#knowing it won’t happen prolly

[oliverryart]

I love discovering new artists to froth at the mouth for because sometimes they inspire you and make you so excited or have a style that brings you joy or have storytelling aspects you adore,,,,,

And other times they rip apart a personal bias that’s been holding you back and make you realize that the only reason you haven’t drawn something is your own fear of failure and FUCK that noise i’m gonna go draw ALL the things!!!!!

[lifeismarvelous]

Thankfully now I never get art block, the REAL problem is since I constantly keep getting ideas for art I CANT DECIDE WHAT TO START WITH BECAUSE IM TOO INDECISIVE.

[hauntedgarden95]

…I need photo mode for datv

[tinystarbites]

accidents | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops [5.5k]

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst mainly Spencer doubting himself aww :(, Spencer is PINING for you hard (haha get it), nudes, Spencer loves you so much, pls someone give him a hug, m!masturbation, talk about sex, proofread but prolly not perfect lol, like you aren't probably ready for the amount of longing in this, *slaps Spencer* this bad boy can fit so much pining and yearning

read pt.II here

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Spencer swears it was an accident.

You were all away on a case, somewhere in Florida. And of course, something like that can only happen in Florida, because as much as he dislikes connecting random events with random locations, non-sequitur fallacy and all that, he cannot not say that many of his most embarrassing moments aren’t attributable to the south-eastern state. (He will not elaborate on these moments, he very much likes to keep most of his dignity still intact, thank you very much.)

But his dignity isn’t really the only thing that had been shattered to pieces by… by the accident. Far from it really and it- well, it- God, this really won’t end well for him, will it? He’s well and truly, as Emily likes to say, fucked.

It happened on the fourth day he and the team were cooped up in a small, dingy police station, chasing down an unsub that liked to paint intricate body art on the victim’s corpses as part of his MO. Aside from, y’know, slitting their throats with what seemed to be an old, rusty saw. The paradoxical duality of these two aspects, of the interplay of carefulness and diligence put into the painting process and the absolute careless way the unsub ends his victims was fascinating really – but not as much as it is disturbing, still.

Thus, this case is a very photography-heavy one. Most of the cases they solve involve photographs of some kinds of course, but Spencer has never sat in front of quite as many pictures of art and gore in his life before. It was strange, to say the least, even to him. Strange and annoying, to be honest.

Because Spencer isn’t exactly fond of all things that come with some electrical inner life, i.e. smartphones, his old brick of a phone isn’t exactly helpful for this case. He still feels the need to roll his eyes at Garcia after she, for the umpteenth time, called him an old grandpa and his phone a potato trying to pass as a phone. And failing miserably, especially when looking at the pictures it takes and their quality. Well, Penelope would say “pictures”, because she would also say that a resolution of beneath 60 PPI should be considered a war crime against modern technology, but Spencer doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know what that even means, so. Jokes on her.

Well, actually, the joke is on him. And yes, he knows, the joke is almost always on him, he knows his pipe-cleaner physique and too big eyes and long hair and everything about him really, makes him the perfect target for the occasional bullying he gets still as an adult, but he’s used to that. It’s normal, part of his everyday life. He can deal with that (more or less).

What he so brilliantly cannot deal with however, is having you around him almost 24/7. Because Hotch had had the amazing idea of fixing you to his hip as his personal photographer to circumvent his technological potato-problem. Uh- not that you, that you take pictures of him, why would you ever do that, but more like, taking pictures for him. Of their victims. And the body art.

Spencer was actually waiting for your protest, because there seems to be nothing worse for you than to stay inside the office when you could be out there, on the fields, in midst of all the action. Where Spencer usually isn’t. But that’s fine of course. Completely, absolutely fine. Spencer doesn’t look up every time the door to the tiny room he’s set up his camp in opens to see if it’s you bringing him another coffee just the way he likes, if it’s your smile that will make him feel more energized than any overly sweet coffee ever could. If it’s your voice and smell and aura (Penelope is definitely getting into his head) that for the short while you are there, makes everything seem so much more manageable.

It’s an energy burst unlike any other and Spencer is aware of what that means, so aware his body burns with it sometimes… Often. Okay, fine, most of the time. He just prefers to ignore it and enjoy the precarious friendship he built with you for what it is because he just likes to have you around so very much and – this was so not the point he wanted to make. He’s hopeless, when it comes to you, and it really is kind of embarrassing.

So, this is why the joke is so entirely on him that it’s not even a joke anymore. It’s basically bullying, he feels bullied. Because you actually had beamed the prettiest smile he’s ever seen at him, said ‘Oh finally, I can unpack all the dark hidden talents from within me’ which was so cryptic but so you and then you also winked at him. And well, Spencer has to lie if he were to say that he was being totally normal about this. That you didn’t just upheave his insides like an earthquake of magnitude eight with a single wink. Oh, he’s in so much trouble.

The first two days the two of you work side by side proceed without any unforeseen occurrences. And Spencer is so glad about that he could cry. From the moment you had joined the team two years ago, from the moment he met you, it was an undeniable fact that you were nice. Not only that, but truly, selflessly kind in a way that has left him all too choked up to even speak on multiple occasions now. The team is nice to Spencer, of course they are, they’re his family. But nothing in the entire world could have adequately prepared him to the spring of kindness you so freely distribute to anyone willing to receive it. And god, Spencer is willing. Is it every time you listen to him ramble on and on, unable to really hold his tongue despite the embarrassment clouding his cheeks darker. Is it every time you ask him about the book he’s reading, every time you ask him how his mother is doing and just- all these tiny things that add up and completely smush his brain into a fuzzy mess of warmth that leaks down his body.

He literally could spend every minute of every day just sitting next to you and soak up your presence and he would be the happiest person alive. That’s why he cherishes your friendship to him so strongly, and that’s why it’s the worst thing that Spencer is, well, himself.

He knows that you would probably be too nice to outright state that something he does unsettles you. Changes the way you think about him. Still. There is the worry. Buried so deep in his mind it’s as if he was born with it. And that’s why he’s so relieved that he is keeping the worst of the ‘Reid effect’ at bay while working with you on this twisted painter case.

It all goes well, until it doesn’t. Of course. Good things never seem to last for Spencer.

It’s already later in the afternoon on the fourth day you are working the case, no end in sight, unfortunately. Spencer is bend over the table, hands entwined in front of his mouth as he’s staring down the printed pictures of the unsub’s latest victim from three days ago. The brushstrokes seem remarkably stable, the colours uncannily vibrant. Spencer does not know much about art, but he does recognise talent when he sees it. And this unsub seems to have it in abundance. It’s almost a shame he’s a deranged killer. But oh well.

He jumps in his seat when the door to his room abruptly bangs open and a dishevelled looking you is bustling into the room.

Your expression turns apologetic. “Oh Spencer, shit, sorry. I didn’t wanna startle you, but they just found another victim.”

And oh. Spencer feels his heart sink in his chest. Guilt tugging it further down into the abyss. Why wasn’t he faster with figuring out these paintings?

“Really? Where?”

You immediately launch into a rapid-fire list of details, all in the wrong order because you do tend to be a bit all over the place. Spencer doesn’t mind. Gives him a bit more of a challenge to order the information in his brain the way it works for him. You two work surprisingly well in that regard.

While talking, you round the desk that almost takes up all the little space available in the room. You sit in the chair next to him, so close he can feel the stressed warmth radiating from you and it takes a very good portion of his brain’s capacity to stop his hand from reaching out. Or do something else even stupider. More stupid? Oh hell. It’s a wonder he can talk in complete sentences with you.

He watches you pull out your phone, fingers typing in the passcode he guessed right after two weeks of knowing you. The indignant expression on your face had been adorable. That’s why he still guesses your new passwords weekly, just to mess with you a little bit. Because he’s apparently insane like that.

“Here”, you turn the display of your phone towards him, “Precinct’s out of ink. Do you mind looking at the pictures on my phone until I come back from the store?”

This is where Spencer should have said no. Declined politely, smile on his face. Tell you that sorry, I don’t really get the same detail on screen like on a printed version. Should’ve emigrated to Tristan da Cunha, change his name to Ferdinand. Whatever. Anything, except say, “Oh, of course. That’s no trouble.”

You smile that breathtaking smile of yours, fingers touching his slightly while giving him your phone. Spencer sucks his lower lip between his teeth to keep himself from making any kind of noise at the tingly feeling skittering down his back.

He can’t not smile back at you. It’s one of his many weaknesses. Jello, trying to out-solve himself every day with New York Times’ new crossword puzzles, dairy. Halloween themed socks. Old obscure movies no one has ever heard of. Reading the most difficult books in twenty minutes. You.

Once you left, Spencer starts diligently going through the photographs of their latest victim. Not yet identified white male. Average height, average weight. Short-buzzed sandy brown hair. Striking blue eyes that seem to stare at him accusingly even after death.

He works through approximately forty pictures taken off the intricate and detailed body art. This time, the unsub left many smaller paintings woven in a bigger, overall painting. There’s still one that Spencer hasn’t seen a close up of, that’s kind of hidden behind the victim’s ears. Maybe you saved it to a different folder. He clicks around your gallery for some time, opening and closing folders full of holiday pictures. Pictures of you, smiling, at the beach. A folder full of memes that he doesn’t get but is familiar with because you keep sending them to him anyways. Spencer is aware that he probably shouldn’t have just- perused your gallery like that. But he was in case-mode. Hyper-focused on finding the next clue, on detangling the next hint that would bring them further. That would finally be the key to end this case and bring justice to all the victims.

He isn’t really thinking, when he clicks on a folder titled ‘xxx lol’. Thinks it’s another one full of memes because of the abbreviation, but maybe you accidentally saved pictures of the case in there, wouldn’t be too out of character for you and-

Spencer sucks in a breath.

Drops your phone almost as an afterthought. The noise of it clattering to the table makes him flinch.

It lands display down. Small mercies and all that.

And Spencer is- he is-

… That was not-

Not -

There’s a weird buzzy feeling in his limbs, his chest and head. Like his blood turned into a swarm of bees. He feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice over his head and like he’s on fire simultaneously.

Okay. Okay.

That was not- pictures of the case.

Definitely not.

Oh Jesus Christ.

Spencer was definitely not supposed to see. That. Not supposed to see you- like that. Ever.

His heart is totally beating itself into a frenzy. There are at least two litres of blood rushing to his head. The other four are gathering somewhere down down down and oh. Oh shit.

Spencer is actually fucked. More than that. He wants to get fucked and that’s. Just. Even worse.

He wants to scream.

He ends up biting his knuckles and letting out a frustrated noise against his fingers.

Did he really.

Did he really just see your nudes?

(And yes, he knows that word. Penelope is a bad influence on him.)

His head is kind of a- a mess. More than usual when you are around. And… what. What does he do now? He can’t just- can’t just leave your phone like that. You’d obviously see what he was looking at and that’s just- unacceptable.

But the other option appears just as preposterous. Because, because, he’d have to look at your phone again. At you, like that, again. To get out of ‘xxx lol’. Damn you. Why did you have to be so unserious and name your, uhm, very personal folder like that? And no password-block?

Spencer feels a different kind of warmth enveloping him because it’s just- so you, silly and funny and kind of unbelievable and Spencer is so deeply in love with you that he feels like he’s going crazy with it. Of course, you’d be like that about stuff like that as well. Spencer would give everything to just once experience what it’d feel like to kiss you. To feel your lips twisted in a silly smile against his, flicking a finger at his ear because you would. Do that. When kissing someone. And okay. Okay. Spencer needs to get his shit together, like, yesterday.

You could come back any second now, actually and fuck. He needs to close the gallery app on your phone, asap.

His hands are trembling as they retrieve your phone from the table.

He allows himself a deep breath. And then. With eyes squeezed almost close, he taps the return arrow. Well, tries to. He thinks he managed to escape your nudes-folder without any hiccups but well.

Spencer is freaking inept with technology.

So. He finds himself looking at another picture of you and god, it actually might kill him.

It’s inappropriate. So so so so inappropriate. You would kill him dead if you ever knew Spencer was ogling your pictures like that. Like a perverted stalker.

But. But.

There shouldn’t even be a ‘but’.

But.

You’re just. You’re just- You’re incredible. Not even in a sexual way, just-

You’re so beautiful it hurts.

And call Spencer selfish, a pervert, whatever. Because he knows, okay? But he also knows that he’d never, ever get to see you like that. And it hurts in a different way now, because Spencer just wants. Wants you so much. You and you, just you.

But…he’d never get to have you. Which is fine, of course. Having you as a friend is actually one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he’d never do anything to endanger that-

…Well. He’s not perfect. So, sue him, for only once, giving into his deepest darkest desires. He’s only human. And pathetically in love with you. And attracted to you. Oh, he wants to be with you so badly. Wants to- wants to get kissed and held by you. Wants to make love with you, which just. Sounds so dumb and cliche. But maybe he just is that for you.

Still. He shouldn’t think how absolutely breathtaking you look, sprawled across the white linen of presumably your bed. He knew you worked out regularly, but. Spencer feels hot all over when he thinks how easily you could just. Manhandle him around. To wherever you wanted him. And this is something he apparently likes. (He consciously stores that information away for later. Later.)

He shouldn’t think how you would tease him, how you would make him beg for you before he’d even taken off his clothes. He would. He would beg for you, go on his knees. Everything, everything.

He shouldn’t think how warm and safe you’d make him feel, even after knowing he’s inexperienced in everything. You’d take his face in your hands, smile at him so beautifully he’d cry. Tell that ugly internalized shame to go ‘fuck off to Jupiter’.

Oh, he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

But there’s always so much he shouldn’t do. Friends shouldn’t think of other friends like that. Friends don’t imagine how it would feel to be taken apart and put together again by their friend. Friends shouldn’t want to touch, touch, touch-

Maybe, for once, he just. Has enough of that. Maybe, he could just. Indulge. For a minute. To know what it’d be like. Just. A little.

To know what it’d be like if this picture was meant for him. What it’d be like- Be like to see you. And for you to see him. Like that. What it’d feel like to crawl into your lap, bury his face in your neck. Set his teeth on the gentle skin there and hear you gasp for him. How you’d bury your hands in his hair, and he’d make the most miserable noises until you pulled and-

Something in the corner of his eyes catches his attention and- shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

That’s you. Walking towards the door.

His hands are shaking so badly he has difficulties navigating your phone. But thankfully, this time, he manages to leave ‘xxx lol’ and find his way back to the evidence folder.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Did he actually- He actually-

The door springs open. Spencer startles kind of violently.

(Oh god.)

You have a big grin on your face. Some magenta ink smutched across your left cheek. And Spencer knows what you look like without-

“Heya, Spence, you won’t believe what just happened-“

(Oh god.)

“Uh… you okay there?”

His face feels like it’s on fire. His heartbeat is spiking and, well. He’s never been quite this turned on his entire life. He feels himself hard and aching against his trousers and Spencer wants you to push him down on the table and-

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-

He needs to- leave. Right now.

“Fine”, he squeaks, voice all over the place and he cringes, “Just-“

He wags his hands around in a very confusing, general manner. Grabs some photographs.

“I need to- Need to. Bathroom”, is all he somehow manages, photographs surely placed in front of his, ahhhh, problem.

You look at him as if he lost his mind. He probably has.  “Oh-kay? Then… go?”

Spencer goes.

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Spencer can’t stop thinking about those pictures.

He’d known it would come to this. Him, lying wide awake on the uncomfortable hotel bed.

Having an eidetic memory has never felt more like a curse to him as now.

He buries his head further into the pillow. Fingers digging into it. Pulling his legs closer to him and, ah. That. Probably wasn’t the greatest idea of his.

He’s still- turned on. Uncomfortably so.But just thinking of taking care of that. Well. He’s 100% sure that that’s not the way to go about forgetting these pictures.

Also, it’s bad enough already that he even saw them. It would be so much creepier to jerk himself off to them. To you. His best friend. But- ugh.

It’s always kind of uncomfy for him to be away on a case. He prefers his own four walls over anything else, kind of, except maybe the university library. And now, being sexually frustrated away on a case that requires even more focus than other cases do?

Oh, Spencer is so fucked.

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You notice that something is off with him. It really would have been a miracle if not, because then Spencer would’ve had to question your profiling skills. But even then- he doesn’t think that you’d even need to have these skills to notice him acting off.

Because Spencer is so not the person to play incidents like that cool. He is painfully aware of that, thank you very much.

So, the next day, when you came to say hi to him (“Hey there, Mr. Doctor.”), after he basically ran off the day before, and you, as always, casually put your hand on his shoulder, Spencer, he-

He spit out his coffee.

He could feel you freeze through the hand on his shoulder. Your expression would’ve been comical if Spencer wasn’t dying.

“Uhh… Do you… Do you need a moment?”

Well, that was a freaking understatement. Spencer needs not a moment but all of them to try to get his act together.

…which he didn’t. Not for the rest of that day, and also not for the day after. And the day after. This case apparently will never end. Fucking Florida.

You, of course being the kind soul you are, tried talking to him.

(“Spencer, are you okay? You’ve been acting kinda-“

“What? What do you mean? I’m fine, completely.”

“Uhm… Sure. If you wanna talk about it, you got my number.”)

And well. Spencer feels like he is going insane.

It’s come down to him not being able to spend more than thirty minutes uninterrupted in your vicinity without getting semi-hard, because he knows. Without him almost doing something stupid and drop to his knees then and there and beg you to either forgive him or to please let him eat you out.

Ah, yes, because apart from being so frustrated he could scream, he’s also feeling so guilty it’s slowly killing him.

There you are, still being his absolute favourite person on the planet, unaware of what kind of person you are laughing with. Of what Spencer did. It was an accident yes, but- He should’ve said something. Maybe warned you so that it would not happen again. Ugh, but the more time passes the worse it gets. The more impossible it feels to just- go to you and say ‘ah, uhm, by the way, I saw your nudes and maybe you should put those behind a password block’.

Spencer is just- the worst friend. What friend doesn’t give their friend a heads-up about something like that? He’ so, hopeless, incompetent, and he gets it now why he didn’t have that many friends in school. 

It’s gotten so bad so quickly that the others started noticing too, obviously. It really is a curse working with profilers. Spencer should reconsider his move to Tristan da Cunha.

“What’s got pretty boy so worked up, huh?”, Morgan asked him on the day after the incident.

“Did something happen, Spence?”, JJ pulled him aside on the second day after.

“Are they cancelling Doctor Who?”, Emily, on the first day after.

“Kid, you need to eat something”, as Rossi pressed a protein bar into his hands.

Even Penelope texted him.

is it what i think it is? ;))))))

He did not dignify her with an answer.

When Hotch comes to him on the evening on the second day after, Spencer is a mess. He’s practically spent the entire day in some state of fluster. He noticed he’s trailing off when he’s info-dumping. That he’s just- staring off into space more often than he usually does. That he can’t talk to you properly without stuttering, that he avoids looking you in the eyes. So, it really was only a matter of time until their unit chief would scold him. Or whatever Hotch is here to do.

“Listen, Reid”, he says, tone of voice a little too similar to when he is talking to Jack when he did something mildly inconvenient, “whatever it is, and I don’t want to know unless it’s something bad, deal with it. We need you with a clear head here, okay?”

And well, that could’ve gone a lot worse.

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He still thinks so once he falls into bed that evening. But now-

Deal with it.

How? How should he deal with that? It’s not like he can just press the ‘Delete’-button in his memories. Thanks for nothing, Hotch.

His eyes strain from staring at the ceiling in the dark. Closing them doesn’t really help because all he’d see is you. He’s such a mess.

A pining, pathetic loser mess and he’s so hard again he can’t properly think. It’s just- Spencer has had rather inappropriate thoughts about you before. Has actually spent way too many hours in his apartment just lazing around, thoughts occupied on all the countless ways he’d like you to make him lose his goddamn mind. It had been kind of an accident (isn’t that just the story of his life), the first time it happened.

Spencer had almost been finished with his report, he’d just needed an additional detail from you to finish up. He’d asked Morgan where you were, and this is how he found himself walking down the corridor to Penelope’s ‘Dungeon’. Which, he’d never say out loud because that’s just ridiculous, right?

He saw the door to her office was slightly ajar, a mix of yellowish-red light splitting the hallway in half where it spilled out of the open gap.

There’s a giggle coming from inside the room and Spencer smiles- can’t help it really, because your laugh is just so absolutely ridiculous, a kind of high-pitched screech that ends in airy laughter and he’s so obsessed with it he wants to engrave it on a CD to listen to it again and again.

“No way, gorgeous, I don’t believe that”, Penelope whisper-giggled.

Spencer didn’t realize his steps slowed down, too curious by what you two could be talking about. And also, kind of forgetting that you shouldn’t just listen to other people’s conversations like that.

“Oh yes”, your voice was low, and Spencer would be lying if he said it didn’t send a tingle along his spine, “He broke up with me, but he came crawling back to me not even two months later because I apparently ‘ruined him’ for anyone else.”

Ruined him? What did you mean?

Both Penelope and you were laughing now, louder than before.

“You really, really gotta teach me your devious ways, buttercup.”

You snicker. “I guess it all boils down to making them come so hard they cry and forget their own name, really.”

Spencer didn’t get the detail he needed from you that day.

He’d gotten something much worse and that was curious. From the limited sexual encounters he’s had in his life before (a rushed hand-job somewhen in university in a toilet cubicle by that one other student he was into back then) he couldn’t really imagine something like sexual gratification that made one cry. Sure, getting himself off felt good. Sure, that orgasm had been fine. But… it could feel better?

He kind of didn’t think of that before.

So, when flustered-he had returned to his apartment after that overheard conversation, he kind of… thought about what these things could be that you did, to make others feel so good they lose the basic functions of their memory.

And the rest is basically history.

Of course, he’d never touched himself while doing… research about your techniques. It just felt- wrong. You are his friend and despite of his crush on you, it didn’t feel right.

But now…

He really really shouldn’t. But, he’s just so- desperate. For you and for things to go back to how they were. Without him almost bursting at the seams each time you look at him because before, he never had any problems with categorizing his mind like he does now.

So maybe… Maybe he can just… Do it once? Real quick, to get it out of his system?

The longer Spencer turns the thought in his head, the more… it seems like a good idea. You’d never know. Spencer could forget about- about the accident and move on. Solve the case and finally leave cursed Florida behind. If he just does it this one time, it’s not that bad right?

The fuzzy pleasure that shoots up his spine when he finally, finally presses his hand against himself through his pyjama pants answers him. Yes, yes, it says and more more more-

Spencer has never been good in denying himself things that make him feel good, better than good, things that make him forget about any pain that has nestled inside of his body or mind. Right now, that thing is you. Oh, perfect beautiful lovely you. He can’t stop the way his lips twitch into a smile, almost shy, even though he’s alone. But something about you just- 

He gasps, back arching a little when he slides the palm of his hand along himself, still through two layers of fabric.

Something about you just- god, how can he put this into words- something about you just makes him feel- safe. Seen. Taken care of. And it’s just, so foreign to him. Strange. He’s always been looking after himself. After dad left and mom-

He’s kind of addicted to it. To the way you make him feel. Spencer can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of you. Never never enough.

His fingers trail circles around the head of his cock, light and unhurried, enjoying the shivers of good good amazing it sends through his limbs, to his fingertips. Spencer can feel the tension leaking out of him, can feel his muscles relax and his mind become hazy. He should do this more often, god he always forgets how good it is, it feels.

He almost forgets why he decided to get off right now. It had something to do with you. You. Naked and there, here with Spencer. He whines a little because you aren’t here, why aren’t you here he wants that so badly-

But all he has is the crystal-clear mental snapshot of your nudes. Spencer doesn’t remember ever remembering something with such clarity before. He feels kind of embarrassed by that, how obviously desperate he is for you. How he would do everything for you, with you. But this feels so good that he doesn’t care about any kind of embarrassment or shame that might trigger his self-loathing.

He increases the pressure of his palm slightly, oh god oh oh, it’s so good already and Spencer hasn’t even touched yet, not properly at least, but oh. Oh, he wants moremoremore-

It’s so easy letting his thoughts tangle, mixing old and new. Fantasies and reality. The you from the pictures merges with the you from his daydreams and oh shit. Oh fuck.

Spencer moans, high and needy at the back of his throat and god how are you so beautiful?

Imagined-you has absolutely nothing on the real you. Spencer could have never himself come up with you because he just lacks the imaginative capabilities to conjure the absolute vision you are. The vision you portray on those freaking pictures that have branded themselves into his very neurons. He’s sure, absolutely sure, that he will never get over them. Over you. Doesn’t even really want to.

Because he is quite certain that the sight of you, your stomach your thighs your arms your tits your- oh he forgot where he was going with this.

By now, Spencer’s hand has dipped beneath his pyjamas and beneath his boxers and he moans again, his lips pulled between his teeth and eyes shut because the feeling of good good better more almost peaks when he grabs himself, finally.

His right hand starts an even, slow pace along his cock because if he is only ever doing this once, he is going to make most of it.

It doesn’t take long for him to get close, though. He’s been so wound up the last few days, it really is no surprise. It’s actually more surprising he hasn’t come all over himself already.

Soft, keening noises are continuously spilling from between his lips, hips moving together with his hand because he just can’t help himself. The heat in his abdomen is building and building and he whimpers because he wants it to be you so so badly, his thoughts are a mess, he is a mess and he wishes he could be your mess, yours, yours to make a mess of and oh god he’s going to-

A knock. On his door.

He freezes, blood rushing loud in his ears, heart pounding and his cock hot in his hand and begging him to not stop but-

“Spencer? It’s me, can you let me in?”

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pt. II? 👀

[weaselmcdiesel]

ok so it's not a comic hope thats ok with you but instead it's karkat n nepeta but designed by someone whos madly in love with them both

some more au explanations + transcript beneath the cut

they're maybe around 30-40 yo? This was mostly just an exercise to give both of them adult designs. uh. i'm only calling it an au because I made bs some explanations behind their designs while i was drawing them. so uh, in this universe, sburb never happens + things that happened because of sburb don't happen either, but the alternian society is relatively unchanged. i dont actually know.. what.. karkat does.. like i cant figure out why he wouldnt be culled but it doesnt really matter i just wanted to draw him looking cool! (i am. open to hear about speculation if you have any). also i figured that Kanaya would go to the brooding caverns after her lusus dies, bc the wiki said her lusus would die regardless of the game taking place n whatever, and probaly do something with the matriorb there idk. thats all tho! ill prolly draw them more and maybe develop more lore as i do ^^;

--

Transcript!

i don’t know what their dynamic is in the canon of this au… but that won’t stop me from making them kiss :]

The Vigilant adult karkat on alternia

new highly developed shoosing skill

honestly has a calmer demeanor because he’s learned what’s worth exploding about… though he probably developped a crazy resting bitch face

pleased (arrow to karkat with a neutral face)

The sash doubles as a sling for when he visits Kanaya in the brooding caverns. He’s also very tranquil around grubs because they don’t cause unmanageable problems. He’ll get mad if someone else bothers one

(yes i’m obsessed with dilfkat that’s why i drew this)

The Predator adult nepeta on alternia

Taller than karkat <3

still a silly goober, but better at getting what she wants

she probably got her title from a history of single-handedly slaying fearsome lusii. she likely takes assassination type of jobs because of her stealth. one of the more easy-going trolls from the group

--

also! fun fact. i was having trouble designing kk's outfit so i looked in an old antiques catalog book from the internet archive to get inspiration from objects that had the same colors as those that i wanted to use in his design? not sure why i did that. just had a hunch that it would be fun. so this is the object i found that strangely enough inspired kk's fit

haha.. and i also found one for nepeta, though it was easier to design her fit and i didnt actually need a reference object

the book was "Antique Trader antiques & collectibles 2009 price guide"

[captain-marble]

silly thought that i’ve been rotating at might write someday (although knowing me…)

anyways!

someone gets mad and pranks the justice league by releasing clips of their embarrassing moments on tower (nothing that could reveal identities but still embarrassing)

it’s stuff like marvel failing at cooking

batman being sleep deprived and trying to parent different league members (namely marvel)

flash running into walls and things (a lot)

superman being afraid of a shoe and litterally leaping into the air to get away from it. (it was green)

anyways everyone find this hillarious and the members are a lil mortified. But fawcett takes it into their own hands to give marvel food (litterally he has too much food to know what to do with) to the point he ends up like going around sharing it with the homeless kids and stuff

not only that but the league decide to take it into their own hands to teach marvel. cut to videos being released of marvel learning to cook with different leaguers

superman: marv can you pass me a rolling pin? so what you’ve got to do is-

marvel looking at a pot of utensils questioning…. before tentatively holding out a masher: ?

superman: (blinks)

supes probably teaches him how to make apple pie and talk about how if you don’t use the sugar you can use the pie crust to make savoury pies too and blah blah life hack. his parents probably mean he’s the worst offender for trying to shove food or recipes onto marvel

hal and barry prolly teach him how to make like single guy with a shitty job type grind shit that’s like carb loaded and you can just bulk make and store ands got everything you need (cuz they always busy as hell and ain’t rich or anything so don’t got the time or stuff to make tons of food) (it kinda looks like struggle food but yk it gets them through)

hal: so yeah you just dump everything in and if it starts to look radioactive then you know it’s cooked-

billy ‘orphan street rat will eat anything’ batson: damn bitch you live like this? /silly

diana teaches him a greek dish from her childhood that she thinks marvel would feel nostalgic for (i mean billy doesn’t but he remembers eating it in past lives and the thought diana put into it really comforts him)

bruce either a) refuses to teach marvel anything as he himself cannot cook and won’t let the work know that (as all of these cooking videos have been being leaked to the internet who are EATING IT UP like it’s not just fawcett anymore everyone loves cap now becuase you can tell he’s just that authentic cuz his ass does not know these are being filmed) b) cannot cook so it ends up just being a hot mess c) they learn to make a new recipe together d) he has alfred teach him how to make something so he doesn’t embarrass himself e) he teaches marvel how to make struggle food that’s worse than hal and barry’s

marvel: aren’t you funded by a billionaire?

batman: hm

marvel: batman….damn bitch you live like this???????????

everyone just dogs on batman online for like banging bruce wayne (no one believes that the butts match :/ ) and yet still being ass at cooking, like bro is at nuclear levels of damn you live like this with his struggle food

anyways cap finds out about the cooking with cap vids and immediately gets all embarrassed that people know he sucks at cooking, fawcett lay off a little on giving him food now they know that the JL are helping him, but he regularly receives copies of old cook books and someone’s nans favourite recipe and stuff and he’s taking home enough food from the JL to actually eat well and is therefore a lot happier and so the JL are like wow marv really likes cooking, and so at least like once a week (usually more) someone (or sometimes just he will) will cook with him and he’ll take home the left overs (if people eat any otherwise he just takes it all himself (despite him frantically offering the food out to people cuz he feels bad for taking so much))

years later when the identity reveal happens they’re like wow??? this makes so much sense???? i’m so glad we’ve been inadvertently feeding the homeless child??? yippee for him not starving and being more healthy that he would’ve been????

but yeah it’s so silly and i think billy would actually love having the chance to eat foods he’s never had before, especially where he spent so long on the streets that he kinda was forced to like ration and buy cheap food, so like he’s being treated by trying new foods and risking not liking it and stuff

but yeah i just think cap cooking and baking is neat teehee

[vamp0rivm]

Can u do a drabble or hcs on cuddling Ellie?

Ur writing is so good I love everything U write :>

WREATHE

warnings: not much, mostly fluff, basically the rq, mdni with my account tho😏

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR I KID YOU NOT LIKE HALF A YEAR IM GENUINELY SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME 😰 thank you so much for sending the rq even though i took the piss responding, also this is a drabble bc i don’t think i’d be good at doing hcs 😭 i have some shit coming up at uni so i prolly won’t put anything out for a while but i have an idea for a new fic in the drafts !!! very excited…

ramadan has started which means israel’s violence against the Palestinian people will worsen as it does every year, purely for the sake of inflicting even more psychological torture on them. please, now more than ever, pray for them if you’re religious, talk about palestine, boycott, protest, strike, donate if you can, contact the people in charge. don’t let people forget. here’s a link to some details on the situation. everybody stay safe 💗.

10:47 - you return from a strenuous day of patrol and odd jobs around Jackson. You’re slightly tipsy, a drink or two from the Tipsy Bison churning a pool of warmth within your stomach.

The place is stagnant when you push the door open, as if coming home to nobody.

Ellie must’ve gone to bed early today.

You drift to the bathroom despite the fact that the house feels apocalyptic, and sit in the gentle rush of water, scrubbing your skin weakly with aching arms.

When you enter your room, everything is still, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Ellie’s figure beneath the covers on the bed backed against the wall.

You throw the dampened towel that is slung over your shoulder carelessly and walk over to the bed, gently settling beside her.

For a while, you feel content. Sleep is lulling you in, the room is shadowy, the bed is warm, and the sound of Ellie’s deep-sleep-breaths (totally not snores at all, she swears) are soft like TV static in the back of your mind.

Your eyes are on the verge of fluttering closed for the last time tonight so you turn onto your side and nestle into yourself.

Then, there’s a harsh jolt and the bed shifts. You can feel Ellie’s puzzled gaze raking over you, the realisation that you’re home setting in, and your lips twist into a smile subconsciously. The night rarely ends without the inebriating buzz of affection.

A quiet sigh escapes the enclosure of her blush-pink lips before she reclines into the pillows once more, eyes never leaving the still curvature of your figure. Not a moment passes and her arms encircle your waist, warmth embracing your torso and pressing against your hair like a wreathe of absolute comfort.

A barely audible mumble tickles the helix of your ear,

“Hey, babe,” accompanied by the phantom touch of her lips against your cheeks in her half-asleep state. You scrunch your nose before turning into the love she offers you.

“Hey, Els.”

You begin to mumble butterfly details about the happenings of the day as you feel the surface of her skin raise with goosebumps under the delicate tracing of your fingertips - down her bare thighs, along the round of her hip, along her stomach and under her boobs - easing airy chuckles out of her.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Hm? Nothin’…”

You can already picture the smirk on her dazed face,

“Ya sure there? You want somethin’, babe?”

A playful scoff and she’s looking at you with feigned shock against the weight of tired eyelids,

“Can’t I feel you? I just wanna be close to you,”

“I’d say we’re pretty close, ya know?”

“Never close enough,” you clarify and the rasp of her laugh fades into silence and she presses a kiss onto your head, and then another, straining her neck till she’s face to flushed and grinning face, stringing a blizzard of soft, dewy kisses across it.

“Alright, alright!”

“One more- mwah,” she smacks her lips against your scrunched up mouth aggressively, leaving a gross patch of saliva, and smiles dumbly to herself, tightening the hold of her arms around you to which you groan.

Tight against her gentle sway, she mutters a quiet confirmation,

“Never close enough,” and then runs the rough pads of her fingertips along the expanse of your skin, lingering a moment on your thighs.

It’s like the rustle of a spring breeze and it draws your eyes to a close.

As you drift further from the surface, you feel the soft tingle of Ellie’s foot nudging your ankle and the distant haze of her voice whispering,

“You sure you don’t want anything, baby?” and you’re asleep.

also, absolutely no one asked for this but here are some pictures of my fat ass cat (cutest patootie evah 😆😆):

[lvvgyu]

Stay for me..? C.bg x you

warning ⚠️⚠️

🔞!! toxic!gyu, obsessive!gyu, gyu masturbates infront of reader twice. Pillow humping, panty sniffing. Yknow, all the shit in a stalker fic! Theres hardly an ending to this but its been in my drafts so long that I just needed to get it out, prolly will make a part two just say the word! 😉😉

Beomgyu didnt understand how you could just ignore him.

At first, the calls were normal. He’d call during your lunch break to make sure you ate, text if you ended up when working long nights to say goodnight and encourage you to get your work completed.

A few months into the relationship there was a sudden change. Beomgyu couldn’t stop messaging you constantly, calling you, and berating you about who you were with, how long you would be there..When you’d come back to him..

He’s just showing you that he loves you, why would you get mad at that?

But are you even mad? He’s not sure, he’s just assumed that since you haven’t texted him or called him back, you’re mad. God, he wants to hear your voice again.

His calls are one after another. Why won’t you answer him? Did you find someone better? You can’t leave him..He loves you so much, and you love him! So why are you doing this to him?..

“baby?..Why didn’t you answer my calls? I’ve been texting you all night, are you okay? Did something happen?” His voice is laced with worry.

You glance at the phone and start to respond, watching the traffic light turn to green.

“I’ve been busy at work, Gyu..I’m sorry I couldn’t answer, I was jus-“

“You’re on your way home right? I want to see you so bad, I was so worried..” He says, the worry in his voice not even slightly gone. You grip the wheel tighter and sigh quietly.

“Yea, Gyu..I’m on my way…” You say gently. You wish he would calm down a bit, he’s making it seem like you’ve been gone for days.

He speaks again, his voice softer this time.

“Are you mad at me?..” Even though he decided to ask, his guts twist at the suspense of what you’ll say. What if you are mad at him? He just wants to be good for you, he wants to be yours and he wants you to be his!

“No..Gyu, baby I’m not mad..” You say, looking at the time and then glancing ahead at the road.

“Yeah you are..” He says gently

“I-I just want you here, I need you..I really need you..” As the words fall from Beomgyu’s mouth, you can hear how slurred they are. And you figure that he’s worked himself up so much that he can barely speak coherently.

“Gyu, I’m almost home. We can talk about this, yeah? I have to hang up but, im not m-“

“You don’t even wanna talk to me?…What did I do? Did I say something wrong? I-im just worried about you and that..that guy, Yeonjun or whatever..You’re always with him and then..you come home, like you’re angry at me..”

You don’t respond, trying not to fuel his anger anymore. When you hear his sniffles and hear shuffling, you decide to hang up.

He calls back immediately, spamming you with text messages and begging for you to call him back. To stay, to be with him for just a bit longer. He needs you, that’s what he always says.

The car ride lasted about 5 more minutes, and when you reached for keys to the front door Beomgyu had already opened it.

“Baby! I missed yo-“

“Gyu..I need to talk to you…”

Beomgyu still doesn’t understand. A break? Why would you want to take a break from him?..You love him, so why would you ask for a break?

“No..no, no you can’t do that..” He moves closer to you quickly. Trying to grab your hands.

“Gyu, I love you. You know that, but all of this is overwhelming..” You say, kissing his hands gently.

He shakes his head, searching for your gaze with his own teary eyes.

“But I NEED you..” He whispers.

After moments of silence, there’s a soft rustling sound and frantic movements made by Beomgyu. When you look up, you see him removing his clothes. He wipes his tears and sniffles as he grabs your hands again.

“Let me show you! I can be good, I’m worth it I promise.. I’m-..I…” He stops once he sees your worried expression. Not frightened, at least not visibly.

“I’m leaving for now..I need time to think…”

Beomgyu watches you leave, wanting his tears to stop you somehow. When he sees that you’re actually leaving, he’s already trying to find a way to make you come back to him..

You were pleasantly surprised by how distant you two were becoming. No more constant calls from Beomgyu, or text messages.

Until one day.

When you received a video from Beomgyu titled “come back :((?” You were beyond confused. He hadn’t texted you in days, never called, and it was refreshing.

Opening the file, you didn’t expect much. But as Beomgyu came into screen and fixed the camera, you were utterly confused.

“I miss you baby…I know you miss me too..” He says softly, His hand moving away from the camera as he gets comfortable on the bed. He pouts softly as he looks into the camera.

“I know you’ll come back, you always do..” He says softly as his fingers come up to rub his nipples.

You always loved how sensitive they were, and how his body would react. Beomgyu let out soft moans and tilted his head slowly, moving his hand down his body gently.

You want to turn it off, to tell him that he’s gone too far this time. But..

He looks so pretty, and you know it just for you. His legs are spread perfectly infront of the camera, his hair falling onto from his forehead. Just slightly covering his pretty eyes.

Beomgyu grabs something from off of screen, a pair of your panties. He gently takes them and brings them up to his nose, taking a gentle whiff.

You should be disgusted, really..Hes jerking off infront of you, using your panties to get off.

But you aren’t disgusted..in fact, you’re turned on.

Beomgyu pants gently, sniffing the panties as he jerks off.

“I love you..I love you, i just want you to come back..I-I need y..” He can hardly continue to speak, stroking his cock faster and faster.

His hips thrust up constantly, and he grinds against his palm. “Please, want you to come back..just want you-“

Beomgyu whines in frustration, every attempt at trying to get off comes to no avail..Because its not you..Its not you stroking his cock, its not you silencing his moans because hes always a bit too loud.

Tears brim in his eyes as he pulls his hand away from his cock. He whimpers and reaches for your pillow behind him, slowly shifting and straddling the pillow.

As you watch, your gaze falls onto the way his hips thrust, desperate and needy. Normally, you’d be there to soothe him. But now, all you can do is watch.

“Y-y/n..” He whines gently, thrusting onto your pillow. Beomgyu tilts his head back, finally finding some relief after all these tries to cum.

And for some reason, you turn off the video there…

You immediately open up your text messages and stare at his contact, attempting to find something to say.

But, you leave it at that. Turning off your phone and sliding it to the side. Of course Beomgyu wouldn’t let this break happen…

Guess the break’s ending already, hm?

[heavenlyvision]

When hell freezes over

Word count: 5.1k

Pairing: Bi-Han x afab!Reader

A/N: I make no apologies for what I’ve written, I do however, apologise for this coming out before part four of the Crushing series. I saw God (Bi-Han in mk 1) and got possessed by the Holy Spirit (horniness). I’ve noticed tumblr is lacking in fics for my mk cravings, which resulted in this. This fic was initially going to be 1k of only smut, but I got carried away and added a minor plot line :3

Summary: Bi-Han keeps staring at you and you don’t know why but it really starts to get on your nerves, especially when he won’t even admit that he is doing it.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, creampie, voyeurism (they fuck outside but they don’t get caught), strong language, pure filth, minor plot, mean Bi-Han, Bi-Han is ooc prolly but he’s also a bitch still, so not completely ooc

Staying at the fire temple means you’ve seen Bi-Han around, always with a scowl on his face and that’s if he’s taken his mask off, but you can always tell he’s scowling under the mask too, with the way his eyebrows pinch. You’ve never actually held a conversation with him, he’s a bit unapproachable and when you do speak, he usually grunts in response. His way of acknowledging you without actually acknowledging you.

Lord Liu Kang has been bringing all of Earth Realms potential heroes together and training them at the Fire Temple, you just so happened to be one of the first heroes he came looking for. You have power, you’re not disillusioned though, you can see in the way Lord Liu Kang moves and speaks, that he already knows who his hero is and it’s not you, which you’re fine with. The idea of fighting against Outworld’s warriors is, to be blunt, scary. You mean to say, that the idea of fighting Sub-zero frightens you, you cannot imagine what kind of formidable opponents live in the other realms.

The other’s Liu Kang has managed to gather are all very kind but also intimidating, you’re surrounded by powerful men all day and that sets you on edge a bit, as a result you tend to be spending more time by yourself in the quieter areas of the temple. They’re not hard to find if you look for them, and the temple has a sense of tranquillity. Ever since you’ve been here, you find yourself meditating now, more than you ever have in your whole life.

On this particular day, you’re sitting on a large rock away from the temple facing all the greenery surrounding the area. Footsteps approaching you bring your awareness back to your environment, but you don’t move or open your eyes, you aren’t really in the mood to be disturbed at this current moment, for all they know, you could be really close to reaching enlightenment.

The person moves to stand in front of you but doesn’t say anything, you try to hold steady and focus but their breathing is disturbing you. In the end your resolve gives in and your shoulders slump as you look up at the perpetrator of disturbance.

You feel a bit silly as you realise that the disturbance is Lord Liu Kang himself, “I could’ve been close to enlightenment only to be disturbed by you at the last moment.”

He looks amused but only slightly, “If you had been that close to enlightenment, I doubt my presence would’ve disturbed you.”

“You can’t know that,” you pout a touch.

He gives you a polite smile in return, “Dinner is going to be served soon, will you grace us with your presence?”

He’s giving you a light ribbing; you’ve been here a while and like to think you’ve gained rapport with him. The way he will indulge you slightly makes you think you’ve succeeded in landing on his good side, though you’re not certain he has a bad side, and if he does, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.

“I hadn’t realised it had gotten this late,” looking up at the sky you can see the sun setting, you’ve been out here far longer than you had expected.

Suddenly, you feel eyes on the back of your head and a shiver runs down your spine in response, without turning around you acknowledge the secondary presence you didn’t initially register.

“Good evening to you too, Sub-zero.”

“Mmmf,” he grunts in your direction as a response.

You address Lord Liu Kang, “he seems gruntier than usual.”

“Perhaps, he is the one who disturbed your enlightenment,” he dips his head towards you as he says this, in an attempt to keep the joke between the two of you.

You chuckle in response before leaping down from the rock, “Alright, let’s eat!”

❆˖°

Dinner with everyone is always a touch rowdy, it never used to be, it used to be quieter but with the additions of Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi and especially Johnny Cage, it has gotten livelier around the temple. You find that Kuai Liang, Tomas and Bi-Han frequent dinners here now too, you suspect that them never actually leaving anymore is due to the fact that Lord Liu Kang has gathered all his potential warriors.

Everyone has bets on who they think it is and most of them are betting on themselves but you’re certain Lord Liu Kang has his pick and you’re betting it’s Raiden, the way he looks and considers him makes you think he’s his top pick.

You feel his eyes on you again from across the table, the shiver he sends through you running down your spine again. You aren’t sure why your body reacts to him like that, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it either. Preferably, he would stop staring at you so your body would stop reacting, but he is such a starer, and an angry starer too.

Looking up you lock eyes with Bi-Han, but he doesn’t look away, typical, you think, you look away instead and attempt to stay engaged in the conversations happening around you. But you know he is still staring at you and to be honest, it’s starting to get on your nerves. Taking a deep breath, you look back over at him again and he is still staring at you, you’re getting pissed now, what is his problem. He can be scary but scary is only scary until you’re annoyed.

“What is your problem?” You direct at him quietly; you don’t want everyone at the table seeing you starting a fight with the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.

He looks a little taken aback by your bluntness but only for a second, “nothing.” He shrugs.

His voice is stupid and deep, and you’re annoyed at him because why is he still fucking staring at you. People normally have enough humility to look away when confronted but he looks nonplussed by your angry confrontation.

“Well, then stop staring at me,” you shoot back, trying to remain unnoticed by the rest of the table.

“I am not staring,” he replies coolly.

What the fuck? “You definitely are though; I can feel your eyes stabbing me.”

He purses his lips in response, “My eyes are not capable of stabbing you.”

You’re frowning now, deeply, “Well… they are!” Your voice raises a bit with your increasing annoyance. Why won’t he just admit that his eyes are stabbing you.

Unfortunately, everyone has caught onto your little argument now, which prompts Lord Liu Kang to interject.

“Is everything okay?” He directs the question at you.

“Tell your guard dog to stop stabbing me with his stupid eyes,” you reply, completely exasperated with how dumb all of this is.

From the other end of the table, you hear Johnny start laughing, thud, and that was Kenshi kicking him under the table in response, attempting to get him to stop.

Johnny exclaims, “Ouch, what the fu–”

“– I am not his guard dog!” Bi-Han is angry now, he was mildly amused before, you suspect you’ve managed to hit a nerve. “I am the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei!”

You roll your eyes at him, “You’re the Grandmaster of stabbing me with your eyes!” You’re not quite sure why you’ve picked this hill to die on, but you’re committed now.

He looks pissed and you feel like you should be intimidated but you’re so irked by his behaviour that you wouldn’t care if he was God itself.

Lord Liu Kang clears his throat from the head of the table, “Maybe you should both apologise to each other and move past this.”

“No.” Both Bi-Han and you reply at the same time.

“Just admit you were staring, and I will apologise to you,” you direct this at Bi-Han.

“I wasn’t staring,” he leans back with his big stupid, defined, arms crossed over his chest.

You feel like you’re going to have an aneurysm, why is he committed to lying about this. “I know you were staring.”

“How would you know that?” He asks.

Is he being intentionally dense, “how could I not know?” You’re glaring back at him.

Lord Liu Kang clasps his hands together, a loud clap sound ringing out across the silence that had fallen over the group. Well, it was almost silent, Johnny is still muffling his laughing down the other end of the table.

“Thank you for dinner, Lord Liu Kang, I’ll be returning to my quarters early tonight.” You stand up and walk out of the room.

You miss the completely confused and exhausted look Kuai Liang gives his older brother.

❆˖°

Tonight, you find yourself tossing and turning, the evenings usually leave you a bit restless and you will fairly regularly leave your quarters to wander the grounds. Though, this evening you are restless for a separate reason, the result is the same, you’re leaving your quarters and wandering the Fire Temple aimlessly, inspecting things you’ve seen daily for months now.

You have got to be kidding, you think to yourself as you feel the all too familiar shiver run down your spine and set of eyes on the back of your head.

Your head drops in defeat and a deep sigh is pulled from your chest, “if I tell you to stop staring, would you? Or would you say you weren’t staring?”

You can feel him come up beside you, “Guess…”

“…I wasn’t staring,” you both say it in tandem, but you attempt to drop your voice as low as it can go to mock him.

He grunts in disapproval at you.

You aren’t sure why he’s come up to you, you’ve sequestered yourself off to a private area of the temple specifically so you could remain undisturbed, but not only did he find you, he fucking stabbed you with his stupid pretty, stupid angry eyes again. You feel like you’re not going to win whatever this battle is against him.

“Genuinely, why do you keep staring at me, and you can’t say you don’t because I know you do, I can feel when your eyes are on me,” you’re getting tired of this now, you just want an answer from him.

He doesn’t speak for a long moment; he’s probably considering how to word what he’s going to say next. All you know is if he says he doesn’t stare at you, you’re literally going to hit him in the face.

“Consider your words carefully, I am tempted to punch you right now,” you relay your feelings to him as a warning.

“I don’t stare–”

That does it, you swing around at him and go to throw a forceful punch aimed square at his nose, you’re aiming to break it. Unfortunately, for all his ego, he is indisputably more skilled than you and easily dodges your punch by moving his head to the side before he catches your forearm with one of his hands. His other hand reaches out to grab at your other arm and pulls you closer to his body, both your arms being held between your bodies. His strength keeping you in place, with his stupid well-defined arms.  

You’re a little annoyed at yourself for bothering to warn him at all, you probably could’ve at least grazed him if you hadn’t.

Scowling at him you say, “I shouldn’t have given you a warning.”

“Your hit wouldn’t have landed either way, it was sloppy.”

“It was not!” Your punch was fine, he’s just being rude.

“I was trying to say I don’t stare at you,” you try to wiggle free of his grip, you swear he’s looking for a fight. His hands grab you tighter and pulls your forearms to rest on his chest, you’re forced to look up at him, “Stop, struggling, you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

You gawk at him, “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who won’t admit the simple fact that you’ve been staring at me!”

He looks exhausted with you as he rolls his eyes, when did this switch? He is the unreasonable one, you were willing to apologise hours ago!

“I gaze at you.” He says it like he doesn’t have to explain further.

“I’m almost certain that is the exact same thing as staring at me.” You’re confused.

He grunts and turns his head to the side sharply, “You make everything difficult.”

“ME?” You. Are. Confused.

His head snaps back to stare you in the eyes, “YES! I look at you, I gaze at you, I find you interesting and that makes me mad. This is your fault, take responsibility.”

Oh. My. God. Does he have a crush on you? He likes you and is mad at you about it. Talk about emotionally stunted.

“I am not responsible for how you feel about me.”

“You should be.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, he’s still holding you close.

“You undo me.” He says it quiet, like he’s ashamed of the confession but it’s the highest form of flattery you have ever received.

Your eyes are round in shock as you look at him, you won’t lie, you find yourself drawn to him. Not in spite of his intimidating, stoic nature but because of it, he’s a force of nature to be reckoned with and you think without even realising you walked headfirst into the eye of his storm. You want him and you hate that you do, but you suspect he feels the same way.

“Let me go, please.” You ask him.

He obeys your will, immediately dropping your arms but neither of you make a move to step away from the other. Your heart is racing in your chest as you continue to look up at him, you want to kiss him, but you don’t know how he’ll react to your hands reaching for him after you just tried to deck him.

You don’t have to wonder for long, his hands reach for your face, both of them landing on either side of it. He has such large hands.

“I want to kiss you and you’re going to have to tell me not to, if you don’t want me to.”

You say nothing because you really want him to kiss you and he does; he leans down towards you and when your lips meet you feel like your knees might give out.

His kiss is gentler than you would’ve expected him capable of, he holds you like you’ll break, like he’s all too aware of his strength and is making a conscious effort to not hurt you. One of his hands moves from your face, down your body and grabs at your hip, the other moving behind your neck. Your own hands move to grab at the material on his chest, holding on.

He pulls away from you, only enough to talk, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks “Fuck, open your mouth more.”

His words shoot straight through your body, you feel like you’re shaking. You do as your told and he moves your head with the hand on the back your neck slightly. When he moves to kiss you again it’s at an angle; his mouth slotting against yours, the kiss deepening. You’re feeling lightheaded as he starts to kiss you with urgency, less gentle. His tongue licking into your mouth has a whimper leaving you against your will. He smirks against your mouth at the sound and pulls away from you.

No one has ever kissed you like that in your life, he’s so much more skilled with his mouth than you would’ve thought. You blink tears away from your eyes as you both stand close together his lips brushing against yours, teasing you.

“Kiss me again, please.”

“mmm, you’re so much more agreeable like this.” He’s smug, you don’t like that his words make your pussy throb.

Opening your mouth, you go to put up a fight, but he puts his mouth back on yours causing you to whine in response. His hands grab you tighter at the sound, and he begins walking you backwards until your back rests against the building you were standing behind.

His other hand moves from behind your neck and down your body, stopping at your tit and pawing at it. You let out a gasp at the feeling, your hands move from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. His hand leaves your breast and travels the length of your body, landing on your thigh, he pulls your leg up to rest on his hip.

He won’t move any closer, and you think he’s trying to be polite and not push you further than you want, but you want him so badly. Whining against him you use your leg to pull his hips into yours and he grunts against you.

Parting your lips again he looks at you, he seems pleased with the look on your face, “You look so pretty, eyes all glazed over from a kiss.”

The words are mocking but your reactions to him seem to inflate his ego, not that he needs the boost.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” you find yourself admitting to him.

A faux pity look falls across his features, “Poor, sweet, girl, never been kissed properly.” He noses at the side of your face before his lips rest against your ear. He blows cool air against it and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine.

“mmf, not fair, you’re teasing me.” He’s mean but its turning you on to no end.

“Yeah, but I think you like it,” he pulls back to look you in the eyes again, “isn’t that right?”

A blush breaks out across your skin in response to him, you can tell it’s not a rhetorical question, but you don’t answer him.

Your lack of a response displeases him, his voice comes a little firmer, “I want an answer when I ask a question.”

“Yes, I like it.” Being forced to admit that you like how mean he is to you is embarrassing.

“I know you do.” He’s smug again, not that he ever stopped.

His lips are so close to yours, you lean forward slightly to kiss him, but he pulls away at the last second. Your head drops back against the wall, and he chuckles at you. Leaning forward again, he kisses your neck, before lightly sucking marks into it.

He mouths at the length of your neck, savouring the way you twitch and try to contain the noises you make in response. The hand holding your hip moves under your robe to cup your pussy through your panties, a whine louder than you would’ve liked is pulled from you, your blush deepening at the sound.

He talks into your neck as his fingers trace the seam of your cunt through your underwear, “You’re so sensitive, react to the smallest of my touches.”

His fingers continue to touch you through your panties, two of his fingers moving to part your lips through them. An embarrassingly wet squelching sound results from his actions. A strangled noise comes from deep in his chest and he moves his head back and looks up for a second, “Fuckin – you are so fucken, wet and I’ve not even touched you properly.” He’s looking you back in your eyes, his gaze dark, he looks like he’s being eaten alive, or wants to eat you alive.

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, he talks so much, in fact, you think this is the most he’s spoken to you without you having to reply.

“Bi-Han, please –”

“Mmm say my name again.” He’s lightly grazing the seam of your pussy, never touching your clit.

“Bi-Han,” you repeat his name for him.

His voice sounds strained, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

The nickname he’s graced you with makes your heart skip, “please, touch me… properly.”

“Since you asked so sweetly.” His hand leaves you temporarily to slip down the front of your underwear, his fingers slide through your cunt, and he can feel just how wet you are now. “Jesus – ” He curses at the feel of you.

His mouth captures yours in a heated kiss again as his middle finger slowly enters you, you clench around it and you both moan into the kiss. His thumb slowly rubs circles on your clit, you jump at the contact, sensitive from neglect and desire. You’re trying to hold back whines and moans, still aware that you’re out in the open. Bi-Han doesn’t seem to care and if he does, he isn’t letting on.

He pulls back from your mouth, “God, you’re fucken – how am I gonna – fuck, look at you.”

You’re trying to grind down on his hand, desperate for more, anything he’ll give you; you’ll take; you just need more.

Gasping you say, “more Bi-Han, please.”

“Always asking so sweetly,” He slips his ring finger inside you, filling you up more. One of your hands moves from behind his neck to cover your mouth, attempting to muffle the moans trying to come out.

Both of his hands are occupied, one on your thigh holding your leg to his hip and the other stuffing your dripping wet cunt full, the sounds coming from you are making him feral and he wants your hand off your mouth. Now.

“Remove your hand, now.” He shoots you a fierce glare and you comply straight away, hand removing from your mouth and grabbing onto the arm of the hand inside you. His fingers move quicker inside you, reaching deep, hitting something that’s never been touched, your head falls back, and a whine comes from deep in your chest.

“Fuuuck, thas it, thas what I was looking for,” Bi-Han seems overjoyed at your reaction, your eyes wet and glassy from pleasure.

You aren’t sure if your hand is trying to push him away or pull him closer, your breaths are coming faster and another moan is pulled from you as he speeds up his thumb on your clit.

“fff – Bi-Han, I can’t, is too much.” It feels too good, it’s never felt like this before.

“Shuddup, you’re fine,” He leans forward so his mouth is by your ear again, “You’ve been doing so well, baby, come for me and then I’ll stuff you full of my dick, mmm?”

“ah ah, it’s different, too much – ngh –”

“Poor baby, never been finger fucked this good, mmm?” He doesn’t slow down; it feels like he speeds up.

Your moans hit a higher pitch and you feel like you’re falling apart into the palm of his hand, “thas it, doing so good,” he keeps whispering praise into your ear and then he blows cool air against your ear again. The shiver that runs through your body has your eyes crossing as you cum all over his fingers and palm with a shout of his name. He moans at the feel of your cunt spasming around his fingers.

“Thas fucken it, good girl, shit –” His fingers continue pumping into you until you start flinching away from him.

He removes his fingers from your pulsing pussy, and sucks both of them clean before shoving them in your mouth. You suck his spit and your cum from his fingers, his eyes glazing over as he watches you suck on his fingers.

He retracts his fingers from your mouth slowly and traces them down your chin, neck and chest, leaving behind a wet trail as he goes.

“Can we have sex now, please?” You ask him, you feel insatiable, he makes you insatiable.

He looks like he might melt into a puddle on the floor at your words, “yes, fuckin hell, you have beautiful manners, sweet thing.”

He pulls his pants down enough for his dick to be released from its confines, and, he was right before, how is he going to fit. “Bi-Han, you might be too big.”

“Jesu – you really know how to inflate a mans ego,” you aren’t meaning to, you are genuinely concerned he might not completely fit, “we’re gonna fucken make it fit, you okay with that?” he asks you.

You nod your head instantly, you can take it, you want to take it.

“Fucken, eager,” He states, if anyone else had said it you’d feel offended, but you know he means it as a compliment.

He spits on his hand and grabs his dick, lubing it up to make the glide easier. The display is filthy and has you wanting to get on your knees for him.

“You ready?” he asks you, and every time he checks on you it has you going dizzy.

“I’m ready,” you smile up at him, as he moves your panties to the side.

“Fuck, alright, try and relax.” He guides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing the head of it against your clit.

Slowly, he begins to push the head of his dick into your pussy hole, it’s already a tight fit. You reach out and place your palm on his shoulder, indicating to him to hold still for a minute. He stops moving forward with just his tip in you, a pinched look on his face, like he’s in pain.

“Goddamn, you’ve got such a – ngh, tight little cunt,” he sputters out, he’s doing deep breathing exercises as he waits for your okay to keep going, “mmph, trying not to cum like a fucken teenager, you’ve got a – ngh – beautiful pussy.”

You involuntarily clench around him at his words, and he grunts in response, “please, keep going, Bi-Han.”

He nods his head and continues to slowly inch into you, pausing every now and again to give you time to adjust to him. When he’s finally fully seated inside you, he lets out a deep guttural groan, you can feel his chest rumble with it. He’s so fucking big and you feel so full of him.

“Got the tightest pussy I’ve ever been in, Jesus – ngh – such a perfect – ” your cunt flutters around him at his words, “mph, you fucken like that don’t you?”

You don’t fully register that he’s asked you a question because he’s started fucking you now, and it nearly has you going cross eyed.

“Hey! I fucken – mph – asked you a question,” you make eye contact with him, eyes glazed as you look at him, “ffffucken beautiful, you look perfect, just, like, this, split open on my – ngh – cock.” He’s barely keeping it together as he starts fucking up into you.

“I said, you fucken like it when I talk to you, mmh?” He asks you again and you understand him this time.

Nodding your head you reply, “Yes I – ah – I love it when you talk to me.” You’re practically a whimpering mess at this point, “Can you go faster, plea- ah –”

Your question is cut off by his immediate acceleration in thrusts, he wanted to fuck you faster as much as you wanted him too, maybe more. Looking at the pinched look on his face you can guess he’s still holding himself back, still too aware of his own strength.

“Hah – harder, please, Bi-Han.” You can feel his dick twitch at the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Fffff, like it rough, do you, sweet girl?” He huffs.

You agree, you think you’d agree to anything he asked of you right now.

“You are so sweet, compliant when you’re filled with my dick” he chuckles at you, but his words have your pussy clenching around him, breaking his laugh into a broken moan.

You’re gonna come, “Bi-Han, mm gonna come, please.”

“go on then, fucken – nghf – good girl, sweeeet fucken cunt. Cover my dick in your cum, go on.” Your eyes prickle with tears, you don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused in your whole life.

He’s staring down at where you’re connected, obsessed with way your cunt is creaming on his cock, forming a ring around the base of his dick, has him almost feral.

“Fuck, fuck, Bi-Han, I’m – mmph – ” He cuts off your words with a deep kiss, tongue in your mouth, taking your breath away. Bi-Han’s thumb reaches for your clit and starts rubbing harsh and fast circles into it, his precise movements and unrelenting thrusts has you coming on his dick, hard. You throw your head back, removing your lips from his, your vision cuts off dark and you can barely hear anything with the force of which you cum.

Your mouth opening in a silent scream and then a series of whimpers spill from your lips. When you can speak, you’re praising Bi-Han, wet slapping sounds continuing, he’s not stopped thrusting chasing his own peak.

“you look fucken perfect when you cum, look – ngh – so fucked out, such a good girl – taking my cock, mph,” He’s close you can tell, his dick is twitching inside you, “the sounds you make are – sshit – mmph – angelic.”

He’s such a flatterer, your cunt jumps in after shock, you decide you wanna try something. You pull his head towards you, moving your lips to his ear to tell him, “made me feel so good, Grandmaster, never cum that hard in my – ngh – life.”

You were right, he liked that, loved being called Grandmaster, his grunts and groans get louder, tailing off into whimpers. His head drops to your shoulder, resting there for a bit.

“Where – hah – where do you want it?” He asks.

“Inside please, Grandmaster, I want it, in – mmph – me.”

He whimpers at your words, “Ahh – fuck you’re gonna fucking kill me, sweet girl – nngh.”

And then he’s coming, he fills you, both of you moaning at the feeling of him releasing all of his cum inside of you, he turns his head into your neck and bites you, the shock of it has your cunt clenching on his dick.

He’s making the most amazing noises, grunting and groaning at the feel of you wrapped around him. His own cum dripping down the sides of his cock, he’s staring at it now, watching the way he moves in and out of you, the way his cum leaks out of you, down your thighs, and down his cock.

You both stay connected for a bit afterwards, basking in your highs before parting. When Bi-Han does pull out, his fingers move to shove the cum leaking out of you back inside before shifting your panties back in place. He gently places your leg back down, before tucking himself back in his pants.

You stay resting your weight up against the wall, you’re not certain you can walk, your legs feel like they might cave in if you try to move.

“I like you,” Bi-Han says simply.

“I’d hope so,” you reply, smiling brightly at him. He looks soft for you. “I suppose, I like you too, even if you do stare at me.”

“I don’t stare.”

❆˖°

Part two

A/N: The end, I’m interested in making a second part for this if people want it, I’m also willing to write for almost every mk1 character. I disappeared because I inhaled the new game, long time mk whore over here. Requests are open if anyone wants to ask for someone specific. And if any of my Crushing series peoples read this, I am writing the fourth part, and it will definitely come out this month!

[toxicanonymity]

Hi lovely absolutely obsessed with your blog (but you should already know that lol)

I was wondering if I could get Joel or javi where they hunt down the reader mocking her as she's hiding when she's finally caught he just degrades and makes her cry while he gets off as punishment for running away from him

Caught

900 words / DARK!Joel x f!reader / master list

Sequel here

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, IT'S A DARK ONE EVEN FOR ME! NSFW 18+ Physical abuse, domestic violence, degradation, masturbation, imprisonment and captivity, starvation, injuries, facial cum shot, maybe more? I like horror, keep that in mind. TW

I cross-pollinated FOUR dark asks and they darkened each other. Here's an ask and another and @scratchietella I had yours in mind too. This is a throwaway Joel!

-

“You really think I’m gonna walk away?” Joel asks.  You’re hiding behind a pile of rubble.  “I’m gonna let you go?” Tears sting your eyes. He’s never gonna let you go.  He told you as much before you willingly became his.  At the time, you thought he was being protective.  Romantic. You thought it was love.  You adored him and you hardly knew him.  It was his intensity, his obsession with you.  You did this to yourself.  You practically chained yourself to the bed. 

 “Nowhere to go, darlin’.” The bite of his tongue shakes you from your self loathing.  It’s true, you’re on the second floor and he’s between you and the stairs.  “So come on out now, damnit.”  You move your head enough to steal a glance, and he’s pointing his rifle right at you. It's over. 

“How stupid ARE you, hmm? Weak little girl like you, tryin' to be a big hero. . .can’t even take care of yourself."  

He won’t let you.  You can’t because he won’t let you.   He takes you to the bathroom.  He brushes your teeth for you.  You can only hope you’d remember how at this point. 

You give up trying not to cry and let the tears flow.

"Pathetic."

He's right.  You hold your hands up in surrender as you sob. The bruises and raw skin on your arms catch your eye again and you cry harder.  Now that you know what they look like in the light, it's easier to see them in the dark.   Today was the first time you'd seen your body in full daylight since he's been keeping you locked up.  You knew you were weak, you knew you were sore, you just hadn't seen the evidence of how real it all was. Now you’re sure if you caught your reflection your neck would be a ring of bruises. 

Once you start sobbing, something changes in his face.  It turns him on. You’ve learned this.  He rubs himself over his jeans then slowly approaches you and abruptly grabs you by the throat. He looks you in the eyes and his irises are black. It’s the same intensity that enamored you when he first found you. When you didn’t know what it was.

“On your knees," he growls through gritted teeth.   He releases you and unbuckles his jeans. 

You knew it would happen.  You knew he would catch you, but you had to try anyway. You’ve been wasting away in the shadows of his life.  A dirty secret everyone assumed was dead. Claimed by cordyceps, not by a monster.  Taken, not willingly gone. 

“Dumb fuckin’ slut,” he snarls and you cry harder.

“You’d prolly come crawlin' back anyway, beggin’ for this cock.”  He takes his stiff length in his hand. “I’m savin’ you the trouble. You’d prolly get lost on your way.”  He steps forward. "Go on, give it a kiss."

You take the tip into your mouth and suck him.  It sends a pang of need from your core to your chest.  You salivate onto it. You can’t think straight with him in your mouth.  You’re starting to agree with him.  

Then he takes his cock away.  “Know how much you like suckin' this cock. Filthy slut.  But you don’t get to today.” He strokes himself.  The sight of his masculine hand wrapped around his thick cock always makes you weak in the knees.  You feel stupid for running.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sniffle, still crying.  His cock is so nice.  He’s awful, but god he has a nice one.  A man can only make you come so many times before you associate the sight of his cock with pleasure.  

“I don’t know,” you say.  

“Asked you a fuckin’ question,” he says, still stroking his cruel length. 

He abuses you with it, makes all your holes sore. But when he doesn’t – when he’s too tired, or just can't be bothered - it’s so, so good.  There are moments when he seems to forget to make it hurt.  Moments where he nearly kisses you.  You can't look him in the eye in those moments.  You can't do anything that could make him realize what he's doing or he'll overcorrect and hurt you even worse than usual. 

“I wanted to go outside,” you say. 

“You coulda asked,” he says as he pumps his swollen length and watches you cry.  You wonder if he really would’ve taken you outside.  "What the hell you need to go outside for?"

You sob, “I don't know.  I was hungry”

“You’re always hungry.” 

“And I felt like walking.”

“Where the hell you need to walk to?” His breathing intensifies.

“Nowhere.”

He shakes his head in disapproval. "Ungrateful brat.” He stares down at his cock and strokes himself harder, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. You can’t help but feel like there’s still a glimmer of goodness in him somewhere. You feel it in the middle of the night.  You feel it when he’s asleep.  When he hugs you softly and gently cups a breast, curving his body around yours.  When he kisses your neck.  

When he forgets to be mean.  

“I can hardly look at you.” His viciousness shakes you from your thoughts again. 

He points his cruel length at your face and you close your eyes.  His hot cum coats your forehead, nose, and mouth. 

 “Don’t waste it if you’re so hungry,” he says.

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires

[tiredfox64]

Im here to offer a mavado x reader...

(I saw the one you made and here I'm feral-ing)

So another reader becoming small (now this one, you can choose how it happened, doesnt have to be potion, bro prolly made a wish to a shooting star /JOKE)

Mavado here just "shit, welp, time to smother you with my love now hehe"

Off topic: Currently drawing your oc, I'm finna get you /threat

Pequeña

Yip notes: Your timing was impeccable. I was close to panicking about something till I saw your request. Immediately my brain told me I'm not allowed to panic because I have to figure out how to do this.

Pairing: Mavado x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: mfs who are 5'2

When Mavado made a deal with Shang Tsung to get a hold of Kano he knew what he was getting himself into. He knew how deceptive the sorcerer could be. Yet he still made a deal with him so he could obtain Kano. He had to work his ass off to get that damn Black Dragon. He had to go through Sonya and Jax so he could get Kenshi. All that work to finally get Kano and torture him. However, he had to strike once the fun was done before Shang Tsung did. He sent Hsu Hao to deal with the sorcerers but got no reply. Of course, he couldn’t finish the job. Mavado had to do everything himself. Well, not fully alone. He brought you, his loyal girlfriend, to finish the job with him. He suspected Shang Tsung would have Quan Chi with him and could not risk dealing with a 2 v 1 situation.

His prediction was right. Both of the sorcerers were expecting Mavado but not you. You and your boyfriend put up a good fight. Mavado was skilled with the hookswords he stole from Kabal. You barely had to do any work.

This was a losing battle for Shang Tsung and Quan Chi. In an attempt to escape, Quan Chi decided to target you. He wasn’t focused on whichever spell he cast it just had to distract Mavado. You heard Quan Chi chant and as you went to face him you felt something hit your stomach, causing you to fly back. Mavado immediately turned around to check on you, only to see a cloud of toxic green smoke consuming you. It gave Quan Chi enough time to grab Shang Tsung and make their escape. Though Mavado lost his targets he had other matters to be concerned about. He ran over to you and tried to wave the smoke away. He couldn’t find you, not a limb or strand of hair to hint at your body still being there. But once the smoke cleared he was surprised.

You were alive but you’re…small. As small as a rat.

He knew things were going too well. Something bad was bound to happen.

He crouched down to get a better look at you. You stared up at him with big, sad eyes. He couldn’t tell if you were tearing up because of the situation or if the smoke burned your eyes.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked in a small voice.

“We are in trouble. This is not on you surprisingly.”

I don’t know what he meant by that.

Your mind hasn’t adapted to the situation so you were horrified and confused. He tried to grab you but you were so confused about what he was about to do that you decided to dodge him. Mavado doesn’t need you doing this but you have little control over the situation. He had to snatch you with both hands, trapping your arm to the side of your body and your legs dangling. You heard your boyfriend sigh before saying,

“Always so difficult.”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

“Yes, I can see that she is small.” Daegon pointed out the obvious.

“Can’t you do anything to fix this mess?” Mavado asked.

“I am a demigod, not a miracle worker. I cannot be bothered to fix this while my brother is out there. He is a bigger issue than your little girlfriend,” pun intended, “If I know anything about sorcerers when they are in a panic, Quan Chi’s spell won’t last forever. This is not permanent.”

Mavado let out a sigh of relief but also annoyance. For once he was not happy with the Edenian but what could he do. If Daegon’s words were true that means this will all be over at some point. When that moment comes is the true concern. He doesn’t have an issue with you being small. It’s kind of funny and cute. He’s more concerned about you getting hurt by something or someone. You’re his girlfriend, he cares about you. You’re the only other thing he prioritizes other than his clan.

Since Daegon isn’t telling Mavado to do anything or go after Taven, he’ll keep his eyes on you most of the time. What else could he do?

He still had you in his hands and he decided to mess with you. You ain’t gonna do anything. You’re not gonna jump off his hands. He took this opportunity to squish your cheeks which you never let him do. He used his middle finger and thumb to squish both of your cheeks. You whined and told him to stop but did he? Nah. He just laughed at your futile attempts to push him away. Your tiny hands were unable to save you.

“You’re so pathetic. But I love you anyway.” He said before kissing you on the top of your head. That one kiss alone messed up your hair.

Now what could Mavado do with you? He’s never dealt with a tiny human before. Nobody has. He took a moment to think of how to keep you safe but not bore you. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he positioned you in front of his chest area. Your mind is a battlefield that you sometimes lose to. This means your impulsive thoughts come into play and you listen to them.

In short, you grabbed onto his chest hair and yanked on it. You’ve never heard him whimper in pain before. He almost crushed you in his hands because of your little stunt. He grabbed you by the back of your shirt and brought you up to his face. He did not look happy. His eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance. Huh, how have you never noticed the scars on his right eyebrow? It looks good on him.

“What have I told you about touching my chest?” Mavado asked in the calmest voice he could provide.

“…don’t yank on your chest hair.”

“And that rule still applies while you’re small.” With his other hand he used his fingers to give you the lightest flick to your forehead that he could do.

This sure will be a journey for him and you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Don’t let your judgment be clouded by Mavado’s good looks. He may be your boyfriend but he is still cruel. He’s cruel in a loving way.

Now there is a reward system at play. An eye for an eye, a trade for a trade.

You want some food because you haven’t eaten since the morning? Don’t worry, Mavado will feed you, after you do something for him. You have to give him a kiss for each piece of food. The worst part is he is stingy. Here’s a bit of bread, now give him a kiss. Here’s a singular black bean, give him another kiss. Again and again, that was how your dinner went until you were full. He just likes having some control of you and feeling your little kisses on his face.

How bout a nap? A nap after a good meal is needed. Or at least Mavado needs a nap after the bs he dealt with.

You had no choice. You tried to run off the table but his arms surrounded you and trapped you close to him. He placed his head down on the table and dragged your body so that you were trapped between his cheek and arm. You struggled with all your might but you’re just wasting your energy. He told you to stop already and that your movements were awkward against his arm. You let out a sigh before accepting that there was no use. Might as well take a nap with him. You snuggled against his face, feeling his stubble scratch you. The warmth of his body calmed you till you fell asleep.

That was a good thirty minutes of sleep before Daegon slammed his fist against the table. Both you and Mavado were alerted and you were almost flung into the air when Mavado jumped up. He was about to throw down an electromagnetic mine before Daegon yelled at him.

“Throw that mine down and you will not live another day!” He grumbled something inaudible before continuing, “I need you to go. Taven is too close to us and I need him eliminated now.”

Mavado wanted to ask what he should do with you but Daegon was already on the move. He can’t leave you alone. Anything could happen to you. But bringing you along would be just as dangerous. Hmmm

…

You saw him look at his trench coat, specifically the inside. Well, would you look at that! There’s a pocket on the inside. How convenient. Without much discussion, he picked you up and placed you in the pocket. You’re as snug as a bug in there.

“I can’t promise you won’t get hurt but I need you to be strong for me. Do you think you could do that?” He asked.

You gave him a thumbs up. He kissed the top of your head before concealing you. He took off running, doing his duties for his clan. Just don’t pull on his chest hair again while you’re hiding.

“Ah! Stop pulling!”

What did I just say?!

Yap notes: Every time I do something for you I get a bloody nose. I don't know why and I don't know how. But I think if I don't finish something for you I'll keep bleeding. Only now does everything about me feel better. So your threats are real I think even though they are for my oc. Adiós!

[reinafish]

Guys this AU I literally just created has already infested my brain. I must yap my extremely vague ideas of it.

It’s a horror AU so uh… warning for that kind of stuff? Also another warning for this being the goofiest AU ever (and its still a WIP so a bunch of things could change and I still actually do need to add more- so don’t take any of this as if it’s gonna stay in the AU forever)

Ok so when I normally think about this AU, I think of RPG/Visual Novel-styled games? Or like Undertale? Yk what I mean. I’m taking some inspo off of Mad Father, Mario The Music Box, etc too. So if you see me describing anything like it’s a video game (saying “you as [character]”, etc.) that’s why😭 this most likely won’t be made into an actual game sadly </3

I barely have a plot for it rn, I just know they get teleported to some other dimension thing? and there’s a mansion (obvi) they have to escape ?? But I do know what happens to some characters (Like Amy :D)! I’m thinking of maybe some unexpected ones could team up (because, if you didn’t know, I have a this weird obsession with rare character dynamics and relationships) like Tails and Blaze? Because you barely see them together.

I don’t know all the characters that are gonna be in the AU yet, but I’m thinking of Sonic (WHICH ISN’T DEAD OR EVIL FOR ONCE IN A HORROR AU! LET’S GOOOO!!! He suffers with his friends instead of making them suffer himself), Tails Doll, Amy, Knuckles, Blaze, Silver, Shadow, Rouge, maybe even Cream?

I only have some characters sort of planned, so I’ll be talking abt those.

Sonic:

Señor Trauma

He cries has a panic attack and a breakdown (all in separate moments) for the first time in a while lmao

Amy:

Here’s Amy!! We all know and prolly love her!<3 They all have different designs in this btw, so-

Anyways, I know at some point she’s left alone, possibly abandoned (that’s what she assumes anyway) in the garden after choices you make as another character(probably Sonic) (jk cs this isn’t a video game but i did explain this at the start), and since I hc her with AMAZING abandonment issues…❤️

Of course there’s monsters and entities in this, so one of them possibly takes control of Amy? Or tries to, until YOU, AS SILVER, GO TO THE GARDEN AND FIND HER!! There, you’re left with a choice (a bunch of stuff happen prior to this btw, this isn’t at the start of the story):

(Also yes that’s a timer, every second the more red and shaky the screen gets lol. Why?? BC ITS COOL AND STRESSFUL) AND YES. THIS MONSTER/ENTITY/THING IS FLOWER THEMED. AMY ROSE-

Ok uh, if Silver does save her (he has to fight obvi, it isnt that easy), he takes her and they escape to another part of the area? Map? Wtv I call it. And when they can finally take a little break for once, they talk (kind of- Amy’s been quiet (traumatized gal)):

So, uh, yeah. Heavy traumatized now so (also a lot more clingy). ANYWAYS, SILVER AND AMY ARE A DUO IN THIS NOW!!<3

I don’t have much else for her now, so let’s go to Silver ??

Silver:

My proudest drawing of this so far💖

I guess he got transported with the others to this dimension. Yeah- he hurts his foot somehow, not sure how yet. Definitely from an entity tho.

First thing he does it try to find if anyone else is here. So… he does just that. He enters the weird giant ahh mansion infront of him and calls out for anyone. He explores a ton, finding important objects, a weird doll that looks oddly familiar which he decides to just ignore and leave there, and also hurts his foot as yk- He does reunite with Blaze for a moment, though they’re immediately separated by obvi another monster.

He gets thrown back outside the mansion, into the garden. In that garden? Well yk what he finds😭

Blaze:

Fun fact: it was this doodle that started this whole thing !!

Also dont have much for Blaze, but she’s the first I doodled so I’ll be trying to make stuff up abt her in this (maybe on the spot even)

She’s confused why she can’t teleport back to Sol or anywhere else. Or why she can’t escape this mansion-place-thing. Actually they’re all confused abt that but wtv- Using her pyrokinesis, she can light torches and other things so she can see in darker areas. She can also just light her hand up too, but this takes energy from her ^_^

At some point, she reunites with Silver!! Then they’re separated by another monster. He was thrown into the garden, while she was thrown into a dark room.

In that room, she finds a doll. It looks a lot like Tails for some reason…?

She’s weirded out and judging it (I would too)

If she grabs it, she notices how real it feels? Like it actually feels like Tails… which is creepy. SUDDENLY IT TRIES ATTACKING HER (LOL?) BUT—

—before she has time to process anything, Tails pushes her out of the way (she notices his ear is missing) and points his arm cannon to…

….whatever that is.

Am I being cringy? Yes. Do i care? …honestly kinda, yeah- but I’m not gonna let myself do anything abt it

I don’t have much else with her. They fight it and become a silly duo and uhhh yeah-

Cream:

No art yet, but she’s definitely appearing now. Uhh I know she find the doll (btw I’m refusing to call it “Tails Doll” bc THEY’RE NOT THE SAME! I PROLLY SHOULDN’T HAVE CHOSEN TAILS THEN BUT IDC..) at some point and it tricks her into thinking it’s good. So like she drags it around while she explores, trying to find Amy or anyone.

Uh

This is a horror AU someone has to die right—

Idk if I’m killing her off or not but I might??

If she doesn’t die then atleast she’ll be dead inside /silly

Tails:

Also no art yet (other than the one with Blaze I already showed), but basically he was with Sonic when they entered. Bunch of stuff in between happen, they get stuck in a room, Sonic watches the monster-thing literally rip Tails’s ear off and make a fking doll out of it bc it was feeling a lil quirky (well they do get quirky at night /ref), Sonic then believes Tails is dead, meanwhile Tails literally tried escaping and ended up all the way on the other end of this giant goofy mansion—

Uh I don’t have anything else oop.

I HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT FUKKCCKCKKK uhhh there wasn’t much else to add tho sooo? Yeah?? Hope u like it bye. Reminder this is still a WIP and stuff will most likely change— ^_^ (I AM EXTREMELY EMBARASSED ABT THIS IF YOU COULDNT TELL.)

I’ll just add the rest of the images in an rb

[roseworth]

Jason was pretty sure Rose was a bad influence on him. He rarely ever drank if he wasn’t with Rose. 

Then again, Rose rarely ever killed if she wasn’t with him. So he was probably a worse influence on her.

“’m not even drunk,” Rose slurred, hands fumbling for her drink. “You’re the one that’s drunk.”

“No ‘m not,” Jason muttered. “Not even feelin’ anything.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah.”

She took a long drink from the can, then dropped it on the floor. He felt like the room was spinning as he watched the can roll away from them. She lounged down on the couch, laying across his legs with a grin. 

“That was my… eighth drink,” she announced proudly. “How ‘bout you?”

Jason looked at his can. He was pretty sure he was working on his fourth, but he was already nearly as drunk as her. “Dunno,” he answered. He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Rose cracking open another can.

“You… you should slow down,” he said. “Not good for you.”

His concern was rewarded with a pillow thrown at his head. “What are you, my mom?”

She laughed at her own joke. He laughed, too. It wasn’t very funny.

“You wanna hear somethin’ funny?” Rose snickered, her voice lowering like she was telling a secret. “Slade doesn’t know sign language.”

“That’s not funny,” Jason replied.

“I know. Pisses me off,” she huffed. “He’s the reason Joe can’t talk, and he… won’t even learn how to listen to him.”

Jason grunted in response. Rose took it as an invitation to continue her drunken ramble.

“I think he… he doesn’t love me,” she mumbled. “Or Joey. Or anyone. He loves the idea that he’s capable of love. But he’s not.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” She sat up quickly, then her head immediately fell onto his shoulder. “Your turn.”

“What?”

“It’s opening up time. Your turn.”

Jason snorted. “I don’t remember agreeing to opening up time.”

“Too bad, ’s happening,” she said. “Gimme a Bruce secret.”

“No secret to tell,” he said. “He’s an annoying, self-righteous cunt. But everyone knows that.”

She groaned and elbowed his side. “Nope. Dig deep, say somethin’ real.”

He pursed his lips, then let his head fall forward. He would blame the alcohol in the morning. He would say it didn’t actually bother him, it was just the alcohol talking.

“He’s still looking for an explanation,” Jason said quietly after a beat. “He’s still trying to figure out how I came back.”

“Oh.”

“Dunno what he’s looking for,” he continued. “I think he, uh, he thinks it’s not me. Or that I came back wrong, or something. He thinks there’ll be some… some answer for why I’m like this that he can blame.”

“What do you think?” Rose asked softly.

Jason thought Bruce was right. He thought that if Bruce found something, it would prove that he was never supposed to come back, or that he was just some horrible distortion of what he used to be. 

It was why he never tried to figure it out. He had decided it was better to have the question hanging over his head than the answer. 

“I think he’s an ass,” Jason answered, throwing his head back and taking a lot swig. “It doesn’t matter.”

Rose didn’t reply, just took another sip of her drink. 

“I’m done with trying to get my own father to understand me,” Jason said.

“Yeah, me too,” Rose replied.

They were both lying. Neither of them called each other out on it.

“You talked to your brother recently?” Jason asked.

“No comment,” she said. “You talked to yours?”

“Which one?”

“Any.”

“Nope.”

She snorted. “We suck.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice that we suck in the same ways, though,” Rose laughed. “That’s prolly why we don’t have any other friends.”

“We’ve got Eddie,” Jason pointed out, grabbing another drink as Rose finished the last of hers.

“Eddie’s dead.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Rose tossed her empty can on the floor and sighed. “I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she said.

Jason took a sip from his can and raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t talk about my feelings with anyone else.”

“I think talking about your feelings is supposed to be a good thing.”

“Not for me,” she insisted. “We should stop hanging out.”

“Probably.”

Neither of them moved.

“What was your mom like?” Jason asked out of the blue. The room was still spinning around him. He took another sip to see if it would make it better.

“Nice try,” Rose responded, all humor gone from her face.

“I thought it was opening up time.”

“Opening up time is over,” she said. “Unless you want to talk about your mommy issues, in which case go ahead.”

“No thanks.”

“Thought so,” she scoffed. 

They fell into silence again. Jason finished his drink and set the can down next to him. Rose rubbed her eyepatch with a frown.

“Does it hurt?” Jason asked.

“My eye? Only when I think about it.”

“How much do you think about it?”

“I told you opening up time is over.”

He frowned at her for a moment, then looked down at the floor. “Well, I can still feel the crowbar, sometimes,” he said. “He got a few good hits in, the worst was right where my spine meets my neck.” He reached a hand up and slowly grazed his fingers over where the scar should be. “Still feel it when I move too fast.”

Rose was silent. Jason could feel her stare digging into the side of his head. He didn’t look up; he didn’t want to know how she was looking at him.

“That sucks,” she said finally. 

He wasn’t sure why, but there was something hilarious about that. He broke into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, it does,” he grinned.

She started laughing too. “My eye hurts most when I try to think about what came before I worked with Slade,” she giggled. “Last time I talked to Roy, I had to leave after like 30 seconds because it hurt like the knife was cutting it out again.”

That wasn’t funny at all. They were both laughing until they couldn’t breathe.

They were definitely bad influences on each other. 

Neither of them seemed to notice.

[thesupreme316]

hiiiiii I hope you have a amazing day,

I was wondering how the Aew boys react if someone try to use you against them like during the matches with them or in backstage with them busy with a other match ( like the attacker interrupt the match to show you being attacked) , I hope this makes sense 😭

i gotchuuuuu sweetheartttt

AEW Stars React To: You Being Attacked by Their Opponents

Pairings: Kenny Omega X Reader, Ricky Starks X Reader, Hook X Reader, Darius Martin X Reader, Nick Wayne X Reader, Daniel Garcia X Reader, Eddie Kingston X Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Supreme Speaks: Thanks to anon for this request (YALL KEEP EM COMING), this was really fun and a little bit different than how I typically post these. please know that you are loved and appreciated

Warnings: ANGST and fluff but ANGST, GIFS are NOT mine, not proofread

Taglist: @hooks-martin @hookerforhook @wwenhlimagines @eddie-kingstons-wifey @triscillal @cassie0sstuff @sheinthatfandom

**Every person has their own backstory (in a wrestling world where I am a fantastic booker/producer) and the person who attacked them are in ()**

Eddie Kingston (BCC)

This happened during Eddie’s match against Christian Cage

Eddie didn’t want you out there in fear that Christian might rizz you up (or even Luchasurus no judgment)

So as he’s about to finish the match; the titantron shows up with you on the floor as Wheeler Yuta and Claudio tower over you

Eddie goes berserk; he no longer cares about the match; fuck the match

He leaves the match to rush to your aid with a kendo stick; whacking and cursing anyone who dares get in the way

He gets to you and hits Claudio and Wheeler as they run away; he holds you with so much care and curses himself out too

“Fuck Claudio and his Yorkie bitch! Fuck, I should have kept an eye on you doll. I’m sorry, it’s my fault”

Legit feels bad about the situation (it almost reduces him to tears) as you are put in an ambulance

Looks at Mox and says “You betta pray that she’s okay or Renee won’t be able to recognize her husband”

Darius Martin (Kingdom)

Okay hear me out; the Kingdom attacks you and then throws you on stage during Darius’ match to distract him

He looks at Action Andretti and Matt Sydal as they tell him to check on you; Darius goes with you backstage as doctors check on you

He’s silent….which is unusual and almost unsettling for you; he’s really taking everything to heart and is angrily simmering

“I’m so sorry that they dragged you into my mess, but I promise I will fix this”

He really feels remorseful about everything and certainly disappointed with himself that he allowed this to happen

Next week; he comes out with a chair and whoops ass

But I think he would go so far to the point where Andretti and Matt have to come out and say stop

He calms down and sits with you backstage for the rest of the show (he prolly will never take his eyes off you again)

Hook (Jack Perry)

Mans is fucking up everyone in sight

Bad enough that Jack took his title and refused to give him a rematch; so Hook is wrestling a jobber

As Hook has his opponent in the Redrum; Jack pops up on the screen with Anna Jay who is just choking you out (wish it was me)

Hook keeps the submission on long enough for the bell to ring before zooming backstage; just as Anna and Jack getaway

He is livid and starts throwing people left and right until he realizes that you are still on the ground

I think he feels exposed at the fact you were attacked cause he really does care about you

He helps you up and is visibly upset; vows to get revenge but then has a better idea

Two weeks later; he returns with you in tow and you two start WHOOPING THOSE TRICKS (to the point where the FTW championship is on the line in a tag team match; ex Edge and Kelly Kelly vs Dolph Ziggler and Laycool)

Nick Wayne (Swerve)

THIS SWEET BABY

He honestly doesn’t know what to think (and what he did to deserve Swerve hating him so much)

I feel like as soon as he sees your unconscious self on the screen, he would immediately dash backstage (like Eddie)

He would run up to your body “Y/N! Are you okay?” Before getting attacked by Swerve and AR Fox; who would then be run off by Best Friends

As he falls to the ground and when he wakes up, Nick would think that he’s a failure (DESPITE NOTHING IS HIS FAULT)

It would really take you constantly reassuring him that he was fine and nothing is his fault

“Yeah sure, but if I can’t protect you from attacks; then what kind of a man and wrestler am I?”

Like Darius, Nick would never allow you to leave his sight

Not until he ended this feud with Swerve

Kenny Omega (Will Ospreay)

Kenny would be that person who would just fill his mind continuously

During his match against Jon Moxley (sorry), The United Empire shows up with you about to go through a table

He turns his attention as Jon rolls him up and wins; Kenny immediately runs to the back

The Bucks attack the group and you are dropped on the floor (not through the table); you have no injuries

As he approaches backstage, mans is worried and anxiety has filled his body

Subconsciously declares war with Opsreay and will allow guilt to take over his mind

“I swear to you that Ospreay, that son of a bitch, will pay for this shit. And he will literally pay for your therapy (bitch take the free therapy plz)”

So much to the point where he’s not smiling anymore and treats every match like a deathmatch

Tbh, as long as Will shows up, Kenny will attack him without fail

Ricky Starks (CM Punk/The Factory)

OKAY LISTEN TO ME I believe that CM Punk would do some fucked up shit (as a true heel)

So during after Ricky’s match on Collision (who hasn’t seen you all night), Punk would show the footage of you being attacked by The Factory

But then he would say; “but that was earlier tonight”

And then BAM Punk attacks Ricky from behind and leaves him the ring

Ricky is upset at himself for not recognizing that you were missing all night and mad that he allowed Punk to attack him and you

Immediately checks on you and apologizes profusely

“I’m so sorry; I should have noticed, I should have made sure you were beside me-” “Ricky, you have been saying I’m sorry for the past hour” “Because I am!”

Would cut a vicious promo on Punk that embarrassed and angered him at the same time

Vows to get his revenge and starts it by attacking Punk

Daniel Garcia (Chris Jericho)

OKAY WOULD LOVE TO DO A POST ON HOW I WOULD BOOK DANNY’S EXIT FROM JAS

Danny is on the verge of leaving the JAS due to differences and Chris’ power trips, and you are his escape from it all

Chris knows this and tries to use it to his advantage; he tries to talk to you about Danny and keeping him in the JAS

To which you disagree and say it’s his decision; to which he got angry….and to which he may or may not have hit you with the baseball bat (CAUSE HE’S A JACKASS)

All of this was shown during Daniel and Sammy’s tag team match; Danny immediately jumped down from the apron (essentially leaving Sammy hanging) and ran to the back

He would be so angry that he would quit the JAS right then and there

Time skip, you were okay; when Danny told you the news, you were happy but you wouldn’t show it to him, asking him if he was sure

“Y/N, your safety, and well-being is more important to me than Jericho’s trash ass club. And it always will be.”

The following weeks are filled with confrontations until Daniel joins the BCC (who are not complete assholes in this universe)

HES FREE

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[confessions-sm]

how come as soon as i come back 2 the fandom susie is finally getting appreciation😭 where were u guys earlier this year… u dont know her like i know her… 🐺

anyway susie headcanons (mainly angst) i am too scared to post on main:

- susie is an enby lesbian but is so attached to her identity as a big sister they refuse to use any pronouns that arent they/she

- susie has BAD ocd. contamination is a big problem, but she also has a lot of intrusive thoughts surrounding pump — mainly the bad experiences he’s been in. she’s afraid something might happen to him.

- along w/ that last one, she gets occasional thoughts / nightmares ab her encounter with bob.

- she’s a furry and her fursona is a gerbil that wears a demon horn headband

- she’s homeschooled. asked to do homeschool after her parents started leaving more since she had to take care of her brother and grandpa

- she heavily regrets all her outbursts. she hopes pump doesn’t grow up to remember her as the big sister who yelled. that’s how she remembers her parents, and she doesn’t want to be remembered like that

- it’s hard for her to maintain friendships :( she doesn’t have a lot of time to dedicate to them w/ her busy schedule of taking care of the house, schoolwork, and streaming. (the hatzgang dont mind too much. they’re usually doing their own thing anyway. they’re friends w/ her, but they’ve prolly had some bad moments b4 😭)

- she RLLY wants some kind of pet, either mice or a bearded dragon. she’s worried she won’t have enough time or energy to dedicate to one, so she hasn’t asked yet

- this is semi-implied, but she is PRIME weird kid material. a 15yr old w/ free internet access in the 2010s? she’s had all the phases.

- along with this, she has had to stop pump from traumatizing himself on the internet the same way she traumatized herself LMAO

- ALSO semi implied!!! she rlly likes punk rock music!!! esp 80s-90s punk! she wants to dress semi-alternative to fit the vibe of her music :p usually doesn’t since she’s at home tho HAHA

no this isnt projecting sshshshsh

.

[donteattheappleshook]

(not so) young, drunk and alone 1/1

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else. Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

(We'll give this a light M)

Oh hey, it's me, neglecting all the WIPs for something new.

This fic is a little birthday present to myself. It's completely ferral and I had very little control over it but I listened to Dial Drunk on repeat for 3 days and then this happened. This fic is unbetaed but thank you @the-darkdragonfly for answering all my texts and rambling calls while I was writing it!

A Silver hook story because apparently everything I write is now...

Read it on Ao3 (where my italics work)

******

(not so) young, drunk and alone

She shouldn’t be allowed to look at him like that. Not with a smirk caught between her teeth in a way that makes his throat dry and his pulse race. Not with the barely restrained promise of a laugh he’s sure would come out in different company that makes his face burn and and his eyes unable to meet hers. He can’t look at her when she looks like that, and she’s looking at him like that, and he looks - he assumes not great. 

So he focuses on the floor instead. The floor is safe. The floor doesn’t stir up conflicting and confusing feelings he’s managed to ignore for the better part of a year. The floor doesn’t make him question every terrible decision he’s made in his life that led him to this exact moment. The floor is… moving. It’s not supposed to do that. Although that’s likely the booze, he rationalizes. But the floor isn’t interested in being rational so Killian lets his forehead fall against the bars he’s already holding onto in an attempt to stay upright. The bars are nice, they’re cool and solid and it slows the spinning in his head a fraction.

“Big night?”

He takes a full ten seconds, counted slowly, and a few deep breaths before raising his head again and facing that smirk. It doesn’t help. The absolute delight in her eyes delivers the same gut-punch it always does - even if it’s at his expense - and the soft blonde curls that have fallen from her probably hastily pulled up bun make him ache to reach out and brush them away from her face just so he can feel the strands between his fingers. 

He shouldn’t have called her. He knew it was a mistake when he did it. He should have just let the sheriff keep him in this bloody cell. It’s not as if he hadn’t slept it off a night or two in another cell in another town throughout his youth. But he’s not so youthful now and the sight of the cold, hard bench, the thought of his aching back and the copious amounts of rum still coursing through his blood had been enough to send him over the edge into madness apparently. So he’d pressed the blurry little “absolutely not” in his contacts and called the only person he knew in this whole bloody city.

“Swaann.” He attempts a smile but it turns into a wince as he manages to slur the single word. When he works up to meeting her eyes again - so green, like the sea glass he used to collect on the beach when he was a boy and that takes his breath away every time - there’s a bit of pity mixed in with the amusement. 

He feels pretty pitiful. Forty-five and so stumbling drunk that he’d been tossed out of the pub and into a police car, only to be forced to face the one person he’d hoped the rum would chase from his mind. He’s too old to be acting like this. Even with his wits sloshing around in the drink he’d tried to drown them with he knows he’s too old to be acting like this. When you’re young, it’s funny, an anecdote for another time - spending the night in the drunk tank. When you’re his age, it’s just pathetic. 

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Her voice is sweet, with a laugh still hiding somewhere behind it, and it’s the first sound since he was brought here that hasn’t made his head feel like it was being scratched at from the inside. 

“You shouldn’t’ve come here. S’the middle of the night,” he tells her. She doesn’t belong in this sad little room in this sad little jail with the lightbulb that keeps flickering in and out. Still, he can’t stop the stupid smile that finds residence on his face whenever she’s near - because she is here. She came to get him. 

Emma raises a brow in a way he thinks she may have picked up from him. “You called me three times.”

He blinks. Fuck. He doesn’t remember that. He looks at the sheriff waiting a little ways back who nods in confirmation, giving Killian his own pitying wince like he tried to stop him. Killian sighs. “‘Mm usually much more charming.” 

She rolls her eyes but smirks again as the sheriff slides a key into the ancient looking lock. “Yeah, I know. Come on, Graham’s going to let you off with a warning -” 

He nearly falls flat on his face when the door he’d been leaning against swings open. 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay with him, Em?” 

Oh great, they know each other. He’d be more annoyed at her cozy relationship with the unreasonably attractive sheriff if he wasn’t a little bit grateful to the man who caught him and is still holding him up now. If he can just get his legs to go back under him where they belong… 

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” 

Killian feels himself being passed from the man who smells strikingly of the forest, to the woman with the irreplicable scent of honey and drugstore soap that overwhelms him with the memory of every time he’s had his mouth or his hand on her skin. The fingers of his one remaining hand burn with the urge to feel her under them again so he balls them into a fist as she drapes his arm over her shoulders. “What about you?” It takes him a moment to realize that he’s who the question is directed at. “You going to be okay to walk out of here?”

Sheer determination not to make an even greater fool of himself than he already has in front of Emma Swan is the only thing he can attribute to both not falling right over with the nod of his head, and the steadiness of his first step as she leads him out the door. 

He stumbles three times between the building and her car. She catches him every time with a hand on his chest, her head turning so that her hair brushes his cheek and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t do it on purpose after the first time - though he can’t really trust his own thoughts at this point since they have to be yelled at him through an ocean of rum. 

“It’s your bug!” he beams at the old, yellow car. “I love your bug.”

“You hate my bug.” 

Oh, right. He does hate the car that broke down every other time they drove to his hotel in the middle of the night, the one that had broken down the night they met. ‘I swear I’m not trying to stand you up. It’s just my car is literally on the side of the road right now and the tow won’t come for another hour at least and there’s… smoke.’ 

It had been an interesting night, getting an Uber in a strange city to go pick up a stranded woman from a dating app who'd been on her way to his hotel for anonymous sex - a woman he found out had lied about her age when she pointed out that the 1993 beetle was older than she was. ‘I didn’t think you’d swipe right if you knew there was a whole high school senior between us.’ ‘Anything else I should know about?’ he’d teased when they were back at his hotel room where she’d managed to get him out of his shirt with impressive speed. ‘Is Anna even your real name?’ ‘Uhhh, about that…’

She leans him up against the aggressive yellow of the door as she fishes in her pockets for her key. Her cheeks have gone red from the cold and it reminds him of the flush that would sometimes come over her skin if he found the right words or the right touch. 

“You’re so lovely.” His thumb is tracing over her cheek though he doesn’t remember raising his hand or reaching for her. 

She snorts. “Yeah, okay, Jones. So not gonna happen tonight, but nice try.” This time her smirk is wicked and if he had any real control over his body or his brain he would kiss it right off her smug mouth.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything!” he swears, prosthetic on his heart as she unlocks the passenger side door. “I’m just grateful you came all the way out here to rescue me. My knight in awful yellow armour.” He gasps. She rescued him from a dungeon. “Bloody hell, Swan -” He speaks slowly, managing to get almost every word out coherently. “I’m the princess.”

He’s waiting for her to come to the same mind-blowing realization as he has, but she just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Get in the car, your highness.” 

It takes an impressive amount of self-control for him to sit still and keep his hand to himself despite his racing heart and thoughts as she leans over to help him secure his seatbelt. Because he’s not supposed to have those thoughts. And his idiot heart can keep its cruel reminders to itself. He shouldn’t have called her. He hasn’t called her - not in months. Not since he realized his mistake and knew this thing between them had to come to an end. 

He’s missed her so bloody much. 

“Killian.” She’s beside him now in the driver’s seat and saying his name like it’s not the first time she’s asked him this question. “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, I…” Shit. He knows this. He’s got this. Think. There was a hotel. A big hotel with really good room service. Maybe they could go there and he could buy her room service. She always liked that. ‘Listen, I know I came over here for sex and that was great and everything, but there’s a freaking lobster grilled cheese on this menu so do you think I could be here for sex and room service tonight?’ She’d looked at him with that same wicked, eager smile and he was already reaching across her for the phone. ‘I feel like I should be concerned that you seem more turned on by this sandwich than you did by anything else tonight.’ ‘Well, it’ll probably take them a little while to deliver it if you want another go at out-seducing bread and cheese.’

“A hotel,” he tells her finally. 

“Yeah, I kind of figured. Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which hotel, Killian? Which hotel am I driving you to?”

“Oh.” He knows this one! “Mine.” 

She sighs, forehead falling against the steering wheel for a long moment. He waits, not sure what he did wrong but positive that he did something. “Okay,” she says, sitting up and starting the car. “It’s late. You can sleep it off on my couch for tonight and I’ll drive you back in the morning when you’re less… wasted.” 

She sounds frustrated and he thinks it might be his fault. He looks at her carefully as she turns out of the parking lot, really looks at her for the first time since she walked back into his life a moment ago. Holding his breath against the eyes and hair and skin that always try to steal it away, he takes note of her messy hair, the lack of any makeup, the grey sweats he knows she likes to sleep in. He looks at the clock next, the late - or rather early - hour shining angry, bright and orange. He can figure this out. 

“I’m sorry.” He’s an idiot. She glances at him before turning back to the dark highway ahead of them.” “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not.” He hangs his head, hoping he looks sincere and not just as pathetically pissed as he is. “I woke you up.” 

“Really, Killian, it’s fine. I was just going to bed.” He looks at the clock again and he envies her youth not for the first time since meeting her. He supposes he’s up this late as well, but that wasn’t by choice. That was the rum’s decision. The rum always makes bad decisions. 

“But it’s cold.” She must be cold. She’s always cold and he made her go outside. She hates outside. She probably hates him now. ‘Listen, I’m all for this whole hooking up when you’re in town no strings thing.’ She waved a hand in his general direction. ‘Big fan of everything you’ve got going on here. But it’s cold as balls outside, so from now on you can come to mine and I can stay inside where it’s warm, or I’ll see you in the spring.’ 

The smirking curl of her mouth tugs at her cheek but he doesn’t reach for it again. “Yeah, it’s November.” 

November. The last time he saw her it had been the dead of summer, both of them hot and sticky and barely dressed, stretched out in front of the single standing fan by the bed in her little apartment with no bloody air conditioning. 

He misses that apartment. Misses being there with her and letting her make him boxed mac and cheese while he complained about her eating habits. Misses the ridiculous sheets with little Millennium Falcons on them that she’d found when he was running late to meet her that one time. He’d made her wash them before putting them on her bed - ‘fine, mom’ - and then listened to her make Star Wars puns from between her thighs until they tightened so hard against his ears he couldn’t hear anything at all. 

And he misses the way she would smile at him when she opened the door, just before she dragged him inside, asking about his flight between heated kisses and frustrated hands. ‘I hate your stupid ties’. 

He’s a bloody idiot and he should have never stopped calling. Or he should have stopped calling a long time ago, before there was anything to miss. They had a good thing going, an understanding, no strings. He’d reach out when he was in town for work and they would meet for one or however many nights he was staying. No expectations or dates or sleepovers, none of the complicated stuff. And he’d screwed it up.

His feet slip dangerously against the icy ground - at least he’s pretty sure there’s ice, or the ground isn’t staying still again - as Emma practically hoists him out of the car. “You remember the stairs right?” she asks, ducking under his arm again to steady him. She fits well there with her arm wrapped around his waist. 

He hadn’t remembered the stairs. Though he should have, he’d complained about them enough times. ‘What’s so wrong with an apartment with an elevator?’ ‘Aw, can your old knees not handle it?’ He’d caught her as she bolted up the last few flights at his glare, laughing the whole way, and he’d spent enough time on his ‘old knees’ to make her take it back. This time, he’s not so sure he can handle it as he looks up at the rotating stairs that seem unable to settle on a height. 

“It’s either that or you’re sleeping in the lobby, Jones.” 

He considers it. “Is that David guy still your landlord?” The one who was particularly hostile to the man in his forties coming over at random hours of the night to visit his twenty-eight year old tenant. ‘Give him a break, he still thinks I’m the sixteen year old kid he illegally rented to when I first moved here.’ 

In fairness, Killian would probably judge himself too if he were in the landlord's shoes. He has judged himself many times for becoming a stereotype of Dicaprio-sized proportions. But the alternative would have been resisting Emma Swan, something he’s incapable of doing - or at least had been until that morning he ruined everything. 

“Okay.” The stairs are still moving.

“Hold on.” She takes out her phones - there’s definitely two of them - and holds them in front of his face. “I just want to get you on camera saying that I’m not liable if you fall down these stairs and break your neck.” 

“Is that really necessary?” He got that whole sentence out in one try. 

“I know you have a lawyer.” ‘You have a what? Wow, I knew you were older but I didn’t know you were like, old old.’ ‘I don’t think it counts if you’ve stolen from parent’s liquor cabinet.’ 

“Fine. Don’t sue Emma if I die. She’s very nice and doesn’t have any money anyway.” 

“Thank you.” 

“It’ll never hold up in court.” 

“That would be way more convincing if you could pronounce all your consonants.” 

The climb takes twice as long as it should and he’s forced to stop once when he makes the mistake of looking down and his stomach rolls violently. ‘I swear to god if you puke in my hallway I’ll leave you here to sleep in it.’

“I don’t remember there being this many floors.”

“It’s four floors. You’ve done two.” 

He might die.

He doesn’t die, but just barely, and when Emma leads him through the door and into the studio, she practically drops him onto the old couch. It’s not her fault; he’d made himself very droppable in the last few minutes. At least he landed on the couch and not the collection of wooden crates she’s glued together next to it. ‘That’s not a coffee table, Swan.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry, is that or is that not your coffee cup on it right now?’

He doesn’t see her for a few minutes, his head too heavy to lift, but he can hear her moving around the apartment and he can picture her, walking through the kitchen on her toes. ‘It’s not weird, shut up.’ ‘I just thought you’d like to know that most people use their whole foot.’ 

When she finally comes back, he forces his eyes open, unsure who exactly glued them shut or how they did it without him noticing. Fuck she’s beautiful. Even through the boozy marinade he’s made of his head he can see that, and he wants to tell her. He could. He could blame it on the rum. But that would be a bad idea. Complicating things between them would be a bad idea. They’d already gotten complicated enough. God, he’s such a fuck up. Things were good, they could have stayed good. He just had to go and ruin a good thing with his stupid, greedy heart. 

“Here.” Two little pills and a frighteningly large bottle of water are set down in front of him. He’s not sure what the pills are but he’s also pretty sure she wouldn’t try to poison him even if he is an asshole who called her in the middle of the night after ghosting her for months. Pretty sure. The water sounds like a good idea. 

“Have you eaten anything or did you have rum for dinner?” 

“There were peanuts at the bar,” he tells her after guzzling down enough water to drown himself with. She shakes her head and walks out of his line of sight again. This time she comes back with a bag of crisps and he thinks maybe she doesn’t hate him as much as he thought because they’re the kind he likes most. 

“Eat that, drink that, and take those,” she orders, pointing to each with a stern look. “And then lie down on your side so I know you won’t choke to death in the night, and get some sleep.” 

“Yes ‘mam,” he salutes.

“Don’t get cute with me.” He wasn’t trying to be cute. But it makes him unreasonably happy that she thinks he is. She rolls her eyes at his probably once again dumb smile and repeats, “eat,” before disappearing where he can’t see her again. 

When she comes back this time her hair is down, falling over the shoulders of her oversized Jonas Brothers t-shirt she’s apparently had since she was twelve, and he wants to whine or cry at how desperately he wishes he could reach for her and what an idiot he is for being the reason he can’t. She’s carrying an empty garbage can, a blanket draped over one arm. 

“Do not puke on my rug. It’s the only new thing in this whole apartment and I love it more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.” 

Killian leans over from where he’s stretched out on the couch that’s too small for him, running his fingers over the blue and white pattern and nods. “It’s lovely, very soft.” 

She’s silent for long enough that he looks up again, only to find her with her lips pressed so hard together against a laugh that he can see her chest lurch with the force of containing it. He frowns, looking from her to the rug and back again before realizing that he’s been stroking the rug with his prosthetic hand. 

“Emma… I might be drunker than I thought.” 

The laugh that bursts out of her is loud and horrible and obnoxious and it’s the best sound he’s heard in a long time. He’s missed that sound, the one that had shocked him so completely the first time he heard it that they’d both ended up on the floor, stomachs hurting and eyes tearing, neither able to remember what had set her off in the first place and unable to stop giggling like teenagers. 

“Aw, babe,” Emma crouches down in front of him with a pitying look before beginning to work the straps of his false hand loose. Her hand settles soft against his cheek once it’s free, smirk still lingering on the corner of her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been as drunk as you are right now.” 

Her face is so close to his that his heart forgets how it’s meant to work, stopping and racing of its own accord. He wishes she would close the distance, that he could feel her mouth against his for the first time in months, or that she’d simply stay here with him for the rest of the night because the distance and the silence between them has been more than he can take. He doesn't know how he ever convinced himself that staying away would eventually make the ache for her fade. 

She smiles at him again, giving his cheek an affectionate pat before draping the blanket over him, the soft one he knows had been her prized possession before the rug. “Get some sleep, Killian. I don’t think anyone’s ever been as hungover as you’re going to be tomorrow either.” 

He’s not sure whether or not the way his fingers close around hers before she can pull away was his idea or the rum’s, but she’s looking at him, waiting for him to say something and he doesn’t know what he was going to say or what he was thinking. He just knows that he missed her and he screwed it up - and then he screwed it up again, possibly beyond repair the second time. 

Being in this city that he managed to avoid for months in the hopes that he could forget about her has been one of the worst decisions he’s ever made. To think he really believed that he could live here, that he could take the job that was offered and not be haunted by her every waking moment, not dread and hope to see her around every corner. 

Being naive enough to think he could ignore the draw of her is how he ended up in that bar tonight. He’d tried to figure out how many shots of rum it would take to make him forget that he loves Emma Swan, but it seems there isn’t enough rum in the world for that - or at least not enough in that bar. 

She’s still looking at him and he wishes she wasn’t watching him with a hesitation and a carefulness that hadn’t been there before. It had always been so easy between them; he’d never felt less self-conscious with another person in his life and now it’s all consuming. She’s lost the carefree warmth he used to see in her eyes, like he took it with him when he left that morning and didn’t come back. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment in her sigh. “I already told you, it’s fine.”

He shakes his head. “Not for calling you tonight. For not calling you. Every other night. I’ve been an ass and I’ve been a coward. You didn’t deserve that.” By the grace of whatever gods might be listening to his poor apology, he doesn’t slur a single word.

Her pause is long enough that he worries he said the wrong thing, and he can’t read her expression through the haze of booze and exhaustion swimming around in his head. He should let go of her hand, but he’s painfully aware that this could be the last time he gets to touch her and she’s not pulling away. 

She sighs again. “Why don’t we talk about this when you’re feeling better?” 

He lets go. “Aye, Swan, whatever you want.” 

She walks away. Beyond repair then. 

***

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else.”

Killian jumps, heart pounding. He feels like he’s woken from a coma, body so heavy with sleep that parts of it aren't responding to him and never having been more confused than he is in these first few moments. It’s daytime, but it’s not morning, the light is too dim, and he’s asleep but not in his bed or in his hotel room, on a couch he recognizes but can’t really place. He has a vague recollection of things that may or may not have happened while he lay here; the sound of someone moving around the room, someone saying his name, a door shutting, an angry car somewhere far off and the bark of a dog somewhere close, the sound of keys and the strange sensation someone poking him in the face - hard. 

All of it feels like a fever dream now as he looks towards the tinny sound of the belligerent man’s voice coming from the phone in her hand.Oh no. Oh god what the hell had he done last night? He recognizes the room, the soft blanket he’s under, the long legs clad in grey sweatpants perched on the table in front of him. He doesn’t think he can bring himself to look at her.

“Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

If you’d like to save this message, press - there's a loud beep before another message begins to play. Bloody hell. He remembers the pub, and the cop - sort of - and he remembers that little line on his phone screen. ‘Absolutely not’. From the looks of it, he absolutely did. 

“Heey, isme again. I don’t think I told you where I am. Is’not great, Swan. They put me in the jail.”

He winces, sitting up carefully, head still light and disoriented. “Did I…”

“Mhm.” 

Another wince. “Are they all-”

“Oh yeah.”

“‘M not even that drunk. The sherfs just got a commpelex or something.”

“Swan, we really don’t have to -”

“Shh, this is my favourite part.” 

Killian hangs his head. “I - Oy, I’m on the phone, sherirff! Don’ they teach you manners at cop school? The cops in your city are rude, Swan. Hey! No - iss my phone. I can call whoever I want.” There’s a shuffling sound that stirs up a faint memory of trying to back deeper into the cell, then a small shout and he remembers why his ass hurts and that he’s probably got a bruise on his hip the size of the one on his ego. Emma has her lip caught between her teeth again, flashing him the same look she had when she arrived at the station. 

“Hello? Swan? Oh, right. Yur prolly asleep. You should be asleep, that’s good. I jus’ called ‘cus I…” For a blissful minute he thinks he might have had the sense to hang up, the silence on the other end dragging on and he almost breathes a sigh of relief. But then the message rings out again. “I can't remember why I called you. I think somethin’ made me think of you.” His voice gets softer and so does her expression for just a moment. 

“That happens a lot. I been thinking ‘bout you a lot, all the time, really. And not just in a sexy way and not just yer face.” Killian hangs his head. “Even though I’m a fan of your face. And all your other parts too.” 

He wishes he could just perish right here and now, wishes the dull ache in his head would become an aneurysm and take him out without a fuss. 

“I been thinking about those ridic’lus tiktoks you used to send me and when I was in meetings ‘n I jus’ wanted to be with you. I don’t know anything about Taylor Swift anymore, Swan - I don’t know how to find those myself.” There’s another pause but he knows better than to hope this is over, much of this coming back to him now in mortifying waves. 

“I’ve too many shirts in my closet now - It’s so many shirts. I always brought extra ‘cause I knew you’d steal ‘em an’ then you’d walk ‘round your kitchen in ‘em with no pants like yur a sexy Winnie the Pooh or somethn’ and I had to watch you climb yur counters while I had a heartattack  ‘cuz you wouldn’ jus’ let me get things off the top shelf for you. Bloody stubborn.” There’s a sigh over the machine. “I don’t want this many shirts, Swan…

‘Anyway I - What? Who does? Sorry, Swan the sherf is being rude again. He wants to know if yur picking me up. Are you picking me up?” There’s so much hope in his past self’s voice that he almost feels bad for him. But he also knows what a bloody idiot that man is and it’s hard to feel anything but the overwhelming urge to disappear into this couch and not have to listen to any more of his drunken rambling. “That would be nice. But it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d understand. Gnight, love.”

To delete this message press - She hits a button. Message saved.

Killian braces himself for the next one. Gods, how many of them are there? But this time it’s not his voice that comes out over the speakerphone, it’s another man, Irish and vaguely familiar through the sleep and the unfortunately returning memories. 

“Hey, Emma, it’s Graham.” Killian’s heart drops into his stomach at the sound of another man calling her in the middle of the night. Of course she wouldn’t have sat around pining like he did, not for a man who treated her as carelessly as he had. Of course - “Listen, I don’t know who this guy is but he says he knows you. I thought maybe he was one of your clients but when I asked him how he knows you he just asked me if I’ve ever been in love...”

The brow Emma raises at him is equal parts question, challenge and amusement and he feels the blood rush from his face. Fuck. He wonders whether four floors would be high enough for him to end this misery if he just went out the window. 

“Anyway, just let me know if this is another Walsh situation and I’ll make sure he stays in here, alright? Goodnight, love.” Killian can’t even begrudge the man or the endearment he adds to the end of his message when he’s only looking out for her. Probably a good thing she has someone to keep old, drunk dickheads away from her. 

He hears another beep of her mailbox and braces himself for whatever’s coming next. “Hi, love, ‘m sorry for calling so much. I know I made too many ms’takes to be ‘loud to say this, but… I miss you, Swan… And I’d jus’ really like to see you again.”

End of messages. To - 

Emma shuts the phone off, setting it down next to her on the coffee table. She tilts her head to see his face which he’s currently trying to bury in his hands. “Sounds like you had quite the night.” 

“I thought I’d be more hungover.” His head hurts and he’s tired and his mouth is dry but he expected to be near death after the way he threw them back last night.

“It’s four in the afternoon.” Oh. He does the math of how long she’d let him sleep in her apartment after everything he’s done - after she picked him up. 

“At one point I had to make sure you were alive. But I figured if you were able to leave such eloquent voicemails last night that you probably weren’t in danger of alcohol poisoning.”

“Swan, I…” He’s fully aware that he deserves her mocking but he’s too humiliated to even begin to try and explain his behaviour last night. How can he without explaining everything right down to that morning in July where he messed up the best thing in his life.

She takes pity on him, giving a small shrug. “Forget about it. Everyone says stupid stuff when they’re hammered. Everyone calls people they know they shouldn’t.”

“No, Emma -” He finally lifts his head to look at her. “That wasn’t…” He needs her to know that wasn’t what this was, she wasn’t just some drunk dial in the middle of the night. He thinks of how many times in the last three three months he’s looked at that contact in his phone, her name replaced with a reminder that he should not and absolutely could not go there. She mistakes his hesitation. 

“You okay?”

“No.” He needs to talk to her, to apologize and beg her forgiveness. But he can’t find the words in his tired, muddled head to tell her without telling her everything. “I’m a bloody idiot.” 

Emma smirks. “Yeah, we established that last night - a bunch of times.” 

“I mean it. It wasn’t -” He rubs at his eyes, trying to clear the sleep and avoid looking at her. “I didn’t just call you because I was drunk. I’ve wanted to call you. For months. Last night just gave me an excuse.”

“You needed an excuse to call me?” 

He sighs. “I was coward enough to convince myself I did.” 

When he finally forces himself to face her, he finds her watching her phone, fingers wrung in her lap and lips pressed together tightly the way they always are before she asks something that’s answer matters to her. 

“How much of last night do you actually remember?” 

“Most of it, I think.” It’s been coming back to him in increasingly horrifying details since she played that first voicemail.

“You said a lot of stupid stuff.” 

“I know.” 

“How much of all of that was true?”

“All of it.”

She raises a brow. “All of it?”

“Aye.”

“Sexy Winnie the Pooh?”

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “I stand by what I said.”

He wonders which parts of what he said she’s focusing on as her silence stretches between them, heartbroken when he sees a little wall go up. This is why he stopped calling. He knew this would happen. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like you owed me anything. We weren’t -”

“Don’t do that.” His hand reaches out for her, fingers playing carefully with the fabric of her too-big sweatpants. “We may not have been in a relationship but we weren’t nothing.” He won’t let her excuse his behaviour, not after they spent over a year in each others’ lives only for him to disappear from hers. “I shouldn’t have acted like we were.” 

“So then why did you stop calling?” It’s the most vulnerable he’s ever heard her sound even though she hides it well and he can’t bring himself to look at her. “I liked what we had going. I liked spending time with you.”

“Aye, so did I.” Too much. 

“I guess I thought - I guess I thought we were friends at least.” 

“We were.” His fingers dance along her calf through the fabric he can’t stop fiddling with and he feels the muscle tense but she doesn’t pull away from him. 

“So then what gives?” The anger in her voice makes his gaze snap up to hers. Finally. He’s been waiting for her to be angry with him, she deserves to be angry and he deserves it too. It gives him that small flicker of hope he’d been unable to find until now, a hope that if she’s angry, it’s because she cared enough to be hurt. “Why did you just…” She gestures vaguely with her hands. Disappear. 

“Because I couldn’t do it anymore.” 

“Do what? Hook up? Jesus, Killian, I’m a big girl. You didn’t have to run away because you were over the benefits part of this friendship.” 

“I wasn’t. I left because I broke our rules.” 

“What rules?” 

The ones they’d so carefully established when they decided to continue this arrangement beyond the first and second time he saw her. The ones that were meant to keep either of them from getting hurt like they both were now. 

“The last time I was here, we fell asleep and woke up in the morning still in your bed and I…”

“That’s why you freaked out? Because you accidentally slept over? That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He can hear the disbelief in her voice and also the relief but he’s not done. “It wasn’t like a hard and fast rule -”

His fingers curl around the back of her knee, squeezing as he draws her attention. “That’s not why.” He traces his thumb over the fabric covering her shin and he knows he has to tell her because he can’t do this anymore without telling her and he can’t go back to how things were. 

And he thinks that just maybe, she’ll want to hear it. Because as small and insignificant as it may seem, those aren’t her sweatpants, they’re his, lent - stolen - after a rather frantic afternoon in his hotel room six months ago where he may have torn her skirt in his haste to get it off. ‘You need better quality clothes, love.’ ‘Is this you finally offering to be my sugar daddy?’ They have his bloody initials on them - a strange gift from his lawyer friend. And she hasn’t gotten rid of them, didn’t toss them away when he did the same to her. She still sleeps in them. 

“I freaked out because I liked waking up with you, and I started thinking that I’d like to wake up with you every morning.” He’d been hot and sweaty and sore from sleeping on her old mattress but he’d looked down at the woman wrapped around him despite the stifling heat, her cheek pressed to his chest and her hair in his mouth and he knew that he wanted this, wanted her, maybe forever. He hears her small intake of breath, his thumb still stroking her skin though the fabric as though it’ll give him the strength he needs. “And I hadn’t felt that way about anyone since…” He can’t finish and so she does for him. 

“Milah?” 

“Aye.” His reason for never wanting anything more, love lost in the same instant that cost him a piece of himself. He’d told Emma about her, one night when they’d lingered a little too long entangled in the aftermath. He didn’t know the details of her reason, only that she’d been far too young and that he’d hurt her deeply enough to make her wary of anyone who claimed love or devotion. 

“I hoped that if I stayed away for a little while that it would fade away and that we could go back to how things were because I knew that if I told you I would lose you. But the longer I stayed away, the more I missed you and the more I wanted you and I realized it wasn’t going to go away - because I loved you.” 

Killian watches her for a reaction as he tells her the truth he’d been hiding from her for months and from himself for far longer, but she remains unreadable, fingers still wringing nervously in her lap, breathing a little shaky. But there’s no abject terror in her gaze as she waits for him to finish.

“And by then I’d avoided you for too long and it was too late to tell you or try to go back to how things were and I lost you anyway. Then I managed to convince myself that it was for the best because this wasn’t what you wanted and you deserved better anyway.” Better than an old widower with a used up heart who’d run the moment things became real. “But I thought you had the right to know that I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you. I left because I cared too much.” 

Fabric slips from his hand as she stands, circling the coffee table and leaving him feeling untethered without her and with a barrier set between them. He focuses on the rug, her reaction expected but no less painful, as she paces the length of her glued together crates a few times. 

“Okay two things.” Her tone snaps his gaze up to where she moves anxiously and restlessly in the small space. “First of all, that’s the last time you make a decision for me.” He hadn’t expected this reaction. “I don’t need anyone to decide what I do or don’t deserve or what I can or can’t handle. If you want to know what I want, you ask me. You talk to me like the grownup you keep pretending that you are.” That one hurts but he nods. It’s all rightly earned. 

“You’re right.” 

“Good.” She stops, shoulders squared as she faces him from across the table. “Second.” He waits, the anger from before no longer sustaining her as he sees the wall she hides behind slip just a little. “You said you loved me.”

He’s not sure what answer she wants, but he gives her the truth. “I love you, Swan.” Try as hard as he did not to, he knows it’s not going away. And he’s not willing to attempt another eight shots of rum a second time to make sure. 

She nods. He waits, or she waits, he’s not sure who’s supposed to speak here only that he needs to know how she feels and he’ll wait as long as he needs to. 

“Well? Are you going to ask me what I want?”

“What do you want?” He’d give her whatever she asked for at this point as he watches her bite her lip and definitely doesn’t wish he was the one biting it.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Fair enough. 

“Look, I get running away from feelings - I’m very familiar with the concept. But the way you did it was really shitty and -” Her voice goes quiet, arms wrapping around herself in a move so full of self-preservation that it breaks his heart a little. “It hurt, okay?”

Her words, thick with betrayal and rejection, pierce sharp through his chest, painful and deserved as she avoids his gaze as determinantly as he’d avoided hers. God, he’s an ass. He’d pieced together enough about her past from the small glimpses she’d given him late on those nights where they were still tangled naked in her sheets and the dark lent them the boldness to be vulnerable to know that she’d been left before. 

He joins her on her side of the table, reaching to touch the soft, golden waves that he’s spent months wishing he could tangle his fingers in again. “I’m sorry.” He pushes them behind her ear, thumb stroking over her cheek like her skin could break beneath his touch. 

When she looks up at him her eyes are red and wet he pulls her to him without thinking. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, Emma feeling fragile in his arms for the first time since he met her. She’s a force, his Swan, a tempest that could devour a thousand ships and it hurts to see her storms wane. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter, pressing a kiss to her temple as he brings a hand to stroke the hair at the base of her neck, feels her lean into him. “I’m sorry,” he speaks against her brow. “I’m so sorry, love.” His lips brush over the crown of her head and he feels her arms slip around his waist, holding tight to the back of his shirt. He holds her just as tightly, nose settling in the crook of her neck where he presses another kiss and whispers a thousand more apologies. “I’m an ass.” 

“Yeah, you are.” Her voice comes muffled from where her face is pressed against his collarbone and he laughs in relief to hear her tease him. He pulls back enough that she can lift her head to face him, eyes still red as he wipes at the dampness left on her cheeks. All he wants is to kiss her and spend the night and the next day and every day after that making this up to her, but he knows better than to push her.

Her hands slide from his back to his chest as she meets his gaze and takes a steadying breath. “I still don’t know what I want. You’re not the only one who’s bad at dealing with feelings and you just put some pretty big ones out there.”

“I know.” He doesn’t expect to hear the words back, not after three months of silence. But if she gives him the chance to stay and try to win her heart then he’ll spend forever earning back her trust. 

“But maybe, if you’re still in town for a bit, you could stay for dinner.” 

It takes everything he has to contain the ecstatic smile that wells up from his chest, afraid he’ll scare her off. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.” He’s not leaving her again. Not unless she sends him away. 

***

“When do you go back?” she asks when they’re sat at the kitchen island. ‘What, exactly, do you have against real furniture? Especially tables. They seem particularly discriminated against.’ ‘Do you see any room in here for a twelve-piece dining set?’ He swallows the bite of the boxed mac and cheese she’d made him cook ‘Because I’m still pissed at you and I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer through this.’ ‘Sadist. Can I at least add -’ ‘No.’  

Killian looks at his watch. “My flight was an hour ago.”

“What? You should have said -”

“And miss all the delicacies that Maine has to offer?” he asks, lifting his mismatched bowl. “It’s fine, Swan,” he adds when she looks genuinely concerned. “I’d rather be here.” He can get another flight at the last minute before he’s due back in New York on Monday. Getting his things back from the hotel, however, may be a tad more difficult. 

“That’s sweet and all but I think you’d also rather be employed.”

“Aye, well, I may not be employed there much longer anyhow.” 

Her eyes widen. “Oh god, don’t tell me you left them voicemails too.”

Killian snorts. “No, I’ve just… had another offer.” 

His heart pounds frantically as she asks, “where?” terrified that he’ll scare her off. 

“Here.” 

“Here?”

He nods. “I wasn’t going to take it, not after realizing how much I’d miss you if I was here. But, well, that was before I drank a full bar. And this town does have its benefits.” 

She gapes at him and he can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. “You’re not moving for me, right? You want the job? Because I told you I don’t know what I want or if I can even do… whatever this maybe is and I -” 

He reaches for her hand, calming the rambling that had started. “I do want the job, but of course I’m moving for you, Swan. And I know you’re not ready to decide anything, and I’m not asking you to. But whether you do or don’t decide that what you want is me, I’m going to be right here while you figure it out. I’m not going to leave you twice, Emma. I don’t want to miss you like that again.”

Emma just stares at him, mouth opening and then shutting with questions that don’t find voice and he sits, stewing in the worry that he said too much, asked for too much. He swallows as she jumps out of her seat, his turn to ramble now as she rounds the island.

“I mean, I will have to go home and get my things and resign but I -” 

“Shut up,” she tells him, hands sliding into his hair and mouth colliding with his. 

He’s more than happy to do exactly that, wasting no time in gathering her up in his arms and pulling her close, returning the kiss he’d missed so damn much all these months, missed the feel of her soft and warm against him like this, for the little sound she makes when his own hand tangles in her hair just hard enough that he can keep he there a little longer.  

“Wait,” he breathes and her hands pause where they’d been working the buttons of his shirt free. “Maybe we should slow down.” There’s a part of him screaming at his stupid mouth right now for the words falling out of it. “You said you don’t know if this is what you want. So maybe we shouldn’t rush things.”

She barks out a small laugh. “You’re moving to another city for a ‘maybe’ and you don’t want to rush things?” He doesn’t really have an answer for that. 

Her brow and mouth quirk up in one devastatingly attractive motion that has him ready to go back on everything he just said. “This was never our problem,” she reminds him, fingers tugging the buckle of his belt loose. “We’re good at this part. Everything else is where we get messy.” She works the button of his jeans open next. “So just try not to make any more big confessions while you’re inside me…” She runs her teeth over the skin below his ear as she slides her hand into his jeans and he nearly chokes. “And we should be fine.” 

“Bloody hell.” His rational self may judge him later, but his current self has Emma Swan with her hand around his cock trying to get him out of his clothes and he’s already established that he’s not a very smart man. “I promise.” 

***

It’s a strange feeling to be laying here, wrapped up in an old duvet and Star Wars sheets with Emma’s head on his shoulder and her fingers drawing patterns over his chest. They’ve never done this part, never lingered beyond the time it took them both to catch their breaths before untangling themselves from one another and going about their day - or tangling themselves again. He likes it, but it’s strange, new, something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not with anyone. 

“This is kind of weird right?” she asks, breath warm against his neck. 

Killian laughs. Bloody mind reader. 

“Aye, a bit. I think I’m out of practice.”

“I never practised in the first place.” 

He presses a kiss to her hair. “But, it’s not bad, right?” She can probably hear his stupid heart racing as he waits for her answer. 

“No,” she shakes her head, sliding her arm around his waist and fitting herself more snugly against his side. “It’s not bad.” He can feel her smile against his skin, glad she can’t see the absolutely ridiculous one stretched across his own. They lay there a little longer, the room darkening with the earlier and earlier nights as he begins to dread the fast approaching hour where he’ll have to leave, until Emma shifts. “My neck hurts.” 

“My arm’s asleep.” 

She sits up and his arm is flooded with the sudden relief of no longer being squished, but he misses the warmth and the closeness of her immediately. He has two arms. Who really needs both? He’s done fine with one hand. “Where are you going?” he asks when she rises from the bed, reaching for his shirt that she tossed on the floor and he made himself leave there. ‘Do not fold your clothes while we’re in the middle of having sex or I swear I’ll put mine back on you fucking weirdo.’

“Thirsty,” she says as she finishes buttoning it. “You?”

“Aye, thanks.”

“Water? Or would you prefer rum?”

“Hilarious.” His stomach rolls, not finding her so funny. She certainly seems to think she is, smirking as she fetches two water bottles from the fridge. “You know you’re going to have to give me my shirt back this time. It’s the only one I’ve got.” At least until he finds out if the hotel hung onto his suitcase when he missed his checkout. “Unless you have the others squirrelled away here somewhere.” 

“I thought you had ‘too many shirts, Swan,’” she reminds him in a poor imitation of his accent and he rolls his eyes. She hops back onto the bed, climbing into his lap to sit astride his hips. His hand and wrist settle on her waist, the shirt in question riding up and making him groan at the feel of her pressed against him. 

“Aye well I’ve only got the one to wear out of here tonight and while you look infinitely better in it than I do -” 

“Like a sexy Winnie the Pooh, would you say?”

He sighs. “I’m never living that one down am I?”

“You want to show me your hundred acre wood?” Killian lets his head fall back against the headboard as she laughs herself silly. “I have another solution,” she tells him, hands wringing nervously in the sleeves of his shirt. “I was thinking, maybe, since you’ve already missed your flight, and you probably don’t have a hotel room anymore, that you could stay here tonight. And maybe we could give that whole waking up together thing a shot.” 

Her cheeks are flushed, freckles bright against the soft pink as she looks up from her hands to catch his eye. He kisses her hard enough that she’d have fallen right off his lap were it not for his arms holding her steady and close to him. 

“That a yes?” she asks, mouth curling against his and he catches that smirking bottom lip between his teeth like he’s wanted to since she showed up at the station. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

She nods and it’s him smiling against her mouth now. “For tonight at least. But I think there’s still a lot of grovelling in your future before it becomes a regular thing.”

He kisses her again, rolls her onto her back beneath him. “Then I’d better get started right away,” he says, lips finding the length of her neck as he begins to work free the buttons of his stolen shirt. 

“Well, you did promise you would write poetry about my boobs.” 

“I what?” He looks up only to see her wearing the same confused frown as himself before her eyes widen with laughter and she covers her mouth with her hands.

“Oh my god. You haven’t seen your texts have you?”

Fuck. 

*******

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