and perfect fucking tits shoved right into his face, both his hands laying over them and palming them as he buried his face between. Fuck he was getting harder.

“What do you think?” Hongjoong asked him as you were still singing through the speakers. 

Right there Mingi realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. His mind was poisoned by the images he was so vividly picturing: you slipping off the flimsy tank top and taking his hands to lay over the bra, asking him to play with your tits, begging him to take off the lace that was keeping you from feeling his hands on your nude skin. Or you spread out onto the mixing table with Mingi’s face buried between your thighs, getting to finally taste you and hear you as he made you feel good, feeling your pussy throb under his tongue smearing your wetness all over his face. That was what Mingi was paying attention to, not the song. Definitely not the song.

But he needed to find something to say before he looked suspicious so he went another route. A route that wasn’t directly about the song but still close enough to pass.

“I think she’s a good addition to the team. Look at how far we’ve come with this song already? Of course we still have to run it by Eden but I mean it’s pretty much done.” 

“No” Hongjoong started, already his tone was a lot less neutral, tipping towards the cold end of the spectrum. And Mingi bit his lip thinking his friend was going to ask him to be more specific about the voice samples he wasn’t listening to but how wrong he was...

“I mean physically what do you think?” Hongjoong’s tone was now as glacial as could be as he did his best to dissimulate the burning rage that was hiding behind the biting cold tone.

The words didn’t make any sense in Mingi’s mind. So he turned to his friend trying to find on his face a hint that could help him make the sentence he just heard make sense. But he only found Hongjoong looking right at him, dead serious, an unfamiliar darkness about his aura.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded and utterly confused.

“You wanna fuck my girlfriend?"

This time around Mingi heard correctly, that he was sure of. But he was still just as confused about the whole ordeal. “What the fuck are you on ab-”

“I saw you practically drooling all over her tits earlier” Hongjoong interrupted him, piercing eyes peering at his friend over his rectangular glasses. Now Mingi was shifting in his seat again. 

Fuck… he saw that.

Mingi started to stammer to whip up a reasonable excuse but his pressured mind couldn’t come up with anything worthwhile. Of course! Because there was no reasonable excuse. Truth was he gave in to his primal instinct and couldn’t look away. 

But very fortunately for him that’s when you emerged from the recording booth.

“So what are we thinking? Clearly my delivery wasn’t the best for the second option but cut me some slack and just imagine Jongho, okay?” you said, your exhaustion seeping through your words in the form of exasperation, completely oblivious of the heavy air that was stretching between the two friends.

Mingi jumped on the occasion to escape the humid tension that was raising the hairs on his nape. 

“I need to make a call” he abruptly said as he stood up and hurriedly left the studio. You sighed slowly coming to term with the idea that sadly, you won’t be able to finish the song tonight.

“What’s his deal?” 

***

Mingi didn’t need long. He just needed a couple of minutes to gather his thoughts, that's all. He thought as he rushed to the bathroom and locked the door right behind him, even though you three were the only ones left here.

“What the fuck were you thinking” he whispered to his reflexion pointing an accusing finger at the mirror above the sink. "Of course he noticed!" He slipped his white beanie off and settled it on the edge of the sink. He splashed his face a couple times with water in an attempt to clear his mind. But even the cold water wasn't enough to soothe the aching hard on that was currently pressing tight onto the cold ceramic of the bathroom sink. 

Mingi looked at himself for a second, pondering.

"Fuck it!" He concluded before shoving his hand down his loose-fitting sweats and pulling his rock hard cock out.

"I just need to cum real quick" he said to himself in an almost apologetic tone. Almost bargaining with himself.

He spat in his open palm and dragged the warm liquid to his cockhead with a lowly sigh of relief that made his Adam's apple vibrate in his throat.

"God- fuck-" he breathed out. Mingi didn't even need to focus on anything in particular to get himself there. He just closed his eyes and images of you came running forth.

He saw himself ripping your tank top and bra off in one movement freeing your beautiful tits and groping them right in front of his friend. He saw you sinking to your knees pulling his sweatpants down and taking him into your mouth. Your lips perfectly stretching around his large cock. 

He spat in his hand again picturing the wetness and tightness of your throat instead of his balled fist. Loud and lewd noises erupted from the act, squelching wet sounds coupled with heavy sighs and strangled moans he struggled to keep behind his teeth.

"F-fuckkk" he whined a little more high pitched than anticipated. He picked up the pace, pressing his thumb on his tip to squeeze the precum out as he felt himself twitch.

If Hongjoong only knew how right he was. Mingi did want to fuck his girlfriend. He wanted to fuck you so bad.  How he would have loved to stuff you full of his cock right then and there. Bending you over the armchair and snaking his big hand into your hair making you look up at your boyfriend while he just watched helplessly as Mingi claimed you, pounding into you mercilessly, splitting you open on his cock, your pretty face contorted into blissful agony because of him. For him. Only him.

He let your name roll off his hot tongue a hundred times in muffled and secret pants and moans until the pleasure was unbearable, uncontainable and spilled over the edge of Mingi’s sinful mind. And he was spraying his warm cum all over his fist and the bathroom sink in a last broken complaint of your name, his other hand tightly gripping the edge of the sink as if his large and ample thighs were going to give out.

He looked at his mess in the sink and took a couple of deep breaths. That should be enough to get his mind out of the gutter… Right?

***

“What’s his deal?” you said nodding to the door. Your boyfriend only shrugged nonchalantly while you settled the music sheets on the mixing board, shoulders flat and defeated. 

“You look tired baby” Hongjoong added with a warm smile ignoring your question about Mingi. He didn't want to talk about him right now. “Cm’here” he said patting his lap invitingly. You accepted the offer and settled yourself comfortably in Hongjoong’s lap, letting your back rest against his chest. He took advantage of the position to sneak in kisses to the base of your nape and nuzzling his nose in your neck. And before you knew it his hands had snaked around your waist and lightly stroked your inner thighs. The light touches lifted goosebumps on your bare skin, thanks to the skirt you chose to wear today.

Soon enough you had completely fallen into your boyfriend’s embrace. You were so relaxed now that you forgot about everything else and you didn’t even realize how his legs came over yours to spread them nice and wide. But you did feel when his sneaky hands slipped under your skirt and stroked the thin fabric of your black lace underwear. You jolted but Hongjoong’s legs around yours kept you in position.

“Joongie” you started to whine when he applied more pressure to your sensitive area.

“Shhh” he soothed you with more kisses. “Let me help you unwind” he said softly in your ear.

“But what if Mingi comes back?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer that, only smirking against your nape and sliding your underwear to the side. That’s enough of an answer for you, and even more so when Hongjoong dipped his finger to your entrance while his other hand sneaked under your loose tank top and under your bra to cup your breast. You could only let a moan slither through your teeth when Hongjoong gathered your wetness in slow circles over your opening to drag it back to your clit.

“I barely even touched you and you’re already this wet?” Hongjoong noticed as you complained with another little whine. “My naughty girl~”he sang. “I bet that’s exactly what you were waiting for, huh? My hands all over your pretty little pussy.”

He started to draw circles on the erect nub inevitably making your little cunt create a big mess under your skirt. As he picked up the pace he started to pull a little harder at your nipple making you moan just a little louder than you anticipated, making you clap your hand over your traitorous mouth.

“Be careful baby. We want to be able to hear when Mingi comes back” you felt heat rush to your neck at the idea of getting caught in this position. That’s when Hongjoong pushed his index and middle finger past your entrance. You moaned again against your fingers, eyebrows digging a crease in your forehead as you tried to remain as silent as possible. Maybe you could muffle your voice but the same thing couldn’t be said about the squelching noises your boyfriend was dragging out of your sopping wet cunt. Long strings of arousal linking his fingers and your heat every time he pulled out to play with your painfully sensitive clit.

Your high was nearing and as the pleasure rose you slowly forgot about your whereabouts so when you heard footsteps coming your way from the hall you stiffened in your boyfriend’s lap. Instinctively trying to close your legs. But Hongjoong’s strong thighs kept you exactly like you were.

“J-Joongie…hmph…M-Min-gi” you struggled to say as Hongjoong kept on teasing your clit and nipple. 

Your eyes darted over to the door when you heard the recognizable clatter of the handle, your heartbeat started to raise and you struggled to close your legs.

“Stay put baby.” Hongjoong breathed against the shell of your ear. Which made you stop. “I want you stay exactly like this”

You can’t describe the overwhelming shame that took over you when you saw the door being pushed open and you were met with Mingi. 

It only took mere milliseconds for Mingi’s eyes to dart from your flushed face and half lidded eyes to the suspicious movements under your skirt and to Hongjoong’s smug little smile. 

Mingi’s cheeks instantly became scarlet red as he turned his head around to look away. But even if he couldn't see anymore he could still hear the sound of your cunt being stretched open by Hongjoong’s fingers as well as your soft muffled moans. And even though he just jacked off in the bathroom he still felt his pants becoming tighter once again.

“You can look” Hongjoong started. “I’ll allow it. So you can see she only belongs to me” 

Mingi barely wrapped his mind around the words but nonetheless he slowly looked in your direction again. Instantly he felt blood rush to his lower half again, reaching full hardness in a matter of seconds but how could he not? When you sounded and looked so divine and adorable at the same time. Even behind your hands clamped over half your face, muffling your sounds and wet eyes looking back at him occasionally fluttering close and open when he guessed Hongjoong was expertly teasing you. How could he not when he saw your skirt being lifted up and being let down at such a rapid pace accompanied with those wet and lewd sounds that were erupting from between your legs. The sinful acts only concealed by the damn piece of fabric.

It took Mingi everything he had to not just whip his cock out right then and there and stroke himself again. Instead his stupidly hard cock laid uselessly in his pants leaking precum in his underwear.

“I bet you want to see what’s going on under there, huh?” Hongjoong taunted, as Mingi stared obtusely between your thighs, with his mouth agape and his cock poking through his sweatpants.

Mingi already came this far and maybe lust was clouding his judgment and desire was getting the best of him but he nodded slowly peeling his eyes off the cursed skirt to look at his friend’s devious little smirk playing on his lips. 

“I’ll let you if you get on your knees and-”

In a split second Mingi found himself kneeling in front of the both of you, interrupting Hongjoong.

“You’re really that much of a simp for my girlfriend? Have some dignity, bro” Your boyfriend spat. But Mingi barely registered the insult he was entranced by the way your skirt was lifting and falling. He'll have time to mourn his lost dignity tomorrow. Tonight he did not intend on letting his chance slip away.

“Come closer” Hongjoong commanded and Mingi crawled to you until his face was way too close for comfort. At this close distance Mingi heard the sounds of your wet cunt being abused as clear as day as loud as bells. He even wished he could record them to play them forever but if he wants to relive this moment he will only be able to count on his memory, maybe that was why he was so attentive. He wanted to remember every detail. He took a deep breath inhaling your scent that was now floating to his nose. You smelled divine, the right amount of sweet and sinful. The perfect cocktail. Strong but oh so feminine. A fragrance that went straight to his head to burn his last two functioning brain cells. 

“Now promise after tonight you won’t ever look at my girl ever again” Mingi didn’t need to hear it twice. He immediately followed with the request.

“I promise I won’t look at y/n ever again” Mingi hurriedly said, almost choking on his saliva. Truth be told, in this instant he would have agreed to virtually anything, he would have eaten the off white beanie right then and there if he was asked to. He’ll think about the consequences tomorrow.

“Okay baby, lift up your skirt” Hongjoong said his tone changing radically, as stern as he was when addressing Mingi he was now soft and gentle with you.

“But Joongie” you whined right before a moan beat to the punch another complaint as your boyfriend slipped his fingers out of your heat to circle your clit once more.

“Come on baby, be a good girl and do as you’re told” he said before shoving his fingers back in earning another muffled moan. “Show your pretty little pussy to our guest.”

Slowly but surely your hands left your face to wrap your fingers around the hem of your skirt at both your sides. Mingi couldn't believe his eyes as he looked up at your flushed face looking right back into his eyes as you carefully lifted up your skirt. His eyes darted straight down to your core. His hard cock immediately jumped inside his sweatpants, his eyes grew twice as big and his mouth started to water. There was nothing that was more beautiful in the world he thought as he slipped the beanie off his head, setting it carelessly on the ground beside him.

The way your perfect little cunt accepted Hongjoong’s fingers, clamping around them every time he pulled them out to circle your clit a couple of times before pushing them back in again, your little cunt emjoying the attention and twitching under Mingi’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You felt the thrill of being watched as you looked at Mingi, eyeing you like a famished man. His hair disheveled and his cheeks pink. It made your core tingle with a brand new source of arousal and you wiggled your toes in lustful shame.

“Fuck” Mingi said under his breath making you moan a little louder as you watched him being entranced by you. 

The thrill rocketed you to your high and you started to squirm and clench around Hongjoong’s fingers. He knew exactly what it meant.

“P-please Joongie. Can I-” you panted as your fists tensed up around the hem of the skirt but never letting your hold falter making sure Mingi saw every part of you. Normally Hongjoong liked to tease you but this time he wanted to reward you for being such a good and obedient girl. And moreover he wanted to give his friend a good show of how only he could make you feel this good.

“Look carefully” he whispered, addressing his friend kneeling between your legs, eyes perfectly leveled with your pussy. “Cum baby” he said, his hot lips pressed to your ear. And you immediately let go. Letting your walls grip Hongjoong’s fingers urging them to reach further as you twitched uncontrollably, your cum flowing out of you in quick spurts. Soaking the carpeted floor. Mingi’s jaw dropped to the ground as he watched the precious nectar being wasted on the carpet. His throat suddenly feeling as dry and the saharan desert, licking his chapped lips instinctively at the fleeting and forbidden thought of connecting his lips to your core to have a taste of you.

Hongjoong accompanied you gently as you rode off your high, your back arched into his chest. Hongjoong pulled his fingers until only his first knuckle was still inside and spread his fingers apart, stretching you open beautifully for Mingi to look at how your walls fluttered around nothing, your orgasm prolonging as your chest rose and fell rapidly, your moans slowly dying off. 

“Look at how pretty she is just for me” Hongjoong added, spreading his fingers even wider, as you whined again but still holding the hem of the skirt up with purpose. This way Mingi could even see your cervix pulsing, he could almost hear it demanding cum. Demanding to be fucked full of cum and knocked up right then and there, holding Mingi as witness.

“Fuck” was the only thing Mingi could enunciate truth be told his brain was completely fried and he didn't have the wits to come up with anything more clever.

You couldn’t help but squirm again as Mingi leaned in to have a better view at your most private parts, his nose was now only a couple of inches away from your cunt and he couldn't help but to take a big whiff of you. Your essence absolutely bewitched him… he just couldn't help but to wonder how you tasted.

“You did so good baby” Hongjoong soothed immediately as he slipped his fingers out bringing them to his mouth. Mingi followed his friend's tongue wrap around his digits and lap up the precious liquid coating them as he instinctively swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, his hard and leaking cock slowly forming a pool of precum in his sweatpants.

“How do you think she tastes?” Hongjoong taunted his friend again. 

“Fucking delicious” Mingi sighed his dick twiching at the thought of your wetness coating his tongue. 

“Trust me whatever you're imagining. It’s better. ” Hongjoong said, holding his saliva and cum coated fingers to your lips which you welcome into your mouth. “How do you taste baby?” he asked, smirking at his friends looking with the most desperate of eyes at how you licked off his fingers clean.

“So good Joongie” you replied before he popped his fingers out of your mouth with a lewd sound.

Mingi watched as he swallowed thickly just as you did so, echoing the sound with his own mouth as if this way he would get a taste.

“Baby you’re so hot I got so fucking hard for you” Hongjoong whispered in your neck and pressed a couple of wet kisses to the shell of your ear and jerked his hips into you poking his cock on your ass. 

You didn’t need anything more to busy your hand and freeing Hongjoong’s cock from the uncomfortable restrains. 

“Sit on my cock baby” he urged, with all of that teasing he also got pretty worked up. 

When your boyfriend’s cock rubbed on your folds you jolted your hips in anticipation. Before aligning him with you and slowly sinking your hips on his. Mingi held his breath at how your pussy perfectly fitted around him, perfectly expanded to have him whole inside you until you bottomed out with a whiny and breathy moan. 

“Good girl” he said, wrapping both his hands under your thighs and thrusting up into you. The first couple of strokes were slow, mainly to warm you up to him but also to let Mingi have a good look at his cock splitting you open. 

“Joongie~~” you cried as you let Hongjoong take control. “Fuck it feels so good” you let your head rolls back onto his shoulder

“Yeah? You like that?” he said as he sped up. 

“Fuck yeah I love it. I love your cock” you declared.

 Mingi couldn't believe his eyes or his ears as a matter of fact. To hear you say such sinful things, hearing you make these unholy noises. Getting to see your cunt clench around his friend's dick. There was not a trace of doubt in Mingi’s mind. You were made just for his cock. Perfectly molded just for him. 

“Who’s cock do you love baby?” Hongjoong asked through gritted teeth, maintaining the deadly pace between pants and groans.

“Yours!! Your cock!! Kim Hongjoong’s cock!!!!” you replied hurriedly, almost instinctively. Your mind is only filled with thoughts of your boyfriend.

“Hear that?” Hongjoong asked, almost laughing as if his friend's misery entertained him. Mingi didn’t even need to look at him; he could hear the shit eating grin from a mile away. He was annoyed at that but he was even more annoyed at the way he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Fuckkk” Mingi moaned when your shin accidentally brushed over his clothed crotch. He felt pityfull for it but he couldn't help it. He wrapped both his hands around your calf and started to hump your leg. The last strand of sanity out the window as he mindlessly humped your leg like a dog. 

“You’re that desperate huh? That’s fucking laughable. you're really like a dog” Hongjoong laughed again. “Pathetic.” But Mingi didn’t even hear. He was too focussed on looking at your cunt swallowing Hongjoong’s dick and spit it back out covered in your glistening juices, said juices pooling on Hongjoong’s pants and staining them. 

Fucked you looked so fucking delicious, and your leg felt so good on his miserably hard cock he couldn’t stop the high pitched moans from leaving his lips and being set free in the small studio, joining yours and Hongjoong’s in a sinful trio. Undoubtedly the most beautiful and harmonious song ever produced within these four soundproof walls.

“Are you close baby?” Hongjoong asked between pants, his hips never faltering, fucking up into you and rearranging your guts.

“Yessss” you cried. “so– so c-close”

“You need a little help to get there?” 

Mingi’s ears perked up.

“Yes” you replied, shyly, getting an idea of what that implied.

“Mingi?” Hongjoong asked and instantly Mingi wrapped his mouth around your clit. You threw your head back, your moans morphing into literal screams of bliss. Mingi had been so starved of your taste ever since you started dating Hongjoong. He found himself wondering how you tasted like and he was not about to keep that an eternal mystery. He closed his lips around your nub sucking at it like a starved man. Twirling his tongue on the bud, even dipping deep down at your entrance, he didn’t mind one bit if he felt his tongue dragged along the cock of his friend as Hongjoong rammed into your tight cunt, all he wanted was to taste your juices that pooled the sides to drag them up to your clit.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” you announced, your hand instinctively finding Mingi’s locks of hair and pulling at it. Making him groan against your folds, his hips snapping against your legs as he grunted louder and louder by the second.

“Cum, baby. Let him taste how much you love me” Hongjoong groaned as he felt you grip tighter around him, your hungry cunt urging him to deliver his warm load. Demanding to be filled to the brim.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming. Gonna fuck you full of my cum” Hongjoong warned. 

“Y-yes please fill me up!! pleasepleaseplease” you started to mumble, your words all jumbled up in a desperate and lust induced plea.

“Fucking take it” Hongjoong said giving a particularly sharp thrust into you, his tip going up to kiss your cervix and delivering his huge and warm load right into your womb as you also let go of the burning coil in your guts, your walls spasmming around Hongjoong’s cock and your clit throbbing under Mingi’s tongue. Once more your cum gushed out of you like a waterfall and soaking Mingi’s face. Hongjoong’s relentless thrusts pulling the white cum out until it perfectly mixed with yours, the bitter taste of his friend’s load coating his tongue and making Mingi dizzy on your and Hongjoong’s love

“Fuckkk” Mingi groaned as his hips became less precise, creaming himself with his cum, the warm seed spreading into his boxer and seeping through the sweatpants to form a visible dark gray stain. His dick uncontrollably twitching inside his pants as he moaned face flushed against your folds, his tongue continuously lapping up your cunt and around Hongjoong’s cock until both the men came to a stop. 

When Hongjoong pulled out, Mingi let go of your leg to plunge his face between your thighs, lapping up the cum dripping out of your fluttering and shapeless little hole and swallowing it in big gulps. Dragging his tongue to your over sensitive clit, not caring for your overstimulated body until you pulled him by the hair off your exhausted puffy cunt.

“Stop~~” you whined breathlessly which snapped Mingi out of his trance as he looked up at you with fucked out eyes, lips swollen and his face made shiny with both your releases.

“There!” Hongjoong said. “You got what you wanted. Now don't go and forget your promise.”

Mingi groaned… he almost did forget about that. This opportunity might never happen again but he will always have the memory of this night in the studio and your taste on his tongue he thought, licking his lips.

“Fine”

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[watchmegetobsessed]

ILLICIT THOUGHTS

A/N: i had to, i just couldn't not write something about this picture

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry has been nothing but professional when it came to you, but the short skirt you wore to the office seems to crumble his whole act finally.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

After basically murdering the treadmill with his deadly tempo, now it’s the punching bag that’s suffering from Harry’s frustration. He came down to his private gym with the pure intention of getting rid of the images that haunted him all day, but the more energy he is putting into his workout, the less he feels in control of his wandering thoughts. It’s completely insane.

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you. He’s been successful at keeping his fantasies tame even though the day he interviewed you for his assistant position he definitely wanted more from you than just your professional help, but he pushed it all into the back of his head, but today changed it all.. He knows that he is your boss and you’re his assistant and that the fantasies he’s been fighting all day are definitely way over any boundaries between employer and employee.

But fuck, that short skirt you wore today is to blame for it all!

He has seen you in outfits that appeared a tad bit riskier than your usual office attires, but nothing got his imagination rolling like the short, tight little skirt that hugged your curves today. The moment you walked in with his morning coffee in your hands and his eyes snapped from his phone to your legs, the thoughts that evaded his mind were nothing but obscene. Filthy. 

He even had to hide his erection while you went through his schedule for the day, walking back and forth in front of his desk, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you and remembered absolutely nothing of what you said. He had to pretend to take a phone call to get you out of his office so he could calm himself down enough to start working, but the fantasies stayed with him all day.

He throws another punch into the bag and it’s so hard it almost flies off the hook. Harry groans as he catches the bag and stops it from swinging around. This is not working, it seems like with each punch he just pushes you more and more into his consciousness and he fears he won’t be able to get you out of there. How is it that he is still so hung up on the images his brain has created? They are not even real, but the feelings they are causing are for sure.

Your silky looking legs are still walking around in his mind as he starts punching the bag again. But then you’re suddenly sitting on top of his desk… your skirt is riding up, exposing your round ass… he can see you bent over the desk, begging for him to touch you… your naked pussy is now right in front of him, so wet, so sweet, he wants to devour you and–

His punch gets out of control and this time the bag actually falls off the hook.

“Damn it!” he groans, sweat dripping down his face as he gets rid of his gloves and just throws it at the bag, leaving the mess untouched. Walking out he heads to the bathroom and he is quick to fill up the tub with ice and water. This is his last chance. He needs to ice his fantasies before they get way out of hand and become a problem.

Harry strips out of his clothes and with a series of curse words he gets into the water, the ice immediately practically burning his skin. It’s like Hell.

He loves it, in a weird, masochist way.

Normally he would only spend about a minute in the tub, but this time he knows he needs more. Slowly, his body cools down, his muscles loosen up and finally… his mind starts to clear out.

It’s blank. No thoughts. No feelings. But the blissfulness doesn’t last long. 

His phone is beside the tub and it chimes from a text, the sound breaks the silence and he exhales sharply as he reaches for the phone, thinking it might be his mother or sister with something silly. But then as he looks at the screen, he loses his head again.

Your smiling face is shown next to a text in the notification.

“Don’t forget, you have an early meeting tomorrow morning with Jackson Morgan.”

It’s a simple, innocent, work-related thing, you’ve sent reminders like this before, but this time… it’s not that simple.

The fantasies flood back into his mind in a split second and not even the ice cold water can keep his body cool and calm. In a blink of an eye, he is hard again.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he jumps out of the water, his cock shamelessly hardening with every passing second and by the time he stands under the shower, he is almost bursting.

This time, he can’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around the base. With his eyes closed, one hand planted onto the tiled wall, the other one impatiently jerking himself, he gives in and lets even his dirtiest thoughts take over for once and for all, hoping he just needs to get you out of his system somehow.

You, on his desk, your back arching from the top as he pounds into you.

You, bent over his desk, your ass perched up into the air, begging to be spanked and fucked.

You, sitting on his lap while he sits in his leather chair, kissing up his neck, riding him like a good girl.

You… you… you…

He imagines you in every possible position he could ever think of. All of his filthiest, most outrageous thoughts finally burst out of the box he’s kept them in in the back of his mind all this time and he just simply can’t stop until he finally finds his release. 

Normally he likes to take his time not just when he’s with a woman but when he is pleasuring himself, he loves the teasing, the edging, he is not a fan of just a quick fuck, but this time he comes way faster and harder than ever. His face is all he can think of, he can almost hear you moan his name, his fingers pulling his hair and just like that… his cum is going down the drain along with the water, his half hard cock still in his hand as he tries to regulate his breathing.

But when the pleasure worms down, shame takes its place and it’s heavy and thick.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his chest heaving as he grabs a towel to dry himself off, hoping it would rub the shame off him as well.

How will he look you in the eyes in the morning? What if you wear something short again? He will never be able to look at you around his desk and not get hard instantly, thinking of the scenes that just gave him an insane orgasm. He shouldn’t have given in, because it only provided temporary relief, but now that he has let his fantasies loose, they will never let him rest.

He is fucked. In the worst way possible.

But little does he know, that in the meantime in a small apartment that you call your home across town, you’re lying in bed, the skirt you wore to the office today thrown into the hamper, your hands between your legs, eyes rolled back into your head as you’re pleasuring yourself. Thinking about none other than your boss, taking you on his desk, letting you ride him in his chair, or pounding into you from behind while you’re watching the city through the floor to ceiling windows of his office… His hand holding a handful of your hair as he pulls on it…Fucking you like no one did before, because you haven’t been able to think of anyone else since the day he interviewed you for his assistant position…

READ PART II. NOW: ILLICIT TEMPTATION

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[shinjisdone]

𝑇𝜎 𝑆𝜎𝑓𝜏𝜀𝜋 𝛼 𝑊𝛼𝑟𝑟𝜄𝜎𝑟’𝑠 𝐻𝜀𝛼𝑟𝜏 (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn - 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒄, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors - though as your future seemed promising, his thirst for revenge devastated all that you had left.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet Thorfinn again after he shattered your heart (based on season 2; both platonic and romantic)

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚ is here

Part 2: - (Thorfinn trying to accept your existence as a slave)

Part 3: - (Thorfinn finding a reason to live, you finally see him)

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets , @lana-del-stan , @theghostofanficpresent

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Slavery will be a main subject throughout the entire arc. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Nightmares, detailed gore and killing, slavery, humiliation, hallucinations, slight romanticization of death/wishing someone to be dead, slight panic]

Time And Time Again, My Hopes Are Gone...

Far west, across the sea is a land. Rich of fertile ground and warm all year round. He can see the stillness of the meadow as the wind softly blows through the trees.

The wilderness is untouched. Far away from slave traders and the flames of war. The sun is benign with its rays that gently fall on his skin. It's warm and quiet. A gale so soft it embraces his throbbing pain.

Far to the west, across the rich and green hill, is a figure drawing closer. Colors clashing with the soft sky and land, washed out compared to the world around him. Nevertheless, he feels his heart picking up on speed and appraoches the figure with painstakingly slow steps.

The colors and the gear are still the same. Old and bented, abused and dull and so was the glare in their eyes. He should not feel a thing here, knowing this gaze all too well, but it still festered fear inside his heart when it is directed at him. The clear blue sky grows red and the sun fled.

Still, somehow he was able to crack a strained, faltering smile. "...What are you doing here?" He needed to take a deep breath, "You still look the same...like yesterd-"

"What the hell are you talking about, dog?"

The feigning smile was wiped off his face in an instant as his eyes widened. He could feel his muscles aching again, his stomach grumbling, his heart shattering.

You looked at him with such distain in your eyes.

It's Like A Never-Ending Marathon...

"How can you even act like this? Does all of this mean nothing to you?"

His breath hitched in his throat, burning hot and sickening as the quietness of the world was cut down by the incoming roars emerging from the scenery behind you. Pumping up their spears and axes, they tainted the meadow red as small figures galloped across the sky. The fires were following closely after them.

"You left...left me, and left this massacre behind you as you trailed over the sea."

Chants of victories rung in his ears as the flames consumed the both of you. The herd of men loud and clear but always seemed too far to touch and reach. There you still stood, your glare as dark as thunder and never-changing.

"Coward. Deranged mutt. Calling yourself a warrior."

Jaw agape, he watched with white, bulging eyes the scene behind you. It was all too familiar that it should have kick in an instinct - but all he could feel was terror.

With a swift pull to your back, you drew the blade out before plunging it with a sprint down to his abdomen. He barely could let out a scream. Instead, wide agape, he looked down with darting eyes to see his father's dagger.

A crooked grin decorated your visage as you twisted the dagger, cut further, deeper horizontally before yanking it out. Blood tainted your skin.

He could feel himself fall. Fall longer, deeper, faster, down, down, down, and down before a scream pulled him out.

I Hear Voices Every Night Of The Ones I Left Behind...

The same quietness he dreamed about surrounds him in the hut. No, a barn it was. It didn't have a door and he constantly reeked of hay and manure.

Right - this was the barn on the farm.

Sluggishly, he got up as pieces of hay fell off his worn out tunic. With a slow and steady gate his legs carried him to the well standing still and cold in the early morning, the sun having risen just a moment ago as well. He reached out with rough and calloused hands to the cold water and splashed it on his face. Always three times at least as the master told him. With each splash, his mind and vision got clearer and finally, he breathed freely.

What a strange nightmare. This hollow feeling expanding in his heart remained even in the waking world but he cannot recall from what.

As the sun rose higher, he made his way over the dirty, sandy road. Not a lot of the others were up and about as he was, though he only paid attention to the forest further away. The tired mutters of greetings flew over him, like a leaf in the cold wind. All he needed was the axe.

The axe cuts. It hits the sturdy trunk, chopping it away bit by bit, splinters of wood occasionally digging into his skin. Though it was as thick as the trees themselves, so no one ever heard a complaint from him.

The axe cuts. No tree shrieks in pain nor does anyone raise a brow at the lone man in the forest letting one tree fall after another. It keeps him awake and his muscles at work.

The axe cuts. The trees die and fall like flies, slowly - as it is with tree felling, he was told - down to every last twig and root it bears. Nothing can be left behind as the master wished it. All needs to be cleaned off the land so he can use it. So he cut and cut and cut.

"Thorfinn!"

Thorfinn halted. Stopped in his tracks as he was told and looked up through lidded, droopy, brown eyes. In the distance he saw a hand waving as the master galloped closer and with him, a younger slave.

Getting off the mount, he steadied his fall. Master Ketil was an older and seasoned farmer. His blonde hair growing thinner, broad but kind face decorated with wrinkles and his wealth showing in his round stomach. Once again, as he often does, he approached Thorfinn with a smile. "You will be getting a friend." Then he pointed behind him and the youngling followed hastily to bow. "This is Einar and he will be helping you starting tomorrow to fell the trees and turn it into fertile farm land. Einar, Thorfinn has been doing this for a bit longer than a year, he will show you around."

Brown eyes followed the man's gesture and fell on the younger one with kempt, auburn hair. Face young and with no stubbles, a small wart at the side of his nose - finished with an nervous and perplexed expression.

His own looked deep into the one of his new companion and found nothing but vapidness in them.

"Oh, uhm...it's nice to meet you." Einar tried to crack a smile. Thorfinn did not.

With a small chuckle of his own, Ketil pointed towards the small forest, talking of an subject Thorfinn had heard of time and time again.

Talks of fertile land, of wheat, of buying and selling, surpassing ones own price and freedom.

Freedom.

Did he have any of that ever in the first place? He doubted it.

But the new guy had a different opinion of it.

"Buying ourselves back?!" Einar stuttered, not believing what the farmer had just uttered, "We can get our freedom back if we just plant and sell the wheat to you?!"

Ketil jumped and blinked in surprise. "Why...yes. Does that not sound like a good deal to you?" "It's not that! N-Not at all! Thank you, thank you so much! I'll gratefully take the offer!"

Without another word, Einar sprinted deeper into the forest. Sighing heavily, Ketil settled back on his mount, ready to go back. "Do show him around for today Thorfinn and don't have him slack off after that. Both of you have a lot of work to do."

The blonde looked back at him with lidded eyes.

"Yes, master."

Dragging himself after the brunette, the young man watched him observe the area in awe. Trees loomed over the two and Einar swiftly turned back to the shorter man, his jaw agape.

"Thorfinn, was it?! Is that something you can do here in Denmark?! You - You can buy yourself out of slavery?!"

That I Love...

In the midmorning, Einar couldn't sit still.

Strenuously, he mimicked Thorfinn's day-to-day work. Inspecting each tree and root, yanking on them with his bare hands in hopes it might detach just a bit, and throwing questions.

Thorfinn found his keenness perplexing.

At noon, Einar awaited food.

Hearing about the service of the helpers, paid guests helping and guarding Ketil's farm, he grew ever so keen again. The helpers were not the kindest folk and seemingly the most hungry as well.

"What is there to complain?" One sneered as he appraoched Einar. The latter showed the crumbles and nibbled cheese in his rough hands instead. "This, this is our food? How is this supposed to be enough for two people? And it was obviously gnawed on!"

"So?" The second man of the trio sauntered closer with a wide grin. "Slaves like you should be grateful you can even eat a day. For someone so small and little, you sure talk big. We helpers wake up each and every day to bring food to lowly rats like you! And none of you even have the brains on how to thank someone for it!"

With a shaking gasp, Einar stepped back. The mere tone. The way the spit splashed on his face as he talks with that knowing glint in his dull eyes.

How could someone be like that? Just a year ago, he was surrounded by normal people, a village and family.

Once again, the helper spits as he scoffed. "Say it, dog," The grin grew ever so crooked as Einar's shock quickly transformed into rage. "Say 'thank you for the food'."

Breath hitched as the brunette took everything within him not to batter the man here and there. Balling a fist, he pulled back - before a smaller figure squeezed himself between the men and held out the crumbs of bread in his hands.

Thorfinn avoided the helper's gaze and looked down, as if giving a woeful prayer. "We thank you for the food."

Einar observed the tension dissolving, face that of an fish out of water, as Thorfinn returned to his work as if nothing happened.

In the afternoon, Einar hauled a sack of hay on his shoulder, heart feeling disarrayed.

Up ahead he followed Thorfinn who carried two sacks on his shoulders. He wondered how he does it despite his shorter and hunched form.

In fact, the blonde always seemed to hunch so far. He wondered how he does the entire labourous work in the first place.

"...How can you do all of this so easily? And with an empty stomach, too, day in and out. Chopping off the trees and then hauling them off the ground...like that old donkey was of any help." He pouted at the memory of the helpers bringing in an old, weak horse as 'aid' while they snoozed under the trees, "And you were so obedient to these jerks, too."

The walk continued to be quiet. The brunette continued to pout, making an even longer face at the one-sided conversation.

"You know, you can report that to the master! No, we should, have to do that! We are his property and these jerks treated us like were are lesser than that! He should know how his slaves are being treated and get rid of these pigs!"

The walk was silent after that as well. Thorfinn did not turn his back away neither show any sign of taking in his words. Einar only pouted even more and bit his tongue - momentarily.

"You're really strange."

As if struck by lightning, the blonde stopped. A force jolted through his muscles and bones that almost threatened to have him let go of the hay. The same force took a hold of his heart, like a fist squeezing it so tight with the intent to kill him. It won't let go.

Calming down from the start, Einar sped up in front of him with raised brows. The blonde's face was frozen in fear.

"...Thorfinn...?"

"What did you just say?"

"Uh," Quickly, he stepped back. Even the way Thorfinn managed to utter the question, jaw agape and frozen as well, perplexed him. "I said you're strange. Like, it's not like I dislike you it's just…just that I thought we could talk more. You're so quiet all the time but then get so obedient around these jerks but then act like you don't care-"

Agonizingly slow does he regain his body. With each word Einar spoke, Thorfinn nodded along, listened and had it ring in his head like a chant. Just as slow, he began walking again. "...I really am, aren't I?" He muttered after taking a deep breath.

"Eh, uhm, what?"

"Strange..."

I'm Trying To Find The Place Where I Belong...

Thorfinn was allowed to call it a day early for teaching Einar.

Today's chores were almost completed anyway with how tenacious his new companion had been. It was an insistence he could not comprehend.

The brunette did not expect much when Thorfinn showed him the way to the small barn, pointing to the heaps of hay and buckets at the corners. The master's house was across the road at least and the well free for him to use.

Einar also expected not much from his peer, as he had learned today when he quickly dozed off. He believed him to be anyway, when he stayed silent through all his questions.

Einar was strange...but the blonde reckoned he was, too.

That night, his visions turned into nightmares once again - but only to be left forgotten again in the morning.

A dark blue sea and an equally dark sky above. The wrath of the gods over the clouds and a hoard of monsters waging further away. He found himself lucky he wasn't so close.

But that relief was cut short by the freezing pain in his abdomen, as he looked down at you, teeth gritting like a beast. When did he grow taller than you?

He always thought you were the same height. Or were you the taller one?

With a growl, you swayed back with the dagger out of his flesh and thrusted it into it again. Labored breaths tried to escaped your gritted teeth, nosetrils flaring up as you only scolwed at him. With great effort and little strength, you drew the blade back and stabbed him again.

"Liar..." You croaked out, the smallest of hints of tears in your eyes, "This isn't where we're supposed to be. You liar..." Another sob and another attack. Blood oozed out of his open stomach like a broken spring and while the pain was unbearable, Thorfinn remained standing.

"You were supposed to take me somewhere that isn't here!"

He watched with terror as you drowned in his blood.

Einar shot up at the ear-splitting shriek. He wondered how none of the master's family had heard.

All he vividly remembered on his first night on the farm as a slave, was Thorfinn feeling up his abdomen in a mad frenzy, his eyes wide and jaw agape in a silent scream.

Until I Do, I Guess I'll Carry On...

The sun rises and the reek of manure still dwells in his nose. Einar was not dreaming of the farm.

But as he followed Thorfinn's demure figure, anxiously keeping up with his chores and strength, he cannot keep his eyes off of him. Of this strange guy and his hushed whispers in the night.

Again, he observed and stayed back this time as the blonde accepted the spit thrown on his face and food. The amount of labor he carries on his broken back with an lost look in his eyes.

So small and dry, brown so hazy and milky, he wonders if he can even see.

Einar stays back and listens as the master and his employers give him more work, more duties, more praises, more insults. He takes it all the same.

Then, at the setting of the sun, the young man still stays back and watches with the rest of the slaves nearby as Thorfinn dropped all he had carried diligently to the master, and sprinted to a small person further away.

His heart beat in his ears, ringing against his skull and Einar found himself surprised as he prayed that Thorfinn would not get in trouble for whatever he was doing there.

Not getting in trouble for the calloused hand that reached out for that person's shoulder, how they yelped out and whipped their head around at the contact with the man.

How they watched as Thorfinn's hopeful face slowly dimmed to shock - then reverted back to his nonchalant ignorance.

What a fool he was. No, it couldn't be. The words he heard, they weren't yours. This little slave, just a terrified child, may have talked like you - walked like you, had a stature like you, looked like you - but in their place, you wouldn't have frozen on the spot. You would have killed him, or he you, when you gazed upon him as you did time and time again.

Without another word, he let his hand fall to his side and dismissed Einar's concerns. The brunette apologized for Thorfinn's stead but the man was already on his way to the barn.

He didn't even know what he was thinking. How his mind could see a silhouette that could resemble you, mistake you, and start running after you. Thorfinn didn't know what he was doing.

The master was already used to his behaviour. Perhaps that's why he wanted to get rid of him while still gaining a bit of gold.

Another night. Another new slave - a young, blonde woman - another curse from Einar about wars and beasts and another nightmare. It's what Thorfinn finally reckoned them as.

Trapped In Every Sacrifice,

Feel Like I'm Gonna Lose My Mind...

The demons that haunt him as he stabs them down for the earth to swallow. Your bloodied body holding a blade. The insults and spits thrown at him, his insides falling down into the sea. Your flailing arms as you cry for his help as the ground splits in two.

In the dead of the night, he checks for his companion, still seeing him to be asleep. Limply, Thorfinn forced himself to sit up.

The stars were as bright as ever. They were when you two were together but in the past year, the nightsky seemed different. Under it, all alone, he mumbled your name under his breath to remember you by.

That's right, he did not even have anything to remember you by, did he? Not a weapon, not a trinket, nothing. All that was left of you were the nightmares haunting his mind.

He hoped it was even less. In this cool, dark night, Thorfinn hoped you were dead. All would be easier for you to bear if just bones remained of you - and it would be easier to bear for him on his heart and mind.

You'd be free.

No Freedom, Without Love...

Scorching was the sun that morning as Ketil appraoched Thorfinn and Einar on his horse once again. Pater accompanied him with another in tow. Shackles of splinted wood around their swollen wrists. Their head hanging low.

"Thorfinn, Einar!" Ketil called out and began his usual prattling. His face bore that same, kind smile even when his words fell on some deaf ears. All Thorfinn could really focus on were lidded eyes slowly moving from the dirtied path up to him. Eyes that were drooped, limp, cold and familiar.

A shaky gasp. Air that got stuck in their lungs. Ketil halted in surprise as they stepped closer in hesitation, their bound hands rising and Pater yelling out about authority and respect of a property to follow.

All Thorfinn could hear were their breathless gasps, the darting eyes, hollow and in tears as their chafed hands gingerly cradled his face - as if unsure if he was really there.

Then, the shock turned into sorrow and anger.

"...You were supposed to be in Iceland..."

Pater yanked them away from him, the familiar warmth gone as they disorientate. Thorfinn could barely breath.

[pandapetals]

Snow Angels

logan howlett x fem!reader - snow, snow angels, fluff, cute, romantic, logan being soft, no y/n used, no reader description

Logan and you play in the snow.

prompt idea from @Silverskyeline from their logan promptober: #19-snow

The wind bit sharply at your face as you stepped outside, the cold air wrapping around you like a thick blanket. Snow was falling in thick, quiet flakes, dusting the mansion grounds in a soft white glow. You pulled your coat tighter around you, your breath visible in the freezing air. The world was utterly still—perfect, untouched.

Beside you, Logan grumbled under his breath, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face half-hidden in the collar of his jacket. He had been less than enthusiastic about the idea of going outside, but you had insisted, practically dragging him out of the warmth of the mansion.

“Why the hell are we out here again?” he muttered, kicking a small pile of snow out of his way. “It’s freezing.”

You ignored his grumbling, a wide smile spreading across your face as you took in the snow-covered landscape. It was magical, like stepping into another world, the blanket of white transforming everything around you. Your footsteps crunched softly in the snow as you wandered a little farther ahead, looking back at Logan with bright eyes.

“This is amazing,” you said, almost breathless, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I’ve never seen snow before.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as he stopped, his arms still crossed, but his expression shifted at your words. “Never?”

You shook your head, your smile widening as you reached out to catch a snowflake on your glove. “Nope. Not like this. I’ve only ever seen pictures.”

Something flickered in Logan’s eyes, the usual gruffness in his stance softening just a little. His arms uncrossed, and for a moment, he just stood there watching you, the corners of his mouth tugging up slightly.

You bent down, scooping up a handful of snow, marveling at how soft and light it was. Logan took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable, but his eyes stayed on you, watching the way you gazed at the snow like it was the most incredible thing in the world.

“First time, huh?” he muttered, his voice quieter now, the earlier grumpiness fading.

You nodded, your eyes bright with excitement as you packed the snow into a loose ball. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to play in it, but I never had the chance.”

Logan shook his head with a soft grunt, but there was a warmth in his gaze now. “Well, I guess we can’t waste your first snow then.”

Before you could reply, he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, packing it tightly into a ball. You blinked, not realizing what he was doing until he tossed it at you with a quick, practiced flick of his wrist. The snowball hit your shoulder, cold and soft, exploding in a puff of powder.

You gasped, staring at him in mock outrage. “Did you just—?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “What? I’m just gettin’ you used to it.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that, Logan,” you said with a laugh, bending down to gather another handful of snow quickly. You packed it into a ball and hurled it at him, catching him squarely in the chest.

Logan blinked, brushing the snow off with an amused grunt. “Alright, now you’ve done it.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you launched snowballs at each other, your laughter echoing in the quiet air, the earlier tension between you completely forgotten. Logan, despite his initial grumbling, seemed to relax, his sharp movements growing softer, more playful.

At one point, you ducked behind a snow-covered tree, peeking out just in time to see Logan chuck a snowball your way. You dodged it with a giggle, your heart racing as you darted out from behind the tree.

As you ran, your foot slipped on a patch of ice, and you tumbled backward, landing in the snow with a soft thud. The world spun for a moment, the cold seeping through your coat, but the laughter bubbling up in your chest kept you warm.

Logan was by your side in an instant, standing over you with a raised eyebrow, his expression hovering somewhere between concern and amusement. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, still laughing, and reached out to pull him down into the snow beside you. “I’m fine! Come on, make snow angels with me!”

Logan grunted but didn’t resist as you tugged him down. He landed beside you with a soft grunt, the snow crunching under his weight. He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed, but the usual grumpiness in his face had all but disappeared.

“You’re serious?” he asked, looking at you like you had suggested something outrageous.

You grinned, lying back in the snow and stretching your arms out wide. “Yeah, come on! You can’t experience snow without making a snow angel.”

Logan sighed, his breath fogging in the air, but he lay back beside you, his arms and legs stiff at first as he half-heartedly moved them through the snow. You giggled, turning your head to look at him.

“You’re terrible at this,” you teased, snowflakes clinging to your hair.

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Can’t say I’ve had much practice.”

You laughed again, the sound light and free as you waved your arms through the snow, creating your own angel. “Well, now you have.”

For a moment, everything went quiet. The snow continued to fall gently around you, the world slowing down as you both lay in the cold, side by side. The earlier playfulness gave way to a peaceful stillness, the kind that settled in your chest and made you feel warm, despite the cold air biting at your cheeks.

Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes softening as he watched you. The tension and gruffness that usually clouded his expression were gone, replaced by something gentler.

“Guess I’m not so bad at this after all,” he muttered, his voice low and warm.

You smiled, turning your head to meet his gaze, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. “No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the gentle fall of snow. “You’re not bad at all.”

[diejager]

If you might be taking requests at all, I was wondering if you'd be up for the idea of a fic with sleazy König or Ghost in an arranged marriage to the reader. Reader isn't quite happy with the marriage, but they are. It could be dark or cute, but I'd love to read a fic about an arranged marriage where reader is completely against it meanwhile their new husband is not. They've been hoping to marry reader for a while and now that they have, reader is all theirs in more ways than one. Scares off any men reader tries to date on the side and is hell bent on showing their lovely spouse that this marriage is perfect and that they truly do belong together.

Sleazy husband!König Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, sleazy!König, arranged marriage, age difference/gap, scent kink, crusty balls, hairy König, tell me if I missed any.

König was a family friend, someone you’d seen a few times in your life, but had heard of many, many times that he was a commodity in your life, a subject you became familiar with without actually knowing the man. You’d caught glimpses of the giant when you accompanied your father to the military base for a quick visit, how he towered over you as a child and even more so now that you were an adult in your early 20s. You thought him an acquaintance, a trusted friend of your father, but you’d never thought of him in any other light. You saw him as someone dedicated to his duty, prideful and hungry for power and money, unbeatable and strong with his broad shoulders and gigantic stature. You wouldn’t have anything to do with him in your life, seeing how he barely glanced your way when you crossed path, he dutifully ignored you every time as if you were a plague.

And yet, you found yourself married to him; an arranged marriage. The colonel who avoided you and never seemed to like you had a private marriage with only your immediate family and a few men and women from the Company assisting to watch him embrace and take you home. A home you had no recollection of and were a stranger to. It wasn’t his flat, or the studio apartment you went to with your father. This big house was new and old, a newly bought house in with fresh paint and untouched furniture, in an old Austrian land with a beautiful and lush forest surrounding it. You didn’t even know the man, but you were married to him so quickly - in a month’s worth - that you were still too shell shocked to do anything about it. 

How could your mother and father agree to it so easily? To marry you off to someone you didn’t know. Then you remembered how close your father and he was, life companions that had fought battles together, bled for one another and would die to save the other. That was the reason you were promised without your consent or knowledge until it was too late. 

“Mein Herzchen,” he rasps, peering down at you, cold blues glowing under the darkness of his hood, “Come.”

König - your husband - was a man of few words, but wouldn’t stop talking if he found the right topic to touch, speaking your ears off about it. There were a lot you didn’t know about him, a mystery you didn’t dare try figuring out, but were forced to. You learned he was a dirty and immoral man, to have you marry him despite him being almost twice your age. He could’ve been your uncle, a man who’s age was near your fathers. You learned that he liked jerking himself to the sight of your open pantie drawers, an unwashed and stolen lace pressed into his face, the soft gusset pressed into his mouth and nose as he huffed and growled. You were repulsed by it, finally understanding why some of your underwearswere slightly crusty. 

You learned that he never shaved after your first night, consummating your marriage in the bed you later slept on. You were shocked to find that his chest and arms were as hairy as the tuff around his cock, wild and unruly, a messy bush crawling up his abdomen and spiraling around his chest and covering his paler tint in auburn brown. You learned that he never showered after a sweaty and stinky work out, his musk stinking up the house wherever he went and that he loved pressing you against his naked and sticky chest, smothering you in his thick smell that nearly had you gagging and choking. You couldn’t find the words to describe a man like König, as big and burly as he was hairy and smelly, he was unmoving in his resolve and liked to touch you whenever he wanted to, whether you liked it or not, his word was law.

Your husband was a sleazy man and you couldn’t do anything about it, the golden bound diamond ring on your finger was more so a chain than a wonderful promise.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

[ellaa-writes]

Welcome Home pt. 2

agnst, Johnny is kinda a simp. Follow up to this

Johnny woke in the morning, groggy and half erected. Rolling over, reaching out for you but only coming out empty. Your side of the bed cold and untouched. Then he remembered, laying in bed for a few minutes longer. Trying to come up with ways to make it up to you.

He slowly crept along the hallway, walking into the living space. The blanket on the couch was neatly folded. He could smell what he assumed was cooked bacon and the sound of something sizzling. As he entered the kitchen he saw you leaning over the counter, looking down at something on your phone. He cleared his throat, ready to start groveling. But stopped as you turned around to look at him. Your eyes were red and sunken in, it looked like you didn't sleep at all. The pot of coffee was almost empty.

"Bonnie-" he started but was cut off.

"Breakfast will be done soon." you turned back around, not wanting to look at him anymore.

He stood their debating if he should hug you but decided to give you space. Pouring himself a cup and taking a seat at the table. He watched you as you grabbed a plate, the tacky orange one he hated and started to fill it up. Grabbing a fork out of the drawer the one with the bent prong and setting his plate down in front of him.

He looked down at the plate and tilted his head, the bacon was off. He wasn't even sure if it was bacon, and the scrambled eggs had obviously egg shells in them. It made him smile and laugh, hell he deserved worse. He looked up to see you watching him, he grabbed a fork full of his egg shell scrambled eggs and shoveled them into his mouth. His teeth crunchy of the shells, grabbing a piece of the mystery bacon and tossing it into his mouth.

"Thank ye bonnie, delicious." he was sure the bacon was potato skin. You couldn't help yourself, finally cracking a smile and walking over to him.

You grabbed the plate from him and tossed it in the garbage can.

"Oi, Aye was eatin' 'at" Johnny said with a mouth full of food.

"Shut up." you spat back at him, he swallowed quickly. Getting up from the table and wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh, ma bonnie lass, Ah'm a daftie."

"Your an asshole." you sobbed into his neck. He just held you closer. Blubbering nonsense, promising you he'd never do it again.

"I'll leave so quick Johnny, don't you ever!" he wasn't sure if you were still mad or not. But he didn't care, you could scream all you want at him. He'd take it all, you could even kick him in the balls if it would make you feel better.

"Aye know." was all he said, holding you in his arms as you both cried.

[hellishjoel]

every rose has its thorns

1.6k / pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog

summary: mike really likes your white panties with the pretty rose on the front.

warnings/information: soft/sub!mikey whilst still being on top (king), thumb sucking, pet names (angel!), mike using reader to unwind, panty play, size kink, coming wherever he likes ;) 

A/N: holy hell just realized this is my first non-pedro-universe-character piece! woohoo! I finally watched fnaf with a girlfriend of mine and with inspiration from a naughty twitter video, I wrote this! I have to give @cupofjoel a huge thank you, please read her entire mike schmidt masterlist, you will not regret it! I wrote this very ill with covid and on mikey brain rot (it's so bad I might have typed mark schmidt instead of mike x.x) so if there’s any errors, apologies are stated now. also thank you to @saradika-graphics for the fnaf banners!

It all started with a pair of panties. A simple brief-style pair, the material rounding around the curves of your ass and ducking pretty between your thighs. White cotton. A small rose embroidered on the front. Untouched, perfectly clean, pristine. Just like you. Unlike Mike. 

Mike was all dark boxer briefs, the kind that clutched onto his thick thighs and cupped his lower half for dear life. Or the plaid purple and black boxers he was wearing now accompanied by a bowl of cereal that he was eating after a late night at work, now an early morning. Often shirtless when he was in the privacy of his own room, you had the opportunity to admire his dark, curly chest hair that was speckled across his chest and thinned out across his torso before filling out again at the start of his happy trail.  

“Thanks for taking care of Abby,” he said with his mouth half full of Trix, “did she get on the bus alright?” 

You nod weakly, gently nudging the back of your hand against your tired eyes. 

“Yeah. But I think she misses you at night. I can never soothe her like you can when she has nightmares.” 

You watch as Mike sighs and tips the cereal bowl back, the sweet milk dribbling at the corners of his mouth and making small trails around his pretty pink lips. The ceramic bowl chimes as he sets it down on his bedside table, watching from the pillows as he crawls up the bed to join you. The early morning light peaks through his curtains and highlights his dark eyes amber. Your thumb traces his lower lip, and he truly can’t wait any longer. He needs you now.

He spent all last night fantasizing about you. Head down with his arms folded along the security desk, eyes previously on the security monitors now heavily closed as he listens to the sounds of nature. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about you, he had more important things to dream about. But you kept appearing, enticing him, wearing those pretty little panties that he can’t get enough of. The white pair with a rose on the front. The pair he comes home to most mornings once Abby has left for school. The pair you’re wearing now. 

Knowing how desperate you both are, you let him guide you how he pleases on the bed. After long night shifts, his routine is to come home and fuck you in the comfort of his dark grey sheets before he falls asleep with your body cuddled in beside his. He pulls you by the ankle to the edge of the bed, legs spread and bent as you nip at your lower lip with a certain eagerness unfolding in the base of your belly. 

Mike’s thumbs hook into his plaid boxers, pushing them down until they do the rest of the work, naturally falling and looping around his ankles. He’s already half hard just from looking at you, dreaming about you. He wouldn’t last long looking as wrecked as he was. Tight jaw and fixated eyes, drunk on need and just a little bit of control with his tornado of a life. 

“Mike,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks and letting him fold over your body as you feel his hips rest heavily between your thighs, “s’okay, want you to get off however you like.” You cradle his face and kiss the tip of his nose while his long eyelashes flutter in comfort. 

“I know, angel. I’m here with you.” His voice is like heaven, drenched in a sweet honey that you’ve found yourself addicted to. You sit up on your elbows as Mike helps navigate your shirt off, admiring the curve of your breasts and the embellishment of your collarbones. So perky and pretty. He praises them with his warm mouth and tongue that can’t help but swirl around your taut peaks. He grunts softly against your soft skin as his hips lightly rut into yours, making your head drift back and forth in his sheets with bliss. 

“Fuck, I just,” he mutters quietly against your goosebump-riddled skin, “I love these.” He whispers as he slowly moves to stand up straight once again, his cock resting over the material of your white panties. He’s entranced by the red petals of the rose, the two dark greens that make up the stem and its thorns. Your eyes trail down to his beady red tip, leaking precum that you desperately yearn to kitten lick. 

“Every rose has its thorns,” Mike whispers, a raspy edge to it from the lack of sleep he desperately craves. You run your hands down your delicate body, hooking your thumbs in at your hips to your underwear, but Mike stops your movements. 

“However I like?” He echoes your statement from earlier, to which you give him a soft nod.

Mike’s always been soft with you, gentle, caring. You think he gets it from being an older brother, the type that has to be the parent most times instead of an actual brother. But when he steps into the bedroom, and Abby is elsewhere, his mind can drift away into being whoever he likes, however he likes. Merciless, rough, desperate, needy, sweet. Everything that made him unwind was all shared with you. And for that, you felt thankful. You could be the key to his lock, the one that kept his head up from drowning with the overflowing responsibilities he always managed to juggle at the final second. You were the one person he could fall apart with, and everything would be completely fine. 

So when his hand started to stroke up and down his cock, making your mouth water for a certain desire, you were eager to help him unwind. Lose his mind in a little slice of heaven. The pad of his thumb slowly begins to stroke up and down your clothed center, eliciting a desperate whimper from your lips as he circles over your sensitive nub. He could see it through your underwear with how aroused you were growing. Your clit swelled for affection. 

A small wet spot starts to grow, an embarrassing little pool that shows through the white cotton of your panties, just at the sprout of the rose. You let out a shaky breath as Mike traces the looping pattern with his forefinger. He then peels the material gently away from your sticky center, laying his thirsty cock between your folds before he lets the underwear blanket you both. He barely fits inside the dainty material. His cock swells with volume and makes your panties stretch to accommodate. He was large. And all yours. 

You whimper in need, hoping for more but realizing you could get off just like this. 

His breaths are already labored as he starts to thrust, feeling his tip nudge your clit with every beat. You fist the sheets, letting him use you like a wet little toy. He’s not sure what to do with his hands at first. They start on keeping your legs spread at the underside of your thighs, before one settles on your hip and the other is cupping your cheek. Not long after, his thumb pushes past the plushness of your lips, forcing you to suckle and moan around the intrusion. 

Your eyes stay connected, a silent bond between you both. This is a safe space for you, come unraveled before me. 

The next time you look down, the pooling of liquid from his cock has stained your panties. And he has no remorse. Your lips part at the truly dirty sight. He’s leaked so much that your panties have become nearly translucent. You can see the pink of his tip with each thrust and the curve of his shaft.

You grow even wetter, feeling him slip up and down your arousal-filled heat, each thrust making you moan weakly. A shiver rolls up your spine, your walls squeezing around nothing as the coil inside of you twists tighter and tighter. 

Mike cages you with his body as he leans down and kisses you in a distracted way, one that leaves his lips parted against yours as he airs out a few soft grunts while his thrusts slowly falter. 

“Mike, please,” you moan softly against the stubble that lines his cheek, your nose gently gliding against it as you tilt your head back into his mattress, feeling yourself come undone to his thrusts. 

His forehead clustered with sweat sinks desperately into your neck, sponging kisses and moaning weakly as he rids himself of his latest dirty fantasies. He gasps and grunts against your throat as he finishes with hot spurts against the material of your panties, making your jaw drop as you feel the seething warm cum spill and dribble along your stomach and inner thighs. 

Your hearts race in sync, feeling the post-orgasmic high that you catch every morning these days. His cock is still buried in your panties, your hole untouched, and your clit singing with fresh sensitivity. You kiss his earlobe and smile against his skin. 

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while?” You ask curiously, coiling a dark curl around your finger before it springs loose. 

“Shit,” he mutters weakly, hazy eyes meeting yours as you sweetly kiss his parted lips once more. “M’sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

You simply shake your head and wipe the small bead of sweat that neared his eyebrow. “Don’t have to apologize for anything. You already know that.” 

He sighs weakly, but it’s of appreciation. He smiles despite how tired he feels, sponging your cheeks and chin with gentle kisses as he interlocks your hands by your head. “I love you. Mean it.” 

“With all your heart?” You ask.

He nods tightly and pulls your clasped hands to his warm chest. “With all my heart.” 

hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog

[skerban]

Cafe at Home…

𖤐 Mike Schmidt x reader

[masterlist]

Felt like writing for him… i need him.

Being a good friend of Mike Schmidt, you decide to make him breakfast and make him coffee just so he doesn’t have to feel stressed :( you’ve already taken care of everything else and Mike needs the day off before work!

You rarely visited Mike, all because of a schedule change in your job.

You used to work nights at a local cafe you worked for, considering the owner trusted you enough to keep the cafe open at night, yet you still managed.

But you finally were able to get the day off, and the messages you received from mike were… incredibly concerning.

The last message you got back from him was weeks ago. You didn’t want to pry but you just wanted to make sure he was at least alright and why he was not responding to you.

At this point, you’ve given up trying to contact him, instead aiming to go over to his house instead. You thought it seemed a bit childish, but you wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself.

You got up early, at five to be exact, because Mike’s house wasn’t…. necessarily near. You got dressed in something comfortable, a pair of baggy pants and a random shirt from your closet. You quickly put your shoes on, before grabbing your keys while putting on your coat, and making your way to the front door. You opened it and closed it behind you, locking it before you made your way to your car.

Finally getting in your car, you made sure that you didn’t forget anything. You had your keys, phone, and whatever else you needed.

Driving to his house made your heart race, not out of anxiety but… his reaction. Hell, you haven’t even spoken to him for weeks!

Before you even realized it, you were already at his house, you pulled into the driveway, noticing his car was untouched. The usual Mike, you thought.

You turned your car off and took the keys out of the engine. Taking a breath in and exhaling, you grabbed your stuff, finally exiting your vehicle.

Making your way to his front door wasn’t as bad as you thought. You remembered he had told you if you ever wanted to come over, he would leave a spare key under the door mat. You bent down and lifted the mat in front of you. You grabbed it and put it into his lock, turning it and pulling it out when it finally unlocked.

You kept the spare key on you, just in case someone saw you with it… you couldn’t afford someone breaking into Mike’s house…

When you entered the house, and closing the door behind you, you took your shoes off and out them next to the front door. You let out a sigh at how empty the place looked.

You had suggested to Mike to put some decorations and he made fake promises that he would, but you couldn’t get mad at him for not doing so.

When you made your way to the kitchen, you opened the fridge. You had to move back at the sight, your brows scrunching. There was barely anything, but you knew you could make well with it.

You opened the small pantry in the corner, looking for the ingredients to make what you personally liked, pancakes.

Taking your coat off and hanging it on of the seats near the dining table, you put your hair up, and took out all of the ingredients. Quickly washing your hands, and there they went to work.

You wanted to make sure you weren’t making too much of a commotion, not exactly wanting to wake up Abby or Mike.

You looked at the time on the oven, before realizing you had taken way longer than you thought. It was only 7:46. You knew Abby had to go to school soon, but you were positive Mike was still asleep. You made a small batch of pancakes, saving the rest of ingredients for Mike when he woke up.

While you put the a small bit of the batter onto the pan, you took a step back, and made your way to where Abby’s room was, at least where you think it was.

You made sure to be quiet when entering her room, before gently waking her up. You whispered out that you made her something to eat in the morning. You smiled as she got out of bed, as you quickly made your way to the kitchen.

You eventually finish only two pancakes, and they didn’t look too presentable, but they would still work, you think.

You ket Abby eat and you talked with her for a bit, before finally getting ready to take her to school. The school wasn’t far and you were sure Mike would still be sleeping when you go back.

You drove your car and gave small talk with Abby, asking her things like; How was she? How was Mike? If anything special happened.

You listened to her before you finally pulled up to the school. You gave her a small hug in the car, before she got out and waved out towards you. You smiled and waved back, waiting a minute or two before finally pulling out of the parking lot and driving back to Mike’s home.

Arriving back at his home, letting yourself in again, and making the pancakes again was a delight. You hadn’t baked or.. well made any sort of dessert for anyone or even for yourself in years. You’re a barista not a baker.

With time, you made the batter again, pouring some of the smooth batter onto the hot pan. You let out a small sigh before you looked towards the living room, somewhat expecting Mike to come out from the corner.

You’d never admit it, but, you truly care about Mike. You didn’t know if it was out of love or just as friends.. maybe even family. You felt something in you that only happened with him, yet you always brushed it aside.

You quickly shook your head before you turned your attention back at the pancakes. You continued to make more and more, the scent from the dessert spreading around the house.

As you were making the dessert, you heard small footsteps, making your heart pound against your chest.

“(reader)..?” The familiar low-pitched voice spoke out. You paused and looked over your shoulder, looking at the one and only Mike.

You smiled and closed your eyes, “Hey Mike.” You held in your laughter as his brows scrunched, clearly confused.

“You weren’t responding to my messages.. so i thought i’d give you a small visit.” You gave a nervous laugh before going back to the pancakes, the bowl that was once filled with batter, now empty.

He let out a small groan as he rubbed his eyes, “I..I know.. its just—“

“I know.” You interrupted him, turning the stove off and looking at the plate of… presentable pieces of desserts.

You grabbed a plate and put it onto the table, near the kitchen, and motioned for him to sit.

He looked guilty, but that was because he felt sorry for not responding to you, yet you only cared if he was alright.

“Serve yourself.” You smiled and sat in front of him, not bothering to get a piece to eat.

He looked at the plate of pancakes and back at you, his eyes practically judging you, or.. well you think.

“I know— I know. Im a barista… my pancakes aren’t going to look.. that well.” You rambled out, crossing your arms, and scoffing.

He quickly shook his head and let out a small laugh, “Not that. You aren’t going to eat?”

Your eyes widened slightly, looking at him, before your cheeks slightly flushed.

“I.. I ate before i got here and— don”t laugh at my pancakes—!” You hissed out, clearly embarrassed by the misconception you made.

He only chuckled before serving himself.

You only watched in silence before tapping your fingers against the smooth surface, letting your eyes glide to a different part of the room.

“Mike, is there a specific reason to why you stopped… talking to me?” Your voice quiet, almost inaudible, yet the man in front of you managed to hear it. He looked up from his plate, looking at you, before turning his gaze back to his half-empty plate.

You kept your eyes on him, wanting to know if you did something wrong.

He gave a sigh and brought one of his hands to rub the side of his head. “It.. it’s hard to explain, (reader).”

“Then help me understand.” You pleaded before you turned your gaze to your hands in your lap.

“I get it if you,” you paused before shaking your head, “i get it if you don’t want to talk with me anymore. But.. you could’ve atleast told me something.”

He let out a shaky sigh, “No..no that’s not it.” He rubbed his temples, trying to put words into his mouth to explain it properly to you.

You waited patiently, wanting him to give at least a small explanation.

“It’s just.. personal things and work.” His voice was quiet, “I didn’t want to… i didn’t want to put my problems with you.” He finally got out.

Oh, so he didn’t hate you.

You gave a relieved sigh before you looked him with stern eyes. “You know you can ask me for help anytime, whether its with work or.. just anything!” Your voice slightly rose yet you made sure to stay calm.

He only looked up at you before nodding. Your face fell as you looked at the guilt covering his face. You got up and put a hand onto his shoulder.

“You can have the whole morning off, and.. we can spend the day doing what we used to do, okay?” You smiled as he turned his head to look at you, his eyes going from your hand to you.

“But Abby—“

“She’s already at school, don’t worry.”

He let out a small breath before giving a small smile.

You two spent the whole morning binge watching movies and reenacting good ‘ol times. Yes, Abby was picked up and you took care of her while Mister Mike Schmidt went to work.

mike just needs a break :( and yes i know pancakes aren’t dessert but.. for the sake of this they are

reminder that requests are opened ^_^

[floydsglasses]

𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚-Jake "Hangman" Seresin (A Quiet Place AU)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x AFAB OC/Piper

SUMMARY: The world outside is in ruins, human being's are almost extinct, silence is now the key to survival. A family's seemingly happy existence in a bleak world is shattered by monsters.

Tags: Mention of blood/wounds, post apocalyptic setting, use of ASL, Alien creatures. Established Relationship, Implied Smut, (sorry) A LOT OF Angst, Swearing, Fluff, Parenting, self defense k!lling, child endangerment, men being creepy to a woman, first aid

A/N HOLY SHIT THIS IS LONG! Im telling you guy's that you wont hurt my feeling's if you dont read because I wouldn't

WORD COUNT: 9,103

⏁⏁⏁

THEIR QUIET FARMHOUSE almost seemed untouched from the horror’s of the world outside its fenceline. The both of them had talked about leading a quiet life, staying on farms raising animals and crops. Waking up to the sunshine each day and ending the day with a family meal, and falling asleep to the sound of wildlife. 

She was so sure that their late night talk would never happen. Not with the lives they lead, her working shift’s as a nurse, her hour’s never being consistent. And him almost always being on leave or another country away from her. Did not help when she took the fateful test that two pink lines showed up. 

Before the both of them did everything they could to spend time with their little girl, Piper would take every weekend off for her. Even though she and Jake were not married they would give each other day’s with her. Then day one of the end of normal happened, and they had to now fight to protect their little girl from harm more than ever. 

Today was their weekly supply run. Usually consisted of one of them staying behind and the other heavily armed packing as much as they can. Things were a little different, she had never brought Alice with her on a run, she knew she couldn't hide her from the world forever, they both knew. 

She gently pulls down a can of carrots from the supermarket shelves.  She looked down at the list in her hand, she had already gotten most of what she needed, she was bent on trying to find Alice something soft, and non noise making for her to play. The sound of her crayons scraping the floor catche’s her attention. 

Her lips formed a soft smile. She bent down to a height of five year’s height. Her green eyes look up at her mother. Almost the spitting image of herself with the exception of her father’s eyes and grin. 

“Good Job.” Piper signed to her, she grinned. She had been teaching her simple ASL thing’s when she was three, two years later she knows almost fifty word’s to sign, almost more than her own father. 

She picks up her yellow crayon beginning to fill in the sun she drew in the corner tile. A home drawn with dark blue, in the top a purple cartoon plane with a stick figure with yellow hair. 

“That’s you.” The little girl point’s at the stick figures with her auburn hair fiery orange. She drags her finger to the other corner.

Tapping a purple cartoon plane with a stick figure with yellow hair. “And that’s daddy.” She signed. 

“I love it.” She signed with a smile. She envied how innocent she was in their bleak world, she was always grinning and running around their home. Piper gets to her feet leaving her to her 100 crayola pack. 

It was hard to find activities to preoccupy the five year old, one’s that were silent the least. She still tried to educate her as much as she could, teaching her basic reading and which animal’s were which, one’s she would never see sadly. 

The little girl had been too young to recall the trip to the zoo the two of them had taken. 

She touches her braid, pulling her windbreaker close to herself. The calendar she kept read was the end of February and soon March would be approaching. She furrowed her brow, where the hell is he? She thinks.

She had given him the simple task of collecting anything that seemed edible, and batteries. It was a miracle that they even got a generator, much less a place to hold up. 

Her friend had bought the place and planned to make it a functioning farm; he had let her stay there till everything ‘blew over’, she wished he had been right. 

“Jake?” She signed, she shook her head. He can't even see you signing, she reminds herself.

Her heart dropped to her stomach at the flash of a brown jacket. She held her chest panting as she collected herself. He held his mouth, stifling his chuckle.

“Don't do that.” She scolded him, her eye’s hardened with irritation. He smirked his million dollar smirk. 

“I'm sorry.” He start’s off, his motion’s quick. He’s been learning, she thinks through her annoyance.

“I just like seeing your squirm.” The blonde teased. 

She shook her head, trying to contain her smirk. Even in a world where everything had gone silent, somehow it didn't silence him.  

“I hate when you do that.” She scolded him. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Well I love when you do that.” He says, leaning closer to her face. She sighed, she quietly cleared her throat stepping back. 

“What did you find?” She asks him. He turned around, stealthy removing five can’s from his bag, a bottle of jack daniel’s, a lighter and seasons. 

She furrowed her brow picking up the whiskey. She raised a brow at his shopping choice.

“Really?” She signed. He smirked mischievous, she shook her head, 

“How about this?” He challenged, she furrowed her brow, putting her hand on her hips.  He reached inside of his bag slowly pulling something.

His hand grips a small tanned stuffed animal, its beady black eyes stare at her, its hair frizzy with a mane that rounded its entire head and tail, fake white fang’s sewn into the side of its muzzle. 

Her frown slowly morphed into a warm smile. “This make it better?” Jake ask’s. She leaned her head sideways. 

“Maybe.” Piper signed, he smirked at her. He knew the world was starting to take its toll on her.

Night’s weren't easy, she would wake in cold sweat, panting trying to let out a scream, she knew she couldn't. 

“This keep me from sleeping on the couch?” He wondered, she shrugged her shoulders, stepping forward.

“No bet on that flyboy.” She teased him. He held his chest in dramatic fashion.

“Ouch.” He mouthed, she shook her head wrapping her arms around his neck pulling him closer to her. 

His green eyes studied her as she gazed into his. His hair had grown out in the two years of their new world, before he had it well groomed to meet the standard’s of the Navy, his face no longer clean, his blonde beard now similar to a cowboy of spaghetti western. She couldn't complain though, she liked how he looked. She just wished he would keep up with the hygiene.

“You need a shave.” Piper signed. He scoffed at her signals. “Are you gonna do it for me?” He asks with a smirk.

“Who else would.” She joked. He shook his head pecking the auburn hair girl on the lips, she smiled. The sound of a quiet gagging noise causes the two to pull away from each other. At the end of the isle stood Alice, pointing at her tongue at their physical affection. 

The two adults smiled at each other. She removes her arms from around his neck, walking over to the little girl.

“Are you finished drawing?” She asked her. She nodded her head, with a toothy grin.

“Get your stuff, don't go far okay.” She asked her. She patted her on her polka dotted puffer coat.

Piper looked back at the blonde man, looking down at her feet sadly then at him.

“Pack this all up.” She order’s, he mocks her. 

She rounded up smaller thing’s into her bag. The walk back to their home was going to be a long one, she had made sure to find duct tape for her tom’s. Jake had given her tip’s on how to not attract the creature’s attention. 

The three begin to exit the rundown pharmacy. Piper adjusted her beanie, tucking bit’s of her braid into the edge’s. Jake grunted bending down picking up the five year old little girl, placing her on his hip as they started their long walk back. Strolling past the abandoned building’s of what used to be the surrounding small town near San Diego.

⏁⏁⏁

SHE SCRUBBED AWAY in the water at the dishes, one of her humane chore’s that she used to enjoy most of the time became a dreaded one. To keep thing’s silent in their household, she had to wash them in water in the sink. They did have running water, which they only ran for their shower’s,for their dishe’s they stuck to fetching it from a well five miles from the property. 

She adjusted her ponytail, wiping the sweat from her forehead.  A hand gently set a cup deep into the water, she whipped her head.

“Sorry.” He signed with thin lined smirk.

“It’s okay.” Piper reassured him, she didn't have the energy to be mad. He looked down at the dirty soapy water, she huffed running her green sponge through the lukewarm water. 

“Stop.” He signs. 

She furrowed her brow. “Why?” She asks him. His lip’s formed a thin line. “Because I want to.” He tells her, she raised a brow. 

“I want to help.” He sign’s to her mouthing the words. 

She sighed, handing over the green sponge, he smirked as she leaned on the kitchen island. She looked over to the living room, Alice sat on the floor, playing quietly with her doll’s near a gas lantern that illuminated her area with an orange glow. 

The sun outside had set, the sky filled with dark clouds and the star’s painted the night. Silent, like always, not for the occasional bird chirping, too high for the creature’s to kill, she guessed. He placed the final plate down on the towel. 

He turned around leaning on the sink, She stared off deep in thought. He stands in front of the auburn hair woman.

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

She shakes her head. “No.” Piper admit’s, her shoulders tensed as she leaned off the island.  His brows furrowed. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked worriedly.  She licked her lip’s crossing her arms. 

“I saw those symbol’s again.” She signed to him, he raised a brow. 

“Where?” Jake asked her, she sighed heavily. 

“Back of the grocery store.” She tells him. She knew there were rumor’s on the radio of a group killing people they deem too loud for the new world. They had gained the nickname ‘The Bandits’, over parts of the town she would see on wall’s initials, SDB, written in dark brown ink or what she thought was ink. 

“They're getting closer to us.” She state’s, his eyes softened at her worry.

“They don't know we are here.” He reassures her, she shakes her head. 

“But what if they do.” She says, her brown eye’s beginning to welt over with tears in the corners. He shakes his head, stepping closer to her, taking her hands. 

“They don't.” He signed with one hand, she gulped looking him in his eyes.

“If they find out we are here–they will do something bad.” Piper admits to him, she looked over into the living room where her daughter sat playing, unaware of their conversation. 

She looks back to him. “What if they try to..hurt her.” She stumbled over her signing. He shook his head. 

“We won't let that happen.”  Jake reasure’s her. 

“Nothing else matters to me more than her.” Piper tells him. Her heart skipped a beat, she could see the fear flash for a moment in his face. 

“If something happened to her, I couldn't live with myself.” She signed. 

“I'm not gonna let them find us.” He swears, his fist balled as he signed to her. “And if they do.” He inhales deeply. 

“They will regret fucking with the wrong family.” The blonde stated. Her frown slowly turned to a soft smile. 

“What?” He signed, she covered her mouth, muffling her soft chuckle. “You sound like your old self, Flyboy.” She wrap’s one arm on his shoulder bringing him into an embrace. He smirks against her shoulder. 

She brings her nose into his black shirt that clung to him. She thought it was strange how the world had to end to bring them closer, more than the day their daughter was born. She had barely seen him when he was in the Navy, he was always busy. 

A loud crash brings them out of their embrace. Jake’s head snapped in the sound’s direction, seeing the flame’s from the gas lamp starting to spread, he quickly ran grabbing the dark blanket, throwing it on top of the fire, patting down extinguishing it.

The young girl looked up at him, her eyes widened as the silence filled the room again. Piper’s heart skipped a beat as it began to race, she didn't dare to move as she anticipated the sound of the inhumane roar’s hell bent on ending their disrupters. Jake slowly gets to his knees, quietly as possible. 

Silence, dead silence. Piper glanced at her daughter, her eye’s widening as she looked to her father.He lightly got to his feet, looking all around at the farmhouse ceiling. His shoulders relaxed,He shook his head turning around. 

BANG!.  

She flinched, her heart dropping to her stomach. He brings his finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. Alice’s breath shake’s as her eye’s darted between her parent’s, her mother stood frozen with her mouth parted, her father slowly making his way to the window. 

He leaned his head close to the cool glass. He looked to the roof, he looked down at the ground.

Cries of a wild dog interrupted the silence, the brown and tan coyote scampered away knocking down trash. The couple let out a breath of relief, Alice ran on her tiptoes to her mother’s side, wrapping her arms around her tightly. 

Her eye’s fell, as she looked down at her as she stroked her strawberry blonde hair. She wanted to whisper in her daughter’s ear that she was okay, that the monster’s were not gonna come back, that she was safe. Speaking was a grace that she had for three years of life, now it was all gone. 

⏁⏁⏁

GENTLY SHE walked down the stairs, the watch on her wrist reading half past ten o’clock. She ran her hand through her hair, messy with wave’s from being in a braid for so long. She clung to the oversized plaid shirt that engulfed her figure, his clothes some of the time made up most of her wardrobe.

She slowly walked to the sliding door’s of the basement bathroom, it somehow being an almost safe room for them to be in, the rushing of the shower water drowning out their voice.

The air smelt of cedarwood filled in nostrils as she stood leaned on the doorway. The steam from the shower still lingering as she watched him apply aftershave. His beard now reduced to a stubble, his hair though remained untouched. He wiped the condensation from the mirror with his fist, her silhouette casted onto the hickory wall’s.

He smirked softly, facing her. A towel wrapped around his neck, only clothes remaining on him being his black sleep shorts. “What are you doing up?” He wonder’s.

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Couldn't sleep.” She signs to him, he nods his head.

“How is she?” He ask’s, she sighed.

“Fine I think..at least what you could be in this place.” She tells him.

He looked her up and down, she wore a dark gray shirt with US NAVY written in bold font, and striped sleep shorts, paired with his red plaid shirt that she once swore she would return to him. He smiled softly.

“What?” She signed to him, her lip’s forming a thin line and smiled. He runs his fingers across the front of his face in clockwise motion, his fingers and thumb end at his chin. Beautiful, Her face grew beet red.

He shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing.” He says. She nodded her head at his secretiveness, he sighed, opening a draw, pulling out black and blue hair dress scissors. He motion’s them to her.

“I’ll do it.” She tells him. She quietly slid the door behind her shut, closing it with a rag in the way. The auburn hair woman, sit’s behind on the leather bench with her legs. He held up his finger for her to wait.

He leaned over, reaching in pulling the handle for the water, purposely setting it to cold. He sits on the floor with his back to her, leaning back into her. She gently takes her fingers through his hair, finding the dead end’s to cut off.

She carefully snipped off bit’s onto the violet towel.

“You know you could do this yourself.” Piper speak’s up softly, he chuckled.“Why would I do that?" He ask's her.

"You do it so much better.” Jake admit’s, his tone haughty. She rolled her eye’s playfullying as she continued to work away.

“Sure Flyboy.” She teased him, he smiled fondly at his nickname.

“You know you really should manage this hair better.” She joked, he shrugged.

“Don't know if you know darling but the world has ended.” He reminded her, and she shook her head again.

“I don't think these alien asshole’s care how pretty you are.” He joked, she smiled at his cockiness.

She raised a brow. “Did you just call yourself pretty?” Piper jested, he patted her leg making her laugh softly.

“Shut up.” He says, smiling.

She sighed sadly, she continued to trim away at his hair. Memories of the world before had started to wash over her. She longed for the day’s of them together on the beach under the sun, laughing and teasing each other. Or when she had first met him, a bad night in the ER sent her to the Hard Deck, dying for a drink. Next thing she knew, someone had sent a whiskey neat, she looked up from her glass locking eye’s with probably the most handsome she had ever seen, straight from GQ magazine cover. Things stayed that way for awhile before she got the confidence to say ‘Hello’, and the rest is history.

“Are you still taking her tomorrow?” He ask’s her, his tone lacking any loftiness. She sighed as she cut his wet hair.

“I am, she deserves it.” Piper tells him.

“Are you sure?” He ask’s.

“Yes, she needs the chance to be a kid, I remember loving the beach when I was her age.” She recall’s. “We didn't have what she does remember.” He point’s out.

“It doesn't matter, okay, I want her to be happy.” She proclaims. He nod’s his head, he sighed looking down at the floor.

“I know you do, and I want that it’s just.” He stops him mid-sentence. She furrowed her brow, he gulp’s.

“I know you don't care what happens to you.” He continues.

“But I do.” He admit’s, her heart skipped a beat in her chest. His vulnerability came in moment’s of them finally being able to speak with one another. She knew he hated not being able to talk, talking was how he won her over, how they got the sweet little girl who slept soundly upstairs.

“I just want you….I want you both to be safe.” He admit’s somberly. She sighed, reaching her hand down, he raised his hand lacing his finger’s with her’s. The ambience of the running water filling the room.

“You're not gonna lose us.” She whispers in his ear.

"You're not gonna lose me." She promised.

His grip on her hand tightened as he blinked away the tears he knew were fighting to escape. She sighed against the side of his head, the tiredness weighing heavy on her body. If things could stay this way forever she would accept in a heartbeat,peace with him and her daughter.

She inhales deeply as she sits back up, counting to cut at his hair. “When are you y’all leaving?” He asks breaking the ice, she clears her throat.

“Some time after lunch.” Piper tells him. “Beach is about a one hour walk.” She says she takes a handful of the end’s of his hair, trimming around the edge of ear’s.

She had experience cutting her own hair, not being able to afford a salon during college.

“Hope you make it back before it rain’s.” Jake say’s. She furrowed her brow.

“It’s not gonna rain.” Piper state’s, snipping the scissor’s loud,he scoffed. “Yeah it is.” He declares, she shook her head.

“And how do you know this?” Piper wonder’s, he sits up straighter. “I can smell it.” He tells her, she rolls her eyes playfully.

“Don't give me that southern superpower thing.” She joke’s. He rolled his eyes at her teasing.

“You can't smell rain.” She chuckled.

“Yeah I can, tell me a time when I was wrong.” He challenged, and she bit her lip.

“When you were on leave when we first started dating you said it was gonna storm.” Piper recall’s, he smirked.

“And?” His tone condescending. “And it was dry all week.” She state’s, he rolls his eyes.

“No it wasn't.” He says offended. She shrugged his shoulders.

“You want to question me while I have a sharp object in my hand.” She threatened, she clicked the scissor’s close with a snip.

He put his hand’s up in surrender. She smirked at her own victory, she trimmed around the last bit of his long hair, getting it down to a short easy to brush cut.

She runs her finger’s through, getting rid of the extra bit’s she missed.

He moaned softly at the feeling of fingers through his hair. She removed the towel from around his neck shaking out into the trash. She brings her arms wrapping them around his neck and torso.

She ran her cold hand down his chest, he shuddered as goosebumps ran down each part of his body. He held onto her arms leaning his head back against her leg, looking up at her.

Her nails grazed across his skin as she brought her hand to his cheek. She inhaled deeply as she began moving her lips against his.

She felt his eye lashes tickle her chin. Kissing him upside down was not ideal, though she had to admit it was very hot. His fingers caressed her face. She exhaled as he pulled away, his breath peppering her mouth.

He rolled over onto his knees. She barely had time to catch her own breath as his mouth met her's. She closed her eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

His hand trailed down her waist, thumbing the edge of her shirt. The butterflies in her stomach went crazy as his calloused fingers grazed under her bare skin. She shivered.

He slowly pushed her back to the wall, her leg uncrossing, placing one leg around his waist. He ran his hand up her thigh, his fingers playing with the elastic of her sleep shorts.

She opened her eyes as it clicked in her head. "Jake." She says breathless, pulling away.

He kept his mouth busy as he peppering kisses down neck. She bit her lip stifling the moan that dared to escape her.

"Jake." She speaks up. He finally pulled away looking up at her, his eyes meeting her's.

"What?" He whispered. She sighed looking away at the water that still ran, she would deal with the mess later.

She looked back at him. "The noise." Piper whispers back. He shook his head.

"I can be quick, if you can" He promises, his southern drawl coming out. Her heart skipped a beat, she nodded, both of them continuing what they had started.

⏁⏁⏁

THE MUD SQUISHED under her shoe’s, her grip on Alice's hand not letting up with each step they took. Piper had taken protection with them, a knife that Jake had given her for her birthday last year, carving her initials into the leather of her holster.  And a pistol, she knew there was a chance she wasn't going to use it because of the noise, but she knew with the bandit’s becoming a looming threat she couldnt be too careful. 

Alice sighed bored as they passed more tree’s, they had stuck to the hiking path laid down for them by the park service, nothing entertaining for the five year old to really look at. Talking wasn't an option for them. Piper could hear the cry of bird’s growing louder,the crashing of waves more prevalent as they walked. 

Before the world had ended, she had taken her to the beach plenty of time’s, only she wasn't old enough to remember it all.

Piper had grown up in Vermont, not even close enough to the ocean, she could recall when she first got to the beach, being twenty four and finally finishing nursing school it felt like she could take on anything that she drove straight into the freezing water.

The both of them come to a stop. She smiled softly overlooking the rocky cliff as the ocean wave’s crashed loudly below them. She turned to the strawberry blonde little girl, her jaw agape as she stared out to the shoreline. 

“What do you think?” Piper signs to her daughter, she smiles at her mother.

“It's cool.” She says, nodding her head. She turned her head to the path stairs leading down. She looked back at her.

“Want it to get cooler?” She asked her, she nodded her head, with a flick of her fingers she gestured for her to follow her. 

The wind whipped against her hair, throwing her braid all over. The cloud’s in the sky slowly turned gray as they walked down the cobble step’s. She was happy that the railing had not given way to the elements yet, as she hopped down after the last step, turning around and extending her hand for her daughter to take. 

“Careful.” Piper signed with one hand. The strawberry blonde girl slowly got onto the rocky path. 

The both of them in slow pace getting closer to the water that pulled in and out with a loud roar. She takes her back pack off, setting it on the dry sand, Alice following her lead. She puts her hand in front of daughter. 

“Wait.” Piper speak’s up. Her green eyes widened in fear as she whipped her head all around. She gets on her knees in the sand getting to her daughter’s height, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

She points at the ocean. “This is loud, they don't like it.” She explains to the frightened young girl. 

“You don't have to be afraid, you are safe here.” Piper reassured, her voice soft as she looked her up and down. The wind kissing her cheek, she looked out at the ocean to her mother.

“Let’s get these shoe’s off.” She says, velcroing her neon purple straps, sitting them next to their backpack’s.

She unzips her own jacket tossing it to the side, Alice slid her polka dot jacket off onto her jacket. 

Piper kicked off her tom’s, rolling up her pant leg to her knees. The two of them looked at each, she grinned as she picked her up by her arm’s running through the freezing water that stung at their legs.  She laughed loudly as she spun around with her daughter, her heart pounding with excitement.

“Think fast!” Piper exclaimed as she flung water on her, she squealed, flinging the foam from the wave’s at her. She yelped in surprise at her return fire. 

She looked up at the sky, the spring air cooled her as she extended her arms, taking in the moment of clarity. 

Alice wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, she sighed deeply as she place her hand on her shoulders holding her closely, the wave’s of the ocean pulling in and out around them as they remained in an embrace. 

The two of them did all they could to enjoy their time on the beach. Alice constantly challenged her to a race to the rock’s and back, Piper didn't have to bother with letting her win as the young girl was much faster than she had expected. She went around the sand looking for sea shell’s for the both of them. 

“Would daddy like this one?” Alice wonder’s holding up a gray and blue scallop seashell, she smiled.

“He would love it.” She tells her, she laughed as she stuffed her jean pocket. Piper imagined them filled to the brim. 

The one good day she could give her meant more than anything. She knew that the young girl couldn't have the childhood that either of parents had.

Running around in the grass and hanging out during the summer with friend’s. Staying out past curfew to be scolded, playing on the playground and seeing how high she could climb to see over the city. 

She sat at the edge of the shoreline, using a toothpick she had brought along to draw in the damp sand.

She drug the sharp wood across the top, letting her hand decide the picture she wanted. Alice sat criss crossed quietly digging in the sand.

Piper’s eyes widened as she suddenly remembered. She walked over to her backpack, unzipping it. She walked back over, sitting in front of the strawberry blonde girl. 

“I got you something.” She says, she looked up, excitement in her emerald eyes. “What is it?!” She asked curiously with her toothy grin. 

“Close your eyes.” She tells her, her shoulders slumped annoyed.

“Why?!” She groaned. 

“Just do it.” She says. She rolled her eyes as she told her. 

“No peeking.” Piper state’s, she brought her little hands covering her face. She pulling the object out from behind her back, she gently removed her hand’s from her petite face, placing a soft brown toy in the palms. 

“Open.”Her green eyes fluttered, her grin widened as she looked at the fluffy mane of the cuddly stuffed toy.

“For me?” She wondered. 

“Yes, it's your’s.” She confirmed. She squealed in excitement as she held the toy close to herself in embrace. Her heart ached at her joy, she spun around on her heel’s landing on her knees in the sand. 

“Thank you Thank you!” She gushed. She wrapped her arms around her neck, she gasped in surprise, she bring’s a hand to her back holding her closely. Alice’s shoulder’s tensed up as she slumped against her mother.

She pulled away as she thumbed the of the snout of the lion, its beady black eyes staring up at her.

“Ally?” She say’s warmly.She doesn't answer, playing with the wet sand. Her green eyes softened.

“What’s the matter?” Piper asked in concern. 

“I’m sorry.” Alice say’s fiddling with a small sand castle. She furrowed her brow confused. “For what, baby?” She wonder’s. 

“The monster’s found us last night.” Alice admit’s, Piper shook her head, the five year old girl looked down at her bare feet.

“No it's not your fault.” She tells her warmly, she sits her toothpick down. 

“I made a noise..” She stammered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She shook her head. The woman slide’s over the sand, bringing her young girl into an embrace.  

“Alice, it wasn't your fault.” Piper whisper’s into her ear, softly stroking her hair.

“Don't blame yourself for anything like that, not ever.” Her voice was smooth, she pulled away placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulders. 

“This world is a scary place.”She tells the little girl. Her green eyes glistened with tears at the edges. She shakes her head gulping.

“But you are so..so much bigger and braver than it.” She stammered. 

“You are so brave Ally, and you are so strong.” She brings her hand’s to her face, gently cupping her cheek. Her pink little lip’s form a thin line smile, Piper’s used her thumb brushing a strand of hair away from her face. 

“We should go.” Piper say’s getting to her feet,the cloud’s above grew darker, puffing up with each end. The sound of rumbling above in the darkness.

“Mommy.” She spoke up.

She turned her head at her, “Someone’s watching us.” she pointed. Her brown eyes widened in fear looking at the ridge.

The shadow of a stranger peeked through the fog that had begun to roll in with the storm above. 

“Alice.” Her voice stern with the five year old, she looked back at her.

“Grab your things, right now.” She ordered, she furrowed. 

“Why? Who is that?” The little girl wonder’s. Her brown eye’s stare down the stranger on the hill.

“No one good.” She answered. She hustled around grabbing her bag’s, pulling her jacket back on. 

Piper didn't waste any time with grabbing her daughter’s hand, her pace in walking faster then her own daughter. She held her hand on the little girl , she knew that anyone who wasn't her boyfriend or was someone she once considered friend was a danger to them. The alien’s were a concern but they weren't what scared her. 

Drop lits began to drizzle onto her coat, the dirt slowly turning into mud with each step they took. She eyed the tree’s on each side, scanning for danger’s each direction. Maybe she was being paranoid, and that she was wrong about the bandit’s. 

Thunder rumbled above them, Alice’s grip on her mother’s finger tightened at the sound. Should have left earlier, she thinks. Alice hated storm’s, Piper found it ironic as the night she was born a typhoon struck the coast of Southern California.

A storm so dangerous that it flooded most of the valley leaving so much debris, and destruction that it was like a wonderland. 

She panted as she continued to speed walk through the pines. Piper used one hand to pull her hood over her head. CLICK.

She stop’s dead in track’s extending her palm in front of her daughter. 

Her brown eyes drifted down to her ankle, a thin line of metal pushed right against her, hooked up to a tree. She didn't dare to move to find out what it was rigged too. She gulped looking down at the strawberry blonde girl at her waist, she shook her head. 

“Don't move.” Piper mouthed, her eye’s fearfully looking at her, nodding at her order’s.

The squishing of mud under feet catches her attention, she looks up seeing two men wearing black clothes and bandanas hiding their faces from them.

They smirked sinisterly at her, eyeing the young woman and the little girl. The blue bandana pulled out a knife from his pocket, shiver’s run down her spine seeing the dried brown on the blade.

Hair’s on her neck stood to attention as she felt the hot breath of another person breathing behind her. She lifted her hand’s up surrender to the stranger’s, the lack of sunlight couldn't help her determine how many were behind her. 

“Which one do you want?” The red bandana sign’s to the blue one, she guessed one of them was the leader of their group.

Red’s eye’s trailed over to the auburn hair woman, looking at her buttoned up henley shirt, the clothing around his mouth moving in a circular motion. 

“I like redheads.” He signs, her blood ran cold at their signing. Her eyes darted to her right, another man with a black bandana stood next to her.

Her chest heaved up and down as her heart began to race. 

She wasn't sure what they would do to her, but to her daughter she could get an awful image. There were no more law’s or legal systems, a perfect world for sick people like these men. 

“Take the big one to the hill.” Blue order’s, red’s brow’s furrowed looking at the little girl next to her.

Red bandana looked Alice up and down, he stepped up to her, getting down to her height. Her green eyes flooded with tears at the strange man. 

His dirty hand took the lion toy out of her hand’s. Piper’s hand shook with rage seeing his dirty nail’s touching the toy hand picked for her daughter from the man she loved. She knew what to do now. 

“This one is mine.” Blue signed, her little face shook frightened. 

Piper stepped forward with a click of the trip wire, a collection of bottle’s tied together collapsed down with a loud clunk, the men’s eyes widened at the sound. Piper growled as she plunged her knife into the jugular of the black bandana. 

“Run!” Piper whispered to Alice, she grunted as her feet kicked up mud running away. The auburn hair woman swung her fist into the face of the blue bandana before she ran alongside her daughter. 

The two of them panting as they jumped over bit’s of twig’s and green’s, sticking to the path they had followed and the one they had created. Piper looked over her shoulder, the shadow’s of the tree’s of people following right not far behind. 

Piper grunted, grabbing Alice’s shoulders, holding her closely in a bridal style.

Alice’s strawberry blonde hair whipped against her face, the rain had started to become less of drizzle and more of a sprinkle. She looked down at her feet, her footprints in the mud clear with each step. 

She duck’s behind a tree, setting her little girl down. She panted with her back against the tree as her mother set her backpack down on the ground. 

“You need to run!” Piper signed frantically. She shook her head. “No!” Alice signed. 

“Stay on the path, find your daddy.” Piper declared. Her green eye’s bore into her dark brown eyes. “No.” She repeated. 

“You have to run, or they will find you.” She orders her, she shakes her little head.  “I can't leave you.” She signed her lip quivering. 

“I cant– “Alice Seresin.” She whispered and interrupted her,  she held her face. She took a deep breath. 

“You are so brave..and sp strong, and I need you to do this.” She whispered. 

Fear flashing over her face. Tears falling from eye, twig’s snap her heart racing faster. She brought her lip’s to her forehead, inhaling her scent. She pulled away admiring her daughter one last time. 

“I love you so much.” Piper’s voice breaking,She pulled away admiring her daughter one last time. She sniffled, taking a deep breath.

“Now..RUN!” She ordered. Her hair whipped in the wind as she darted away from her mother. Piper gulped as her throat tightened. She removes her knife from her holster, huffing as she turned around marching through the tree

⏁⏁⏁

THE MEN STOOD PANTING. Blue bandana stepped forward looking at the three remaining men. He kicked the dirt in anger, pacing back and forth over the cliff that overlooked the beach.

“Where did the big one go?” Red whisper’s. Blue shook his head. “Who gives a fuck!” He signs. The three men flinched at his anger, he throws his cap off his head.

“The little one, get me the little one!” Blue order’s pointing his finger at the red bandana, he nodded his head turning around following the path. The two remaining men looked at their leader, he ran a hand through his greasy hair.

“What are you gonna do with her when you get her?” Yellow bandana wonder’s, he shook his head.

“That’s for me to know.” He tells him.

“What about the big one, are we gonna auction her?” Purple bandana asks. He rolled his eyes at his question.

“Fuck her, she killed one of our own.” Blue say’s, shaking his head.

“She could be more useful than the little one.” Yellow point’s out. Blue grabs him by the neck holding him tightly.

“I dont fucking want her..get me the little one.” He whispers in his ear’s.

A gurgling sound interrupts both men. They snapped their head’s seeing purple grabbing at his throat as blood drenched his coat as he fell to the ground. With a grunt she removed her blade, she stood up looking at both men. Her eyes burned with anger at the blue bandana.

She pointed her knife at him. “You.” She signed.

Yellow eyes the woman, he charged at her, he swung his fist at her. She huffed dodging it, hooking her arm under his, he groaned in pain at the fiery hot pain of the knife plunging into his shoulder blade.

She knee’s his gut shoving him onto the ground. Blue smirked at her, slowly clapping silently at her. She vibrated with anger at his mockery.

“Now what?” he signed.

“You die.” Piper signed. He smirked at her threat, he stepped forward in a challenging manner. “Are you sure about that?” He questioned. She grunted, swinging her blade.

He jumped back, she huffed, swinging her fist in his direction, missing again. She groaned as fiery pain spread across her face, the impact of his punch disorienting her. The rain began to become heavier as the two of them fought.

She grunt’s locking his head in hold, punching him in the gut repeatedly. He grunted in effort pulling at her raincoat, removing it from her entirely. Shegasped as he pulled himself out of her hold, shoving her into the mud. Blue bandana spit’s out blood onto the ground.

“Bitch.” He grumbled, she wiped her nose as the copper taste filled her mouth. She pat’s her holster looking for her knife, her eyes widened as she couldn't feel the ebony handle.

“Shit.” She mouthed. She flip’s onto her feet, she rushed at him tackling him with the full force her body could muster, their body’s slammed onto the cold rock wet rocks.

Piper cough’s holding her rib cage, his grimy hands shoving her face onto the concrete.Anger boiled inside of her at the feeling of his nail’s digging into her cheeks.

“Fucking die already.” He grumbled, the pressure on her back becoming heavier. On the ground a reflection from an object shined her way. She shouts failing her legs in each direction, he exclaimed frustrated.

She reached out her hand for the shiny object, she gasped for air as her rib cage began to feel smaller. Her wet finger’s lace through the handle hole, she pulled it closer to herself. In effort she rolled shoulder’s spinning around.

He cried out in pain, cupping his cheek as blood began to seep out. She stood on her feet looking at the man. She shook herself off as the adrenaline pumped through her body. He yells as he runs at her, she yelps moving out of the way.

Piper turned around only to be met with a blow to the face. Her back smacked the rock’, closer and closer to the edge the both of them dualed, her knife dropped to the ground with a clink as the man got on top of her gripping her wrist.

“You just giving up, sweet thing.” His voice sneered at her, his hand slowly trailing to the button of her henley shirt, he groaned closing his eyes as his dirty fingernails pulled away the clothing separating the piece. She grunted against his weight.

He mumbled as he leaned his head back as he countied to work on the top of her shirt. Thunder cracked above her making her heart skip a beat, she turned her head, her blade laid only an inch away from her. Without hesitation her hand gripped the handle as she brought it to chest.

He gasped loudly, falling back onto the ground. Piper yelped as she crawled onto him, cutting through him with multiple blow’s, each time letting out a yell of rage. He gurgled, coughing up blood onto her face.

An inhuman cry pulled her out of her trance. She snapped her head watching the tree’s pull apart as they got closer. She pushed herself out of the way.

⏁⏁⏁

ALICE PANTED as she kept running along the pathway, her sketcher’s covered in the mud as the rain began to get heavier. The farmhouse laid in plain sight as she got closer to the fence line, only a few more step’s.

Thunder rumbled loudly, she flinched at the sound but countied to run. She had stopped only twice to catch her breath, she couldn't let her mother down, she need to find her father, to safety.

Her strawberry blonde hair bit’s were sticking to her wet cheek’s. She held her hand at her hips as she stopped finally at the white fence. On the porch, her father sat on the swing, the rain pouring as he took in the sound’s.

Her mother’s word’s sound in her head, they don't like loud sounds, water was loud at the beach, maybe it’s loud now.

“Dadd-!” Her voice interrupted as a hand clamped down on her mouth. She struggled against the person that drugged her, her screams muffled as she desperately cried for her father.

“Quiet!” The voice snapped, she grunted elbowing her kidnapper in the gut, she bit into the finger of the stranger hard. He shouted in pain as he let go of her.

“Little brat!” He grumbled.

The man cladded in red is brought to the ground. Alice gasped in surprise as a blonde man held him to the ground, making repeated blows to the face. He turned looking over his shoulder at her.

“Alice, go!” Jake order’s, she nodded her head sprinting away. His green eyes darkened as he held the man by his shirt. Rain poured down on the both of them, soaking his black long sleeve shirt.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He questioned in fury, the man smirked up at him. He shouts as she punches him. “Who are you!?” He demanded once again.

He doesn't answer. Jake growls' shoving his head against the ground. “Where’s my wife?!” He demand’s.

The man gripped the handle of his blade pulling out. Jake gripped the man’s wrist redirecting his aim, he held one hand over his mouth as he stabbed him in the gut. His cries of agony muffled by him.

“Tell me where she is?!” Jake ordered. His teeth turned red as his smirk widened at his violence. His nose scrunched up as he twisted the blade.

“Tell me!” He fumed.He coughed, spitting blood straight up at him.

“Dead..silent..like us like you will be.” He gurgled through his attempts to laugh. Jake shook his head.

“Just you.” He declares. He coughed once more as his breath slowly became a wheeze before he finally exhaled. Jake wiped his face with the back of his hand, throwing off the blood onto the ground.

He got to his feet, he grunted as he ran back to the house. His boot’s heavy on the wood as he got inside the house.

“Daddy!” A small voice exclaimed.

she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, thunder rumbling louder outside. He sighed in relief, getting to his knees wrapping his arms around the little girl.

“Thank god you're okay.” He whispered into her ear, He panted, breathing heavily. Holding her as close to him as he could. Her wet hair draped across his neck, her little face wet from tears and rain.

“Alice.” He speaks up, her breath shake’s as he pulls away, he holds her shoulders gently.

“Are you hurt, did he hurt you?” He ask’s her, she shakes her head.

He brushed back a piece of her wet hair.” Alice.” He say’s softly, her green eye’s meet his.

“Where’s mommy?” He wonder’s. She began to pant looking at the screen door, his heart fell to his stomach. He blinked as the color drained from his face.

“Oh god..oh god.” He pant’s.He gets to his feet, only being stopped by a small hand gripping his.

“Don't go!” She exclaimed. He glanced between his daughter and the door. “Please.” She pleaded.

He inhaled deeply. “I won't.” He promised. He runs a hand through his hair, collecting his thoughts.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Jake sniff’s, taking her small hand in his leading her downstairs.

Alice’s expression remained bleak, the once happy five year old who had so much to show the world driven into silence. Not even her father playing with her in the bathtub, making funny noises, brought her out.

Jake didn't want to admit to himself but knew she had experienced something awful.

He pulled her blanket over her, staying next to her as she slowly fell asleep. The storm outside didn't settle down even as she slumped against his chest. Many things were running through his mind, like what had happened when he wasn't with them, why did these bastard’s come for his family, and where is his wife.

He slowly got out of the small twin size bed, placing the purple starry comforter back over her. Sleepy soundly, he walked out of the room quietly shutting the door behind him.

His breath shake’s as he walks down the steps to the living room.

He looked around the farmhouse, the fireplace cracking and popping, the rumble of thunder outside disrupting the coziness of the home. It felt empty, he felt empty, half of his heart was gone. It was his fault, he let her leave when he knew the danger of the world was the monster’s.

Not the monster’s who hunt for sport at just the sound of a twig snapping, the real monster’s who got the sick pleasure of destroying the lives of others.

He bends down on the floorboard, sliding away the board feeling around the cabinet below for the old wood handle. He grunt’s slowfully removing the remington rifle from the space, he opened the barrel to see it was still fully loaded since he found it.

The former pilot stand’s up, in a steady pace outside to the front porch.

Lightning cracks across the sky as the rain continues its rage against the earth. In one hand he held the gun in the other, the Jack Daniel's he was scolded for finding, he sits on the wooden chair.

Staring at the dirt road paved with sand to silence their step’s. Keeping her safe was all he had now, he wasn't gonna let anyone or anything take what he had left. Thunder rumbled across the setting spring sky, his finger on the trigger ready.

A snap of a branch bring’s him out, he stood to attention, cocking the gun. His breathing steady as his heart raced in his ears. His eyes trained on the dark road, a silhouette stumbled his way. Their hair is braided, wet and tangled. He could make out the shadow of a blade in their hand, and in the other a stuffed animal.

They limped closer, the lamp on the wood post illuminating a yellow and orange hue on their face. His green eyes widened in realization, he dropped the gun in a dash towards her.

She gasped in shock at the sudden impact of his embrace. The knife fell from her hand’s, her free one around his neck.

Piper’s chest heaved up and down, shivering from the cold. Salty tear’s mix with the earthy water that fell on them. He whispered in her ear a mixture of apologies.

“You were right.” She breathed out, he furrowed his brow. “Right about what?” He ask’s, his green eyes watered over.

“It rained.” She chuckled weakly, he shook his head, his laugh vibrating against her shoulder. “I hate that.” She admit’s with a small smile.

“You love it.” Jake whispered, she nodded against him.

"Get me inside, please.” Piper pleaded with him. He complied with her order’s, latching his arm’s under her as she went limp in exhaustion.

⏁⏁⏁

SHE SAT on her side of their bed, her damp hair draped over her gray tank top. Her body shivered even with his jacket on her, her shirt had become less of a beige color and more of dirty brown from the blood. 

“This is gonna sting.” He tells her, she wasn't used to being patched up, she usually did the first aid. He dabbed the alcohol soaked rag against her split knuckle. She could feel the multiple bruises growing on her body, and she knew for sure when thing’s cooled down she was more than likely gonna be sick. 

She grit her teeth. “Fuck.” Piper swear’s, the thunderstorm allowed them to talk, she was thankful for once for him to be right about the rain. 

He smirked. “Threw a hell of a punch.” Jake commented, her lips formed a thin line.

She tried not to think about what had happened. 

“Yeah, and got a bruised rib to add to it.” She chuckled weakly, he pulled out a bandage from her first aid bag. His calloused hands maneuvered with the roll, beginning to wrap the cloth around her hand. “I taught you well.” Piper say’s, he smirked.

“I'm a quick learner.” He reminds her, she sighed leaning her head back. 

“I don't doubt that Flyboy.” Her voice raspy, she sniffed. She gazed at his face, dried blood at the edge of nose, and furrowed her brow.

“Are you okay?” She ask’s. 

His green eyes looked up at her. “Are you really asking me that?” Jake wonder’s, her hand caressed his face, warm to the touch. 

“Did they fucking find you?” Piper demand’s from him, he looks down continuing to clean her up. 

“Jake.” She says, he blink’s looking back at her. She reached down, groaning as she pulled out alcohol wipes beginning to dab away the crimson. 

“You shouldn't be doing this for me.” He says. She shook her head. “Too bad, I am.” She says, holding his cheek with one hand. “Piper.” He says, she shook her head. “Doesn't seem broken.” She tells him. 

“Pip-”You should be careful wiping around here though.” She interrupts, he take’s both of his hands, removing her hand’s from his face, looking at her. 

“Please stop.” He pleaded with her, she exhaled in exhaustion. “I’m sorry.” Piper whisper’s, she leaned her forehead against. 

“God, I'm so tired.” She breathed out. She inhaled his scent as she hugged him.  “It’s okay.” He whispers as he wraps his arm around her as she closes her eye’s, her head slumped against his shoulder. Her skin was cold and damp as he lowered her back into their bed. He holds her close to him, not letting her go. The storm outside begins to die down becoming a drizzle, he leaned over her body, turning off the gas lamp that lit the entire room. 

A/N: HOLY..I Have no word's how did I pull this off this week.

NO PRESSURE Tagged: @cowboysandpilots @bobfloydssunnies @sugarcoated-lame @sorchathered @fairyheart @senawashere @swiftsgirlfriend @nouis-bum @pinkdaisies9285 @mamachasesmayhem @senawashere @cottagecori

[vhstown]

hobie brown x you headcanons

— hobie x gn!reader (established relationship)

warnings: brief mentions of violence (?) + politics (just his own), fluff

note: set in the multiverse + reader is aware of the spider-society (though has an ambiguous role). i rly wanted to write hobie without the bad boy possessive energy haha 💀 a bit ooc as always he's a tough one lol (kind of too detailed to be hcs but we roll)

Hobie is very much secure in your relationship. Even if it's less established than your typical one, he doesn't get jealous or uncomfortable when he sees you around others. It's more amusing to him than anything, observing how you interact with people. He enjoys watching you in silence with the occasional witty interjection, and he likes listening to you speak even if it's not with him. He's one of those people who immediately decide whether they trust someone or not, and he's trusted you since you met, even if there was, and still is, incessant bickering.

The bickering is endless, by the way. Even when you move past friends (a lot faster than you realise), he's always on your case. You've been trying not to pick up on his speech patterns, but it's almost impossible considering how nice it sounds to hear the accent roll off his tongue. When you accidentally bust out a "wagwan" he can't contain his laughter, nearly doubling over at the way your face was stuck in embarrassment. He makes it a habit to rub it in your face now, teasing you by talking to you like you're from Camden; the way he talked to you before was just the tip of the iceberg.

Hobie isn't hesitant about touch at all. He's always touching you in some way or another. Whether it's his arm slung around your shoulders, his chin on the top of your head or even holding your hand, it definitely draws some attention when a near 7ft punk (though he's not bound by the label of height, according to him) is hovering around you like a giant flashing accessory.

And the man is shamelessly 'gross'. He'll kiss you even with your morning breath or after you've just eaten. Whenever you put something on your lips, no matter if it's lip balm or whatever you like to wear, he's always just waiting to mess it up. Hobie's a tease if anything too, pinching you unexpectedly just to see the flash of a pissed-off expression on your face. You've made it a habit to not give him that satisfaction, but he doesn't need it. Everything you do is more than enough to amuse him, even if he does try to kiss you hanging upside down, scaring the ever living hell out of you in his attempt.

When you're cold, he's always trying to warm you up by rubbing his hands over your shoulders and arms (though his sarcasm is more than enough to set you on fire sometimes.) It is pretty cold in his universe, so he's used to it (#1 denier of the cold; punks don't get cold.)

Hobie is known for being firm in his beliefs. He's an unapologetic anarchist, and while he doesn't shout about his political beliefs every second, you can see it in the way he acts. Even if you're not as bent on it as he is, you have to respect his commitment. You're one of the only people he tells about his universe, his experiences, what he lives for. It's refreshing in comparison to his spontenaeity, and while you don't see him much differently after he opens up, you realise that Hobie is one hell of a person. He's your person, (as much as he denies being confined to anyone or anything.)

And he's not afraid to involve you. Whenever you're in his universe, he takes you places like you're a tourist, no matter how used to the area you are. Hobie isn't exactly the most informative tour guide (and he takes any opportunity to bash corrupt political figures and tag up their campaigns), but it's the thought that counts. He loves showing you the little untouched nooks and lesser-known streets, hopping fences and swinging you over barbed wire to show you the real Camden. The culture, history, people — it's all Hobie. He lives in Camden, through Camden, and he wants to share it with you. No authority could ever supercede that.

What he also lives through is the punk scene. If it isn't obvious from his appearance already, he's always jamming on his guitar. If you ask what he's playing, he says he doesn't know yet. He's always coming up with something new; it's like there's an itch he needs to scratch whenever a new sound comes into his head, whether he's humming it, tapping it or strumming it on his guitar.

And he's good at it, his fingers gliding over the strings like it's a language he's fluent in, playing a half-formed chorus with shouty lyrics that don't exist but you can already hear (probably something to do with rebellion.) You like listening to him play, that familiar, addictive feeling coursing through you, the vibrations of the guitar never ceasing to strike you with awe. You wonder what it's like to hear him play at an actual gig (you'll find out soon when he sneaks you out for one; you won't be disappointed.) It's one of many things to admire about him. What he won't admit is that, more often than not, he's playing for you. Even if you're not exchanging words, the glances and music between you make the unfinished feel whole.

The man loves his guitar too. If he loves anything in this world, it's you, sure, but his guitar is also up there (can you blame him?) If he's not playing he's always idly tracing the stickers with his fingers, re-tuning it, whatever. It's a damn cool guitar, but a part of you might just be a little jealous of the musical instrument that's basically a part of him at this point.

That is, until the two of you are getting caught onto. Your more-than-friends relationship is pretty obvious, but when it starts interrupting with Hobie's Spider-society "duties", among his other anti-society antics, the both of you have the potential to fall into big trouble. It's not like he cares – leaving was in the back of his mind from the start, and it only fuels your bickering and crude gossip. Whatever happens, you know you've got Hobie, even if an entire multiverse of Spider-people actively reject you. You don't need to belong anything, nobody really does, he keeps telling you, but you're sure that if there's nothing else, you belong with him. You two against the world, so to speak. And your previous jealously completely fades when Hobie says something to you: you were both in an alley, hiding during a mission you weren't supposed to be on.

"You think they'll kill you for it?" you asked him jokingly, building up the mirth of the conversation as usual.

"If they kill me," Hobie starts, donning a sarcastic grin. "I want you to have my guitar."

It seems guitar lessons are an added bonus to your relationship — right after hiding from Miguel and Jessica, of course.

🕸️💫🎸

thanks for reading my self-indulgent rant lol. asks are open but not taking requests atm. feel free to comment (tho can't reply rip) love ya have a good one — if u liked this reblogs r appreciated <3

read the rest of my atsv headcanons here!

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 3

Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, graphic depictions of violence, being turned on by violence, pregnancy, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also referred to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Please reread warnings, as they have been updated.

Chapter Summary: Joel softens, just a bit.

Pretty fucking proud of this chapter. Might be some of my best work yet.

This chapter is detacated to my friend @maura-honey i fucking love yoooouuuuuuuuuu she made a tumblr just to read my shit <3

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

When you woke up that moring, Joels fingers were inside, lips on your neck… kissing…  something he’d never done with you before. He’d also never fingered you this much, he might give a few pumps at most to ease you in, but in generally Joel had no regard for your comfort when he was feral with you. You could hear how wet you were, none of the fear you usually had during sex holding you back because you were fast asleep. Hell, you could fucking smell how wet you were, Joel must’ve been fingering you for a while, because you knew you were about to cum. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, too tired, too sleepy, too exhausted. Memories of last night flooded in as you grew closer, you bodies pain bringing back specific memories. As you lay on your back, you start to remember, every prick of pain cueing a new memory as your exhausted body gave into Joel. Your burning scalp; he dragged you from the barn to the house, Tommy yelling at Joel to knock it off, holding you up. The rug burn on your neck that Joel didn’t seem to notice as he kissed and sucked hickies into it; Joel ripped your shirt open with one hand, your skin taking the bunt of the pain where his calloused hands clearly did not, exposing you to all the men watching hungrily. Your hips ached; you were bent over the table pounded into the edges. Your wrists; the handcuffs that dug into your skin. Your cunt, currently being abused again by Joel’s thick fingers, inside you, only saved from the brutal pain of a gang rape by Tommy’s mercy. And finally, your hip; Joel’s pelvis bucked as he gave you his own sick version of pleasure, but since you were on your back, his pants rubbed against the fresh wound where he branded his initials into your skin. 

“AH!” You shout, fully awake now at the searing pain in your side.

“Good morning, sunshine” Joel mutters softly into your neck. He was oddly tender today, was he trying to make you cum on his fingers? You didn’t have time to think much, it became clear he was still wearing jeans, and you butt naked from last night, Tommy’s clothes he left untouched on the floor that you were now wishing were on you as the rough material on him dug into you.

“Joel- no, Joel-ah! stop-” You tried to protest, brain still foggy, trying to move away, but he continued to grind into you, large body pinning you down. 

“You always say that, but you’re so fucking wet, little one” He pulled you closer, the seems of his crotch tearing open the damaged skin.

Joel thought this was your usual pleas, you began crying from the sting and burn on your hip as he stimulated himself on you. “No, not Joel it hurts, please” you sob, unable to speak clearly “Joel the- the burn- ugh!” You didn’t have it in your from stopping the sounds you made, the ones you usually stifled to all hell because god, Joel was beginning to feel good, and you hated yourself for it.

“There we go, knew you wanted it, always putting up a fight…” Joel went for your lips, but you whipped your head away, sobbing from the pain that was so bad you didn’t care what Joel thought of you rejecting this newfound, strange affection that you didn’t know what to make of. “C’mon now, baby girl” Joel’s tone was stern, but not the anger you expected. Usually, after he fucked you, he seemed to feel bad, providing you with some semblance of care afterwards… maybe last night was clearly crossing such a line that he still felt bad… so why did he have so little regard for the pain you were clearly in? You continue sobbing and when you look at Joel, rubbing your eyes, you see him look almost… confused? You didn’t cry like this infront of him… you cried, but it was softer… 

The next words you did not expect. “Don’t I make you feel good?”

You couldn’t contain your anger. “You hurt me!”

“Oh come on.” He says almost condescendingly. “My fingers are nothing compared to my dick.” But he still looked… confused? Concerned that you wouldn’t stop sobbing and shaking. He thought it was the fingers that were the problem? He moved towards you and you wince, only to find that he was wrapping the blanket around you and picking you up. He carried you like a toddler, carrying you under your ass and thighs, your face looking over his shoulder and you couldn’t help the instinct to wrap your arms around him as he walked toward your door.

“No, no I don’t want to go out there” Panic rose up inside you, fearful your yelling was going to get you a treatment like last night all over again, or leave you for Nick and the others, and would Tommy be able to save you? How many times could Tommy step in without losing his head… You didn’t want Tommy to get hurt, not for you… You try to tell him you’re sorry, that you’ll stop, but between the desperate words and choked sobs, you weren’t making much sense, and you got the feeling he wasn’t listening anyway.

When you were taken to the living room, the men immediately perked up, no doubt hoping they’d get their chance with you, but Joel kept walking towards the door. Was he done with you? Was he taking you outback to kill you, maybe have a round or two with your dead body that wouldn’t put up a fight like you do, then leave your naked body to decompose? The panic had set it, and the crying became shouting.

“Joel! Please! Don’t, please-T- Tom- TOMMY! TOMMYYY!!!” You scream for the only person you could trust, scrambling helplessly to get out of his his grasp but it was useless, you kick and fight and scream for his brother.

“Why the fuck are you cry’n to him for?” Joel muttered more to himself than anything, and you want to shut yourself up lest Joel suspect what happened, but you can’t think clearly, scrambling to get out of his grasp, wishing to god your brother was still alive or that Tommy would come save you. You’d be good, you’d stop acting up, you’d stop doing things that put Tommy and yourself at risk if please, please he’d come fix it just one more time…

You were outside, the sun was rising, the air was crisp but not bitter, and you were in shock… you hadn’t seen anything of sunlight other than your pathetic window since before Joel had taken you… you realized you stopped crying, Joel’s large hard rubbing your back as he calmly sh’d you as you shook in his arms. Joel sat down on the steps of the porch, cradling you in his arms like a baby. 

“Let’s enjoy the view”

Now, what exactly did Joel think was happening here? Who were you to him? Because he was cruel and violent, but then came tenderness… the way he talked yesterday, the way he seemed so betrayed, so convinced that he was good to you, that you deserted him… did he care about you? You did as he said, watching the sunshine and listening to the birds tweet…

“You’re bleeding” You look at Joel and he’s frowning, peeling off the blanket and exposing your nakedness to the outside. Your hip had bleed through the thin blanket enough, and Joel’s fingers touched around the open wound, deep concern in his eyes. “What happened?”

You were flabbergasted. Did he not remember?

“You… you branded me…” 

Joel shook his head. “No, no I mean why’s it bleed’n?” He looked to you. “Were you picking at it?”

You couldn’t help but blink, dumbfounded as it seemed he genuinely did not know how he tortured you. “You hurt me, Joel. This morning… Your jeans…”

Joel looked down at his jeans and saw the blood from when he rubbed on the raw and open skin. “I did that?”

“Yeah”

“That’s why you were cry’n?”

“Yeah. It really hurts.”

“It looks like it does…” Joel looked back at you. “Did anyone touch you last night?” 

You shake your head. “Tommy unlocked me.”

“Tommy touch you last night?”

Again, you shake your head. “Just to put the ointment on my thigh, I swear”

“You’d tell me if anyone touched you, right? Including Tommy?”

You freeze… What did he know? Did Tommy already tell him? Was Joel testing you? Would it be better to be honest… no, Tommy wouldn’t tell Joel, he wouldn’t do that to you. “Yeah, I’d tell you.”

Joel nodded, seeming to believe you… Then, he called inside. “Nick!” 

You startle at his shout, and even more so when Joel sits you on the porch, careful to keep you covered. “Watch her” Joel says to the redheaded man. “I gotta get some shit, and don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t fucking touch her I heard the spiel last time, Miller.”

Joel glared at him, but left you outside with Nick, where there was silence for a moment as you watched him nervously. Nick’s eyes had been intent on you every time Tommy or Joel took you to the bathroom, or if he was walking by the door when they opened it, and he had been very eager to get a piece of you when Joel temporarily lifted the ban. You startled when he spoke.

“You just think you’re hot shit, don’t you?”

You didn’t know what to make of that. You felt the complete opposite of hot shit, you felt pathetic and used and in pain…

He kept talking. “You got both fucking Millers wrapped around you’re god damn finger, just have to sit in that room and get fucked, huh?”

You look up at him, unmoving.

“He’ll kill you, eventually, you know. Or he’ll get board of you, throw you to the rest of us and we’ll rape you until you’re dead, and Tommy won’t be able to stop it. He can’t always be there to protect you.”

Joel opened the door and Nick acted innocent, heading back inside without a word.

“He say anything to you?” Joel asked, sitting down with you.

You knew it was best to keep your mouth shut, not cause problems. “No”

“Good. Don’t like ‘em look’n at you. Barely tolerating Tommy but…” Joel opens up the first aid box and gets working, cleaning the wound.

You whimper, but try to keep it together. “But what?”

“I ain’t around much and… well I’m not exactly good at talk’n. Tommy’s better at that, better company.”

You had wondered if Joel knew about Tommy playing cards and talking with you. It seems he did, and he allowed it… because he knew you’d be bored? With Joel newfound softness and obvious guilt, you decided to test something.

“Could… could I maybe…”

“I ain’t letting you go, little girl. You’re mine.”

“No, no I know” You quickly assured. “Maybe next time you’re out, if you found something maybe…”

Joel softened his tone. “What is it, sweetness?”

You take a deep breath. “Maybe a book?” Joel turned to you. “Or just something to do, Tommy gave me playing cards but I can only do so much… ”

“You can read?” 

Fair question, “My mom taught me.”

Joel seemed to consider this… “I’ll see what we find today.”

You nod vigorously, gasping again as he applied triple antibiotic cream to the stinging wound. “Thank you, Joel, I know I don’t deserve-”

“Hush” He stops you. “You ain’t been good but I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He was apologizing for the burn? “You’re mine, and they don't get to touch you, or even look at you like that” Oh, it was about rapeing you in public. “And I know… I know ‘m not very careful, I don’t mean to hurt you…” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, the branding was intentional, the hard slap that first day was intentional… but you knew he meant when he gets carried away and the hair that gets pulled out and the bruises that form and the open fucking wound on you are just collateral. “I’m gonna try and be more careful, okay? But you gotta behave.”

For some unknown reason, you rest your head on his chest as he wraps your thigh in gauze. “I will, I swear. I wanna be good now.” If you got this side of Joel when you were quiet and behave… this would be much easier on you. You’d have him and Tommy’s protection, none of the men in their or anywhere else would fuck with you, and if Joel was bringing you books and didn’t hurt you… this could be better than what was being done to you at your dads house. Joel could be soft, Joel could be tender.. Yeah, this could be good…

You stayed there in Joel’s arms for a while until he brought you inside so he could take care of business. 

While he was gone, you took a nap and were woken up by the sound of the door flying open, and for a moment you fear Joel was back to his old self but you turn and see Tommy, running over the the mattress and dropping down beside you, seeing you in his clothes again and scrambling to touch you, checking you over, eyes frantic.

“Jesus honey, are you okay?” He grabbed your shoulders as he looked you over.

“Tommy” You grab his arms, sturdying you. Tommy was your anchor here, and you’d cling to him whenever you could. 

“Jack said he heard you screaming this morning in the room? Said he was pulling you out of the room and you were calling for me? I’m so sorry honey, I was out working, I’m so fucking sorry I shouldn’t have left, not after last night-” 

You interrupt him with a hand on his face, feeling his cheek, you’re thumb on his mustache. “Tommy, Tommy I’m okay…”

“What did he do to you?” Tommy asked with worry.

“He didn’t mean-”

Tommy spoke your name softly. “It’s okay, just tell me”

You blush, knowing this would bring up sex, which was a closed subject with Tommy, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know what Joel was doing to you. “He was… um… his jean… were rubbing against the burn when he… he um…”

Tommy’s face softened. “When he what?”

You turned away. “When he was fingering me…”

Tommy’s face furrowed in confusion. “Does he do that a lot?” His face was tinged with something else… jealousy?

You shake your head. “Today was weird.”

You explain what happened today while Tommy redressed your wound. You had no idea why you trusted him, but for some reason, you are beginning to trust Joel too. 

When Joel walked in on you and Tommy playing cards, he was carrying a bag. 

Tommy stood up quickly. “How’d it go today?”

“Good” He answered gruffly. “I got it here, Tommy” Despite Tommy looking guilty, Joel patted him on the back, turning Tommy to him. You assume Joel thought you couldn’t hear him, but Joel thanked Tommy for taking care of you. Tommy left without another word or a look at you.

Joel turned to you. “I got you some things, you can look through them later”

You give him a little smile, and it’s not all fake. You scoot onto the bed and take off your shorts; you want to show him you can be good, you can be good for him, if he’s good to you…

Joel returned the smile, however small it was. “Good girl”

You couldn’t help but smile a little bit more at his praise. You nod to the freshly cleaned wound on your leg, bandaged for protection. “Could you…”

With surprising gentleness, he adjusted you as he knelt, bending your knees, massaging your legs. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll take it easy on you this time, consider this an apology.”

You put your hands on his thighs. “Thank you, sir”

Joel bent over, kissing your neck and palming your breasts still in his brother's shirt. “‘M gonna make this good for you, sweetheart, and you’re gonna come and stop fighting those pretty sounds you make, okay? That’s how you’re gonna thank me.”

You nod. “Okay”

Joel kissed and sucked where you were certain there were already dark marks, grinding his naked cock into your center. You did as promised, letting go for him, moaning as he worked you up for the first time, the first time he didn’t just ram into you and it felt good.

“Joel” You moan out gripping his shoulders; you wanted to see him. “Shirt off?”

You swore you could hear him chuckle. “Mine or yours”

“Both?”

“Good girl.” Joel sat up, taking off his shirt and fuck he looked good. He was strong, insanely broad, large muscles in his arms that you were already aware of that stretched in his sleeves. His chest showed obvious strength, and his stomach was soft, comforting… Joel pulled you up, taking off your shirt. “Fucking perfect.”

His mouth went to your breast as he lined up at your entrance, pushing in as quick and harsh as he always did, but this time you were working up enough and it hardly hurt, just a comfortable stretch.

Joel went for your lips, but you dodged him, and Joel paused to look at your with a cocked eyebrow.

You look at him, wide-eyed and nervous, would he punish you? He never kissed you, neither had Tommy, neither had any of the men your dad had sold your mouth too… that was yours, so far.

“I’m gonna give you time on that one, little one.” Joel began thrusting, his pace fast but not harsh. His hand was under your injured hip, your leg bent, propping it up just enough so that the brand didn’t rub against the bed as he fucked you.

“Thank you sir” You whine, relaxing into him, loving this side of things… Joel thrusting into you, fucking you full and actually paying attention to your body, your wants and needs…

“You gonna cum? I’m right behind you, been wait’n all day to be inside your perfect little pussy”

You were, that warmth in your stomach becoming a sure-fire thing. Joel slowly conditioning you to associate him with pleasure, the assault on your body, the violence that came with him, all with your orgasm, one of the few good things you had… “Yes, please make me cum”

His hand moved your throat, not the bruising grip you were used to, but a light, dizzying squeeze. “You gonna stop fighting me?”

“Yes, I swear, Joel, I’ll be good”

He sped up, igniting more inside you, the room swirling with the sounds of sex, the smell of Joel after a long day of work and you preen for him because you knew, you knew you could cum, and then for a few short minutes at least, Joel would care for you and you could feel a soft touch for fucking once… Tommy was so fucking scared of getting you killed, of abusing you the way Joel did he would barely touch you, you couldn’t get anything like this from him, although you were beginning to suspect he wanted too…

Joel grunted in your ear and you knew he was close too. “I know you will, sweet thing. Because you’re mine, your body is mine, your orgasms are mine, and this?“ Joel slapped your pussy before rubbing the clit as he growled, louder than before. “This is fucking mine, now cum!”

How much could the men outside hear? How much could Tommy hear? You couldn’t be bothered to think more, because you were his good girl now and you did as you were told, coming on his cock as your hands gripped his sweaty back, clinging him to you, your obedience a plea, ‘please, please take care of me, don’t let them hurt me, don’t hurt me anymore, and I’ll give everything to you Joel, I am yours as long as I am safe.’ You moaned as promised, load and with every ounce of feeling you had, letting everyone in the damn house, including fucking Nick, that you were Joels and yes, you had him wrapped around your finger.

When he pulled back, your stomach was painted in white as you panted breathless on the mattress. Joel collapsed on you, his heavyweight a comfort, and he even shifted his weight away from your hurt side. Kissing up your neck, to your cheek, he almost kissed your mouth, and god, you would have let him, but Joel hesitated before kissing away. That was one promise he’d keep.

When Joe came back to carry you to the bathroom where he had boiled water for a hot bath, you willingly wrapped your arms around him, kissing his neck. When you are carried past the kitchen, you see Nick watching you, eyes intent while Joel has his ever protective grasp. Just to make a point, you lock eyes with the man and lick a long stripe up Joel’s neck. The message was clear.

‘I belong to Joel Miller. Don’t fucking touch me.’ ********************

I hope you guys liked it!!!! Remember, likes and reblogs are the way to keep an author motivated to write more!

That being said, this is the last chapter out until probs after finals, so please dont ask when the next chapter is cuz i don't know ;-;

In the meantime, check out my masterlsit on my main @romanarose I have a few Joel fics, but my triple frontier fics are some of my best. consider reading Leather and Lace for Santi, or if you like moon knight, check out sunshine starlight sweetheart brightside! both deal with rape recovery, but head the warnings! espcially sunshine, its heavy

If you have an AO3 I would love if you check out this story over there and left a kudos, and maybe checked out some of my other work!

if you didn't catch it, theres a bonus chapter with tommy out!

LOVE YOU ALL!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters

[cakerybakery]

Adamsapple harvest day 6 bonfire for short and horny

Charlie said she passed along the message and Adam was willing to come home.

They hoped it made up for the leaves incident.

The set up, even with magic, was a pain in the ass. They brought down the big dinning table, the one for when they had guests, into the backyard. Then took it back into the house. Then considered maybe they should use the table after all.

Pie brought out a picnic blanket in the end. Lucifer decided that if Adam wanted them bent over something he could magic it.

They built up a large fire to stay warm. Even hell got a little chilly in the fall. It wouldn’t bother them much but it was an aesthetic.

“Plus, we’re creating a mood, ambience. Adam likes the smell of woodsmoke. We need to set the mood so he knows we’re sorry-“

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO?! HELLO?” Adam yelled from the house.

Lucifer jumped. “Shit! Fuck! We took too long.” He conjured a curtain. Panic conjured a bunch of food without thinking too much, while Pie made a dash for the big surprise at stage front.

Lucifer tossed his own clothing off and dove in beside Pie.

“WE’RE OUT BACK!” He answered as he shook the can and decorated Pie with it before handing it over and letting Pie cover him.

Pie took Lucifer’s form, they wrapped their arms around each other, and listened for Adam.

“Charlie said you two wanted to apologize and make it up to me. So let’s have it.”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and curtains vanished to reveal him and pie in giant pie crust covered in whipped cream.

“We’re sorry!”

Pie nodded enthusiastically.

“To make it up to you, your apple pie is willing to do anything you desire.” Lucifer pulled Pie into a sloppy kiss.

He peeked a little watch Adam’s reaction.

A smirk fit for the devil crossed his face. “Anything?”

Lucifer pulled away. “Anything.”

“Alright then. I’m going to punish you both.”

Adam strolled over, pulled Lucifer out of the pie crust, and turned it so Pie faced the fire. He leaned down and licked a bit of cream off Pie cheek. “Your punishment is you only get to watch.”

Pie’s lip quivered pleadingly and Adam grinned.

“It’s punishment. You’re meant to not like it.”

“And what’s my punishment, Adam?” Lucifer asked from his place in Adam’s arm, carried like luggage.

None to gently Adam chucked him in the bonfire. Lucifer sat up and sneezed as his landing had stirred up the coals and ash into a plume of dust.

Adam walked into the flames, bent down, and kissed him.

“You, my little top, are going to worship this dick and ass. And this time, you aren’t going to get off, and that cock is going to sit untouched. Not by your hands, not by mine or Pie’s, your dick isn’t going in anyone either.” Adam walked out of the fire, grabbed the thick cut off stump he used to chop wood and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

The fire licked the fallen angel’s skin as he stepped back into the flames that burned his clothing away. He set the stump down, tore what little was left of his clothing off, and searched around the burning logs for something.

“This one is still good.” He tossed it to Lucifer. “Your dick isn’t going in me, but you’ll still be fucking me. Come on, magic man, angel me up a dildo you can fuck me with.”

Lucifer used is powers to transform the charred wood, to make it fireproof, then into a dildo that wasn’t too big or wide, soft but firm.

“Good job.” Adam praised. He got on his knees and bent himself over the stump. “Now, you’re going to get me good and wet. No lube, all tongue.”

He nearly stood up but a scolding look from Adam told him he was expected to crawl.

Adam being in charge didn’t happen often, usually it was a reward for doing something weird for Lucifer.

He might have some minor control issues. Lucifer was a fucking king, being in control was his whole fucking deal.

Maybe that was the problem? He and Pie kept pushing Adam’s buttons. He kept doing what he wanted regardless of Adam’s input, if Adam said no they just got him too horny to keep saying no.

The leaves incident was just the last straw.

Adam was punishing them, punishing him. Pie wasn’t only just barred from watching, he was forced back to the outside view as he had been when Pie had been too shy to really try anything with Adam at first.

His punishment wasn’t just not getting to cum while making Adam cum, it was not being in charge. Having to give up that control.

Maybe Adam knew what he was doing when he decided on their punishments, maybe it was coincidence, but either way Lucifer could fucking stand to consider actually taking Adam’s word for it when he drew a line.

“Adam,” he started. The coals under his legs were warm. “I am sorry. You told us no and we didn’t listen. We- I shouldn’t have pushed you. Pie is made from my magic and my desires, they’re their own person or course, I’m certainly not afraid of ducks, but it’s my fault Pie is pushy too. I’m more than willing to accept my punishment. I just, I wanted you to know how sorry I am before I’m horny and desperate. So you know it’s real.”

Adam sat up and was quiet for a moment. “I know you are. You didn’t try to argue or anything. I’m still punishing you. But who knows. If Pie stays put and you do a good job. Maybe I might change my mind. Just don’t bank on it.” He bent back over. “Now get that tongue in my ass.”

Lucifer crawled over the coals, ash, and burning logs. Being impervious to fire had benefits.

He spread Adam’s cheeks and pressed his long dexterous tongue in. Lucifer knew just where to find Adam’s prostate after all this time. He made sure to give it extra attention until Adam was moaning and stroking himself.

“That’s it. Now use your tongue to stretch me out for that new toy.”

Shapeshifting his tongue wider slowly as he fucked Adam with it, Lucifer kept his hands firmly on Adam’s ample ass to keep from touching himself. He kept it up until Adam told him it was time for the toy.

Cleaning the ash from it, and them, with a snap of his fingers he followed Adam’s instructions and put the base in his mouth and gently pushed the head into Adam.

It wasn’t the most unusual thing they’ve done. But it felt strange to Lucifer. The lack of control flustered him.

If he was using his hands he’d feel more in control of the situation, even with Adam’s instructions. With it in his mouth he couldn’t talk, not even to ask if Adam liked it, he couldn’t even go as fast as he might like to. If Adam wanted him to go faster he had to put the effort in and listen for the instructions to do so. He had to really listen for Adam’s moans and urging to fuck him deeper, harder, faster.

The stump burned and Adam held on through the flames. The licked his skin as it did Lucifer’s but could harm Adam anymore than it could Lucifer. It was warm, they could feel the heat, but what made Lucifer start to perspire was the effort needed to fucked Adam with the toy in his mouth until Adam cried out in pleasure at last and came.

His face still pressed to Adam’s ass he waited for Adam to tell him what to do.

“Okay. You can let go. Leave it in there.”

Lucifer did as he was told. He released the dildo from his teeth and sat back.

Adam got up to stand, he stretched, looked over at Pie and spoke to him. “Can you get some more wood? The fire is dying down a bit.”

He turned to Lucifer and crouched, “I’m going to fuck you. I’d like to make you ride me, I always liked that, but I don’t want to give you that kind of control. Lay down on your back.”

It wouldn’t be the first he was fucked. Sometimes he had agreed to let Lilith fuck him, of course perhaps, his controlling nature was what drove her away and he wasn’t as attentive to her needs and desires as he should have been. And Pie had on occasion been allowed to top him. But Adam, Adam had never even asked before. Usually, Adam wanted to watch Pie fuck Lucifer. Most often, Adam had being satisfied by being fucked by both of them.

Lucifer laid down on the bed of coals as Pie added more wood to the fire from a safe distance, lest he start to cook.

Adam crawled over top of him and kissed him like Adam had been gone longer than an afternoon. Lucifer ran his hands into Adam’s hair and down over Adam’s shoulders before freezing.

“It’s okay. You can touch me.”

He relaxed and let his hands roam. Lucifer liked touching his partners. Adam seemed to like it too.

Adam pulled away from Lucifer mouth to tease his neck but that didn’t mean he left Lucifer’s mouth in occupied. Lucifer licked the fingers Adam slipped into his mouth. Getting them as wet as he could, for that was going to be his lube. He tensed at the idea but the bonfire prevented more conventional methods of lubrication. Lucifer wasn’t entirely sure the spit would last. If it didn’t, he didn’t like the idea of Adam going in dry.

But, there was another option. Lucifer had never changed his body that way before. He could do it. He could give Adam a pussy to fuck. Of course he was being punished, without meaning too, he could cum if Adam was fucking him.

Alas, his fear proved true, by the time Adam hand got to Lucifer’s ass the heat had dried the saliva.

Adam groaned in frustration.

“I can shape shift if you like.” Lucifer said as quietly as possible.

There was a reason Pie, unlike a few of the pumpkins Lucifer brought to life to drown Adam in pleasure that night over a year ago, never took a female form. He could but they didn’t like to. And referring to them as she was definitely out.

The idea made Lucifer uncomfortable. Lilith suggested it once and when he didn’t like it, she dropped it. Lucifer didn’t think of it again.

But… some of the pumpkins did alter their bodies, and willingly to give Adam what he might like. They had been like Pie in many regards. Parts of him as their base. Some part of him must be okay with the idea, at least for Adam.

“I don’t know how that will-“ Adam stopped speaking and pulled back, feeling Lucifer change under him. “You sure?”

He hesitated, this was his out, “I can’t promise I won’t cum. Not like this. But, I won’t need much prep, just foreplay, to be ready.” Lucifer bit his lip. His slightly plumper lip from the feel of it.

“Okay. If you get off like this, that’s okay. I did specify your dick so I guess this is a loophole.” Adam laid back down on him, pressing his weight softly against Lucifer.

Lucifer’s breath hitched. This was so much different than cuddling. Adam had ridden him before, squished them together with hugs or cuddles, but this was a new position for him. His own legs spread and Adam between them.

His heart was beating a little faster, he ached in an unfamiliar way, but the meaning was clear.

Adam kissed him, hands covered his body, and Lucifer shivered in excitement. His body blackened from the ash, handprints covered the breasts he gave himself, he could feel it on his cheeks as Adam held him for a kiss, his thighs as Adam ran his fingers down the sensitive insides.

He wasn’t used to the sensation of being wet, of Adam’s cock rubbing along his sensitive opening and over a very sensitive clit. It was a good type of strange that made him want more.

Lucifer didn’t hold back and moaned. Adam above him grinned.

“You like that?”

He wavered, should he talk? He wasn’t supposed to be in control but if he opened his mouth would he be able to shut it or would he start trying to order Adam around?

Adam frowned, “fuck, I’m bad at this.” He sat back. “I’m not even that mad anymore. I know you two are sorry and that’ll you’ll both do better to listen to me. I’m not cut out for this whole being in control shit. You were right about me, I was made to obey. I even enjoy some of the weird crap that gets into your heads.”

Lucifer rolled to his side and sat up. “I want you to fuck me.” The words surprised even Lucifer as he said them. “Someone doesn’t have to be on control all the time. I know have issues with that. We can just, have sex?”

Adam agreed and they laid back down in the coal and ash. They kissed and Lucifer moaned as he held himself back from taking over and let Adam lead.

Adam had such large hands, Lucifer had always enjoyed the feel of them on his skin and now he got their full glory as they caressed his body. Squeezed his soft tits and rubbed the sensitive nipples. Adam facial hair tickling his neck and Adam whispered, “we’ll probably have to do something for Pie later. He looks pretty jealous.”

Lucifer looked through the flames and felt bad. “Should we-“

“No. He’s just as much at fault as you are and needs to apologize on his own. Not have you just speak for him.”

“You sure you’re not cut out for being in control? Cause that was pretty decisive.”

Adam sucked on his neck and made Lucifer gasp. “Well, I was leader of humanity and the exterminators. I can be in charge, but I may have let a kid or two off of their punishments early cause I felt bad and I probably could have enforced the rules of the exterminations a little better. They just looked so sad. But no. He needs to apologize first, properly. Besides. I don’t thinks he’s learned his lesson just yet.”

Looking at Pie’s pout, yeah. He probably didn’t understand very well why Adam was mad. Pie was still a little immature, or maybe he had just been made from Lucifer’s immature desires for Adam. But he’d grow, Lucifer older than the universe and he was still maturing.

Lucifer mouthed sorry to Pie and turned his attention back to Adam.

To the kisses he was being giving, the hands, the cock slowly rocking its way inside of him. Lucifer moaned and bit his lip automatically to try and stop himself. He let go when he realized and allowed himself to make noises that showed he was enjoying not being in control.

It was good to have Adam fully inside of him, different from when he’s been penetrated by Pie, but equally good.

He’d prefer a softer bed to the one of coals he laid on, but at least it was warm. Lucifer enjoyed the rocking of Adam in and out of his pussy. Enjoyed it a lot.

God fuck, that felt good.

Adam’s big hand played with Lucifer’s clit as his big tongue licked the ash from Lucifer’s tit.

Not his choice of decoration from a body to lick, but the whipped cream long since burned away.

Lucifer didn’t hold back and let himself cum as Adam coaxed it from him. Let his fingers dig into Adam’s back, let his body arch as he felt his body climax.

He wanted to lay back and be done but Adam wasn’t done, well Lucifer had a pretty quick turn around time it was nothing like his body in this form.

Barely done and Adam started in on him again, he rose to the pleasure Adam was giving him, this time he did try to hold back but Adam was having none of it.

Adam left love bites along his neck, his large hand squeezed a tit firmly and the thumb flicked his nipple, he fucked faster and Lucifer couldn’t help but be pushed over the edge.

There was a desperate grunt in his ear that Lucifer knew by heart and he whimpered, knowing Adam cumming inside of him.

Only then Adam let Lucifer free.

They left the fire and Pie was a pouty jealous bubbling puddle on the picnic blanket.

Lucifer turned back into himself and he gathered up their strange bedfellow.

“Come on, I think I need to properly explain what we did wrong and how to apologize.”

[thecameronchronicles]

6 Weeks

TW: mentions of pregnancy. Angst over body image. Soft!John B! Language. 

SUMMARY: The first time being with John B after you had your baby. 

WORD COUNT: 1700

REQUESTED

Could you do another body positivity of John b where Yn and John b had their first baby and it’s been 6 weeks so john b ready to have sex with yn but she feels not her with her new found baby weight/ postpartum body 

Six Weeks

So much had already changed. The lack of sleep and test of patience has been the more expected of the symptoms left postpartum. But of all additions left behind, your newfound weight was your least favored. No matter the times you tried to remind yourself it had been due to the life that blossomed and came to life within you, all you could bring yourself to focus on had been what society saw as flaws. 

Stretch marks. Thicker hips. Puffed cheeks. And to make matters worse, it had been six weeks. That reminder of needing to remain untouched to properly heal has acted as your excuse for being naked in front of John B. But as he watched you breastfeed, the maternal instinct necessary and innocent to you, he was secretly counting down the days until he could have you to himself once again. 

"I've been waiting for this for what feels like forever..." He explained while kissing your shoulder. For a moment, his touch and lips were enough to forget your insecurities. But as he reached to remove the towel from the not made beside your breast, you were swiftly reminded. 

"Can I get dressed?" His eyes narrowed into confusion. 

"You want to get dressed just so I can undress you?" He smirked as you bowed your head in embarrassment to how ridiculous a request it had been. In truth, you craved him just as deeply as he'd made obvious, but you were self conscious about every pound gained as no kind words or touch would erase that. 

"I can just take care of you..." You reached for his plaid pajama pants before he took hold of your wrist. 

"No sweetheart...this is about us. Not just me..." But with the worry on your face, he altered from lustful to cautious. 

"Unless you aren't ready. We can wait." He suddenly held your face between his palms, careful but direct as you fought meeting his eyes. All because you knew he could convince you of anything and everything once you locked into those chocolate irises. 

"I want to..." You unintentionally fisted his Hawaiian shirt as he smirked to your desperations. But that moment of humor faded once he noticed your dismay. 

"I'll go slow. I know usually I'm not but I can..."

"I'm not the same..." You confessed, fighting the tears in your eyes. 

"What do you mean?"

"My body isn't the same..." As if a tidal wave acting as an epiphany struck him at full force, he set his head into a gentle rise and fall of understanding. 

"But it's still yours."

"I just don't feel...good in it...."

"I do..." He slipped his fingers beneath the towel, taking you by surprise. 

"John B!" You gasped. 

"Oh, I feel REALLY good in it..."

He walked you against the counter of the sink. You were able to forget, once again, of those intrusive thoughts, as you focused solely on his touch. That touch that bent from the outside in, stroking your g-spot in slow succession, as you rode into him. 

"Focus on how good that feels and I'll focus on reminding you how beautiful you are." Before you could object, you were lifted into the counter of the kitchen vanity. His hand remained between your thighs as you gasped to the sudden incline. 

"You can only stop me if something hurts. Not even if you don't like it...because we'll find a way to make sure you do..." He kissed you, a tongue pulling your lips wider, before he focused your tongue to dance softly with his. 

"You're so beautiful, it's been hell trying to keep my hands off of you for six weeks!" He chucked to himself. "I didn't think I had that kind of patience..."

"John B!" You rasped quickly. 

"Keeping my hands to myself while you slept next to me...watching you change and not being able to do this...I have a lot of time to make up for..." He explained, setting a second finger into you. 

"But it's been a long time and I am going to make you so wet that nothing hurts, baby...because I'm only stopping if it does...and I'm going to make sure it doesn't." You were taken around him as he brought you into the bedroom. You could sense the strain in his life as this only sent your stomach to trust further into guilt. As he senses this, he hovered over you. 

"If you are thinking of anything but me-"

"I'm too heavy...just let me use my hand or my mouth for you and-" He took his hand to your jaw and pulled you to him with a deep kiss. 

"I didn't wait six weeks for your hand or your mouth, although each one should get an award for how good you are. I want to be with YOU! Inside of you...coming inside of you-"

"John B...my body just isn't the same-"

"You're right." Your eyes widened, brimming with tears as you could hear his frustration. 

"If I can be completely honest. I think it's more beautiful. Because you created something beautiful. YOU did. And now I get to take care of my girl..." He kisses your lips and down your jaw, greedy hands taking stock of your sore breasts remaining covered by the sheet to keep from spraying him with your baby's natural sustenance. 

"And I'm going to start here..." He was gluttonous at your breasts, kneading them deeper and longer as your body reacted to him. 

"They sore, sweetheart?" You nodded. 

"Let me help..." He offered temporary relief as he squeezed softly. 

"The sheets."

"They are gonna be soaked with cum soon baby, that is nothing..." Your eyes rolled as he kissed down your stomach. Once feeling you try and shift beneath him to hurry him, he lengthened his visitation to the stretched skin. 

"So fucking perfect." He traced his teeth and tongue for your trembling skin until teasing your sex. 

"But the most beautiful part of you is how well we fit together..." He undressed, your eyes hungry for the sight as he'd tormented you in those six weeks just as you'd done to him. 

"Please..."

"Not until you know how I see you..." He teased your folds with his cock, draping down to your sex itself as your mouth parted. 

"You are never enough." His words cut your breath immediately. 

"Because I always want more. No matter how deep or fast...how many times I come...I want more. I'm THAT addicted to you." He finally eased into you. "EVERY part of you." He groaned, bottoming out in care. 

"But I've been patient enough..." He suddenly boomed. Directly selfish thrusts into your greedy sex, you held a new pain from him. It was synonymous to the loss of virtue, but not as lengthy. Once noticing this discomfort, he kissed you sweetly. A guide of his hand to your hip pulled your leg higher at his waist as you clenched it around him to instruct him deeper. 

"I wanted to take my time. I wanted to make love to you because that's what I thought you deserved. But apparently you need to be reminded how fucking desperate I am for you. The same way I was when we first met. Even after our first time. And every second since." He pounded into you, every word sending him faster until he broke weak at this moment. Self guided moans sending his eyes to pull into this very roll. 

"And after that six weeks I still want you. Even more. I need it. Every second. And you're gonna be left with the reminder of just how much everytime you look at our baby...need further explanation..." He paused to carry his tender kiss back to your lips. 

"I'll be more than happy to remind you of it personally, too." He smirked against the broken kiss.

"John B!" You grunted. 

"I want every time you come to be the validation you need to know how perfect you are. So show me how beautiful you are for me...let me feel it..." You involuntarily clenched around him, eyes rolling into a rest, before he quickened to that familiar ungodly speed. 

"So much for slow..." You teased as he strained over you, trying to hold himself at bay, but your body pulling him for his release. 

"I can't fucking wait-"

"Please..."

"Only with you." He added, a hand softly to your cheek as he thrusted over you. His head found a rest at your forehead while his body was manic beneath you. Sweat allowed your bodies to glide in perfect symphony and to that crescendo of ecstasy. 

"Come with me." He growled. 

"My beautiful baby...come with me...let me hear how beautiful I make you feel...how beautiful you are." With this, your body unbuckled beneath him. A single stiffening of your stomach tensed in remembrance to that comfort at the other side of his thrusts. Pleasure set you to tremble as he kissed you in feeling the descent of your high. 

"Now let me take care of you..." He set you back to your feet after a moment of recuperation. 

He was tender with a touch beneath the cascade of a new shower. 

"I have very little time to tell you how much I love and need you. But I will always make sure you know and feel it." He lathered you with care. The ache he left behind and that natural and expected in your new maternal existence brought was mended by his touch. The magic always present at the very edge of his fingertips as you found that confidence in him at this moment. Enough to enjoy it as the cries of your newborn pulled you both back to those parental duties. 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf

MASTERLIST

JOHN B ROUTLEDGE MASTERLIST

[birboon]

Conceived in the Eye of a Secret

title from Ozzy Osbourne's "Mr Crowley"

A Steddie AU fic - Detective! Steve Harrington [oneshot, potentially multi-chapter) — 6k words

Steve Harrington was seventeen when he saw his first dead body. He wasn’t even out of high school – not even a senior – when he stumbled across Barbara Holland floating face down in his pool. He’d just gone outside for a piss, not wanting to wake his then-girlfriend, brain still fuzzy and whirling from the warm beers Tommy H had stolen from his dad the night before, and there she was; skin tight around her bloated form. Steve had taken one look at her short hair and the leaves knotted there, matted with blood and chunks of soft grey tissue that he’d prayed, God, please wasn’t part of her fucking brain, and vomited. The smell, more than anything, was what sent him over the edge: Rank and pungent, an edge of sickening sweetness. He’d been able to smell her cheap perfume, too.

She’d been dumped there during the night. Steve thought she’d gone home - she was supposed to have gone home, but there police found her car still parked down the street, untouched. ‘A crime of passion’, they’d called it, and even now – almost twenty years later – Steve didn’t understand why. Barbara Holland’s face had been beaten to an unrecognizable, pulpy mess of flesh and blood. Shards of her skull had ruptured through her skin, her left eye had been burst from the blunt force that the sick fuck had hit her with; it had dribbled like veiny egg-yolk into Steve’s pool, mixing with the water like oil.

Steve liked to think himself a passionate guy. But he didn’t go around murdering people.

 Instead, he caught the murderers – preferably before they’d had the chance to do the murdering but like everything in life, it was easier said than done. Hell, he could count on two hands the number of cases that had passed through the rigorous filtering of Hawkins PD before landing at his desk in the tiny, cramped office that the Homicide Department called home. The Homicide Department being him, sole and singular, bent over anaemic manila folders with little more to information than a polaroid snapshot and the name of the deceased.

So, yeah. Steve was seventeen when he saw his first dead body, and for some reason he’d made it his life’s goal to see as many as possible. If only to prevent them from becoming cold cases, forgotten and locked away in some filing cabinet to gather dust – to prevent them from becoming like Barb. Since the Holland case, there hadn’t been another unsolved murder in Hawkins. A fresh-faced, fresh-out-of-college Steve Harrington had made sure of that. And for thirteen years, Detective Harrington had kept it that way.

Still, he never quite got used to seeing a corpse – the smell never did become easier to handle. With the more violent deaths, and Steve grimaced as he stared towards the twisted, strewn remains of the human before him, it became especially hard to bear. Hopper had taught him to chew gum to settle his stomach at particularly bad scenes, and Joyce – ever the astute pathologist – had given him a small jar of Vick’s VapoRub the second time he’d ever come down into the morgue (he’d had to excuse himself halfway through the autopsy the first time, and she’d smiled understandably as he trembled his way to the bathroom, legs shaking and face pallid). But even a hefty smudge of the strong-smelling ointment wasn’t enough to cover the stench of a rotting carcass entirely, and Steve’s stomach turned as decay permeated the room.

It was October, but it was hot, which only served to make matters worse because the heat only exacerbated the whole ordeal. And whilst the rest of Hawkins, and Indiana in general, Steve supposed, were out enjoying the autumn sunshine, he was stuck in a sweat-box apartment with three other men and a day-old cadaver. The room was stagnant, ripe with death.

“What a shit day to die,” he muttered, and though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud his words got a murmur of agreement from the others. It was a Monday.

The woman – Steve glanced down at the clipboard in his hands – Maureen Gildman had been brutally slain. She lay in a pool of her own viscous blood, face carved-up hideously like the jack-o-lanterns that were beginning to emerge in the windows of his neighbours, and the young detective made a mental note to take Dustin to the pumpkin patch before the Holiday was over. Halloween was the kid’s favourite time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a favourite of all the psychos too. Steve checked his watch.

Four Fifty-Seven PM. A Monday.

A simple glance around the room showed varying picture frames lovingly arranged on the walls and sat on bookshelves stocked with cheesy romcoms, void of any actual books. Most were in good condition, if a bit dusty, but Steve wasn’t about to lecture a dead woman on cleanliness. Not when a picture of her young daughter stared over at him, flecked with tiny beads of maroon, thick and congealed atop the pink dress she’d worn to the last middle school dance. Dt. Harrington hoped the girl wasn’t still waiting to be picked up at the school gates, considering the last class would have let out almost three hours ago. Steve checked his clipboard again. Divorced, he thought solemnly, and for a moment let himself empathise with the dead.

He'd seen forensics scrape the burnt remains of brownies into sterile baggies as he’d arrived on the scene, and it said more than he’d wished to know. The girl had been with her father over the weekend, and it was him who had dropped her off that morning. No doubt Maureen had been busily preparing to have her child back with her, cooking up something sweet and special as a prize for surviving another Monday.

“You got a preference?” The words cut through Steve’s thoughts as he turned to the photographer in question. Johnathon gave him a grim, lazy smile, his lips pressed tightly together. “Y’know, for a day to die?”

A layer of dust was collected on the camera in his hands. Particles bounced around in the sunlight pouring through the shuttered blinds. There was something sour in the man’s gaze as he watched Steve, but he didn’t think that the contempt was aimed towards himself – at life, maybe. Johnathon was probably reflecting on the choices he’d made during his career that had led him to that moment.

Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, fiddling with the strings of the lining. “A Thursday might be nice, maybe.”

Johanthon watched him through dark eyes. He lifted the camera to his face, squinting as he levelled it towards the detective’s shoes, and Steve stepped out of the frame as the shutter clicked and the flash illuminated the puddle of crusted fluids that were soaked into the shaggy carpet. A yellow tent marked with a bold, black 12 was posted beside it.

“Maybe,” the other man agreed. The camera dropped back down to his chest, and he shrugged. Steve chewed at his tongue, looking away as Johnathon dropped into a crouch, lens angled towards the body. Maureen looked grossly ethereal in the white light; the flayed skin on her naked chest was red, glowing.

Steve looked down again. Ms. Gildman was the third in a recent string of murders that the Hawkins P.D wanted to clump together beneath the moniker of a serial killer. Ever since the term had been coined by the FBI in the seventies, it seemed every small town was desperate to have one to their name. Obviously, Steve didn’t quite agree. There were casual differences in the demeanour and traits of the killings that had him pegs them ostentiously as all separate, sad crimes. Crimes of passion, he thought grimly. Right. Passion.

Maureen was missing both breasts. They’d been sawn off with a serrated object, upon quick examination – Steve’s money was on a bread knife, stolen from her own kitchen, but the murder weapon wouldn’t be identified properly until Joyce got the chance to take a closer look. The… breasts were found hidden within a tall, exotic-looking potted plant. An empty box of matches had been found there, too, opened and spilt onto the blood-stained carpet. Steve imagined that whoever had murdered the woman got cold feet, meaning to burn the balls of flesh but abandoning the plight at the last moment. Or maybe they had refused to light, and after four frazzled, burned-out attempts they had been forced to leave before the police arrived on scene.

Either way, Steve found nothing passionate about it. Disgusting, maybe. Driven by desire? Absolutely. But there was no passion, just the empty and unfeeling actions of a disturbed individual.

He stepped away, ducking back beneath the police tape. He’d seen enough.

Nodding to the paramedics waiting patiently in the hallway, equipped with a stretcher and a body bag, Steve crept away. Several neighbours had been escorted from the building in hysterics – in particular, the old woman who had found the woman after smelling the burning confectionary that had been baking as she’d died – but those that hadn’t were standing in their doorways, arms crossed, faces framed with dismay. Steve couldn’t quite figure out if they really were upset, or just desperate to know what was happening.

Chief Hopper appraised him with dark, judging eyes as he approached the stairwell, holding out an arm to stop Steve’s descent into fresh air. A burned-out cigarette hung limply from the older man’s lips, smoke drifting from the glowing embers fleetingly. Steve inhaled sharply, desperate to purge his nostrils. He wiped his nose.

“Careful when you go down there, kid,” Hopper grumbled. Steve raised an eyebrow. “I got two words for ya: Press and chaos.”

“That’s actually three words, chief, but who’s counting?” Jim barked out a rough laugh, and the young detective continued: “Not you, evidently.”

“Don’t push your luck, Harrington,” the older man snapped, but he was smiling and, well, Steve was just glad someone still had that ability, no matter how joyless and thin it was. The chief clapped him on the back as he pressed forward, calling after him. “And don’t say I didn’t warn ya!”

Hopper was right, of course; it was chaos. Always was, but Steve supposed that his wishing for a moment of peace was just that: Wishful. A duo of officers were posted at the main entrance to the building, chatting lightly with each other. Through the screen doors Steve caught a glimpse at the gathered crowd of reporters – a heaving, squirming mess of free-for-all filled with flashing cameras and eager journalists, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the deceased or ambush someone who had.

Upon spotting them, the sea surged, and Steve was half-worried that they’d bring down the doors, but the men in charge of crowd control didn’t seem at all bothered. They shot him a lame look of distaste – one that said ‘oh look, there’s the great detective’ and Steve grimaced.

“Detective Harrington! Detective, could you give us a – “

“Harrington! What did the deceased look like?”

“Detective is this a serial killer?”

Detective! Detective! Detective!

He ducked behind a supportive dry-wall in the centre of the apartment building’s ‘reception’ area, eyeing the stapled pamphlets and posters hanging there miserably. Only one caught his eye – it stood out from the rest simply because it had tried: Nestled atop the dull pastels and black print was a seemingly hand-made poster advertising a band, all dark reds and metal greys, collaged with newspaper cut-outs. Corroded Coffin (what happened to naming bands nice things, like The Doors or Wham! ?), were playing at a club Steve hadn’t visited in years, The Upsidedown . He hadn’t been there since Dustin had been unceremoniously dropped into his lap, not since he’d made Senior detective, what, six years ago?

 Dt. Harrington mused, almost-sadly, that he hadn’t even been out for drinks in at least three months – and that was only because he’d been dragged by Robin on one of the Forensic-team outings. He’d gotten shit-faced off of cheap cocktail pitchers and shots of rose tequila, and had to explain to his son why he was going to have to get the bus to school the next morning because ‘daddy’s sick, buddy. Real sick’.

Without thinking, the detective snatched the sheet of paper from the wall, leaving a strip of paper behind, still tacked to the wall, and folded it carelessly into his pocket. And then Steve finally made the point of searching for a fire exit.

It wasn’t hard – cheaply printed white sheets of A4 with a bold red arrow and text reading ‘IN CASE OF FIRE’ were hung carelessly close to the ceiling, one pointing to the next in the most boring treasure hunt ever created. Honestly, though, Steve did think there would be treasure once he found the big X (or, in his case, the back exit to the building). It would come in the form of peace and quiet, and no out-of-context quote headlining the papers, and he was anxious to uncover it.

But when he made it to the outside world, swinging on the fire-retardant handle, Steve was met not only with a crisp October breeze and brilliant sunshine, but with a cheap tape recorder being shoved under his nose. He recognized the neat script inked onto the label that was stretched over the plastic and frowned, pushing it gently away.

“I told you, you can’t just turn up at these things,” he said, herding her backwards as he stepped out into the light. His tone was cold enough for the woman in question to drop the arm holding the device out towards him. She cocked her head, reeling after him like an annoying blowfly on a body. “And before you ask, Nancy, my answer is no comment.”

“You’re not looking so hot right now, Steve,” she said softly. Steve scoffed.

“You know exactly what a man wants to hear, don’t you?”

“Are you okay?” Nancy probed gently, and finally caught up with the man, she settled into stride beside him. He looked down at her and her frilly shirt and smiled gingerly.

“I’m doing just fine, Wheeler.”

Nancy’s mouth twisted bitterly at the disconnect in his voice and Steve sighed. They’d dated for three years – four, if you counted the sweet high-school romance they’d fooled themselves into believing – before an inevitable, explosive end. Life got in the way, he told himself. Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were as different as two people could be; fire and ice. Steve had hoped he’d be able to thaw the woman, get her to settle down, but she’d wanted different things. He’d wanted a family, and she wanted to soar.

Steve had gotten his family, in the end, in the form of a robust, confused four-year-old. And Nancy, well. She was doing what she’d always dreamed.

The woman rewound her tape, bringing it to her mouth: “See: Detective Harrington at the end of his rope. Is this the first case the prodigy can’t solve?”

Steve rolled his eyes, tucking his chin to his chest as they crossed the parking lot opposite the swarm of spectators round the front of the building. The ranks of journalists had settled their unprofessional nature by pressing their faces and cameras against the misty glass, like toddlers at a zoo trying to see into the lion’s enclosure.

“You’re not going to scare me into talking about my feelings, Nancy,” Steve said, casting a glance towards her. She shrugged, spinning the recorder in her fingers.

“Worth a shot,” came the reply, accompanied by a shrug, and Nancy escorted him back to his car, shrouding him in companionable silence. Her low heels clicked on the gravel, and she spun to him when they reached his BMW. A hand wrapped itself around his wrist, and it was Steve’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You know you can talk to me, right? You were joking, I know, but… Sometimes I worry about you, Steve.”

Dt. Harrington’s smile waned. “I should be the least of your worries,” he shot back. He’d aimed for a light teasing, but the words came out with a heavier weight than he’d expected. Even he reeled back from them, and Nancy squeezed his wrist reassuringly. His pulse raced under her touch. Just friends, he reminded himself (was that all It took? Just a touch from someone that wasn’t his boss or his son? God, he needed to get laid – yet another thing that he hadn’t had the luxury of indulging in lately).

“I care about you. I always worry about the people I care about.”

Steve shook her off gently, opening the driver’s side door: “Be good for Hopper when he finally drags himself out of there, Nance. Tell Mike I say hi.”

 He slid behind the wheel before she could reply and unravel the fragile life he’d built for himself.

…

Three hours later, and Steve was drowning in paperwork.

It was cruel, really, how much time he spent in an office that wasn’t even his. Officially, it belonged to the department but most of the time Dt. Harrington saw it as a glorified janitor’s closet. Because whilst it looked good written down on paper, the chipped name plate with Steve’s name on it – one that he was one-hundred-percent sure had been engraved by the resident fear-mongering asshole Officer Hargrove - dared him to question why the opaque glass door didn’t say the same. He’d worked for the Hawkins PD for over a decade: You’d think they would have the audacity and respect to give him a permanent work residence.

But alas, not everyone could be so lucky as the violent crimes unit – especially not homicide. And so Steve settled for less than he deserved and he waited it out patiently, because, in the end, that was how he’d wound up where he was today:

‘Never chase an opportunity,’ his father had told him – and this was when Steve had become co-captain instead of sole captain of the swim team, faced not only with his own disappointment but with his old mans’ too. ‘If you deserve them, they’ll come’.

Steve never had made captain of the swim team outside the constant, companionable badgering of James Rowe, and he’d never outgrown the tiny, un-flourishing seeds of wisdom that Harrington Senior had dredged up during his childhood. Somethings were worth waiting for, he’d deigned. But most of the time they weren’t.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead with a rough sigh. His shoulders were stiff and sore from being hunched over a desk that took up so much room in the cluttered office that he could hardly breathe, and his wrist ached from underlining and circling the clauses and misspells in Deputy Callahan’s write-up. A myriad of red-penned scribbles tracked over the pages strewn across the table and not for the first time Steve felt like some kind of kindred spirit to the kids Tommy H had made do his homework back in high school. Why even write it in the first place if you knew it was going to be obsolete?

Because they liked to waste his time, that’s why.

God, Steve hated Mondays.

He gathered the loose-leaf documents into a pile, tapping it against the desk to straighten the pages into semi-reasonable conditions, and pushed them to one side. He balanced a heavy-duty hole-punch on top, just in case the weather decided to act it’s month and send a blast of crisp wind through the tiny window held open by the string of the blinds covering it. It had happened once before, years ago, and Steve had spent the rest of his night on overtime just picking up pieces of paper and filing them back to their original places. He didn’t feel like going through that again; his back wasn’t what it used to be, and Steve wasn’t sure his knees would be up to the challenge of crawling along a hard wood floor.

Picking his pen up and dropping it with a quiet clink into the mug resting by his computer, he pushed away from the table, letting the wheels of his chair take him the distance to the door. Steve opened it gingerly, poking his head out and hoping that it wasn’t true that a woman’s work was never done: If Florence made him take another casserole home, he was pretty certain Dustin would begin to refuse meals, and if there was one thing Dt. Harrington didn’t need added to his list of difficulties, it was a fussy ten-year-old.

Thankfully there was no secretary in sight – in fact, it looked like half the police force had abandoned ship. The entire precinct was a waste land. Officer Powell sat in one corner, feet kicked up on his desk, throwing paper balls at a whirring fan, and Maxine Mayfield – a regular to the station, but not for unsavoury reason – watched with an unimpressed gaze as she waited for her brother’s shift to be done. But, really, that was it. That was the grand entertainment that Steve’s nightlife offered.

His keys rattled jovially as he locked up the office, and he ruffled the red-head’s hair in a drive-by mussing on his way to grab his coat from the rack. Robin’s was gone already – no surprise there – so all he really had to worry about as he was leaving was double-checking he had everything, and avoiding the vengeful, fisted hands of Max as she leapt from her chair with furious, delighted eyes:

“Harrington,” she hissed, and Steve smirked at the warmth he detected in her tone. She obviously hadn’t meant for it to leak through, because her eyes widened, and the girl scowled.

“Happy to see me, Max?”

“No!”

“You are,” Dt Harrington teased, and he crouched down in front of her with a stupid grin on his supposedly stupid face. “You so are!”

“Am not!”

Steve waggled a finger in her face, winking to Powell over her shoulder as Max grabbed for it, bringing it to her mouth with the threat of biting it clean off like a carrot stick. “Face it, kid. You love me. You find me funny!”

“You’re stupid,” the ten-year-old snapped back, releasing his hand, and grabbing the lapels of his coat with tiny fists instead. She pulled him forward like she was being the bad cop in a duo of interrogating officers. Steve let himself get tugged along for the ride, grinning.

“Says who?”

“Says Billy,” Steve rolled his eyes, prying her limpet-like fingers from his suit. He straightened up, leaving her adorable, angry face glaring up at him. Her cheeks had gone as red as her hair. There was no heat in her voice though, not really, and she looked away from his soft gaze, blushing. “But I still think you’re cool. He’s stupid too.”

“Yeah, Max. He is,” the man agreed, hands on his hips. “You know who else is stupid? Chief Ho –“

“Harrington!” Steve paled, letting out a nervous bubble of laughter as he turned to the voice. Jim levelled him with a disappointed stare that sent waves of childhood nostalgia through the detective’s gut as the station doors swung shut behind him. He was wrangling a cuffed man by the elbows, tiredness seeping through his eyes, through his voice. “This isn’t a day care. Come and help me.”

Steve furrowed his brows, confused, but approached, nonetheless. He stepped with caution, unsure. “Uh, isn’t exactly my forte, Hop.”

“Cut the crap, detective. You went through basic training just like the rest of us,” the Chief sanctioned, and the lack of patience in his voice caused Steve to walk that little bit faster. At his approach, the guy in custody’s attention rocketed straight towards him.

Now, Steve was never one to judge a book by it’s cover. Really. But with a quick and critical appraisal of the man currently being arrested by his superior, it was kind of hard for Steve to avoid.  Because when the man turned, his hair turned with him – all of it – and it flicked over his shoulders, framed by the cheap halogen lighting above, like something out of a Whitesnake music video. Because the tight black jeans, the worn leather jacket, the Savatage t-shirt, the glint of cool silver adorning his knuckles and fingers, did nothing to quell the uncomfortable heat creeping its way up his throat, and Steve cursed himself for never fully getting over his childhood crush on Nikki Sixx.

“Yeah, detective, cut the crap,” parroted the man, and Steve revelled in that voice being aimed towards him. He swallowed, dragging his eyes up from the chains looped around his waist like a belt (and were those handcuffs in place of a buckle? Christ). A smirk was plastered over top of the rocker’s face, his brown eyes fully aware, it seemed, of the thousands of thoughts flooding through Steve’s mind. “Help the old man, why dontcha?”

Hopper gave the guy a rough shove and he stumbled, letting out a breathy laugh, and, stupidly, Steve reached forward to steady him. He regretted it the minute he touched the man because the flutter of eyelashes and sarcastic ‘my hero’ had Dt. Harrington stumbling instead.

“Fingerprint him,” the Chief said gruffly, physically manoeuvring Steve’s hands from the convict’s­ - remember the type of people who get themselves arrested, Steve – shoulder down to the cuffed hands pinned behind his back. Jim held him there for a moment, giving the other man a knowing look. His grip on Steve’s wrist tightened: “He’s in for drunk and disorderly. You remember how to put that into the system, right?”

“Yeah, but – “

“Don’t get distracted if you ever want to make it home tonight,” Hopper relented, backing away. Steve frowned.

“Where are you going?”

The chief grinned, throwing his hat onto his desk and shrugging on his coat. “Hot date, you know how it is.”

Steve resisted the urge to scoff, clearing his throat instead, and he gently urged the man in his charge forward as he watched, more miserable than ever, as his boss practically skipped from the building.

He pushed the cuffed man into a chair opposite an empty desk and turned the computer on begrudgingly. Chin in hand, he stared towards the blank windows-start-up screen as the PC’s fans whirred angrily into action. Steve felt eyes burning into him, and pushed hair from his forehead as he turned to the unwelcome attention:

“What?” he sighed. He was met with an exaggerated smile.

“Judging by your reaction, I guess you don’t.”

“What?”

“Know how it is,” the man continued, and Steve could feel himself begin to grow impatient, frustrated, annoyed. Spotting his flustered state, the smile on their face crept even further up their cheeks. “Having a hot date?”

He was leaning over the desk now, cheek pressed against a balled fist in some childish mirroring of Steve, and the detective felt the area beneath his eyes grow hot. He blinked, sitting back in his chair: “I know,” he said, aiming to keep his voice steady and calm – professional, because that’s what he was. A professional. Steve hated the way a dark eyebrow cocked at his response. “I know,” he repeated sternly, trying to force some conviction into his words.

“I don’t see a ring.”

Steve frowned, flexing his right hand awkwardly as he turned back to the computer screen, suddenly incredibly aware of it. “I’m not married.”

“Ah.” Steve’s eyes flickered to him, then down to the chipped nail polish on his fingers, and back to the screen. He swallowed, opening a folder to begin the digital booking procedure. He double clicked on a tick-box by accident as the man decided to speak once more: “So, you’re a player, then?”

Steve cursed breathlessly, exiting the file and reopening it. There, a blank slate. Dt. Harrington wished he could do the same thing in real life and restart this whole ordeal – he wouldn’t be letting Hopper sneak off the next time around.

“Name?”

“Eddie – Edward Munson… Is this an eye for an eye situation? Do I get to know just who my charming captor is?”

“It’s not required for me to tell you,” He stated, stealing a glance over towards Munson. The guy was still staring at him, eyes squinting, half-closed, as though Steve was a mystery he was trying to decipher. The click of keys as Steve added the man’s credentials to the document filled the brief silence. “Any middle names?”

“No.” A simple statement. Normal procedure. Then: “So, about your ‘hot dates’, detective… You go on lots?”

Dt. Harrington wanted to slam his head against the keyboard. He inhaled slowly (hold for four, just like Robin had taught him) and let the air out in a whining, exaggerated sigh. Half of him wanted to throttle Munson with the cuffs chained around his wrists, and the other half wanted to entertain him, purely out of personal, incredibly non-professional interest in the other man’s interest.

“Not anymore,” Steve admitted. He clicked into an empty box asking to describe the crime committed: “My colleague said you were being admitted for drunk and disorderly. Is that right?”

Eddie Munson snorted. “Your colleague?”

“Yeah.”

The other man rolled his eyes and began scratching at an ink stain on the wooden desk. “If you mean the big guy, then yeah. I don’t know about any disorder, though. Thought I was just being thrown into the clink with the rest of the bums.”

“You’re homeless, then?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up beneath his shaggy fringe, hiding there, and he had the audacity to look offended as he sank down into his chair. “Fuck no. Why, do I have trash in my hair?” He brought a hand up to thread through his wild locks, snickering at Steve’s unamused face.

“It’s not funny to make fun of the less fortunate, Munson. What’s your address?”

Eddie stiffened. “Uh, okay. Funny thing, actually – “

“You are homeless?” Steve guessed, and he figured he was actually close to the truth by the way the other man’s face seemed to humble and calm down from it’s crazy that he’d had posted there since they’d met.

“No, dude, I live in a van!”

“Like, in an RV?”

“Er,” Eddie hesitated. “Yeah, sure. Like in an RV.”

“What’s the license?”

Eddie answered disdainfully and watched as Steve typed the information into the designated box, frowning, but he made no attempt to interrupt the detective as he continued filling in the rest of the information. Steve treasured the quiet, broken only by the hushed conversation across the room where in Max continued to verbally abuse Powell’s attempts to shoot a crumpled post-it into the waste basket.

Steve turned to Eddie, then, examining him with a crude eye; Munson puffed his chest beneath his gaze like the preening bird of paradise he’d seen on that nature documentary Dustin had forced him to sit through (David Attenborough had lulled him into a false sense of security -  those birds were vicious).  Dt. Harrington wondered if the man realised he was doing it, but one glance to his smirking face and smudged eye-liner was enough to stop that thought in it’s tracks.

“Do you have a criminal record?”

“Not that I know of,” Eddie replied coolly. He narrowed his eyes as Steve turned to type something into a search engine, leaning forward and craning his neck to try and get a closer look. “What are you doing?”

“Fact-checking,” Steve murmured in reply, and felt his chest deflate, rest easy, when he saw that the man was telling the truth. He was clean as a whistle. Related family members - his father – were a different story all together, and Steve didn’t let himself linger on the crooked, malicious black and white mugshot that leered at him through the screen. Put away for second-degree manslaughter, he thought grimly, and looked back to the Munson sat before him. “It checks out.”

“Well, good,” Eddie said roughly. There was a gravel to his voice that had the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck standing to attention. “I’m a man of many qualities, detective. But I’m not a liar.”

There was an undercurrent of upset, embarrassment, at what Steve had possibly been assuming -  or even hinting towards – and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s just- uh, you know. We have to do it for everyone who comes through,” he stammered, and cleared his throat again, avoiding eye contact with the other man. “Don’t think you’re special or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Munson shot back, and there it was, the classic grin that Steve found somewhat endearing now that he’d seen that face void of it. Eddie sent him a wink, and he supressed the shiver in exchange for a well-timed eyeroll, scrolling up and down the document to check for anything he’d missed. He checked ‘no’ for anything stating that the incarcerated was exhibiting foul or unsavoury behaviour. ‘No’ was also checked for the box that asked whether a superior officer had been overseeing the whole thing, because Steve was so going to throw it back in Hopper’s face if anyone questioned why a Homicide detective was detaining people.

Steve sent the file to the printer in his office. Mainly because he wanted to escape the digging eyes of Eddie Munson, but also because he didn’t know how to use the one set up only a couple feet away. When he pushed himself out from beneath the desk, standing up, Eddie frowned, copying the motion, and Steve shook his head, pushing him back down into the seat:

“Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” If anything, Steve would say that the man sounded concerned. How cute.

“I’ll be back,” he reassured, and Munson’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Okay?” The other man said, like he didn’t know what else to say. Steve sent him a stiff smile before he began that awkward, half-run half-speed walk to his office. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and if he didn't know any better he'd say he could hear the tumbling of blood as it rushed through his veins as Eddie Munson's eyes followed his every move.

What was wrong with him? Just a few hours ago he was investigating the brutal slaughter of a poor woman. Someone's mother, someone's daughter, was dead, and for the first time in years Dt. Harrington was struggling to keep the case at the forefront of his mind. He braced himself against door, closing it softly behind him. He wasn't in high school anymore, Steve had to remind himself. He couldn't just drop it all for the first cute girl he saw.

But and Steve tried to stop the train of thought before it began, failing miserably. But, Edward Munson wasn't a girl. That made it different, surely?

No. It didn't. Steve had been with guys before - he'd learnt more in college than how to assess the arcs of blood splattered against the wall. He was just tired, and lonely, and he'd had a rough day. Steve snatched the papers from the printer harshly, wrinkling them slightly. He just needed to get it out of his system, that's all.

Preferably not with a drunk dude admitted to a police station.

The term 'beggars can't be choosers' breached the sturdy wall he'd suddenly built up in his mind, and Steve banished it instantly. He wasn't a beggar. He was Steve Harrington. King Steve. The best homicide investigator Hawkins had seen in half a century. If anything, everyone else was begging.

When he came back out of his office, his tiny, insecure pep-talk to himself had boosted his spirits some, and he strode jauntily back to the desk with the same cockiness he'd had when he was younger, before his work had both taken over his life and drained him of it at once. He eyed Maxine Mayfield uncertainly where she was perched on the end of an adjoining desk, listening with the same intense, serious look she always kept on her face as the hand-cuffed man talked aimlessly at her about whatever the fuck a guy like him had to talk about. Music, probably.

Steve sent a sharp glance towards Officer Powell, but the man had fallen asleep with his feet kicked up and his neck flopped awkwardly over the back of his chair. He would feel that position when he woke, and Steve felt a little bit gratified. Served him right for leaving a ten-year-old unsupervised with a criminal.

Not that Dt. Harrington really thought that Munson was a bad guy. Usually when drunks got brought into the clink it was because they’d been partying too loud and disturbed a neighbour, and, honestly, Eddie seemed sober. But that was beside the point.

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, watching the two of them, and felt a begrudging smile tilt the corners of his mouth: “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Max cried, kicking out at him with her swinging legs. She missed him by about three feet, but he got the picture quite clearly. Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his chains at Steve.

“Nothing important, Steve,” the man purred. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest, and he wet his lips, looking away from the eyes plastered onto him. Eddie tracked the move like a predator, and something about the way he gave his full attention to Steve had the detective shuddering beneath his gaze.

“Max, you’re not supposed to speak to strangers.”

“You were talking to him,” the girl said indignantly, and Eddie’s dazzling smile caused Steve to falter in his reply, like the man knew just how to hotwire his brain. He blinked.

“Yeah, well. That’s my job,” he shrugged, pushing past her sit back down. The red-head scowled, kicking out again, and this time her shoes brushed against his slacks. He shoot her a dirty look: “You shouldn’t have told him my name, either. Where’s your brother? Go bother him.”

Max’s brow furrowed and she pulled her legs up, crossing them on top of the desk. Her eyes flickered between the two men, and she pressed her lips together in indecision. “Can I stay if I’m quiet?”

“Sure. But I want silence. Anything more and you’re out. That’s an order,” Steve enforced, lacing his tone with authority. He knew it would work – it always did with kids. Remind them that you’re in control, give them an ounce of duty, and they felt instantly important. Max nodded furiously, making a show of zipping her lips, and Steve threw the document in his hand down onto the desk, turning his attention to Munson.

The man was looking at him – no surprise there, but Steve still felt oddly uncomfortable – with wide, excited eyes, his lips parted slightly. Steve could see the pink of his tongue trapped between his teeth, and cocked his head slightly: “You good, Munson?” He pushed the paper across the desk. “I need you to sign this for me, then we can get to fingerprinting.”

Eddie swallowed and shook his head. “No, uh – yeah I’m good. I’m super good,” he informed. He paused, scrutinizing the detective as he stole a pen right out of Steve’s hands before he had the chance to offer it. He scribbled a rushed, messy signature that slopped over the dotted line that it was aimed for, and stood quickly, slamming his palms flat on the table in a way that generated a thunderous sound. Steve raised a brow as Max jumped, lips twisting in her attempts to maintain her vigil of absolute quiet. Munson levelled him with a… what was in that stare? Steve couldn’t quite make it out, struggling to compartmentalise the muddle of emotions burning there.

“So you’re ready to go, then?” the detective proffered, rising to join the detainee.

“I’m all yours, Stevie.”

“Please, call me detective. It’s protocol.”

“I’m all yours, detective Steve.”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. The tangy scent of copper drifted from his tie and he swallowed as he rounded the desk. This was going to be a long night.

He hated Mondays.

[not-krys]

Fictober 2023: The Traveling Adventures of Mr. Fox and Miss Mouse Part 2

Prompt #4: Do You Even Know What This Means?

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Rating: Teen

Characters: Mitsuhide Akechi, 'Miss Mouse' (Fem!Reader Insert using a moniker)

Summary: Detective Mitsuhide is given the task of returning a runaway bride to her husband back East. Miss Mouse, as she's calling herself, refuses to return.

Notes: 1880s America / Historical Travel AU, Fem Reader Insert, so feminine terms will be used to refer to the reader (lady, miss, missy, girl, wife, etc), Mitsuhide also being a manipulative lil shit but what else is new?

Had brainworms for this AU back in February of this year and have now decided to expand upon it for this year's Fictober entry. For the first part of the story, check this link!

Also up on ao3!

And thanks to @bluetri4ngles and @drachonia for beta reading this for me! And I know @lorei-writes was excited about the first part, so here's a part 2, love!

WC: 2487

—------

He had only closed his eyes for a minute. Mitsuhide had sworn it had only been a minute, but it seemed a minute too long for his liking. Maybe it was the swaying of the train, maybe it was his own fatigue catching up to him–he didn't know what would have caused him to be so unaware–but in the next moment, the sun had dipped behind the flying tree line, the lands out the window seemingly flatter and grassier than when he had departed. He was still sitting in the booth he had sat at with the lady in the purple dress, the girl he was supposed to be bringing back home, but there was no sign of his companion, not even a lingering scent of the lavender she had in her hat.

Well, this wasn't good.

She did have the good grace to cover his food with a napkin (untouched), and a little note thanking him again for the help earlier and letting him know that she was retiring to her cabin for the evening. Even had the audacity to sign it as Miss Mouse with a cute doodle of a mouse in a bustle dress next to her signature. Mitsuhide sighed.

He thought of returning to his own car for the evening, following suit of the lady, but he was stopped by a passing steward who handed him a note. A telegram, rather, with a hushed message.

"201." he said simply, his face strangely stiff, even for a railroad steward.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow as the man walked away, pushing up his glasses, seemingly. With a defeated shrug, Mitsuhide looked over the telegram, his white brow now furrowing.

"Husband growing impatient. Bring girl home. Threats of bankruptcy and setting building on fire. Doing best to stall. Please hurry. KB."

"Kyubei," Mitsuhide crumpled the paper in his hand, looking back out at the orange and purple tinged scenery.

"Doing things thousands of miles away is easier said than done, my friend." Mitsuhide closed his eyes and stood up, going back to his cabin to think. He was in for a long ride and Miss Mouse would surely hate him when she learned of his true intentions. A sad thought, to be sure, but there was a reason mice and foxes weren't the best of friends, after all.

-----

Miss Mouse, rather you, had retired for the evening after leaving your savior, Mr. Fox, behind in the dining car. As much as you had enjoyed his company and that he had saved you from some rough gentlemen that seemed hell-bent on harassing you, you couldn't stay with the dashing Mr. Fox.

Or rather, Mr. Akechi, you thought with a sigh, remembering the sight of his bellflower-stitched holster.

Yes, even word of the white-haired detective had reached your noble circles. A tall man with a deep voice and a grin that was just asking for trouble. You almost couldn't believe that Mr. Akechi, the famous detective, had boarded on a train, the very same train that you were on.

Being rescued by him certainly did a number on your heart, but the reality of the situation soon sank in after you'd had a minute to think.

Mr. Akechi likely wasn't here for a leisurely train ride through the countryside. In all likelihood, he was probably paid to bring you back home, back to that disgusting pig of a man that had swindled you out of your family and their money. You felt your blood boiling at the thought of that man's hands touching yours, and your stomach churning as he smiled a lecherous grin at you.

No, it wouldn't do you any good to waste another thought on the man. You needed to think of a plan, to find some way to escape a detective like Mr. Akechi. It was your only hope if you wanted to keep your freedom.

You sat in the comfy chair in your room, contemplating what to do next. A planned stop was coming within a day or so, you thought. You could slip into the crowd and sneak aboard another train. Although the possibility of getting caught made your heart stutter and cower out in the end.

You could also sneak into the crowd and wait for the train to leave, then just explain to the staff that you had simply missed your train and would wait for the next one. A simple enough excuse and a believable one. You could get lost in the town nearby, say you lost track of the time, and just wait in town for the next available train to take you to California. Mr. Oda would understand, wouldn't he? People get lost traveling by trains all the time, surely?

Although, it would look suspicious if you took your trunk with you into the rail station as if you meant to stay longer and not get back on the train. Would you be willing to risk leaving your belongings to elude the detective? You had heard stories of people losing their way with no belongings and dying out in the great unknown.

Maybe, you thought, perhaps you could buy more supplies in the rail town without it looking suspicious and just leave your original belongings on purpose? People lost luggage all the time anyways, right?

You sighed. Who knew starting your new life in the West was going to require this much of a daring escapade to elude both your suitor and a suave detective?

No, he wasn't that suave. He was here (possibly) to whisk you back home! That took down his handsomeness some. No amount of charm he could exude would persuade you into going back. Not ever.

You looked over at your hat, little lavender springs already starting to wilt. You frowned and stood up, taking the hat into your hands and pulled the sprigs out, setting them aside to press later.

You sat the hat back onto the table and prepared for bed, stripping the purple overdress and petticoats from your body, breathing in deeply.

Rocked by the swaying of the train, you laid in the provided bed, pulling the feathered blanket over your head, hoping to come up with a more solid plan in the morning, and a stronger hope of not seeing a certain white-haired Mr. Fox in the dining car again. Your rescuer could easily transform into your kidnapper and you sincerely hoped that wouldn't be the case. His kindness and wit had warmed you, but warmth had a habit of dissipating if there was a stiff breeze present.

You closed your eyes, hoping against hope that Mr. Fox was just here for a leisurely train ride and nothing more.

-------

The early morning sun and rumbling stomachs roused the passengers of the westward bound train. Mitsuhide brushed his hair back as he replaced his hat, noting the lessened dark circles around his eyes. Who knew that following a girl across the country would do wonders for his sleep habits?

With a yawn while buttoning up his waistcoat, he headed back to the dining car with a flourish of his jacket, finding you once again, enjoying a light breakfast and, thankfully, no unscrupulous gentlemen around to ruin your meal time.

Well, save for one unscrupulous gentleman, he thought sadly.

You jumped a little as your sudden guest seated himself, golden eyes training on you like a fox that had trapped a little mouse under his paw.

"Good morning, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said as he sat across from you, his dangerous grin lighting his face.

"G-good morning, Mr. Fox." you returned, cutting up your eggs with a frown, "I see you are in better spirits than yesterday. Did you have a good sleep?"

"I did, thank you for asking." he said a touch thinly, remembering the state she had left him in yesterday. "I'm heartbroken, however."

"Heartbroken?"

"You left your dear husband to fend for himself in the cold dining car all night. And after such a gallant rescue yesterday, too."

You froze.

"I never said you were my husband. That was you fibbing to make those other gentlem-"

"Yet rumors are already spreading that we are arguing and you sent me here in your anger."

"…Beg your pardon?"

"You left me in the dining car when you were angry with me. The staff and a few married couples looked on in pity. It was quite embarrassing."

"Wait, you really did sleep here all night?" You asked, worriedly.

"Feel my hands, dear, and see how cold they are."

You stared at him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. You then looked down at his hands, frowning.

"You're wearing gloves."

"Yes, I am. So are you. Quite a mind for detail, Miss."

"Your hands wouldn't be cold if you were wearing gloves." You said, "plus, the passenger cars are all heated through steam. You wouldn't be cold at all."

Mitsuhide smirked.

"Then, perhaps, you could rub my back? The chairs here are quite comfortable for sitting in, but sleeping in them certainly isn't the best idea."

You frowned deeper.

"Teasing, Mouse." he said, "I was only teasing you. I went back to my cabin and slept quite deeply."

You returned to your eggs with a pout.

"Well, Mr. Fox, some of us don't need or appreciate being riled up like that first thing in the morning."

"I was being serious about the rumors, however."

"You and I are not married."

"No, but I did put on such a spectacular show yesterday, so much so that seeing us apart has made others curious."

"Then quell those rumors." You said firmly.

His sly smile made you pause.

"I'm afraid It would be in your best interest if I didn't."

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"A young, unmarried woman traveling alone is just asking for trouble," Mitsuhide explained. "A married woman traveling with her husband at least has him around to protect her."

"And you're offering to be my husband for my protection?" 

"Precisely."

"Why? Why do you want to protect me so badly?"

Mitsuhide paused, seeming caught for a brief moment. His placid look soon returned, however.

"It's in my nature to protect young ladies in distress such as yourself."

You huffed. So, this was how it was going to be?

"I was doing fine."

"Yesterday proved otherwise."

"I was going to ask for help from the steward and have them confined until we get to the next stop. That is, until you intervened."

"And if they escape their confinement after the train reaches the next stop, what then? They could kidnap and have their way with you, whatever their perverted minds were thinking of doing to you once you were alone."

"I-"

You paused, now the one trapped in the logic trap. You had only wanted to escape that horrible match and now… You were alone against a fox dead set on trapping you, the fox not even being the worst of the dangers in front of you, you were beginning to realize.

"Though your bravery in striking out on your own was admirable, you must also understand the world we're in, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said. "A woman without a man to support her won't last very long, especially out here in the unknown."

He rested his chin in his palm.

"What I'm offering is protection, so that what happened yesterday won't happen again. Better yet, a worse outcome won't come to pass so long as I'm here."

You looked at him, studying him.

"And if I refuse your protection? If I escape at the next station and flee without you by carriage? By stagecoach? Even by a horse?"

"Trouble much worse than yesterday will find you." Mitsuhide frowned, not the least bit thrilled at the idea of physically chasing you across the vast countryside aside from the comfort of the train. "Even fleeing by your own two legs would leave you at the mercy of the elements along with the evil men trying to catch your tail."

You looked away, not hungry anymore.

"Do you know what all this means, Mouse?"

"I know what it means." You bit back. "And I hate that you're right."

"Hate it and me as much as you want, Miss Mouse. So long as you agree to lie about us being married. It's for your protection, after all."

You sighed in defeat.

"I have half a mind to make you sleep in the dining car again, Mr. Fox."

Mitsuhide chuckled, pushing your plate back towards you.

"So long as you keep being my wife, Miss Mouse. I'll even sleep on the roof if you tell me to."

Much as you didn’t like him in this moment, you still had your standards.

"No, don't sleep on the roof, please. However, as your wife," you shoved the plate towards him this time, "I want you to eat."

Mitsuhide blinked in surprise.

"You didn't finish your dinner yesterday because you were helping me. The steward told me when I arrived here this morning."

"And I remember telling you I lost my sense of taste ages ago."

"Your belly doesn't care about your lack of taste." You pointed your fork at him. "Besides, I can't have my ‘husband’ collapsing from hunger if he's supposed to be protecting me from all the nasty villains that are coming after me. It's the least I can do as your ‘wife’. That’s what you wanted, correct?"

Mitsuhide chuckled after a moment.

"You're kinder than I deserve, little wife."

"I'm not your wife.” you repeated. “I pity the poor waif that takes your hand someday."

"You and me both." He never pictured himself getting married, however nice a thought it was. He couldn't put someone through his life guilt-free, wouldn’t dream of putting someone through his life, not even his worst of enemies.

Instead, he took his pleasure in eating off your plate, ignoring your pointed scowl as he snatched your fork when your back was turned to order more food. The small domestic atmosphere, though with many more strings running underneath it like the tracks beneath them, it made him smile genuinely inwardly, having the taste of a humble life he would never know otherwise, he felt. 

He had been surprised that you remembered him not eating the previous evening and had thought to remedy that, despite knowing who he was, evidently, based on the change in demeanor this morning. You truly were too kind to him, at least suspecting his true intentions and yet still thinking after him enough to remind him to eat.

His true heartbreak would come when he had to take her back home, he thought with a sigh, forced to feed this kind little mouse to a much more despicable creature than him, the thought causing more displeasure and annoyance than it should have. 

What was this little mouse doing to him, causing such troublesome thoughts in him?