#love the idea of the sanctuary also being like

[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König

Probably can't write a full series for this but for now HEADCANNONS

He initially moved to a residential/suburban area because of his need for privacy. He couldn't stand being in barracks provided because it's too close for comfort and there's just too many people and not enough room

He grew up in a rural village which he would really, greatly prefer but his job doesn't allow him to have that amount of space and no neighbors. The upkeep would be too much

While he doesn't have the full amount of space he'd like, it's enough to keep him busy when he's not deployed and grant him the piece of mind he needs

When he's home and in his 'residential/domestic' mode, he's not wearing the mask. That's a quick way to signal him out and lets be real, it sets off red flags. He'd rather not have the police called on what looks like a very suspicious man, thanks.

Not wearing the mask is also a good way for him to come off of 'work' mode, where he can just be himself, no covering that up.

Plus it's for safety. He knows he's taking a risk by living off of base and he's a man with many enemies. Wearing something trademarked to him in an unprepared environment is a dumb idea and is a great way to end up six feet under

His front yard is pretty minimal but he has a lovely garden in the back. Half the reason he settled on the house that he did was because of the mature trees in the backyard that reminded him of home

When you moved in, König - as much as he didn't want to, made the move to introduce himself. The main motivator wasn't out of politeness but rather necessity. Since he's away for so long, he gives out his personal number and email just in case something happens with the house

He's genuinely surprised when you react positively and even ask if there's anything he'd like you to do when he's away (like collecting his mail, watering any plants)

He's so stumped by that, not having expected such hospitality, that when you ask for his name as you enter in his contact info, his brain short circuits. He tells you it's Kevin, because it's the first K name he could think of that wasn't distinctly Germanic.

Also he doesn't want to bring anyone into his work life. He moved out into the suburbs for a reason. König is who he is on field, that's his callsign. And, once again - safety reasons. If he went around, telling people who he was, he's asking to get another target painted on his back

Though you two initially don't really talk much, you still wave when you see him or wish him a good morning. Even if he's blunt and usually brusque, you never mind it and always try to make polite conversation while respecting his boundaries and need for space

Seeing each other in the mornings becomes routine. You're up for work while he's up tending to his garden (it's better to water early morning, he insists)

He's slow to warm up but when he finally does, he's surprisingly talkative

He really opened up to you because you showed express interest in his garden and flowers alike. You always listened to his advice or would ask specific questions to get him talking and when it came to explaining things, he could talk and talk and talk

The moment he was won over though was when you asked if he'd like help weeding his garden. Taking care of it was therapeutic to him (as tedious as it might be) and wanting to actually come over and spend time with him, even if it was a "chore" made him feel something that day

Being allowed into his yard, his botanical sanctuary, is as great of an award as you can get

He finds it significantly easier to talk when his hands are busy and when there can always be things to talk about (mainly his plants, he's so proud)

You learn of his plants, the fact that he's a private contractor (he conveniently leaves out the military part), and he'll start to actually talk about himself instead of avoiding questions for once

If it weren't from exertion reddening his face already, he's sure he would've turned as red as his tomatoes when you inquired about the off handed comment about his miniatures collection

No one had ever asked him about them - or actually taken them seriously. He's used to people making fun of such hobbies

But not you, you embraced him

Seeing your face light up with amazement and hearing your specific comments about the details he made in replicas of things such as his hometown and some of the fairytale stories he liked as a kid officially had his heart feeling the warm, fuzzy feelings that he usually ignored

The next morning, he was already planting your favorite flowers in his front yard 🪻

(Part Two)

[tcrmommabear]

Long Time, Not Seen

She wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

“Welcome home”? “Good to see you”? “Oh brilliant, I’ve been taking care of the Bureau while you’ve been gone, there’s a new crack in the ceiling from Muta’s failed baking attempt”?

Maybe an old version of her would say all of that. Sweep aside the anger and the demand for accountability and just… Accept what happened. All's well that ends well, right? The Bureau was still standing, the Earth still turning, and time just kept passing.

Not this version of her. No longer frightened and helpless and unsure.

She leaned further back in the chair, propping her feet on the desk. The twitch of his eye told her how much he disliked it. She hadn’t a place in her mind or heart to care. Not when he had no right to stand in her office.

He flashes her his million dollar smile, the one reserved for pretty clients and obnoxious ones. When she remains unaffected, he coughs, tries the simpler, patient one. It’s no more dazzling, but Haru’s learned not to look where he directs you to. She sees straight through to him, to where he hides his heart.

Solid oak. Doesn’t beat.

“How can I help you today, sir?” she asks, tilting her chin back to look past his left shoulder. Despite her anger, she’s afraid to look straight into his eyes. Even that green could captivate her wounded heart. She has to remain strong, sure of herself. She won’t let this be swept under the rug. But she’ll play this game long enough to get a kernel of satisfaction. She’s petty like that.

“A cold greeting for an old… Friend, isn’t it Haru?”

He hesitates around the word friend, which makes her heart clench in traitorous and conflicted ways. Even the familiar purr of her name does something to her insides, all cells of her longing and pining and wishing and wanting.

‘He wouldn’t have left without a word for no reason. Surely there’s something going on? Surely he still needs me, needs my help? He came back, didn’t he? Every time, he came back,’ she thinks, half frantically.

She takes her delicate, half hopeful heart, still engraved with the feel of his lips and the memory of their past, and cracks it in half herself.

No one gets to hurt her like that again.

“I don’t know what you mean. I see no friends in this building, besides my lovely little teapot, just an arrogant client who forgets who he’s talking to.”

His heels click as he steps towards the desk, setting his hat on the desk (‘With no respect for my paperwork’) and starting to discard his coat. He looks perturbed, maybe a little irritated, but so far she’s given him no reason to think that he’s not in control of the situation. It ignites a righteous, bitter fury that he thinks so little of her in that way.

“Come now, Miss Haru-” ah, back to Miss then, “I have a lot of work to catch up on. Please, fill me in on all I missed.”

He looks so expectant.

Haru forgets petty. Forgets angry, forgets hurt, forgets betrayed. Hell, forgets heartbroken and yet in love for a second.

Haru gets righteous.

“I,” she says, slowly rising from her chair.

“Am not,” she hisses, the walls of the Sanctuary shuddering against her venom.

“Your damn,” she practically howls over his indignant gasp, the sheer lunacy over being scandalized over a grown woman swearing.

“Secretary!”

The Sanctuary answers her call, her plea, her venom, and shutters its doors, locks its windows. The walls creak as they struggle to pitch forward, folding down to envelope and protect her. 

Baron shouts, taking steps away from her desk and towards the front door, panicked and brash. He looks around wild, rejected by the place that’s always let him come back.

Only then does the building settle, wallpaper wrapping tendrils of support around her forearms, tea cups rattling off the shelf and perfectly served on the desk. She breathes in the scent of her homemade brew, familiar and heartbreaking in equal measures. Only when her hands stop shaking, and she feels he’s suffered the silence just enough, does Haru meet Baron.

Brown eyes to green.

Her heart does a flip, but she crushes it flat.

“Times have changed, Baron Humbert von Gikkingen,” she says, pulling her chair back to the desk, “and I’m not one to forsake what change I’ve been given.”

The Sanctuary met her meaning, jostling the umbrella holder closer so she could pluck her own cane out, and tossed the sleek white sunhat onto her desk. She dressed herself, calm and poised, and came around the desk to stand before him.

At ease and within her own domain.

“Good evening, sir,” she spoke, never breaking eye contact, “welcome to the Bureau.”

[fallout-fucker]

Crows Of The Commonwealth

I was on CrowTok and it made me come up with an idea.

So, obviously a lot of the crows in the Commonwealth are made by the Institute, though I personally like to believe that there are still a lot of crows that are regular ones, too.

Crows are an incredibly smart species of bird, which makes sense as to why they're the ones the Institute use. To my memory, I don't think there are any other birds in the game. Again, I'd like to headcanon that they're not the only ones left but if only a few species of birds managed to survive the bombs and the aftermath, I wouldn't put it past crows to be one of those species due to that intelligence.

Crows are known for recognising people, which also works in favour of the Institute as to why they'd choose them specifically. If you are able to tell the difference between individual crows, you'll be less likely to question if a specific one if following you if you are aware they likely recognise you.

However, they're also known to bring gifts and trinkets if treated right, or actually attack people who don't. And they remember faces. I don't get the impression that the Institute treats them too kindly if they don't even consider Gen 3 Synths as people, who are literally created with technology and human biology/DNA.

If we imagine that the Institute Crows work like Synths do, then that means that they are also able to become independent like Synths can. We know they have the level of intelligence, more so than another species of bird, to perhaps reach that level of independence. That's exactly why the Institute picked them. Wouldn't it be ironic if that became part of the Institute's downfall.

So imagine a Sole Survivor, fresh out of the Vault, scared and cold on their first few nights. Hungry, tired, likely sick, grieving. Alone. They have Dogmeat. They have themselves. A few strangers they saved. Nothing else.

They're trying their best one night to settle. They've only been unfrozen for a few days by now, but have yet to leave Sanctuary. They chose to stay for a couple days to prepare for their long journey ahead, and rebuild their home so they had somewhere to go back to. Preston has taught them basics self defence and survival, Sturges has helped them temporarily fix the holes in their walls. They're not close to these strangers yet, but there's a small comfort in knowing there's still people, and people nearby to run to if anything not friendly comes knocking on their door.

They're picking at a 200 year old box of stale cereal, not able to stomach the taste just yet. In the end, they end up leaving it in a bowl for Dogmeat to have, preferring to sleep, hunger be damned. They sleep on the floor that used to hold the dinning table, not ready to sleep in the now-too-empty bedrooms.

By morning, their sleep is interrupted. Not by the cold October air that their thin, makeshift blanket- That doubles as their coat during the day- barley keeps away. Not by the sunlight that seeps in by the broken shards of class where the window used to be. Not by drops of rain that fall through the cracks in the ceiling. Not even by Dogmeat licking then awake, like he did yesterday morning. This time it's the sound of pecking and squawking that has Sole prying their eyes open.

A small group of grows picking at the bowl of cereal. They must've gotten in through what once was the window, or literally any of the holes of missing metal panels scattered throughout the building. Sole barely has it in them to care. They know they shouldn't waste food that could've gone to them or their new furry friend, but they truly cannot bring it in them to mind. They wonder if the birds have a hard time finding food, too, and decide it might not be a waste at all.

They sit up. A few of the crows fly up onto the windowsill at their movements, one stays enjoying their breakfast, unfazed. Sole waits, sitting still until the birds realise they have no intention of harming them. They glide back down onto the floor, going back to eating.

After a few moments, the crow that stayed perks his head up, neck twitching into an angle that lets him look at Sole. He hops over, stopping just before he reaches their lap. Sole raises their hand, thumb and index finger moving slowly until they land on its neck. His feathers bristle under Sole's pets, his feet dancing happily beneath him. The other crows finish their breakfast. Salem, Sole decides to call him, joins his friends who hop back onto the windowsill. They fly off. He turns his head to the side, a beady eye looking at Sole again. He squawks at them before flying off to join the others.

Sole spends the rest of their day taking metal panels from some of the completely collapsed houses to fix the holes in their walls. They're able to find paint at the old Red Rocket down the road when looking for more equipped tools. Repainting isn't exactly their priority right now, just making sure the house will be fit to stand against the weather, and for when it gets colder in the next few months. The paint will be useful when they get to the stage of being able to consider making it look presentable, however. Unfortunately, the only paintbrush they find is snapped in half. They toss it in frustration. Less so because of the brush itself, and more so because Sole has a lot of anger built up from the events of the last few days that they have no other outlet for.

They end up going home when the sun starts to set, having avoided the empty tomb of memories for as long as possible. It wasn't safe to be out so close to dark.

When they set down their tolls by the door, something on the kitchen counter catches their eye.

Upon inspection, they realise it's an intact paintbrush.

Their confusion lasts barely five seconds, as they hear a familiar squawk. Hoping on the windowsill is Salem. His eyes study Sole. He's waiting. Sole smiles, pulling open the duffle bag they'd taken on their supply run. They pull out two wild mutfruits, which they'd harvested from bushes near the station. Sole cuts them into smaller pieces, before tossing them gently into the grass of their back garden from the car porch. Salem glides to the pieces, now satisfied in knowing that Sole approved of and appreciated his gift. Sole looks up to the trees that border their garden where other crows have started to also descend from to join in on the food offering. Apparently, there's a lot more in this group than what Sole had assumed from the smaller one earlier. About twenty feathered creatures dance about on branches decorated by orange and brown leaves or nibble at the mutfruit in the grass.

Salem flies over once he's had his fill, taking a seat on Sole's shoulder. His friends also begin hopping over gradually, and Sole ends up sitting down to welcome them and pet their small heads. Dogmeat also seems to love the attention, or perhaps just the warmth that radiates from Sole's body as he curls up next to them. Every so often, one of them drops a trinket into Sole's lap as they snuggle into them. A random screw, some gears, even some bottlecaps. Bits and bobs that a few days ago, Sole would've considered mostly junk, even if they'd still been appreciative, but everything now is useful. They even drop a few things by Dogmeat's snout, who sniffs them, tail wagging. Sole doesn't think Salem appreciates the happy licks Dogmeat gives him, though.

Regardless, Sole breathes out slowly, deeply, as they take in the sunset and birdsong before them. It's the first time they've honestly felt any peace since leaving that godforsaken Vault.

Sole makes a mental note to redesign the kitchen window when they get around to fixing it so that it'll be able to open widely. They also begin thinking about designs for birdhouses, feeders, and small fountains.

It's safe to say Sole feels slightly better than they did when they went to bed last night.

They feel less alone.

For some reason, as Salem nestles into their lap, against their stomach, a small pressure builds in their gut. They can't quite shake the instinct, the thought that comes with it. The feeling that Salem feels less alone now, too.

[pizzabookbuying]

there are so many ‘best’ AUs and the ones I label as they best definitely change according to my mood but right now the BEST kind is the kind where the AU reveals that in different circumstances the two characters end up in completely opposite roles in their dynamic because the SOULMATISM of it all—the realization that these people respond EXACTLY the same way to things—THATS EVERYTHING TO ME RIGHT NOW

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cowboy!141 x Noble's Daughter!Reader (My Version of the AU)

(How you meet them)

Synopsis: Being the daughter of a noble is a jarring task as you must be always able to keep up appearances, so what exactly happens when your family hires 4 men? Men who seem dangerous yet you know nothing about, all happening to be part of the same group of people. What happens if they take an interest in you? Someone unattainable, forbidden yet also undoubtedly tempting..

Hi lovelies! Lia here again, apologies for the delay and inactivity, I had exams, projects and the recent release of part one of Bridgerton season 3. Speaking of the series, this was inspired by that and RDR2 (none of the elements are historically accurate, I think?), I genuinely hope this does well because this account has not been doing well as of late. With my mutuals leaving Tumblr and some friends are currently ignoring me, I genuinely don't know what to do anymore. From what I know, @ghouljams was the first one who created content in the cowboy!CoD AU but mine is a lot different? So please don't kill me 😭

This will result in headcanons for the next few posts because my brain is attached to this AU so you will be seeing more Cowboy!Outlaw!141.

(Really FEM!Reader, maybe also Plus-size!(Chubby??)Reader?? I don't even know anymore)

More content: My CoD Masterlist

Bless your noble mother's heart, although your was seen as this very respectable and intellectual man of nobility, your mother had this heart of gold having no idea that these rugged men he has newly hired were outlaws, criminals.. murderers?

Yet your father did, something about him felt sinister, well all noble money comes from not so noble cause.

Although your mother wanted you to get to know and be familiar with the newest staff members who would do all the gnarly, energy consuming and physically challenging tasks, she did not want her daughter interacting with men who would be considered improper like seemingly mysterious men who happened to be from a far town looking for a living.

Well without your father's or mother's knowledge, that rule was thrown out the window the moment you saw one of them carrying over some of the crates that contain given by some men to your father for his services and connections, particularly drawn to the one who never seemed to take off the cloth on his face.

Something about the way he stared at you, not seeing the rest of his face, depriving you of clues as to how he felt upon seeing the only lady of the house. You gave him a warm smile, for a moment you thought you saw his lips through the mask perk up, before walking off to the lounging hall for your tutoring on language.

It was odd, you observed them from afar a lot, your personal garden was your sanctuary and you can't help but do so when they talked so loudly, no sign of inside voices.

They called each other names.. Price, Gaz, Soap and Ghost. The man you encountered was named Ghost? Surely it's some alias. Well that wasn't something you should fixate on anyway so you leave for your tasks.

You find yourself feeling a little out of it after your lessons, hoping that a little stroll through the stables behind your family's estate would either help the information sink in or keep it shun out of your mind. Either way you'd find yourself in tranquil, you heard a thud behind you and turn to find so called "Ghost" behind you.

He had dropped a crate, one filled with weapons and uncharacteristically hastily picked up all of them without paying much attention. Such an action caused him to unknowingly cut his finger on one of the blades that fell out of it's sheath.

Your eyes filled with concern as you rush over to take his hand in yours before he tried to brush off the cut and get back to his duties. You knew it was dumb to be worried over something so small that the grown man doesn't even flinch and yet there you were, practically cradling his hand in yours.

A white handkerchief that was embroidered with your favorite flowers by your own mother, something you held dear and kept pristine.. using it on his finger to keep the blood from further gushing and wipe off whatever of the red residue was left on his hand.

As the blood stopped to your relief, you brought his finger and spontaneously pressed a feather-like kiss on the wound. You were so used to doing that for your little cousins, nieces and nephews that it was just a force of habit, your face flushed the very moment you looked up to meet his gaze, what possessed you to do that?

You placed the handkerchief in his hand and composed yourself, you told him to keep it and to bring the wound to the physician to get some antiseptics before running off to god knows where.

A few days after that incident, you meet another one of them except..

You couldn't help but rush, you were late for this supposedly short promenade your family has spontaneously planned. Your favourite gloves are no where to be found and with the three sisters you have, you checked room to room, seeing who might've borrowed the lacey white fabric with the sewn in bows.

Without looking your body slams into a wall, is it a wall? You softly groan, your delicate fingers brushing on your forehead that felt like it would bruise later on. Your eyes remained closed for a few seconds as the impact caused you to feel shaken, light headed.

You open your eyes to one of the outlaws, you blink up as your vision adjusted a bit, his dark skin against the light from the window really did something..

"Are you hurt, my lady?" He asked, his deep voice was smooth and rich, almost velvety. He held you up from falling.

"N-no.. Thank you, uhh..."

"Kyle, her ladyship can call me Kyle. Although I hope it's not too informal to your status, my lady." You smiled at his words, certainly a respectful fellow despite him and his group's reputation.

You felt warmth on your sides, his palms against the fabric that separates his skin on yours, he was only being kind for steadying you after you almost fell from the earlier impact but his touch felt addicting, too much as it continued to linger.

"Kyle, it is then" You said softly, suddenly a bit more aware of your surroundings.

Fuck. He was sure he felt something just by hearing the way his name fell from your lips. Normally he'd give people, employers only and only his last name. He was so used to having been called by "Garrick", he had no idea his name would sound different, so sweet coming from a pretty maiden's lips.

He stutters for a moment, realizing that his hands are touching a lady inappropriately, something only someone she's married to would have the privilege of doing. He swiftly removed his hands from your waist and formally excused himself from your presence with the excuse of his duties.

The next time you met one of them was through your mother's ball, she was always the first to throw one to bless the upcoming season of hopes that you, your sisters and brothers shall wed soon.

You had no taste for it after having a lord step on your feet at least 20 times and not even bother to apologize with how high of a pedestal he puts himself in, you found yourself escaping through the back of your estate to the gazebo in the center of your beloved garden.

You took your tight, restricting shoes off and felt the grass on your feet as you walked toward the gazebo, now close enough to see that you weren't alone but you still continued, your feet against the cooling marble platform. You sigh as you prop yourself to sit on the stone railing next to the stranger who was currently taking a puff of his cigar.

You turned your head away, you were thrown into a fit of coughs from the strong scent of the smoke while you swatch some of it away. You tried not to heave for actual air to breathe while the man next to you chuckles, making you feel irritable.

"M'sorry love.." his gruff voice whispers which make you turn towards him, the man offering you a comforting smile.

"Shouldn't you be in there with your family, miss?" Price asked. To which you hum, "I wanted some "fresh air" and silence" you answered. Moments of silence have passed, nothing but the sound of wind that rattled the trees a bit and each other's breaths.

You look towards the light of windows of your home, the ballroom filled with laughter and talk of celebration. You sighed, knowing you must return as your parents would come looking for you, also not wanting for them to punish you for sticking around unchaperoned with their new hires.

He knew you were about to leave, it would be rude for a gentleman to leave a lady without help, hmm? He wasn't a gentleman though, an outlaw, one of the worst titles one can ever bestow a man. He was considered to be of low honor but who cares?

He kneels down on one knee in front of you, gently taking your leg in his huge hand using his thigh as leverage so he can gently slip on you shoes. For a moment you felt his forehead on your knee before he pulls away and offers you his hand..

You took it hesitantly as he helped you off the railing, you look up at him meeting his eyes. Something about them burned, making your stomach churn but not in a manner of discomfort.

You watched his back as he walked away, his footsteps on the cold marble the only thing to be heard as the noise died down..

The morning after, you've barely had enough sleep, was it the events of the previous night? Nevermind, at least you had a day or two for yourself after conducting a proposition to your parents. Free time was worth it for the sore feet you had to endure.

Not really in the mood to change into anything tight or itchy, you remain in your night clothes. Finally, some well deserved time alone, comfortable and flipping pages of a book was your type of thing.

Sure, socializing has it's benefits however nothing beats your time alone or so you thought you were alone..

A table and a few chairs were set up by the servants to your request at the gazebo, giving you the perfect view of the greenery that you have planted the seeds of.

You had your head comfortably leaned onto lounge as you continued reading. Buts something was just so distracting, a few minutes of the constant snipping and twigs breaking, you look up wanting to see who was there tending to the garden.

Your eyes widened a bit, it was improper for a lady to stare a man who has very less clothing. Nothing but his jeans, belt and hat keeping his face shielded from the heat is toned, muscular and tanned torso and arms exposed.

A little later, you hear a grunt coming from the man, Soap was it? You can't quite remember much from the night you eavesdropped on them. You heard his footsteps on the grass nearing the gazebo but you didn't bother to look up, not until..

"Ma'am? May I stay 'ere a moment? Afraid the heat is getting to me" You look up from your book and sit up to see the same man breathless. You nodded and watched as he sat on the stairs, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"Excuse me.." You said, loud enough to hear and catch his attention, he looks back from his position. You moved one of the chairs to face your lounge, "Please invite yourself here, I can only think of how uncomfortable the floor might be, especially when you are working at a weather like this one" Signaling him to take a seat on the chair you adjusted.

He gets up yet reluctantly makes himself comfortable on the seat, you pick a drinking glass on display from the silver tray and poured some of the cold lemonade into it, you place it down on the table and slide it to him, offering a warm smile. Your fingers on the base of the drinking glass slightly brushing against his as he takes it.

He thanks you for it and you both enjoyed the tranquil and peace.. yet you can't go back to your book, asking questions and being further interested by the man each minute passes.

The way he talked was something else, it was alluring, comforting and oddly lively, he's told you about his "past" and how he used to be a child.

"Was quite the troublemaker you see, though my family was poor and food was scarce, I found a way to feed the street animals I adore—"

You look at him, so invested on what he was about to say next, it was refreshing to have someone to converse with who isn't interrogating you and practically forcing their ideals of how many babies they want you to birth for them, practically wanting you to die for them.

"I used to steal bread from my neighbor, not a very nice man, selfish really. So I'd often sneak into his shack, leftovers, scraps and anything light enough for me to carry. I'd bring it to Lassie, my favorite stray dog. You remind me a lot of her Bonnie" He said.

"I remind you of a dog?" You weren't so sure if that's a compliment, then again he just called you "Bonnie", what exactly does that mean?

"Home, you remind me of home. Can't say I have felt this comfortable in years, friends and I are usually reserved yet you bring this side out of me, Bonnie. So what spell or witchcraft did you use?" He joked raising a brow at you, for a moment his attention falters as he looks down at the soft mounds of skin exposed on your chest.

"Eyes up here, Johnny."

You warned as you laugh at his question, you notice one of the servants coming out from the estate and into the garden, Johnny smiles and tips his hat to you to excuse himself so that he could get back to work.

Well this is interesting.. isn't it?

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @snowdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

[hoshifighting]

mingyu as a sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar mommy x sugar baby relationship, smut, fingering, pool sex, creampie, gardener!mingyu, clit stimulation, pent-up horniness sex. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

the first time you met mingyu, it was supposed to be a simple task—just someone to help take care of that sprawling garden you had no idea how to manage. sure, you loved the idea of a lush, green sanctuary, but the reality of watering it with a pink watering can just wasn’t cutting it. your neighbor mentioned a guy, said he was reliable and hardworking, gave you his number without much fanfare. when mingyu showed up at your door, you nearly dropped your phone.

he looked more like he belonged on a runway than in your garden, tall, broad shoulders, with tanned skin that glistened under the summer sun. for a moment, you just stared at him, wondering if this was some kind of joke. but then he flashed you a shy smile, and you knew he was the real deal.

you spent that afternoon by the pool, pretending to read a book, but really, you were watching mingyu work. his muscles flexed under his shirt as he dug into the soil, sweat beading on his forehead, making his skin glisten even more. you couldn’t help but admire him, his focus, his dedication. it was... distracting, to say the least.

when you couldn’t take the heat anymore, you slipped into the pool, cooling off before deciding to be a good host and get mingyu a drink. you came back with a cold glass of lemonade, your skin still damp from the water, your swimsuit clinging to you in a way that made mingyu pause when he saw you. his eyes flicked over you, just for a second, but it was enough to catch your attention. you handed him the drink, and he took it with a quiet “thank you,” his voice deep and soft.

“so, why do you work so hard around the neighborhood?” you asked, genuinely curious. a guy like him could probably make a killing doing something less... manual.

mingyu took a sip of the lemonade, his eyes meeting yours before he looked away, almost embarrassed. “i’m paying for college,” he admitted, his tone humble. “it’s not easy, but it’s worth it.”

that answer stuck with you. the way he was so earnest, so driven, it stirred something in you. before you knew it, you were offering to help out more, subtly at first—paying him more than what he asked for, making sure he had what he needed for school. but it wasn’t long before it became something more. you started covering his tuition, his books, his living expenses. mingyu didn’t want to accept at first, but you insisted, telling him that it was no big deal for you.

“i just want to help you succeed, mingyu,” you told him one day, sitting across from him at a café. his eyes widened a little, and he looked at you with something between gratitude and disbelief. “i believe in you.”

that was the beginning of something that neither of you expected. mingyu started spending more time at your place, doing little things around the house, but also just... being there. he was grateful, yes, but there was more to it. you could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he’d stay just a little longer after finishing his work, how his touches became less about duty and more about something else.

it wasn’t long before you found yourself crossing that line. the first time it happened, it was like a spark igniting dry grass—quick, hot, unstoppable. mingyu had been in your kitchen, helping you cook dinner, when the tension between you finally snapped. his lips were on yours, his hands gripping your waist, and before you knew it, you were on the counter, his body pressed against yours.

after that, there was no going back. mingyu became more than just someone you were helping; he became someone you needed. and the feeling was mutual. he’d go back to his small apartment at night, but more often than not, he’d end up back at your place, the two of you tangled up in sheets that smelled like you.

mingyu never hesitated when people asked him where he got his latest gadgets, clothes, or even that sleek new car. he was always upfront, wearing that proud smile of his, and saying, “oh! my girlfriend gave it to me,” before casually kissing the top of your head like it was the most natural thing in the world. that day, for the first time, mingyu saw you get shy. you? shy? it was almost unbelievable to him.

you couldn’t shake it off, so later that night, you asked him about it, curious if he really saw you as his girlfriend. mingyu frowned, looking genuinely puzzled, and replied, “but we are, aren’t we?” the way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made your heart do a little flip. it was adorable how he just assumed, never overthinking things, while you were the one caught up in definitions and labels.

so, you just nodded, going along with it, but couldn’t help teasing him a bit. “you know you bought that car yourself, right?” you said, raising an eyebrow. but mingyu just shook his head, still smiling, “doesn’t matter. you gave me the opportunity, and i’m not embarrassed at all.”

that’s the thing about mingyu—he wasn’t greedy or entitled. he was the type of sugar baby who was genuinely grateful for everything you gave him, never asking for more, never expecting anything. the only time he ever made a request was when you got him a job in the field he was graduating in, with a company partnered with yours. he just asked for one thing: to let him work without your help, to prove to himself, and maybe even to you, that he could make it on his own.

and he did. mingyu turned out to be an excellent professional, climbing the ranks faster than anyone expected. and every time he got a promotion, he insisted on taking you out somewhere special to celebrate—his treat, not yours. he’d even surprise you with gifts, thoughtful ones that made you feel like a princess for a day.

it had been a long time since someone treated you like that, made you feel cherished in a way that went beyond material things. mingyu had a way of making you feel young again, like a girl caught up in her first real romance. it was new, exciting, and something you hadn’t realized you were missing until he came into your life.

you and mingyu had been together for months, and despite the undeniable chemistry, you both held back, wanting to build something deeper before crossing that final line. it wasn’t easy, though. every touch, every glance, carried a weight of anticipation, a silent promise that neither of you were quite ready to fulfill—until that night.

it was late, the moon casting a soft glow over the pool, the same one where you’d first watched him work, his tanned skin glistening under the summer sun. tonight, though, it was different. the air was thick with the scent of chlorine and night-blooming jasmine, mingyu’s bare chest reflecting the moonlight as he floated lazily beside you, his hand brushing against your thigh under the water. you couldn’t tell if the goosebumps on your skin were from the cool water or his touch.

“you know,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing, “i never thought i’d be in this situation. not with you.”

you turned to face him, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his tanned skin, making him look almost ethereal. “what do you mean?” you asked, though you had a pretty good idea where this was going.

mingyu smiled, a little shy, a little bold, his hand now resting on your waist. “i mean, this… us. i didn’t think we’d take it this slow.”

“was it too slow for you?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow.

he chuckled, shaking his head, “no, it was perfect. it made this—” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, “—it made this moment mean so much more.”

his words sent a spark straight through you, igniting something that had been simmering for too long. you turned to face him, your bodies close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him even in the cool water. without thinking, you closed the distance, pressing your lips against his. the kiss was soft at first, testing, but it quickly deepened, fueled by the months of pent-up horny.

mingyu’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as your legs wrapped around his waist, the water buoying you up. you could feel every inch of him, hard and ready, and it only made you crave him more. his lips moved to your neck, sucking lightly as his hands explored your body, tracing the lines of your swimsuit.

“you are gorgeous... did you know that mommy?”

you could barely think, as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your swimsuit, finding your most sensitive spot—the throbbing clit. you gasped, your head falling back as he started to rub slow, lazy circles, your jaw falling slack.

“mingyu…” you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he moaned with you with each roll of his fingers on the swollen bud. “please…”

he knew exactly what you were asking for, and with a nasty grin, he pushed your swimsuit to the side, sliding a finger inside you. the sensation made you melt your head resting on the border, the water amplifying every movement, every touch. you clung to him, your nails leaving marks on his skin as he added another finger, his thumb still working your clit in tandem.

“you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned at the sticky feeling on his fingers even under the water. “i can’t wait to be inside you.”

the thought of it, of finally having him after all this time, was enough to make you cum, his fingers calling you from inside. you came hard, your body quivering as mingyu held you close, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you gritted your teeth asking him to stop/

but he wasn’t done yet.

he scooped you up, carrying you out of the pool and laying you down on the cool tiles at the edge. the contrast between the warm water and the cold air made you shiver, but mingyu’s body was there, covering you, warming you, as he kissed you again, deeper this time, more demanding.

“ive craved you for so long...” he muttered against your lips as he lined himself up, his cock hard and ready. “but fuck, it’s gonna be worth it.”

you could only moan in response as he pushed inside you, slow at first, letting you adjust to his size. but once he was fully seated, there was no holding back. mingyu started to move, his hips snapping against yours as he fucked you right there on the pool deck, under the moonlight, the stars above the only witnesses to your sinful act.

the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingyu’s grunts, and your breathless moans filled the night air, mixing with the gentle lapping of the pool water against the tiles. his hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, each thrust harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot that made you roll your eyes back.

“fuck, this pretty pussy it's going to fucking end me,” mingyu groaned, eyebrows knit together. “so fucking perfect.”

your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging into his skin as you arched up to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm. it was frantic, desperate, the months of tension finally breaking free, leaving you both gasping for more.

“mingyu… please… i’m so close… baby,” you managed to gasp out, your body tightening around him, your back slipped a bit with the mix of water and the force of his thrusts.

“fuck, me too,” he panted, his movements becoming erratic, desperate. “cum with me, baby. i need to feel you. need to feel this pussy creaming around me,”

his words, the way he called you baby, sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm making you hold on him for dear life. you cried out his name, your body shaking as you came hard, your walls clenching around him, drawing out his own release. with a last, deep thrust, mingyu groaned, burying himself inside you as he came, filling you completely.

he slides his cock off, and slides your swimsuit back in place, giving you a light slap on your covered cunt. “keep everything right here, I'm going to fuck that back inside on your bedroom.”

[earthtooz]

ik ur in ur reo phase BUT HEAR ME OUT EARTH ONLY YOU CAN DO THIS

rin ACCIDENTALLY publicizing ur relationship bec mf got jealous as hell when ur face appeared in the kiss cam IN HIS GAME??????? WITH A RANDOM GUY AND WAS HE FUMING??? YOU AND I KNOW HE WAS THROWIN HANDS

thats all

I'M HEARING YOU OUT. warning for unrealistic scenario, i wrote this in like 20 minutes so it's unedited :p apologies for any mistakes.

imagine being rin's secret partner, the one he keeps behind closed doors because he values you too much to let the invasive eyes of the internet see. he values your relationship too much to let it get tarnished by social media, so he hides any affiliation with you like his life depends on it, only to come home and shower you with the adoration and affection he wishes he could show to the rest of the world.

in the spotlight, he is itoshi rin, japan's prized striker, their golden player, but when he's out of the spotlight, he is your lover. the man who drapes himself over you when things get too rough and he needs a breather. he is yours to cherish, where you have to change your phone wallpaper every other week because there's so many good photos of you two. he is yours to love, he is yours to go to when you feel too lonely, he is yours.

but also imagine, itoshi rin's jealousy and possessiveness no longer being able to rest at bay. it'd been accumulating for the past few weeks, this desire to show you off and boast that it's him who gets to know you like no other.

then the cup overfills, his jealousy tearing him by the seams that he loosely stitched together to withhold this carnal beast resting within him.

all because of a damn kiss cam.

you had been sitting in the vip section of the stadium- where special members are granted tickets, and even though you tell rin that it's fine for you to just sit in the general area, he refuses and tells you that he's bought you the ticket anyway. leaving you with no room for arguments. well. not that there was any to begin with.

anyways, you'd just so happen to sit next to someone who bought vip tickets with no affiliation with any blue lock members. you think he's just a die hard fan, so when he asks you if you like them, you lie and say that you won these tickets at a raffle.

the guy wasn't the most favourable person ever, in fact, you found yourself awkwardly responding to what he was saying, sometimes giving him short and succinct replies because of how... weird... he was. not to be disrespectful but you did not like his vibes. you just hope these 90 minutes can be over quickly.

yeah well, how funny is it that the kiss cam lands on you and the insufferable guy beside you?

you're mortified when you see it on the screen but the person beside you doesn't warrant the same reaction. immediately, he turns to face you, anticipation heavy on his features. in fact, he looks rather... excited...

"no, no, i have a boyfriend, i-" you begin abruptly as he leans in and you have no choice but to helplessly lean back, evading his lips and delaying it as much as you can. you even try rejecting him by frantically waving your hands, panicked and unsure of what to do.

until you hear him.

"back. the. fuck. off!" comes a shout from the pitch; the voice very familiar to your ears that you can't help but instantly relax from hearing it.

your seat was relatively close to the field which meant that those around you could hear the distinct voice of itoshi rin ripping through the air, fury evident and baring its fangs as he all but punches the barrier with each word.

however, everyone in the stadium could see itoshi rin as all cameras pan to him, witnessing his wrath as he shouts from the top of his voice. everyone around you is silent and you don't know whether you want to shrivel up into the ground or run to him and embrace him as tightly as you can. to find sanctuary in his warmth, away from the pushy guy who can't wrap his head around the idea that no means no.

itoshi rin decides for you, effortlessly jumping over the (considerably high???) barrier and making a beeline for you, skipping some stairs. thank goodness for a side seat because he comes to a stop before you, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he looks at you with heated passion, huffing and puffing.

"rin?" you whisper. he doesn't hear it, looking up at the various stadium screens to see if the kiss cams were still on you. smirking in satisfaction when he realises they are, rin all but pulls you up from your seat and kisses you with so much intensity and fervour that you feel lightheaded. very much so.

the stadium is cheering but you can't focus on it, not when rin's holding you to him so closely, practically trying to meld you to him. not even trying to push him away is enough to snap him out of whatever primal instinct has taken over him, so you grab his face and jerk away from him, not wanting to get too carried away.

before you can utter a word, rin looks behind you, and the coldness in his expression says everything you need to know.

he doesn’t care about dignity at this point. he just needed the world to know that you were his.

"you're dead if you try that again, you lukewarm fuckface," he then turns to you. you shiver from the intensity of his gaze. "i'll kill him next time," he promises before hugging you close to him once again, practically glaring at the cameras. "i'll kill anyone who tries to get to close."

THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON would u believe me if i said i'd been waiting for an opportunity like this? well i'm speaking the truth and i'm so glad u gave me the opportunity i've been waiting for AYEEEEEEE COME BACK ANY TIME YOU ARE SO WELCOME ON THE EARTHTOOZ BLOG, PRETTY <33

—

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[hiramaris]

I'm gonna request something for haley bc i love how you write her and not so obsessed. im not sure if you are writing for request? but im gonna give my shot

a prompt where haley as wife, and the farmer was late passed midnight because of mining shit. and almost died (lmao). she got home safely, but limping with her wounds and bruise. then there's haley, saw her wife barely walking and her reaction, just comfort, fluff, worried and taking care of the farmer.

that's all, thanks, no pressure <3

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Summary:

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: violence, blood

Notes:

thanks to anon for being the first-ever reader to request a prompt. I initially thought to make a separate fic for this one but I realized why not make it as a new chapter? There would be some adjustments to the prompt, instead of Haley being the farmer's wife, she'd be somewhere in between a friend and a woman struggling to put a name to what she's feeling with the farmer. I'm really sorry anon for not following the route you're hoping for but I do hope you'll like this one.

Summer 9

The sound of thunder clapping from above her made it difficult for sleep to come that night. Despite the late hour, the darkness outside was illuminated intermittently by flashes of lightning, casting eerie shadows across the walls of her room.

Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a constant reminder of Yoba's fury. The room felt oppressive, suffocating almost, as if the storm had seeped its way indoors, invading her sanctuary.

She had always hated rain. Well, the main reason is it's horrible weather for a dashing photographer like her. Not only does it ruin her hair that she spent all morning fixing, but it could also ruin her equipment. Oh, did she also mention it gives an awful lighting?

She also shares the same level of dislike for storms because they destroy the calmness of rain. It's aggressive, cold, and destructive.

That's why the moment the news announced there would be a storm for the next three days, she was quick to stock every little favorite snack she could think of because there was no way she was waltzing outside in that kind of weather.

Haley popped out a tired eye as she looked at the clock beside her.

1:56 AM.

Oh, joy it's almost two in the morning. How in Yoba's name could she go outside with bags under her eyes probably heavier than all of Emily's hippie gems combined?

'I mean– there's always a concealer,' she thought but quickly dismissed the idea.

She has been minimizing her makeup since... since whatever (when you told her she looked prettier even without them) PLUS with summer's sweltering heat, layering on cosmetics seemed suffocating.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed, determination flashing in her tired eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk, hoping that this little solution would finally give her the sleep she'd been craving for.

But as she reached for the milk, a cacophony outside shattered the stillness of the night. Haley froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It's kind of hard to tell with the harsh rain and thunder and everything.

As if to confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, a set of audible coughs echoed just behind the door. Haley's heart thumped so loud she was afraid it might come out of her chest.

That could only be an intruder.

In Haley's sleep-deprived mind, she didn't stop to even realize that Pelican Town had never experienced a robbery in the dead of night. Instead, she quickly bolted to her room, grabbing Alex's old baseball bat he had left here one time, not even having the presence of mind to wake up Emily to face this 'intruder' together.

****

Spoiler alert, it wasn't an intruder but an idiotic farmer covered in dirt and unbelievably wet from the rain.

You were holding your rucksack close to your chest for dear life with your sword held tightly by your other hand when Haley found you slumped against the door.

"What the hell are you doing outside at this hour and in this weather?" was the first words she uttered when her eyes spotted you. She was quick to help you up and bring you inside, not even minding the mud and water accumulating from where you stood.

When you didn't respond, Haley met your eyes.

Haley's heart nearly stopped at the sight beyond her. Without being hidden by the darkness, she could finally see your whole state.

There standing is the farmer herself. Your white hoodie was tattered and looked burned. Your hoodie's sleeves are ripped too up to your upper arms, and your left arm has a cut with fresh blood still gushing out of it.

You were missing the other pair of your shoes, and your hair was disheveled and covered with slime. You even had multiple scratches and scrapes all over your body. Your right cheek has some small scratches, and blood is rushing out of the wound on your forehead.

"Yoba..." Haley's voice was barely a whisper as she gently cupped your cheeks, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Her eyes flickered to the gash on your forehead, blood still seeping from the wound. "What happened, Y/n/n? We need to get you to Harvey!"

You shook your head weakly, struggling to stand upright. "No... H-harvey," you protested, your voice strained. "H-he'll kill me."

"Y/n!" Haley's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace as you nearly stumbled over her. She wanted to reprimand you, to demand answers, but the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her chest prevented her from doing so.

For now, she needed to make sure you were okay.

You only grunted in response as you gave in to her, allowing her to guide you onto the cushions.

"I'm just gonna get a towel and the first aid." Her lips trembled as she said those words.

In record time, she was able to get everything she thought you'd need, afraid if she missed any more seconds you wouldn't be breathing.

When she returned to the living room, she almost went ballistic when she spotted your form unmoving from your seat.

"Y/n! Wake up, for Yoba's sake! Don't you dare die on—" Haley's words caught in her throat as you rasped out a response.

"...oh, look an angel," you managed with a small grin, your tired eyes fluttering open.

Haley couldn't help but smile softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Very funny," she replied, relief flooding through her as she saw you conscious, if only barely.

Wordlessly, she draped a towel over you, tucking it gently to ensure you stayed warm. It was the same blanket she used during storms like this when she felt cold herself.

With a purposeful stride, she made her way to the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire in hopes of warming you further.

"Keep your eyes open, please? I'm just gonna get some rags to clean up your wound," she requested gently.

She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of you before heading to the kitchen to gather clean rags and a sponge.

Returning to the living room, she filled a bowl with tap water and carried it carefully as she made her way back to you.

With great tenderness, Haley cautiously wiped the blood from your body with the sponge, dampening it in the tap water she had prepared. She winced as the color of the water turned red.

"You lost too much blood," Haley commented, masking the shakiness of her voice. She wasn't a great fan of blood but she was not naive with treating minor injuries either. She silently thanked Yoba for letting Emily force her to learn a thing or two about first aid.

You only grunted in response to her observation.

"What happened, Y/n?" She couldn't hide the worry in her voice even if she dared try. "I should call Harvey and get you to the clinic."

You groaned as she accidentally applied too much pressure to your wound. "No... it's okay. It's n-nothing, I'm fine."

"These serious injuries don't shout nothing, Y/n. What the hell happened?"

"'I went to the mine..." you explained, and Haley waited expectantly for you to continue.

"It's storming."

"I know..." You couldn't look at her in the eye. "It's just that there's not much going on in the farm so I thought I should continue my expeditions in the mine. I thought it would be safe but..."

"But it wasn't." Haley couldn't helped but deadpan.

You visibly winced, unsure if it was because of your wounds, Haley's biting remark, or just both. "I heard from Marlon I could find rare items once I reached the hundredth floor, which I did," you explained, tapping your rucksack beside you. "But I should have known better that those items are rare for a reason. Not because they're hard to find, but because they're hard to acquire. Once I got hold of this baby," you gestured to your bag, "the whole cave was swarmed by slimes and shadow people."

"What?" Haley's voice sputtered with disbelief, her brows furrowing in concern. "Shadow people? I thought they were just myths!"

You tried to nod in confirmation, but Haley kept a firm hand on your cheeks, preventing the movement. "Uhuh, they're very real," you affirmed, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "And I can say they aren't really fond of us humans and, uh, dwarves I think. They're more scared of me than intimidating. I tried not to, y'know, hurt them."

"That's a stupid idea."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor. "But given our history with them, I didn't want to give them any more reason to hate us. Plus, I was the one invading their homes."

Haley let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with weariness. "Still, you should have fought back. What if they had killed you in there? How would we have known you were down there and rotting? You're the only one crazy enough to go down there anyway."

You didn't speak after that, and Haley mistook that as compliance. She was too busy fuming at your lack of self-preservation to notice the frown creasing on your features.

After managing to cleanse the visible injuries of your body, she began to grab some clean rags to apply some pressure on your forehead and your forearm to keep your bleeding to an absolute minimum.

She cursed softly under her breath, trying to think of what to do next.

"…Y/n? Y/n, wake up, stop sleeping," Haley's voice was quiet, her tone laced with urgency as she gently tapped your cheek.

Your eyes pulled themselves open and looked tiredly at her. "Hn?"

"I need you to sit up straight and pull your hoodie off. What do you have underneath?" Haley's words were gentle but firm as she carefully supported your shoulder and hip.

"…just a tank top."

Slowly, you strained to sit upright, wincing with discomfort. Haley could tell from the way your grip tightened on her wrist that you were not comfortable sitting for very long.

With Haley's assistance, you managed to pull your hoodie off, careful not to aggravate any wounds. Once the clothes were removed, Haley's eyes lingered on the minor cuts just below your chest, blood still seeping from the wounds. She grabbed the sponge again, gently brushing away the blood from your cuts.

After cleansing the wounds, Haley applied alcohol and antibiotics, causing you to grunt in discomfort. No words were exchanged as she skillfully wrapped bandages around your forehead, forearm, and abdomen. She then helped you into warmer clothes she found in her wardrobe, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"How do you feel?" Haley bit her lip, anxious. Honestly speaking, she wasn't confident in her abilities to treat injuries, so she anxiously awaited your response, hoping she hadn't made things worse.

"…I'm alright now," you rasped, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "…thank you, Hay."

Haley felt a wave of relief wash over her at your words. Your face had regained some color compared to earlier when you looked as pale as a ghost.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she questioned tentatively. "I'll whip you up some tea and soup."

You swallowed gently and nodded your head.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your soup is done."

****

About twenty minutes later, Haley went back into the living room, a tray in her hands. She found you sprawled on the couch (thankfully not moving too much), embracing your rucksack in your arms once again. She wanted to question what was inside and why you couldn't part with it so much but decided to make sure you were okay first.

The things she does for you.

She placed the tray of food on the coffee table and sat beside you, taking in your sleeping form.

"Y/n/n? Food's ready," Haley said softly, tapping your thigh to rouse you from your slumber.

Startled and kind of a forced of habit, you tried to sit up straight. Thankfully, Haley was fast enough to stop you.

"Don't get up. | don't want to wrap your wounds again," Haley admonished, her tone firm.

She grabbed a pillow and propped it behind your back to elevate your head slightly. As she picked up the bowl of chicken soup, she could feel your eyes on her.

"I can feed myself, Haley. Thank you," you finally spoke. Haley's eyes met yours briefly before she averted her gaze, a flicker of emotion passing over her features.

"Clearly, you aren't capable of feeding yourself. Stop being a baby and let me do this."

Your eyes settled on her for probably a full minute before you sighed in resignation. Despite the hardened gaze she probably wore on her face, Haley gently placed a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

"I know you can, Y/n," Haley spoke after a few moments. "But you lost too much blood already, I don't want you to bleed again."

"I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," you uttered softly.

Haley paused and finally looked at you, like, really looked at you properly this time. Since you had arrived covered in mud and blood, she had been operating on autopilot, with only one mission: ensuring you were okay. It's the only thing running through her mind, leaving no room for anything else. Mainly, she hadn't thought about the impact of her words.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's no trouble. I'm just..." Haley paused, thinking about what words to use without giving away that she cared too much. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

Once you had finished eating, Haley placed the empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a stray lock of your hair, she gently wiped away a few drops of blood and dirt, her touch surprisingly gentle. She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice you watching her quietly, your expression softening as she attended to the blemish on your face.

"Haley..." you called softly, breaking the silence. Haley looked down at you, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile graced your lips as you continued, "Thank you."

Haley couldn't help but smile in return. Sometimes it's hard to stay mad at you. "You can thank me by resting and making sure this won't happen again."

You chuckled softly as you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow once more. "No promises."

Seeing that you were getting sleepy, Haley quickly gathered the empty bowl and cup and placed them in the sink. When she returned, she extended a hand to help you up, much to your confusion.

"Come, let's get you to my room."

"Haley," you protested weakly. "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already have."

"Shut up. I won't let an injured woman sleep on the couch, Y/n."

Despite your protests, Haley managed to convince you to agree with her proposed setup. While Haley wasn't entirely keen on sleeping on the couch herself, it's not like she has a choice on the matter. The cushion is uncomfortable as hell, it's like sitting on a pile of bricks. That's more than enough reason to let you sleep on her bed. Plus, with the mess and worry weighing on her mind, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyway.

She was about to leave to clean the mess in the living room when she finally sat you down on her bed, but a hand stopped her.

"…have you seen my bag, Hay?"

"Oh, that? Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no. Thanks but I can get it myself." You made a move to stand but Haley kept a firm grip on your shoulder.

Haley frowned. "You can't barely even stand. Do you think I'm gonna let you walk by yourself? What's in the bag anyway? I'll get it for you."

"I'm wounded, not disabled–" you tried to say but Haley only raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to finish your sentence. You sighed when you realized that you wouldn't win against her again. "It's... it's a gift."

"For whom?" Haley couldn't help but ask. Who could you possibly want to give a gift that you almost died just to get it?

Was it for Penny? Haley heard she liked gems as well. Or was it Maru? If she could remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday and she seemed to like everything you can find in caves. This totally makes sense.

But why did her heart clench at the thought? More importantly, how did she even remember all this information when she didn't care about them at all?

Before you could respond, Haley left the room to retrieve your rucksack. She felt like she didn't need to hear the answer to her question.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed the bag to you, prepared to leave the room once more. However, your voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's for you."

She turned, mouth agape. "What?"

"It's for you." You smiled warmly as you held out a familiar-looking crystalline gem, about the size of a palm, emitting a dazzling array of colors.

Haley's initial surprise quickly turned to dismay as she recognized the mineral. Her frown deepened, and a flicker of discomfort passed through her eyes at the sight of it. She knew what it was, and just the thought of touching it made her feel physically ill.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

"I..."

"Keep it," she said with finality. "Good night, Y/n."

With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and stormed off, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the room as she left.

****

She shouldn't have said that. She knows she shouldn't have but she was just so worried she couldn't control anything else spouting from her foul mouth.

She hated how she caused the light in your eyes to die down. Hated the way you weren't able to say anything else. Hated the way she just couldn't probably express her worries properly.

Now you probably thought she hated your guts.

Which is far from the truth. Kind of the opposite actually but she's far too tired and confused to delve into her feelings further at the moment.

It's true she doesn't share the same passion for gems and rocks as her sister Emily, and people will generally thank someone who will give them a prismatic shard because for one, they are pretty, she's not gonna lie about that. Secondly, they're super rare and by extension, expensive.

Haley just couldn't bring herself to appreciate it in the same way.

She hated them with passion. And she hated people assuming she liked shiny things because of her personality.

While it's true she's kind of materialistic, it was a trait ingrained in her from years of her parents trying to compensate for their absence by showering her with gifts.

She didn't like being materialistic, but she's so used to it that it's hard to stop.

And she hated how you seemed to think the same way about her when you thought about giving her a prismatic shard as a gift. That all she ever was were just pretty and expensive gifts.

And she hated how you let yourself get hurt just to give her this.

She hated everything about this.

****

Haley spent the majority of the night cleaning the living room, hoping to tire herself out enough to dull the heaviness and emptiness in her heart. She didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time, but there she was, experiencing it firsthand, and she despised every moment of it.

And she hated herself more now because she found herself padding her way towards her room. Her steps faltered when she saw you peacefully sleeping on her bed. A gentle smile touched her lips at the sight of your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Unable to resist, Haley approached you quietly. She carefully tucked you in, a tenderness in her actions that betrayed the turmoil in her heart. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your bandaged forehead, a gesture she had learned from her late grandmother.

"To kiss the pain away," her grandmother used to say, and Haley found solace in that belief.

With one last caress of your cheek, Haley settled onto the foot of her bed, a magazine in hand, silently hoping for the sun's rays to finally peek behind the horizon by her room's window.

****

Haley woke up surprisingly lacking any back pains. She didn't feel sleep-deprived either.

Wait—

How'd she get in her bed? You're supposed to be– Oh.

She sat up straight when she realized she was holding a letter in her hand. Straightening up the almost crumpled paper, she could recognize your handwriting immediately.

Good morning, Haley. Sorry for the disturbance last night, and thank you for taking care of me. It means a lot. I didn't want to impose more than I already have so I excused myself while you were asleep. Thank you again. — Y/n

Haley studied the letter, noting the hastily scribbled handwriting that differed from your usual neat script. She could imagine you rushing to write it just to avoid dealing with her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit. But after what she said to you, who was she to complain?

At this point, it would be a miracle if you still talked to her.

"Good morning, sis!" Emily chirped, her voice echoing through the room as Haley emerged from her room. She sat on the couch, casually knitting what appeared to be another sweatshirt.

Haley's expression was one of mild annoyance as she replied, "It's noon."

"Storm has passed but Caroline canceled, just to be safe," Emily responded, her fingers deftly working the knitting needles as she spoke. "And I know it's noon. Just wanted to emphasize you slept late, little lady."

She glanced around the living room, noting the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, indicating that the day was well underway and the storm had thankfully subsided.

"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have a yoga class to attend to?"

Haley let out a resigned groan, her movements sluggish as she made her way toward the kitchen to avoid further conversation with her sister.

"Just so you know, I saw Y/n/n come out of your room!" Emily called out from the living room, her tone playful yet teasing.

Haley froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the handle of her mug. "Wha—" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her surprise. "Nothing happened!"

"Of course, nothing's going to happen in that state she's in," Emily retorted.

Haley couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that suddenly gripped her at the mention of your state. You're in no condition to go home all by yourself.

"Just tell me you took her home," she pleaded, her tone softening slightly as she returned to the living room.

Thankfully, Emily's too caught up with her work to notice that brief slip-up of vulnerability Haley rarely shows.

"I volunteered actually, but Penny saw us on our way and insisted she could do the job," Emily explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"And you agreed?!" she sputtered incredulously.

"Of course, I would!" Emily readily defended. "She volunteered!"

Haley's sigh was heavy as she sank down onto the couch next to Emily. "You should have woken me up."

She could feel Emily's eyes settling on her as if trying to decipher what's got her so distressed.

"I tried, but Y/n/n won't let me. Said you needed the sleep," Emily finally answered after a few moments of silence.

"You're unbelievable." Haley couldn't help but massage the bridge of her nose at Emily's casualness about the situation as if seeing a heavily injured farmer waltz out of Haley's room was just a normal occurrence. "I suppose she told you what happened then?"

"Uh-huh. Accident in the mines, right? And she went here instead to the clinic because Harvey would kill her once he saw her state." Emily chuckled, her tone light as if discussing the weather. "He just literally told her last time to take it easy."

Haley blinked in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Everyone knows this, Haley." Emily looked at her as if wondering why she didn't know this piece of information. "It's practically a common thing to see Y/n/n passed out outside in the morning."

Haley's brows furrowed in frustration, her mind racing with thoughts. Of course, she doesn't know this. If she would have known, she would have told you to take it easy. Hell, she'll help with farming if it will make things easier for you. This thing where you pass out and overwork yourself shouldn't be normalized. Actually, if anything—

She stopped herself from this line of thinking because why the hell was she even considering helping out with your farm when she, in fact, hated dirt?

"She also told me how you stepped up and helped her," Emily continued, her voice pulling Haley back to the present moment. She felt Emily's hand pat her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "I saw she's well-cleaned up. I'm proud of you, sis."

Haley forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I'm not proud of what I did, Em.

*****

Summer 10

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as Haley sat alone on the shore, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the sand providing a soothing rhythm to her troubled thoughts. She had come here seeking solace, the ocean always offering her a sense of peace in times of distress.

The events yesterday had bothered her more than she had let on. She convinced herself you'd understand why she reacted the way she did but a part of herself thinks she should apologize.

But as stubborn as she is, she instead spent the whole day sulking, which is what she did.

She embraced her knees closer to her chest, fingers brushing the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was her great-grandma's, a delicate piece of jewelry passed down through generations adorned in gold and pearl on the middle part. Her grandmother has given it to her instead of her mom because she'd rather wear luxurious things than some hand-me-down jewelry. But Haley loved them, and it's probably the only piece of jewelry she'd ever wear aside from the shell necklace she was wearing now.

It was a ritual of sorts for her, wearing the bracelet whenever she felt sad and alone. It's as if wearing it made her feel like her grandma was with her at this very moment, comforting her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her bracelet had slipped from her wrist. It wasn't until she reached to adjust it that she felt its absence.

"Oh, no..."

With trembling hands, she combed through the sand, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her eyes scanned the water's edge, fearing the worst as she desperately sought any glimmer of gold amidst the grains of sand.

No, no... impossible. She made sure she was far enough from the water for that specific reason.

An hour passed with no sign of the precious heirloom, and Haley felt tears welling up in her eyes as desperation threatened to consume her. She practically combed the whole beach for it and still no signs of the bracelet.

She couldn't help but slump back to the sand. She's feeling everything too much.

She's such a useless piece of shit. She couldn't even kept an important heirloom. How the hell can she even keep someone like you in her life?

Everyone's right. She's way up high in the clouds that everything she touches crumbles within her fingertips.

The tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and a sob is rising on her throat.

And just before a tear fell from her eyes, a hand shot up and grabbed her by the shoulder.

She looked up and met a pair of gray eyes staring into her own. The grayish color of your eyes is stark and deep and seemed a little bluish from the illumination of the sun. It almost looked like the sky during spring or the ocean seen from a cruising ship as a cold tundra threatened to ruin the quiet solitude of the season. Your eyes telltale thousands of untold stories with every blink, stories too ambiguous, too dark for any of them to understand. Though not dark enough to feed her thoughts of the midnight sea, of storms and drowning.

Calloused fingertips thumbed mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness Haley doesn't think she deserves.

"I'm here," you murmured. "What happened, Haley?"

"I l-lost it," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggled to hold back tears. "My bracelet... it's gone! I know I had it on when I got here... But now it's gone, Y/n and I can't find it anywhere..."

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she burrows closer into you. She had probably stained your shirt with expensive make-up and salty tears but she didn't care as she dug her face deeper into your collar bone further and sucks a shaky breath.

"Shh," you soothed, sturdy arms wrapped around her tightened instinctively. "I'll go find it, don't worry."

"I'll never find another one like it..."

"I'm really sorry..." she felt you murmur against her hair. "I'm sure it's just around here somewhere."

"...maybe it'll wash up on another shore," she hiccuped between sobs. "I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

"We'll find it, okay?" you assured her, and Haley swore her heart stopped beating when you planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. We're not leaving until we find your bracelet."

****

And truth be told you did find it.

After what seemed like an eternity of combing through the sand, Haley's eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar-looking bracelet in your hands.

With a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, you approached her.

"You found it!" she cheered as she run towards you, hopping from the sand and straight to your arms.

You weren't deterred by this and proceeded to secure your arms around her to prevent her from falling.

"Careful there, we don't want to drop it again, do we?" You barked out a laugh but Haley was quick to recognize the grunt of pain in them.

"Yoba, I'm sorry! I forgot you're still wounded!" Haley made a move to let you go but you weren't having any of it. If anything, you hold her tighter. Haley couldn't help but let out a laugh as well as she wrapped her arms around your neck just as firmly. "Thank you so much, Y/n. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," you murmured against her chest. "Here, I'll help you wear it."

You gently set her down, much to her disappointment, and began to fasten the bracelet around her wrist, your actions filled with care and tenderness.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really," she murmured softly. "You're always there whenever I needed you and all you get as a thank you is me being... a bitch to you. I'm sorry."

You frowned. "You're not a... 'b' word. Far from it."

"'B' word,"she scoffed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips "What are you, twelve?"

"Hey!" you protested in mock indignation. "I can cuss. I just don't want to use it around you. I don't want to get used to it."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. If you keep this kind of consistency around her then Haley's bound to fall hard on her back. And since it's with you, you'd probably made your way to ensure she'll be falling in a pile of pillows and flowers. You're thoughtful like that.

"I'm sorry for giving you that gift yesterday..." you started after a moment of silence. "Let me finish first," you interrupted gently when you saw her mouth open to speak. "I just... prismatic shards are rare to find and I wanted to give it to you because I thought it's something you'd like to photograph."

You took her hand in yours, a tender gesture that made Haley's heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly at the warmth of your touch. The soft morning light bathed the shoreline in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the sand as gentle waves lapped against the shore.

"But then I realized how it may have looked like to you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Y/n..."

"So I like to try again." Without further explanation, you strode towards the boat beside Elliot's cabin, your steps confident and purposeful, and produced a bouquet of—wait, are those sunflowers?

"No way!" she sputtered as she tried to fight the grin threatening to spill on her face. You're not supposed to look this dashing walking towards her with a bouquet in hand. It's unfair!

"Yes way." you grinned at her as you handed her the flowers, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope I'm forgiven."

"I'm supposed to be the one saying sorry, you dunce!" Haley playfully slapped your shoulders before accepting them. "They're beautiful, Y/n! These are my absolute favorite! Thank you."

"No worries. And if you're free you can take a look at them at my farm."

"You planted them?" Now that she had mentioned it, it sounded like a stupid question. Of course, you planted them yourself, where else can you get these flowers?

But as usual, being the kind and patient person that you are, you only beamed at her and nodded. "Yep! I planted a whole yard."

"For real?"

"For real," you affirmed, your smile widening at her incredulous expression.

"But why? I mean compared to other crops I'm sure sunflowers aren't that profitable."

You shrugged again, your expression softening. "Eh, I wasn't aiming for the profit. I was aiming for your smile."

****

Previous

Next

A/n: my toes are curling while I wrote this, I hope you felt the same. Anyway, the bouquet of sunflowers isn't the same bouquet that makes Haley your girlfriend. It's just a regular ol' bouquet our farmer has personally crafted because she's a simp for our queen but just too oblivious to see it. Sorry for the delay, I had just finished my clinical recently so I was busy the whole month of April. Hope y'all like this one!

P.S. comments are much appreciated!

THANK YOU FOR 2500 LIKES! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, SERIOUSLY.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König Part 2

Follow up to this:

After you expressed interest in his miniature collection, he actually actively OFFICIALLY invited you over one evening (and inside!)

It may not sound like much to most to be invited into someone's house but for him, it's the ultimate trust. His house is his private space, his sanctuary, where he goes to be without other people

He doesn't ever invite anyone inside unless necessary or they've truly gained his trust and being invited INTO his house, and actually into a shared space of one of the hobbies that matter the most to him?? Yeah, that's how he says he likes you

He's been working on his models and dioramas for so so long he's incredibly proud and can't help but to want to actually show them off to someone who wants to see

Usually most people don't care :( or think it's weird

But you've embraced it! You're so excited and he's over the moon, he's having the best day ever, if you do research and bring him gifts or show him some new ideas

He has exquisite attention to detail and INSISTS on everything being exactly the way he envisions it. And you notice! You actually notice. Which means you care about his hobbies, the work he puts in, and therefore him

It might be a bit early to say the L word but he's feeling certain ways

He may be a big dude but that doesn't mean he lacks fine motor skills. He's laying those tiny pieces of moss onto the cobble stones like a PRO

Miniatures allow him control over the environment, even if it's on a smaller scale, and offer a way to keep his hands and mind busy so he often throws himself into it

It also helps him relive happier memories. He's afraid of forgetting them and when he's stressing, it's his happy place because he can look at them and simply remember the things in life that matter

He'll ask you about a story you like or a favorite show or book or movie. That's his next miniature planned (in secret. Can't ruin the surprise, he needs to have it all perfect. He will either read the book, watch the movie, will study EVERY detail)

He will start to invite you over when he's having a painting night or is working on them. You don't have to follow his rules or do what he wants! He's just happy you're there and appreciating it

He will always have your favorite snacks and drinks in stock too. Need to make it fun and can't have you going hungry

If you want, he'll put on background noise! He's happy to make it immersive and to light a candle or put something in a diffuser to really set the scene you're going for. But he's perfectly happy to hangout with you as is

You'll finally get to hear him laugh and hear his really, really bad jokes. He has a dry sense of humor and most of what he says isn't even close to funny, he's awkward like that

But if you laugh? That's it, he's sold.

Time flies so fast when you're over, you don't even realize it's 3am

You don't need to go home! I know it's right across the street but he has a guest room and it saves you the trip in the morning. You have a whole nother round of characters to paint :)

Okay maybe it was an excuse so you could see the curtains he'd made and the pillows and he decorated the guest room with! Like actually tried decorating. They're made with love, that's what counts right?

Did he spray the pillows with his cologne before you came over? Maybe, but he won't ever admit to it

You can't complain. Not when he insists it's no trouble at all, you should stay over, and he does everything he can to make you comfortable.

And you're certainly not complaining when you wake up to breakfast in bed

He's so happy to finally have someone to share his life with, even if it's nothing official. He might not say it because words are hard, but he'll always show it in every way that he can 💚

If you look closely at the replica he made of his childhood home, you'll notice two figures in the kitchen who just so happen to look like you and him

Proud believer of König being just a guy! A guy with hobbies! A guy with a calm domestic life! Just because he's a private military contractor doesn't mean he's a constantly violent dude or a guy who lacks an immense amount of respect for boundaries. Sure, he gets really into his job when he does it, but that's his realm! That's his zone. That's why he's confident and having fun, he knows he's good

Outside of work, he's just a guy with a troubled childhood making the best of life and trying to find his own sense of belonging, happiness, and peace

Justice for König, he's not an insane perv or some freakytron or some stalker :(

[racke7]

De-aged and injured Danny

Danny is found out by his parents. They don't take it well.

Clockwork is very upset about this, because he'd gambled on almost-certain odds of them being chill about it. So now he has to run damage-control before this very unlikely time-line goes even further off the deep end.

Unfortunately, Danny needs to be in the living world, not the Infinite Realms. Which means that Clockwork needs to put Danny somewhere safe. Somewhere where nobody will find him.

And double-unfortunately, the only place that remotely fits this bill is to contact Lady Gotham.

City-spirits aren't... super-reliable. They're Neverborns who very very rarely consider "humanoid shapes" worth figuring out. So they just kind of... exist. An ectoplasmic presence that's undeniable, but also extremely difficult to have a conversation with.

Thankfully, Lady Gotham is (for all of her... quirks) generally very hero-aligned. Which is why she's the best one to ask for sanctuary for Danny.

Danny who Clockwork de-aged as a way to "limit his injuries" of being vivisected.

Lady Gotham agrees, but she only has one "safe place" to put him. And her Knight is a little bit too paranoid for her to just dump an injured child in his lair, without causing more trouble than it's worth.

But it's hardly a difficult thing, to arrange a few things, and place Danny in a spot where his injuries will cause her Knight to hurry to his aid.

Such as... in a room filled with medical equipment, right next door to where Joker has just lost a fight with Batman.

Things escalate somewhat when Batman finds him and makes some assumptions about what Joker has been up to. Tempers run a bit high, someone loses a few extra teeth, someone else has to physically drag Bruce off Joker's body before he beats him to death, and the Joker considers the whole thing a grand old laugh (he has no idea what's going on, but it sure pissed off Batty, and that's always a treat).

Of course, the Batfam has to actually investigate the scene, evacuate Danny, give Danny medical aid, and then also ask Danny about what happened.

Danny wakes up and is very confused about a lot of things.

He's no longer being vivisected. Great. Love that part.

He's somewhere he doesn't recognize (the Batcave). Could be good, could be bad. At least the bed is pretty nice?

He's very small. This feels like a personal attack. He might not have gotten a good growth-spurt yet, but taking away what he had is cruel and unusual.

And there's a weirdo in an... armored bat-costume? Who isn't setting off his ghost-sense? What the hell kind of "normal" person wears something like that?

Still, Danny does answer the questions that Batman asks him, because... well, there's a green post-it-note in his pocket that says he shouldn't lie.

So Danny tells Batman about his parents cutting him up "for science". And Batman hears that the Joker somehow managed to hire two mad scientists who (upon the tiniest bit of suggestion from the Joker, who'd definitely seen the similarities between Danny and Jason and thought it would be a "funny prank") had leapt at the opportunity to vivisect their own son.

This is definitely worrying, because from the phrasing, they'd been "wanting to do it for a long time". And considering Danny's slow heartbeat and low body-temperature? They'd been wanting to do it because he was a meta.

So, somewhere out there (the Bats had found no trace of the two) were two deranged lunatics who wanted to cut open metas to "see how they worked".

Batman does the very reasonable thing and actually contacts the rest of the Justice League with their descriptions, just in case they'd managed to leave Gotham before the Bats had tracked them down.

[naeverse]

Tangled in his Webs

Art generated by: Niji • Journey Request from: @migueloharacumslut Ask: And I have a request I forgot rather I submitted or not. Mad scientist Miguel x therapist reader Miguel gets put in a psych ward because he got caught experimenting on people and himself trying to turned them in to spider people. He’s been in the psych ward for five years and he needs to be cleared to go back in the world. That’s where the reader comes in to clear him only he manipulates her into thinking he is sane. During their session Miguel becomes obsessed with the reader and little does he know she is obsessed with him too. At night she touched herself to the thought of him. When Miguel get out he finds her. Make the sex nastyyy, hard and rough little choking wouldn’t hurt either. Please and thank you ! 😊 A/N: I really loved this idea and enjoyed writing Scientist Miguel so much. Might write him more lol, but thank you @migueloharacumslut for the idea. Also this is the first part and a second one will be following this one, hope you enjoy!

💉staring: Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Therapist Reader

      🩵preview:  “I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” 

🔬summary:  As an evaluation therapist at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing, you are assigned a new patient—one who is complex, captivating, and dangerously drawing you in more than you ever expected.

⚗️tw/cw (Just for this part): Big Dick Miguel, Bondage, Fingering, Masturbation, Psychopathy, Restraints, Sadism, Size Difference, Restraints

🔭Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear)

     🩵Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥼Word Count: 7.7k 

**This fanfiction is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life individuals or events is purely coincidental. It does not intend to diagnose or represent any real mental health conditions. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story.**

Your eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly returning. You felt a dull ache and soreness in your throat, accompanied by a pervasive feeling of weakness throughout your body. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead and adjusting to the suffocating sterile scent of antiseptic, you noticed that you were lying on your back against a hard, cold surface.

With furrowed eyebrows, you attempted to sit up, only to be thwarted back by the metal restraints tightly bound around your wrists and ankles.

‘What the heck!?’ 

You thought, panic and fear beginning to grip you. Your eyes darted down to discover yourself clad only in your undergarments—a delicate white, laced satin set—leaving you exposed to the chilling breeze that consistently swept through the well-lit space.

You couldn't remember how you got here; your groggy mind unable to piece together the events that led to your presence upon the metal table. The faint hum of machinery echoed from far away, punctuated by distant murmurs that made your heart drop.

With dazed eyes, you looked around your surroundings to be met with the overbearing shade of a bright white that covered the walls of what looked to be a lab of some sorts. Countertops were lined with an array of perfectly arranged scientific instruments, machines, and beakers.

Shelves held neatly labeled containers, each housing an assortment of chemicals and biological specimens. Despite being well-lit, there were little to no windows present, intensifying the feeling of isolation within the controlled environment. 

The place seemed devoid of humanity, replaced by a location where experimentation and analysis were handled freely without compassion or warmth.

But one thing about the lab really stood out to you: two jars sitting upon the shelves—one full of bloody red eyes and the other with abnormally sharp canines.

The sight almost made you vomit, hastily turning to look away. Your heart and breath were picking up, fear clawing at your being. Although how morbid the otherworldly body parts were, they triggered something in your head.

The more you thought upon it, awareness seeped in like an unwelcome guest; slowly, you began to remember.

The mental facility...

Red eyes...

The flowers...

Sharp canines...

Black glasses...

His release...

Him.

The wine...

Then darkness...

The memories came rushing back so quickly that you weren’t able to keep up, until it all came back to...

Him...

A wave of regret and stupidity overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you felt so worthless.

You should have known...

You should have fucking known...

‘He wasn’t well. He wasn’t fine. You were wrong, so wrong-’

“Good… You are awake.”

The bone-chilling voice of your captor filled the room, sending a familiar chill down your back. With trembling lips, you turned your head to see the backside of a massive male entering the room. His coffee-brown locks styled neatly upon his head, a white lab coat adorning his huge build along with black dress pants and oxfords.

The scientist wore clean attire, perfect for working in the lab, but his outfit was beyond your concern. 

You knew who he was, but you didn’t want to believe it.

You gulped, watching him slap on a pair of white latex gloves upon his large, calloused palms before beginning to inspect the scientific tools that sat upon the nearby counter.

"And here I thought you would have been excited to see me again..." he said in a husky voice, responding to your silence—his Latino accent unmistakable, along with a hint of amusement found in his tone. You felt like an idiot for falling for him, for becoming so fascinated with a madman like him...

But you were still in denial.

You weren’t going to believe it was him until you saw his face...

“T-T-Turn around…” You said hoarsely, the pain in your throat distant underneath the layers of fear and anxiety coursing through your body. At your demand, the large scientist laughed. “Turn around?” He asked slowly, silence following his inquiry, making your body run cold.

Suddenly, he spun around, slamming his palms onto the metal table you laid upon. The abruptness and loud noise made you jump, and a gasp erupted from your lips. His eyes stared directly into yours, holding the same madness that you believed he had cured when you initially met him. But, like before, it wasn’t the insanity in his gaze that made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach...

It was his eyes... 

His teeth...

The scientist’s crimson eyes looked down at you, taking in your discolored skin and half-lidded eyes that were still under a drowsy spell. “I turned around now, are you happy?” He asked with a playful smirk. “Do you recognize me now, dear?” 

Your eyes widened, the look upon your face enough to show the mad scientist that you did, in fact, remember who he was— but you were too speechless to respond, causing the male to chuckle.

“Do I need to give you any more proof that it is I?”

His snickering seemed to reverberate off the walls of your mind as the fluorescent lights of his lab bounced off his razor sharp canines.

With trembling lips and dilated pupils, you looked over his face, your heart breaking more and more because…

It was, indeed, him...

The mad scientist... 

The sexy patient... 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara…

The man you fell for…

White, close-toed wedges clicked upon the mental facility's aged linoleum tiles, the floor's once-bright patterns now a faded, discolored mosaic covered with scuff marks and indistinct stains that revealed the struggles of all who shuffled through the dimly lit corridor. The mental facility, unintentionally, gave off an eerie atmosphere with walls clad in faded, peeling paint and ceilings with bright, flickering fluorescent lights that cast irregular shadows along the cold institutional floor, further giving anyone who traversed the halls the creeps.

You, a therapist meant to evaluate patients for release, were given a new challenge—a patient that held a sadistic background coupled with a remarkable intellect that made many wonders how he found himself inside 'Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing.'

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was your new patient's name, an intelligent scientist who became a little twisted after his discovery of gene splicing. In his pursuit of advancing the human race, he became obsessed with the idea and creation of spider-human hybrids. After many experimentations of creating what is referred to as mutates, he was unsuccessful. Before he could continue with his study, he was arrested and sentenced to seven years here at the institution where it seems he’d made progress.

Whilst you walked towards his cell, taking the seemingly endless halls of the asylum, you looked over his file. Inside were documents containing his personal information, such as full name, date of birth, emergency contact, and next of kin. In the brown folder were also his medical history, psychiatric assessment, diagnostic evaluations, and much more information collected during his time at the institution; however, there were four pieces of his folder that piqued your interest:

Observation logs, Treatment plan, Risk assessment, and lastly, incident reports.

You studied each of the documents to discover the important details that needed to be surveyed before seeing the scientist in person.

_____________________________________ 

Miguel O’Hara - Mental Health File

Patient Information:

Full name: Miguel O’Hara

Date of Birth: 10/13/2070

Appointed into: Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing

Admission Date: 11/10/2099

Emergency Contact: N/A

Next Of Kin: N/A

**The patient has explicitly communicated a desire for their next of kin not to be associated with their mental health treatment, and no detailed information about family members was recorded to respect the patient’s privacy.**

Diagnosis:

Primary Diagnosis: Psychopathy

Secondary Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

Treatment Team:

Primary Therapist: Dr. Jessica Owens, Licensed Clinical Psychologist

Psychiatrist: Dr. Peter B. Parker, MD

Nursing Staff: Nurse Mary Jane Watson, RN

_____________________________________ 

Treatment Plan: 

Medications 

Fluoxetine (Prozac) 

Dosage: 20 mg daily

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is prescribed Fluoxetine to address symptoms of irritability that derives from his disorder of Antisocial Personality. 

Lorazepam (Ativan)

Dosage: 0.5 mg as needed (PRN) for anxiety

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is given Lorazepam on an as-needed basis to manage anxiety-related symptoms or impulsivity.

**Its used closely monitored due to the risk of misuse**

Lamotrigine (Lamictal) 

Dosage: Gradual titration starting at 25 mg, with adjustments based on response. 

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara’s treatment plan included Lamotrigine to help stabilize mood swings or emotional dysregulation. 

_____________________________________ 

Incident reports 

Date: 2/3/2100

Incident: Verbal altercation with another patient during group therapy 

Action Taken: Immediate de-escalation and one-on-one session with Dr. Peter B. Parker. 

Date: 6/21/2100

Incident: Refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education 

Date: 10/3/2100

Incident: Refused to attend scheduled group therapy and became verbally aggressive towards staff members

Action Taken: Security staff was called to ensure the safety of other patients and staff. Miguel was later engaged in a one-on-one session to explore the reasons behind his resistance to group participation. 

Date: 1/4/2101

Incident: 2nd occurence of refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education and therapeutic engagement by Dr. Jessica Owens to address any fears or misconceptions related to his prescribed medications. 

Date: 4/18/2101

Incident: Observed by Nurse Mary Jane Watson of the patient hoarding various items in his room, including non-permissible objects. 

Action taken: Staff conducted a room check, confiscated unauthorized items, and discussed appropriate belongings with Miguel. A follow-up session with his therapist, Dr. Jessica Owens was scheduled to explore any underlying concern. 

Date: 3/21/2102

Incident:  Engaged in a physical altercation with another patient during a recreational activity 

Action taken: Immediate intervention by staff to separate the individuals involved. Both parties were assessed for injuries, and a report was filed. Increased monitoring and a review of Miguel’s treatment plan were conducted to address potential triggers for aggressive behavior

_____________________________________

Risk Assessments: 

Current Risk level: Moderate 

Factors: History of aggression, resistance to treatment, potential for manipulative behavior 

Interventions: Increased monitoring, ongoing assessment for potential triggers 

_____________________________________

Observation Logs: 

Date/Time: 8/16/2102, 2:30 PM

Observation: Miguel exhibited signs of increased irritability during the group mindfulness session. Requested to leave the session prematurely. 

Staff comments: Noted Miguel’s discomfort during mindfulness exercises. Alternative relaxation techniques were explored for future sessions. 

Date/Time: 12/2/2103, 10:00 AM

Observation: Miguel was observed engaging in a one-on-one conversation with staff during morning indoor activities. Discussed personal interests and aspirations. 

Staff comments: Encouraged Miguel’s open communication. Noted his ability to articulate personal interest, fostering a sense of connection with staff. 

Date/Time: 2/15/2104, 6:45 PM 

Observations: Spends most of his time in the facility’s library, engrossed in reading.

Staff Comments: Positive use of leisure time observed. Reading contributed to a sense of routine and engagement. 

Date/Time: 6/23/2104, 8:30 PM 

Observations: Attended the evening group therapy, contributing to discussions on coping strategies. Demonstrated empathy towards a fellow patient sharing personal challenges.

Staff Comments: Noted Miguel’s willingness to engage in group discussions and support peers. Positive progress in developing empathy and interpersonal skills. 

**Miguel O’Hara has exhibited excellent improvement and staff believes he can be released in 2105, instead of 2107.**

_____________________________________

You closed his folder, taking a look at the photo that decorated the front. Like many patients at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing (NYS-MH), Miguel O’Hara didn’t look like a dangerous individual; he was actually quite handsome—with dark, wavy locks that framed his olive, chiseled face and amber eyes shielded by a pair of black eyeglasses; Dr. O’Hara wasn’t a bad-looking guy.

To ponder upon the atrocities, he could have committed for the sake of science was baffling as you gazed at the photo. The more you inspected the image, the happier you became at the fact he was doing better - better enough to be released back into society.

It was why you were here, anyway…

You tucked the folder under your arm and continued your walk towards his room, passing steel doors that lined the corridor, each secured with heavy bolts and reinforced locks to keep the patients contained and prevent them from harming themselves or others. Occasionally, muffled echoes of distant cries and disjointed whispers seeped through the cracks, adding to the unsettling symphony of the troubled minds that dwelled within.

You've walked these halls many times, but there was something about today that really made your skin crawl. So, it was relieving when you finally found Miguel O’Hara’s room, number 209.

Two guards stood on either side of his door, present only for emergencies. With a deep breath and slight adjustments to the white top, black blazer, and bodycon skirt that covered you, you gave each of them a nod and unlocked his door with a key, entering Miguel’s room…

Upon stepping inside, you instantly took notice of the soft, muted tones of blues and greens dominating the color palette, bringing a sense of serenity to the room. The patient's sleeping area contained the normal necessities—a comfortable bed with crisp, clean linens and a modest seating area. The furniture was arranged in an open and uncluttered manner, with personal touches here and there by the patient himself or for safety precautions. 

For his adoration for reading and science, a small shelf was placed inside his room, displaying a few books and a potted plant, offering familiarity to the scientist.

Your eyes shifted to the large, muscular male who sat upon his bed, dressed in a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and slip-on shoes. His massive backside faced you as it seemed he was engrossed in writing, his huge hand moving gracefully upon the page he was working on.

You cast a glance at the camera positioned in the corner of the ceiling in his room, placed there for monitoring and to ensure the patient, and others remain safe. After making sure the camera blinks red twice, showing its activity, you approach him with light steps.

"Miguel O’Hara?" you called out to him in a soft voice, not wishing to disrupt him. All of his movements came to a halt, his body rigid as his large hand placed the pen he was using into the open journal before slowly closing it. You watched him set the book down beside him on the bed, wondering if the handsome male you saw on the photo would be the same seated before you.

It seemed you were watching with batted breath for him to turn around and when he did, the sight of him shocked you and made your heart skip a beat.

You knew from his photo, the male would be gorgeous—so attractive that if he weren't your patient, you'd probably gush over him from afar. But it wasn't his attractiveness that made your breath hitch.

He looked completely different.

He looked…

Otherworldly.

With a cold expression, you stared back at a pair of crimson eyes covered with black eyeglasses, a small smile spreading across his tanned lips, revealing a set of sharp canines. “You must be the therapist that is to evaluate me. Right, Querida?” He inquired with a hum, his deep voice holding a Latino accent. 

You gulped at the intensity of his abnormal scarlet orbs, subconsciously clenching his brown folder in your hands and giving him a nod. “Y-Yes, I am,” you replied, stepping back to give the large male room to stand, and when he did…

He was like a giant…

The bed creaked at his ascent as his massive being towered over you, your head tilting up to maintain eye contact. Choking back how intimidated you were, you gestured over to the small seating area of two white cushioned chairs and a table in the corner of his room. “L-Let’s sit over here to talk,” you proposed, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing down at you like a mere ant before his tight-lipped smile returned.

With an approving grunt, he stepped in front of you; with his powerful, long legs, it took him little to no time to reach the comfort area and settle down into the white chair, the seat creaking under his heavy weight. You followed behind him, moving to sit across from your new patient and shifting into a comfortable position.

When your eyes met the male's, his crimson eyes were already staring at you, lingering upon your body in a way that made you feel like a microbe under a telescope. You gave him a polite smile, shaking off the unsettling feeling that always rose within you when speaking with the patients. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Miguel O’Hara. My name is Dr. Y/LN, and as you’ve been informed, I am the therapist here to evaluate you for your release.” You explained sweetly, watching every part of the patient, who remained completely motionless, simply continuing to stare back at you with an expression devoid of all emotion.

“It’s nice to see a new face, doctor. It can get rather boring here,” he uttered, using his middle finger to push his black eyeglasses up the bridge of his broad nose.

You placed his folder down upon the table, turning it to not reveal his photo on the front; you've learned from past experiences that the sight tended to worry them. Bringing your legs to cross over each other, you clasped your hands, placing them on your lap. “Boring?” you asked with furrowed brows. “Why don’t we speak about your time here first, Dr. O’Hara? Is that okay with you?” The inquiry left your lips in a soothing tone, one that calmed most patients upon hearing it; but with this patient, you couldn’t quite tell—he hid his emotions too well.

“Well, maybe not boring…repetitive is a better word,” he corrected himself. “But, dear, I’m fine with speaking of my time here.” He replied with a smile, placing his hands upon the armrests and widening his stance. Your eyes drifted to run along his inviting toned thighs adorned by a pair of gray sweatpants that did little to conceal the curves of the muscles underneath. 

You also took notice of his posture; taking a mental note of openness from the patient before you asked your question, “Well then, may I ask how you are doing during morning activities? It's stated that you prefer Creative Arts Therapy in the mornings, correct?”

He nodded, his sharp canines peeking out from between his lips as he spoke. “Indeed, mostly during Creative Arts Therapy, I write,” he explained in a deep voice. “I’ve grown to learn that to better settle my thoughts is to put them on paper.”

“And that is an excellent form of therapy that you’ve discovered for yourself, Dr. O’Hara. May I ask, what exactly do you write?” You asked, trying to ignore the faint sight of madness in his crimson orbs. “I write down my thoughts, ideas, and aspirations,” he simply said. 

You hummed, giving him a smile. “How about future plans? Do you write about those?” At your question, he snickered, giving you a wry, dismissive head shake. “I…don’t write much on that,” he replied. “I’ll hate to get my hopes up,” he added in an amused, yet somewhat disheartened tone.

“Get your hopes up?” you inquired, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “May you elaborate, Dr. O’Hara?” The male nodded, his large fingers stroking the armrest of his chair in a deep caress. “I do not wish to anticipate that I will be released early,” his caresses of the chair never ceasing, and his eyes trained on his moving fingers.

You studied him, taking in his deflated voice and how he spoke in a slow manner. Your gaze shifted to take in the intricate motion his fingers moved upon the armrest as there were multiple reasons a patient would do such a thing.

He could be nervous, frustrated, impatient, or simply doing it to comfort himself. Recalling his mannerisms from previously, you could cross out your thought of him being nervous; the way the scientist carried himself was in a way of confidence that couldn’t be faked, so it left you with the last three—frustration, impatience, or comfort.

Without further observation, you couldn’t pinpoint his reasoning for his odd gesture, instead giving him a soft grin and replying to his previous words of anticipation. “I understand your concerns about getting your hopes up, especially considering that you were rewarded with an early release date based on your wonderful behavior as of late,” you sympathized, “So it’s completely normal to feel cautious about expectations,” you said, taking in the abnormally muscular male before you. 

“But let’s explore these feelings, shall we? Let’s say you are released in the next two weeks; what would your life look like, Dr. O’Hara?” you asked, deeply intrigued by his answer.

A moment of silence filled the room after your inquiry, the doctor continuing to make intricate patterns upon the armrest with his finger before his red eyes returned back to you. A nervous chuckle rumbled from his chest—the sound restoring life back into the room. “Ahh, I always get stumped on that question. It's another reason I haven’t written much about it in my journal.”

You nodded, placing your hands upon your legs. “Well, let’s start small,” you proposed with a grin. “You seem to have taken a liking to the hobby of writing while staying here at NYS-MH. Would you like to expand on that?” Miguel gave you a thoughtful hum, his pointer finger continuing to glide against the armrest of his chair. 

“I’ve…always wanted to write a book.” Your eyes snapped from his fingers to rest upon his chiseled face, surprise and amazement present upon your facial features at his desire. “Oh really? And what would that book be about?”

“Genetics, of course.” He chuckled, the mention of his past interest that caused his descent into madness making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes narrowed, the amazement fading from your being. You leaned back into your chair, keeping your composure.

“Are you still interested in Genetics, Dr. O’Hara?” Your inquiry being met with a nod from the patient, one that he didn’t hesitate on responding with. “I’ve worked in the field for almost my entire life and I’m exceptionally good at it.” He explained with a voice of knowledge in a low, deep whisper. “So why would I abandon my hard-earned skills and education?” 

His reasoning on his maintained attachment to the field was an excellent one, but like many things, it could be a trigger; causing the once cured doctor to revert back to his old ways of sadism and horrendous acts for the sake of science. This potential trigger would not only bring harm to everyone once more but erase the hard work that Miguel had achieved at the mental institution to fix. 

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I…understand your desire to write a book about Genetics. It’s an intriguing subject.” You said, preparing yourself to ask a question that would surely strike the doctor. “But considering the circumstance of your past experiments and the impact they had, how do you plan to approach the topic responsibly?” You asked, watching his reaction closely in anticipation. 

After your question it seemed as if everything stopped—froze even… 

You gazed at Miguel taking in his tanned face that stared back at you. His crimson eyes were empty behind his black frames and his posture was completely still in his seat. 

You’ll think he was a statue…

“Dr. O’Hara?” You called out to him which seemed to snap him from his thoughts. His red eyes slowly shifted to you, his tanned lips pulling into a small smile. 

“Responsibility, my dear therapist, is such a heavy word…” He said with a smirk. “But I wish to ask, what compelled you to work with the mental? It’s a challenging profession for those with weaker minds.” Miguel said, casting an odd aura upon the room with his every word. “I should know…many say they are for the discovery of science and when the time presents itself, they get cold feet.” He stated, his finger ceasing its movement upon the armrest. 

It wasn't unusual for a patient to desire to ask you a question, but the way he gazed at you with his intense eyes and how his gravelly voice caused a shiver to run down your spine made you hesitant, which the patient seemed to have noticed. “I only ask since you handle your job so beautifully.” He complimented, his eyes taking in your seated position. “I only wish to know what led you here before me.” The words left the patient’s lips in an ominous manner, however, upon saying such a thing his olive face held a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

His fanged grin, oddly, sent a wave of warmth through your being and caused you to forget your reply to his question. You shifted in your seat, trying to keep your composure and recall your departed answer. “W-well, I…umm… entered this field by the simple fact of being interested in psychology a-and the way the mind works.” You replied once you found the words, unable to hide the stammering of your voice due to how unnerving everything was becoming. Miguel nodded slowly, running his tongue along the tip of his fang, the action drawing your attention. 

“Your interest in the subject of the mind is rather…fascinating.” Abruptly, he leaned up in his seat, resting his elbows upon his knees and invading your personal space. Your heart skipped a beat at his suddenness and at being able to see just how abnormal and captivating his scarlet eyes and sharp fangs were; it caused goosebumps to rise upon your skin at the mere sight. 

“I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” He grinned, the fluorescent lights of his room bouncing off his sharp fangs as his eyes were filled with a hint of amusement, though it was impossible to ignore how it seemed he was toying with you. 

“I…see individuals, like you, as people who have become lost in the darkness and just need assistance in finding the light once more.” You stated, his eyebrow raising and a chuckle escaping him at your answer. “A bold claim…” He said, his eyes tracing your figure and lingering upon how tightly you were now grasping your skirt.  

“For a little thing like you…” 

Miguel muttered imperceptibly that you almost didn't hear him. “E-Excuse me?” You asked in shock and with furrowed eyebrows causing the patient to snicker, shaking his head. “Just that your view is a unique way of thinking and a…intriguing one, in fact.” He said, leaning back in his chair and adopting a relaxed position once more. 

“It’s really fascinating how intellectual you are, doctor.” He grinned. “Few possess the ability to navigate the labyrinth of thoughts of the mental. I applaud you on that.” Miguel praised, returning back to running his palm along the white armrest whilst giving you his undivided attention. 

In your gut, you knew his recalling of the statement said previously was false, you were certain he said something that was out of the norm. 

But could you have mistaken? 

You took in his face, taking note of how he gazed at you. The scientist was attractive, and normally during your job you were able to ignore that appealing quality and complete the task at hand, but right now, it seems impossible. 

The way his red eyes ran along your body like he was undressing you, made you blush. You couldn’t explain it, but you were stuck between your desires and your sense of reason. 

You were aware of Miguel’s sadistic mannerisms and how there could be a chance he wasn’t fully well as he lets on, it was why you were here, but the longer you spoke with him, the more the task at hand was leaving you. 

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease he gave you at times. 

“M-May I ask how have you been feeling lately? Any changes?” You asked, changing the topic and settling your eyes upon Miguel once more to see him smirking. “It’s all been the same, doctor.” He began. “We have group therapies on Wednesday, daily morning activities and indoor activities…” He said, wetting his lips with the swipe of his tongue, the sight causing the tips of your ears to burn red. 

Sometime while he was speaking, you shamefully zoned out to taking in how sexy he looked. 

His white shirt tightly hugged his body, giving one a view of his hardened nipples, defined pecs, and washboard abs. Every curve of muscle was accentuated under the white fabric that teased anyone who saw. The muscles of his legs pressed against his gray sweatpants, and your eyes widened slightly at being able to make out the enormity that rested against his thigh.  The sight causing you to bite your lip…

“Querida?” 

The sexy patient called out to you, snapping you from your trance. “Y-Yes!?” You inquired, clearing your throat and taking a more assertive and relaxed position to try and dismiss your previous lack of professionalism. Miguel snickered. “It seemed you were off somewhere else…and here I thought that was my job.” He joked, causing you to chuckle nervously. 

“M-My apologies. You may continue.” You replied, wishing to proceed as if none of that happened. Miguel smirked, his crimson eyes roaming along your body before his finger began to tap upon the armrest.

“In my leisure, I write in my journal, read, or tend to my plant.” He finished, keeping it short and gesturing to the bookshelf in the room that held a pot of beautiful flowers. You smiled seeing how the black flowers bloomed upon the shelf. 

“May I ask, what is it that you write in your journal?” You asked, looking back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed. “It wouldn’t be ethical if I asked what you write in your diary, would it, doctor?” He inquired, causing you to instantly become regretful of your words. You casted him an apologetic look. “M-My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“No…it’s fine. Your fascination is interesting…” He trailed off, a tap of his finger following your words. You glanced back over at his plant once more, the flower really captivating you. “The plant is family to the Calla Lilies.” Miguel answered before you could even ask, looking over at you as you continued to inspect the plant from your seat. “Hmm…I’ve never seen a plant like this.” 

“Because this plant, in particular, is very rare.” He explained. “Native to South Africa, Escape, is a very rare find.” Miguel said with a fanged grin. “It’s why I made it mandatory that it was brought with me when I was assigned at NYS-MH.” 

You stared in awe at the abnormally black flower. This was your first time seeing a plant of pitch blackness that hadn’t already withered away, but Miguel’s next words grabbed your attention. 

“But one day while tending to my flowers, I hit an…epiphany of sorts.”  Miguel told you, causing you to cock your head in puzzlement. 

His words intrigued you…

“May I ask what epiphany you reached, Dr. O’Hara?” At your question, Miguel gave you a look of appreciation and sincerity. “I understand that upon my arrival, I wasn’t…in the best state of mind.” He said with a sigh. “But after being here, I feel like I’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” You asked, bringing a small smile to his lips. “I…believe I’m ready to see the world again.” He answered, giving you a genuine look of certainty. 

His realization filled you with gratification. You reached for his brown folder, believing he had, indeed, improved. The first major step for the patient was seeing that they were initially unwell, which the patient had achieved. 

“I’m greatly pleased with your recognition of this epiphany of yours, Dr. O’Hara.” You said, holding his folder in your hands. “But I believe you are ready to answer some more serious questions.” You said, glancing up at him. “Are you ready?” You asked, seeking permission of his state of mind before proceeding. 

With a nod from Miguel, you opened his folder, pulling out a few of his documents to begin asking more serious questions regarding them. “I’ve noticed in your next of kin that you asked for them to not be aware of your mental treatment.” You began, looking up at Miguel to see him already gazing back at you, his crimson orbs trained on you. The sight made your heart flutter. “M-May I ask how you would cope on the outside without your familial relations knowing of t-the treatments and necessary tools you've learned whilst being here?” At your inquiry, Miguel’s face hardened, his crimson eyes darkening.

“Well, you see, my dear therapist, family can be a bit…overwhelming.” He uttered, tapping his finger against the armrest once more like a metronome; his eye contact never breaking. “I’ve decided to take a more independent route for now.” He explained in a deep, slow voice. “But friends, colleagues—people who don't burden me with unnecessary questions about the past are who I seek.” He said, his voice holding a hint of coldness as his jaw clenched. 

“Because, it’s important to focus on the present and the future, rather than the past, don’t you think…

Doctor?” 

You gulped, his words seeming to have you in a vice. It was as if he had some kind of control over you, all of the rules and regulations you learned whilst being an evaluation therapist at NYS-MH faded from your mind. You couldn’t figure out what you found so enticing about him. 

Was it the way he looked or behaved? How he seemed to speak with such intellect in a tone of voice that could lull one to sleep?   

You were puzzled…

But you were certain something was happening, and it was greatly affecting you and your ability to think clearly. 

You hesitantly nodded, clenching his folder and feeling your cheeks redden once again.  “T-That is correct.” You agreed, not believing what you were saying. “I would understand your desire to look past your previous mistakes and move forward.” You uttered, trying to keep your attention on the patient. 

“Indeed…Mistakes.” He smirked, a small chuckle passing his lips, his finger seeming to tap against the armchair after your words. Your eyes looked from his hand and to his face, studying how his coffee-brown locks blowned gently in the breeze from the vent overhead, and to his defined cheekbones and broad nose that made him even more captivating… 

 “Have any more questions for me, doctor?” 

You jumped at his inqury, noticing you were just staring at him. 

What the hell was wrong with you?!

A little disheveled, you fumbled through the folder for the next pages of information you sought, picking up his documents on his treatment plan of medications and his incident reports. “Umm…I-I wanted to ask about your medications.” You began, wetting your lips and holding the papers up to hide behind them. “T-There were two occurrences where you refused to take your medication. M-may I ask why you refused?” You asked, peeking around the paper to see the patient adjust his black eyeglasses upon his face along with the repeated thudding of his finger upon the chair. 

“I must ask, how would you feel if someone took away your identity?” 

“W-what?!” You asked in surprise, lowering the pages hastily. A laugh rumbled from his broad chest, giving you a clear view of his otherworldly fangs that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. “You heard me, doctor.” He stated in a manner that was to be amusing but only made one disturbed. 

“What if someone was trying to force you to be someone else? Someone you are not?” He asked, causing you to chew your inner cheek and ponder his question. “I…I guess I wouldn’t like that.” 

“Indeed…” He replied. “Any creature would despise the fact of forced transformation of oneself. It’s the reason you cannot simply change a savage tiger to being a tamed kitten in your home.” The dark-haired male explained. “It’s because a tiger would always cling to its savage ways, it's what keeps them alive—it’s what they enjoy.”  

“That’s…a great analogy, Dr. O’Hara.” 

“Why thank you, dear.” Miguel replied with a smirk before his old expression shifted to hold furrowed eyebrows and a frown—a set of facial features that instantly tugged at your heart. “But…the true reason I refused my medication was because…” He heaved a deep sigh, biting his lip. “The depressants make me sleepy and tired all the time, and…the idea of having to depend on medicine to stabilize my irritability and emotions is rather disheartening to me.” He said in a sorrowful voice. “I refused them because I believe I can be better without them.” 

You listened closely to his words, taking note of his concerns and feeling rather empathetic. “In all honesty, how would you explain your current mental health condition?” You asked, placing your compassionate eyes upon him. 

He gave you a heartfelt smile, one that made your heart soar. “Like I said previously, I feel better, Doctor.” Miguel said in genuinely. “I’ve seen the errors in my ways and am deeply disgusted by what I’ve done to innocent individuals…t-too myself.” He said, looking away at the ground in shame. 

“I wish to return back into society and start anew.” He replied. “Be the man that I’ve wanted to be—not some madman who allowed his idea to get too out of hand that led to the deaths of innocence.” Miguel professed to you with an emotional and hearty voice. 

You nodded slowly as you noticed his scarlet eyes flicker down to your hands that held the brown folder. “Doctor…

May I?” 

Dr. O’Hara asked, extending his large, calloused hand to you, seeking your palm. Your eyes widened, thickly gulping and looking back up to meet his red orbs that seemed to suck you in—enticing you to take it. 

Physical connection with patients were strictly forbidden, but the sadden look of desperation upon his face led you to take his hand. You placed the brown folder upon the table before resting your hand in his large palm, and instantly yours looked to have shrunken in size. With a fluttering heart and belly, you met his eyes and instantly melted under his crimson eyes. 

“Please, Cariño. I assure you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”  

The patient affirmed, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze, following his heartfelt promise. Your breath caught in your throat at his genuine gaze and words. 

From his evaluation, you couldn’t help but agree that he was ready…

He didn’t utter a word of sadism or show signs of insanity, revealing his first diagnosis of Psychopathy was treated or can be suppressed. He exhibited signs of sympathy for his victims, and also didn’t become angry at triggering questions, displaying that his second diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder was also cured or treated. 

Like he said…

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was ready. 

You gave him a small smile, placing your free hand atop of his as Miguel’s eyes shifted down to your kind gesture and back onto your face. “Okay…I believe you.” You said, caressing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’ll be sure to send in your evaluation report that you are good to go.” You told him, but as an evaluation therapist you weren’t supposed to say, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. 

Giving him a departed smile, you released his hands and collected your things. His touch still burned into your skin and left you yearning for more of him. 

You felt his abnormal eyes on you as you went to the door. Suddenly, upon putting your hand on the doorknob, a cold shiver ran down your back—one that instantly made you come to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unsettling sensation, causing you to bite your lip in nervousness.

“And Miguel…” You called out to him, using his name and looking over your shoulder at the dark-haired male. His tanned, chiseled face held an expression of hidden joy and interest as he turned towards you, his attention captured by your call whilst he remained seated in his chair

You clenched the folder tightly, hastily shifting your gaze to meet his scarlet eyes—the previous feeling of discomfort and unease vanishing.

“I-I hope you keep your word.” You said in a voice full of reverence. Miguel returned your words with a reassuring smirk, his sharp canines poking from over his bottom lip. 

“You have my word, Doctor.  I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

After turning in Dr. Miguel O'Hara’s evaluation report and going home, the scientist was still on your mind.

The way the doctor looked at you with his beautiful red eyes from behind his black spectacles, with a gaze of interest, to the fanged smiles and smirks he gave you—merely thinking about it made your cheeks redden.

You bit your lip, feeling a need to cure this desire for him, but you decided to push it away. You couldn’t feel this way about him…

You couldn’t…

…

..

But you did…

Extremely…

You lay under the blankets of your bed, tossing and turning as every time you closed your eyes to sleep, he would fill your mind. 

Especially the glimpse you got of his package. 

How his massive member was accentuated underneath the gray fabric of his sweatpants, revealing how thick and long he was. 

The remembrance made you drool… 

It had been forever since you’d touched yourself. Being a therapist at a mental facility was a rather time-consuming job, and you weren’t really interested in the many men who tried to get your attention.

Until him… 

Why did it have to be him of all people? 

It was a guilty pleasure, that was for sure—to have fallen so hard for this doctor, your patient who had many wounds that still needed healing.

But oddly, his wounds only pulled you in even more…

You bit your lip, allowing your hands to begin roaming along your body, imagining they were his calloused ones—remembering how his large hands practically engulfed yours when holding his hand, and how rough they felt.

Oh, how good it would feel if they were the ones touching you. 

Giving your clothed breasts a squeeze through your shirt, you moaned softly. Despite his past of being sadistic and cruel to others, you imagined him being gentle with you—caressing your body and touching you in a way that stole your breath every time. You arched your back as your thumb barely flicked over your pebbled nipples, drawing a whimper from your lips.

Your panties were heavily drenched in your juices due to your core's insistent pleas for stimulation and touch. Finally satisfying yourself, with a sharp tug, you pulled your panties down, freeing your pulsating pussy. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, hastily getting into a comfortable position on your back and allowing your legs to fall apart. With closed eyes, you allowed thoughts of Dr. O'Hara to guide your movements. 

His massive hand ran along your abdomen, teasing you with his skilled fingertips and trailing lower. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers brushed softly along your throbbing bud and soppy folds, spreading your juices along the sensitive area.

You imagined Dr. O'Hara above you, his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he smirked down at you, pressing his large middle finger into your entrance. You moaned, feeling his finger filling your tight walls. 

Whimpers escaped your lips at how good his finger felt inside of you, your back arching in desire for more of him. His smirk broadened at your eagerness, as he slowly drew his finger out to the tip before pushing back in, quickly finding a rhythm and keeping at it with each thrust.

Your toes curled, burying your face in your inner elbow as you continued to finger your wet pussy, wishing Dr. O'Hara was here, but imagining would have to do. It wasnt long before a heat began to pool in your lower belly, your breathing picking up. 

"Taking my fingers so well, dear," Dr. O'Hara whispered into your ear, gently nipping along your lobe and throat, his fangs grazing your skin. You whined into your arm, his fingers picking up speed and hooking just right inside your pussy, bringing you to your blissful end. 

With a loud cry, your thighs trembled horribly as your juices spilled in hot spurts, soaking your hand and the sheets underneath. 

Your eyes fluttered close, trying to overcome the buzz that overwhelmed your body after your release. It took a moment, but when you caught your breath and your vision settled, you withdrew your fingers from your pussy, casting your eyes upon them to see that they, not Dr. O'Hara's, were covered in your juices. You exhaled in disappointment. 

Despite how good it felt imagining it was him, you couldn't help wanting Dr. O'Hara in the physical…

"I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?" 

As you lay there, still tinglinh from your pleasurable moment, his words filled your head, leaving you to ponder his question once more. 

Did you believe him to be a puzzle that only you could solve? In the moment, you said no, but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to thoroughly fix him.

Like many patients upon being released, they still faced numerous challenges, including reentering society, finding a job, and avoiding triggers, after departing from NYS-MH.

He was going to need help, and with all your heart, you wanted to be there for him. 

And you were going to. 

No matter what…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of 'Tangled in his Webs.' 😆I really enjoyed writing Miguel in this persona as it was different and honestly fun, especially with him being a darker character. It was rather new for me writing in this manner, despite some challenges here and there, I'm overall proud of the outcome and I hope you are too!

@migueloharacumslut, thanks so much for the request, and I hope you are even more happier that it's to be more than one part, lol. But once again, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! 💙💙

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedeva @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywatty @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne @lynxslokley @rice-wife @oharasfilipinawife @migueloharastruelove @rodriash002 @e1f-boi @user3732094737 @truth-dare-spin-bottles @taleiak @alurafairy

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(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[uriwoos2]

bnd with a bookworm s/o . . .· ୨𐍸୧

ꕤ overview: boynextdoor dating a bookworm! genre: fluff. warnings: none. word count: 3.1k requested: yes! ♡ note: this is one of my favorite things I've ever worked on, so I sincerely wish it turned out well >< wrote it with the help of my dearest @blumisiu and her wonderful ideas <3 so I'm dedicating this to vivi and everyone who considers themselves a bookworm! this is for u, hope you enjoy hehe^^ likes & reblogs are very appreciated! — with love, cream <3 . . . @onedoornet

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂❀

sungho

𐚁๋࣭⊹ he's the type to read himself actually! but not so often that he'd consider it a hobby. he finds it to be a relaxing way to enjoy his leisure time. so when he finds out that you like reading too, he'd be absolutely thrilled!! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ beyond happy that you guys have something in common. might start reading a lot more, just so he can have stuff to talk to you about :( will probably recommend you books he has read and liked especially, wanting to know your opinions on some of his favorite books! ⊹₊˚

𐚁๋࣭⊹ you would spend lots of quiet evenings reading together <3 when you both have nothing else to do, or if you happen to have some free time, you'll both be situated on either the bed or the couch, all comfy, heads tucked into your respective books, in the shared space overcome by pleasant silence that envelopes you both. (ˆ꜆ . ̫ . ). ̫ . ꜀ˆ) ♡ the soft sound of the pages being flipped the only thing disrupting the quiet. the soft glow of the sun setting shining through the window, providing warmth.

𐚁๋࣭⊹ in such moments you and sungho would mostly settle for gentle, barely-there touches, where one of you would put your hand over the other's, letting it rest there, or tracing faint shapes on each other's thighs, and when you'd simply convey your affection through tiny smiles and eyes full of fondness, for the sake of not disturbing one another's personal bubble <3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ on occasion, when you're both up to it, you decide to do the reading outdoors! you'd go to check out new coffee shops and read while enjoying warm drinks and relish in each other's company. ⋅˚₊‧ you'd switch it up from time to time, and take your reading dates to libraries and parks^^ sungho says this allows you both to get out more, and that it's good to get some much needed sunshine! ☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა he'll also plan a day for you to visit art galleries or museums sometimes (if ur into that ^^) knowing you appreciate admiring art in all shapes and forms. he'll hold your hand as you both enjoy inspecting different exhibits and will point out the tiny details to you. he's just considerate like that :'( <3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ you both seem to favour library dates the most! you think it's probably because of the atmosphere there being so ideal for reading, the scent of books creating a sort of sanctuary, that you can escape to when you feel the need. of course, you're more than happy to take your wonderful lover with you, with whom you'd exchange lovesick giggle-inducing subtle touches of your fingertips over the table, warm palms resting on each other's thighs, all innocent and soft. you'd have to remind one another to quiet down at times, resuming to whisper silly jokes in each other's ear in hushed voices. the library seemingly exuding a certain air of romance too, apparently.. ૮ / / / ⍝ა ·˚

riwoo

𐚁๋࣭⊹ this baby is definitely the type to be more quiet and subtle with his reactions, smiling to himself whenever he spots you w a book in your hands and a concentrated look on your face, finding your habit of bringing it everywhere with you just so adorable.. </3 he'll be simply sitting there, silently watching with love in his eyes, in awe at the sight of you doing something you so dearly love 𐔌ᵔ⁔ ܸ. ̫ .⁔ ͡ 𐦯..

𐚁๋࣭⊹ he wouldn't mind at all, if you devote a big amount of your time to this hobby, as he thinks it's essential to have an outlet to release your tension through! he gets you the most, as he has his own form of escape that he indulges in quite often. riwoo's love for video games and your love for books don't make you clash, actually it's the total opposite!! it's both of you guys' favorite thing to share the same space, as you engage in your respective hobbies. the atmosphere always so harmonious and comfortable, as riwoo puts extra effort into keeping quiet, just so you can read in peace ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა such a considerate lover :'( ♡

𐚁๋࣭⊹ on the weekends he'd organize cute little picnic dates for you! especially, when the weather's fine and the temperature is just right <3 he'd bring along jjangyi and daebak w him sometimes too! these instances filled with lots of laughter and fun ૮₍˃̵֊ ˂̵ ₎ა and of course, we can't forget that our boy has the biggest sweet tooth, so obviously there'll be various treats to munch on as you enjoy one another's company ^^ riwoo would totally blush so hard when you recite romantic quotes from books for him.. each of your words making his heart flutter, his demeanor visibly shy.. smiling at you giddily with rosy cheeks (◌´ ˘ `ς) he loves it so much pls </3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ as I mentioned before, riwoo will be super respectful of your reading time. he'll only occasionally pop in to softly ask if you need him to bring you anything, offering you snacks and water! >< but otherwise, he'll remain as silent as possible, not wanting to disturb you :( he might just settle next to you and lay his head in your lap as he closes his eyes, basking in the comfort of the moment.*·.˚⊹ other types of minimal skinship with him would include him idly playing with the fingers on your free hand, tucking a strand of hair that's fallen in your face back into its place, and pressing his lips to your shoulder / the top of your head as he passes past where you're situated. 。゜(՞っ ‹՞)

𐚁๋࣭⊹ riwoo gets so worried about you sometimes, and won't hold back on confronting you about paying more attention to your health! >:( will scold you if you stay up late to read, constantly emphasizing the importance of sleep. might also comment on your bad posture, as he delicately traces the line of your spine to ease the tension in your back. ૮(*´. . ) he'll also keep reminding you not to read in the dark, to avoid straining your eyes.. but besides just being fussy, he'll express his care through subtle acts of service^^ he'll put on some calm backround music if you're fine w that, clean your glasses for you (if you wear some) and leave silly little love notes in your books, just to make you giggle once you've found them. </3 he's the best really.... (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

jaehyun

𐚁๋࣭⊹ he's the embodiment of a super clingy boyfie, who's curious about everything you do! and your love for books certainly doesn't slip past him ^^ he finds it so very fascinating that you're able to occupy yourself for so long just reading words... on a piece of paper.. ₍ᐡ-᷅ ·̫ -᷄ᐡ₎? he actually thinks it's a really great skill, and he admires you immensely for it! I don't see him as the type to read, although he'd probably give it a try for your sake, to see what has you so entertained for hours on end!! ><

𐚁๋࣭⊹ but that won't really go far I fear.. after a couple of attempts, he says he'll just go back to his comics/manga.. (he's so totally the type to collect and read them hehe) might offer you try out his stuff too, but in the end you guys would probably decide to just stick to your own interests. ^^

𐚁๋࣭⊹ however! this doesn't mean jaehyun wouldn't absolutely adore being dragged to bookstores and book fairs, loving how excited you get over them!! ✩₊˚ he'd bring a bag with water bottles, snacks and a camera! you guys would probably go for a walk in the park afterwards, to eat and rest after a tiring day of browsing.. he'd pick delicate little flowers and put them in your hair prettily, secretly plotting to take lots of pictures of you like this (◠ﾵ ◠υ)♡ he has to put the camera to use after all!! ^^ he'll take on the responsibility to ensure your day goes perfectly, so that you're able to enjoy the experience to it's full potential! oh, how sweet he is,, please </3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ remember how I said he's clingy?? cuz I mean that with my entire being. he totally loves watching you do your own thing, don't get me wrong, his cheeks will get tired from smiling after staring at you for so long! :( but. he needs your attention too! he wants you to focus on him sometimes, with nothing else on your mind. he's such a baby about it too.. like "૮₍ •⤙•˶ა he'll keep bothering you until he successfully gets your attention, asking you with a pout to look at him!! >< and then will proceed to trap you with his arms in the world's tightest hug, just so you can't escape. </3 he just wants his baby all to himself.. ૮ -᷄ ˕ - ᷅ა

𐚁๋࣭⊹ but who says you can't do both at the same time?.. jaehyun absolutely adores the nights when you read to him before bed. <3 you're sitting up, while jaehyun is laying with his head tucked into your side, sharing warmth under the dim glow of the nightlight. this way he's able to cuddle with you, and you can get some reading done, everyone's happy! ദ്ദി˶ｰ̀֊ｰ́ ) ✧ the lovable puppy gets so snuggly and sleepy that he'll keep yawning in-between every couple sentences you read aloud.. :'( but he'll insist that you continue! since he wants you to finish the chapter. he'll hug your waist even closer, as his eyes gradually flutter shut and he can't fight the drowsiness anymore, dozing off to dreamland... ( ु⁎ᴗ_ᴗ⁎)ु.｡when you notice that your baby's fallen asleep, a small smile tugs at your lips as you're putting down the book, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead before hugging him back and drifting off yourself. (っ˘·(˘ ᵜ ˘ ) <3

taesan

𐚁๋࣭⊹ i feel like, because he likes putting his thoughts and feelings into pretty words in order to incorporate them into his song lyrics, he'd like it a lot if his s/o also had a certain appreciation for eloquent words and such.. because, not only would this mean that you'd be able to fully grasp the meaning behind his work, but beyond that it would ensure that the both of you can understand each other's feelings well and communicate on a deeper level too. ^·^!

𐚁๋࣭⊹ another perk of this is that, he'd absolutely adore to receive handwritten letters from you!! as a an avid reader and hopeless romantic, you've always wanted to express your feelings of fondness toward your lover through this medium, but never got the chance to, until taesan.♡ he didn't make you feel odd for wanting to indulge in such an unconventional little pastime, quite the opposite actually! he would constantly be re-reading the letters, especially while away from you, tracing the lines of ink in your handwriting, thinking of you dearly.. :'( he'd keep them in the top drawer of his desk, neatly stacked, organized and well taken care of. ᨳᥩ ᪲◞ ◟)𑁬 <3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ it would always give him so much reassurance and make his heart tighten at the thought, that your love for him is unfaltering, and the letters only acted as clear evidence of that..♡ plus, he'd happily write some letters in response to your's!! he'd want to show his gratitude in some way, and he's also really into this old-fashioned way of communication, thinks it's romantic and so very intimate.. ૮( ˃ ꒳ ˂)ა ♡ˎˊ˗

𐚁๋࣭⊹ we shouldn't forget to mention that he's quite into reading himself as well! would be open to being introduced to new genres and tropes! and would most definitely listen to you go off about the book you're currently reading, actually soaking up all the details, besides just admiring your passion for the subject. I mean.. he's curious too!! ^^ <3 he'd read the books you like, in order to have something to talk with u about ! but he'll actually be really into them himself! ( ◜‿◝ )*.✧

𐚁๋࣭⊹ will definitely tag along when you go shopping for books! but most of the time you guys would actually plan the whole thing together, making it a date!! <3 it'd probably start off in a bookstore, with the both of you picking out books. sometimes you'd choose for each other and then surprise one another with them! >< the urge to read would most likely get you situated in a nearby cafe, where you'd fully immerse yourselves into your individual stories. you'd then discuss the topics explored in your books, as you hold hands on your way home. <3 such seemingly uneventful dates being your's and taesan's absolute favorite. ૮ ◜ᵕ◝ ྀིა ₊˚

leehan

𐚁๋࣭⊹ to leehan, your love for reading is one of your charming points, one of the reasons as to why he fell for you. (ˆ ̳ , ̫ , ̳ˆ)"੭ seeing you so into something that requires a lot of attention and dedication, makes him believe that you're an intricate person, somebody that's full of complexity and lots of layers, who also takes the time to grasp concepts and people thoroughly. he thinks of you very highly, respects you to no end and finds you to be the most intelligent person in his life, even if he himself isn't that well versed in literature. ૮ ․ ․ ᪲ა

𐚁๋࣭⊹ you usually tend to read at home, where you feel it's most comfortable and quiet. leehan is aware of this and doesn't really bother you, but when he sees you quietly tucked in a corner reading, all immersed in your book, he can't help but stop for a moment or two to admire your effortless beauty. >< to him, you're the most beautiful when you're doing the things you love doing, in your element and just being you. <3 after gazing at you from across the room for a bit, he'll slowly sneak up on you from the back, whispering a quiet "hey, baby." in your ear, placing a soft kiss to your neck. ૮₍ ྀི∩៸៸៸∩ ྀི₎ა

𐚁๋࣭⊹ you're so used to all this, that you know the next step will inevitably involve him finding his usual place on top of you, smoothly placing his body between your legs. he'll rest his head either on your chest or your tummy, with his arms snugly hugging your middle, asking you gently to please read aloud to him. he's just a gentle, lovesick boy.. ૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა

𐚁๋࣭⊹ truthfully, he's requesting this solely because he likes listening to you speak. he thinks your voice is the softest, and has a certain comforting tone to it. to him, it's one of the most captivating parts of you, the part that your inner beauty shines through <3 you're well aware of his hidden agenda, but he just looks so sweet with his head on your chest like this, and he's asking so nicely too.. :'( you have to give him what he wants. <3 so he lays there idly, admiring the way words take shape via your pretty voice, lips forming into a small smile, occasionally resting them on your belly in tiny, loving kisses. ( ᐡ. ̫ .ᐡ ) </3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ sometimes he'll fall asleep as you're reading to him, and other times, when he's feeling particularly invested in the story, he'll ask simple questions.. this just urges you to explain things to him in more detail, which, to leehan, ends up being way more entertaining than simply reading the book :') he likes listening to you reason and get all passionate about the subject, finding your display of intellect immensely attractive, and the glint of excitement in your eyes purely adorable. <3 <3

woonhak

𐚁๋࣭⊹ when he first discovered that you like to read, he was sort of intimidated by the fact, thinking he wouldn't be able to find common ground with you. (ˆ꜆ . ̫ . ).ᐟ but eventually he got over the initial fear, and decided to try out reading for himself!! of course the main purpose of his decision was to indulge in something his partner enjoys, in order to get closer to them, but he also wants to treat it as a chance to learn something from the experience, and grow as a person! ˎˊ˗ what a cutie he is ><

𐚁๋࣭⊹ he'll be the most adorable, excitable boy asking you for book recommendations ૮ ´ ˘ ` ა <3 he's so enthusiastic about it that your heart wouldn't be able to take it, seeing how eager he is to try out reading just for you. :'(( you'd take him to a bookstore, so he can pick out the book himself! since you're unsure of what he'll like, you wanna give him a chance to find something that strikes his interest !! <3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ but baby is a bit overwhelmed with all the genres and so so many books to choose from.. (՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞) that eventually he just asks for your help. so with your help and suggestions, you guys are able to find one that he's into ! (✿◠ᴗ◠) he'll start reading it on the same day right before bed, so he can give you some kind of feedback on it the next day, but.. he gets distracted a few pages in and drifts off to sleep ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა </3

𐚁๋࣭⊹ will definitely observe you closely and with awe as you're reading, aand if you're annotating too, he'll be straight up transfixed on each of your tiny movements. he's just so fascinated with the fact that so much work goes into reading a book (* ॑ ॑* )?? asks you questions and also to teach him how to do it, bcuz he's secretly planning to try and annotate a book for you :( for that he'll probably pick out one of your most favorites, wanting to surprise you with it ! </3 woonhak is the most thoughtful boy :(

𐚁๋࣭⊹ I feel as though, once he finds a genre he really enjoys, he's gonna adore reading! (even if it takes him a while to finish a book^^) so much so that he'd make solo trips to the bookstore, just to find some books similar to the one he just finished! (..◜ᴗ◝..) and while he's there, he'll look around for you as well, already giddy at the thought of gifting you a book, knowing you'll be ecstatic about it! ♡ˎˊ˗ I can just picture woonhak with a bright smile on his face, browsing through shelves full of books, looking for one that his lover will like.. (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑) on top of this, he'll get you all the necessary supplies, like colorful sticky tabs and pretty pens and pastel highlighters he's seen you using.. lovely baby just wants to make you happy :( <3

[teambyler]

Churchgate update: the vines suggest the church is a sanctuary and the theme of forbidden gay love (aka Byler) is likelier than ever

(This and other pics shared by will80sbyers)

For those who don't know, ChurchGate is a theory of how a hugely significant development in Mike and Will's romantic arc might happen in a CHURCH, that intersects with the show's theme of love vs. hate and religious fundamentalism. That hype has intensified recently as it appears Noah and Finn will film a scene alone in the church this month(!)

I'll just add to all this by pointing out how significant it is that the shots of the exterior of the church seem to show that the church is keeping out the vines and therefore is being used as a SANCTUARY from the Upside Down. (Either in the UD itself, or perhaps the UD has spilled into Hawkins.)

Historically, churches have been not only instruments of the status quo, but also refuges for people fleeing persecution. They once were places the government could not enter, and while that is no longer true they still have much of that significance. In the modern era, the Catholic Church worked to protect Jews fleeing the Nazis, and houses of worship of many faiths have served as sanctuaries for draft resisters and immigrants.

The idea of seeking refuge in a church might drive Mike and Will to run to this church in the first place. The writers could have chosen so many other places, but they chose a CHURCH. The idea of MIKE AND WILL needing refuge in a church HUGELY suggests that their potential romantic pairing -- which Christian doctrine simultaneously says is immoral but churches have a history of sheltering the persecuted -- will be a focus of this scene.

Their taking refuge in a church takes on a note of irony, obviously for Will, who the show has established for the GA is in love with Mike. ST has established the themes of homophobia in this 80s small town, and fundamentalist hysteria against the Hellfire Club blaming them for the murders and the gates opening at the end of s4.

But Bylers know it is also significant for Mike. Plus, remember that s4 opened with the song California Dreamin' as Mike read El's letter. It has the following lyric:

Stopped into a church I passed along the way Well, I got down on my knees And I pretend to pray

Mike and El were both seeking refuge from the cold in a traditional church (their relationship), presenting false sunny "normal" versions of themselves to each other.

If s5 opens with Mike realizing the Painting Lie and staying in the closet, running into the church takes on significance with Mike. His church surroundings would dramatize that he has an internal conflict as well as dealing with the external threat of the Upside Down outside.

All this is to say: in a show where a theme has been that love can conquer hate, Mike and Will's scene of seeking refuge in a church strongly suggests that they (and their likely relationship) are central to defeating not only the UD, but also the forces of homophobia and fundamentalist hysteria in Hawkins. Mike and Will might actually transform the church (literally and thematically) in s5 -- which has both a tradition of oppressing LGBT+ people AND a tradition of promoting love and compassion and sheltering the downtrodden -- through their own actions. (Btw I have my own theory of how their love confession happens, possibly in the church, for those interested.)

This is just further confirmation that the final shot of s4 really DOES foreshadow the central role that Mike and Will will play in s5, where even the ONE FLASH of lightning (which resembles vines) is aimed at Mike and Will:

-teambyler

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Living with Alfie Solomons

Warnings: Fluff, angst, references to religion and violence.

Domestic Alfie Headcanons

Alfie owns many different properties all over London and Margate. To your shock, only two were in Camden. One was what you could only describe as a “bachelor’s apartment,” which strongly resembled his office with the addition of a lumpy mattress. He took you to see what he considers his “home,” a one-story brick house surrounded by the lush green of the English countryside. Alfie had built this home after deciding, “Me and stairs, right, we ain’t made for each other.” The home also comes with a sweet little guesthouse behind it for his mother to live in. At which point he had a short rant about how his aging mother refuses to move in and still lives in her tiny flat in Camden. 

When he’s not being a “baker,” he does like to do some baking. Real baking. Bread, pudding, cake, pies, you name it. He likes having to measure his ingredients, put on the perfect temperature for the perfect amount of time. He likes to collect cookbooks too, and will have a gleam of almost childlike delight when he finds one he doesn’t already possess. 

Alfie has a tendency to develop very strong interest in a very specific thing and then drop it months later. He retains all he’s learned from it, but it can be a bit annoying as he will fill the house with his latest obsession. A short list of obsessions he’s developed are: American cowboys, jewelry making, stamps, coin collecting, eastern meditation practices, and Italian opera. 

You had to get used to his slight OCD involving things in his home. Everything has a place, and he gets very grumpy if you move something, a spoon for instance, and he can’t immediately find it. 

Children in the neighborhood are equal parts frightened and delighted by Alfie. They think he’s funny but intimidating. He gives out money and gifts to the Jewish families of Camden, and the children know that. Your dear man will huff and puff about the kids bothering him… but also throw them a coin or a sweet when he’s in the mood. Alfie is sort of like Santa Claus and the Boogeyman at the same time to them. After you started living with him, these children started to follow you around the neighborhood to ask questions about him. Some are quite tame, like “Does Mr. Solomons like cake?” or “Is Mr. Solomons your husband? Will you have lots of children?” while others are, “Did Mr. Solomons kidnap you?”

Relationship Headcanons

Mr. Solomons is quiet in his moments of romance with you. He likes to cup your cheek in his palm and touch his forehead to yours. Trace your face with his thumb as if to memorize it by touch. He places slow kisses on your cheeks and lips, gentle and almost reverent. His world is very brutal and without loyalty, you become his sanctuary. He sleeps best with you in his arms or laying directly on top of him. If you need to get up for any reason, expect a lot of complaining in at least three different languages from Alfie. He hates to be left alone in bed now that he’s had you. 

Thomas Shelby had no idea Alfie was married, until Alfie felt like telling him. Tommy now knows far too much about you. And you know far too much about Thomas Shelby. The first time you meet in person is very awkward.

Alfie is the sort of person that likes quality time and good conversation. He likes to go on strolls with you on the beach of Margate when his knee isn’t too painful. Going to the museum or a library are all tip-top dates in Alfie’s opinion. However, his favorite place to take you is back home. Home is where he can make you dinner and listen to you laugh at his strange stories. He loves to banter and bicker with you. You are one of the few people to make him laugh. Everyone at the port knows when Alfie’s had a nice evening with you because he comes to work in such a grand mood. Newer employees have to be warned not to get too comfortable, as he could come in like a bull if you argued that morning. 

He has a bad habit of dropping surprises on you. These surprises normally revolve around security and protection. Alfie will buy or arrange things for you and then completely forget he did it until you storm into his office asking for an explanation. For some reason, this man won’t admit these things are for self-defense. He just acts like it’s perfectly normal to take your lover out to a gun range or teach her how to stab a man between the ribs. He’s just being a fun, quirky man! 

A marriage proposal is never far off, he’s just waiting for you to convert. If you do not want to convert, prepare to be a secret. He is a religious man and he treasures his faith. Alfie will never forsake you (though he may jest) for not believing what he believes. His reason for hiding you is simple, his mother. Mrs. Solomons wouldn’t speak to her son if she found out he was living with an unwed gentile! 

That said, Mrs. Solomons adores you before and after you marry her son. She’s a delightful old Russian woman who is constantly ordering Alfie around. Mainly, she tells him he glares too much, and he needs to give her a grandchild soon. 

You were surprised by how touchy he is behind closed doors. In public, you could pass for an employee with how distant he is before marriage. After marriage, he likes to walk with arms linked. As a married couple, it is more appropriate to be seen touching each other and he takes full advantage of it. As a matter of fact, he’s almost clingy. He’ll call the house from his office and make up an excuse to talk to you. 

[achrams]

𝐑𝐪-𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: On your nightly walk you run into a stranger, who befriending seems a lot more beneficial that previously thought.

𝐂𝐰: Vampires, blood, biting and obviously some good dry humping.

Being a huge fan of all things mythical had always been a part of your life. The idea of living in a world full of creatures that were better and stronger, probably more attractive too, though that just might be your humble opinion, it all filled you with excitement. That fascination had transferred over to your later stages in life, given how often you had hoped to catch one of those creatures of the night. Any would do, you just wanted proof that you were right. That this world had more to offer than plain grey days mashed into one dull blob.

Though despite your biggest efforts nothing seemed to work, nothing  at all. You’ve practically tried everything you know! If you look past the fact that all the information you held had come from reddit of all places, but that's beside the point. What mattered is you didn’t give up. Not an ounce of determination was left unused. Every single day the routine progressed until you didn’t even realise it had become a part of your life.

---

The days had turned to months and those into years. The hope was not lost but it was faltering ever so gradually, the countless tries had formed smaller and smaller acts. If before you went out of your way to really create contraptions or play chemist in your kitchen, then now you murmured a few sentences from a ‘spellbook’ before bed. It wasn’t much but it was something, because you still had some hope. Even if it was little and fragile.

On a fortunate evening, you had decided to take a stroll around the park that surrounded your lousy flat. A sanctuary between the tall rubbled buildings. You didn’t know what urge had pulled you into the crisp nightly air but you decided not to worry your head over it, no need to start overthinking. ‘My body just needs some fresh air..’ That's good enough of a reason for you.

Taking the first step outside was nice and relaxing after having to escape the rotten to the core hallways and clunky elevators of your building. It was a nice reminder that even in a place like this, there was a chance at some peace. A deep breath in, you closed your eyes for a moment. Savouring the gentle breeze and fresh air that rejuvenated your tired body.

The stars looked back at you when you opened your eyes despite liking the use of your other senses. “This is nice… every night should glow like this..” The words had left your lips without any further thought. Seems your heart let the love you held for the night out without seeking permission from your brain. It was a pretty sight were it not covered by clouds or light pollution most of the time.

A crack was heard and you snapped your head behind you. Eyes squinted from the darkness but also to show the concern that threatened to paint the canvas of your face. ‘There's no one here. Calm down.’ You thought to yourself as you took small steps backwards, keeping your eyes in the direction of the suspicious sound. ‘Just in case.’ That���s what you told yourself as the silence you once found peaceful now turned into something more of a lingering tension.

“Ookay, one step at a time..we are good..we are okay. I am totally not being creeped out-!” Your inner thoughts had turned to a monologue, between yourself and this ‘totally not there’ being in a bush, somewhere in the middle of your descending steps. Another step backwards and a plethora of emotions filled your core. Fear, surprise and then relief on top. All because a cat decided to jump out of the bush you had your eyes locked onto.

“Oh thank god..” The words breathed out into the chilly night as you rested your hand on your heart for a moment. You knew for certain that you weren’t insane now, it had just been a cat! Nothing to worry about. Stretching yourself up straight from this odd half hunched position, you turned around to actually go on this walk of yours, instead of fighting with cats that probably wouldn’t even bat an eye in your direction.

As soon as you turned around you got a face full of something hard. “Ow!” Rubbing your hand against your forehead from the impact. A few groans left you before you managed to apologise to whoever you had turned into.

“Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going.” You spoke as you finally opened your eyes to be met with a guy. Not just any guy, a guy whom you have never seen before in your building or anywhere near this outhouse of an area. It was surprising to say the least. Meeting up with a complete stranger in the middle of the night. Totally not suspicious.

“Ah, it's alright. You seemed distracted enough, I should have said something.” You shrugged back at the apology being granted to you. A little sheepishly, letting go of your head to try and get a better look at this mystery man in this low lighting. ‘An accent. Interesting.’

“Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before.” The words were friendly enough despite the eerie way everything had been playing out thus far.

A moment of silence filled the air, sadly the awkward kind. ‘Nevermind..probably not the best idea to try and make friends at midnight-’ Your inner debate about continuing this conversation was interrupted. “Julien. Nice to meet you.”

Taking his held out hand, you shake it as a sign of respect while Julien continues speaking. “I’m visiting family here. Never seen this area before..quite uncanny of a place.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the description. It fits this place a little too well.

“Yeahh, this is what happens when you work just to get by.” A shrug left you as you sigh, stepping by him as you bury your hands into your jacket. “Hope you find this place at least somewhat pleasing.”

One or two steps past Julien and the guy had seemed to scramble from his spot to walk next to you, awfully happy as he kept looking around and sniffing the air a little. To make the walk a little less awkward you coughed and asked, “Sooo, special day?” to which Julien looked at you confused.

“I mean, you said you were here for family and you look happy…?” A noise of understanding left Julien as he nodded and vibrantly began explaining how some family lived nearby and they were planning to get a whole party set up for a feast of sorts. ‘Foreigner things probably.’ You weren’t one to judge so you nodded and listened.

---

The walk went relatively well, it was honestly quite odd how well the two of you got along and so fast too. Almost like this was fate, if you believed in such a thing. Soon enough you considered Julien a friend, going on midnight walks one too many times to count while he was in the area, but it’s not like you minded. It was nice, Julien was nice.

He had a nice smile that always seemed to shine with every joke you did and his hair, oh his hair, the way it moved when he nodded along when you spoke. Last but not least of all his eyes, they seemed to speak more than Julien himself. So playful and warm with the way he looked at you, making you feel less alone in this city you had to call home. 

Though there always seemed to be a hidden glint in his eyes. When you spoke, seemingly distracted with making the stories more interesting with dramatic hand movements, Julien looked at you. No, he didn’t look, he admired. Took in every detail of your being from top to bottom. You noticed it. Julien wasn’t as slick with his hungry glances and licks of his lips than he thought. You felt his eyes on you more than you’d seen him look at the pathway you two were walking on.

One night, however. you had a lot of fun and out of the blue turned to him after having gained the courage to ask, “Do you want to come over?” Julien looked back at you for a good moment before smiling back at you with one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen. “I thought you’d never ask!” That was all you needed to hear to know that Julien wasn’t some stranger who’d leave you behind after his time here.

No clue where the need and courage came from, especially after registering in your mind that Julien seemed to be eating you up with his eyes every time you two were together. Perhaps you had the urge to hopefully prolong this friendship. It was nice to have a friend when all you knew were creepy elders that probably saw things that weren’t there.

---

With a smile you opened your front door and stepped in, holding the door open with a simple, “Come on in, make yourself at home.” The slight anticipation and worry on Julien’s face faded and he walked in. Muttering a small ‘thank you’ as he walked past you and now that you saw him in actual light, he looked even more ethereal than before.

Guiding him in you showed hospitality by offering drinks, foods, snacks, anything to welcome him but his eyes seemed to be glued onto the odd contraptions around your house. Refusing everything you offered with a smile. Your house gave off a rather interesting and floral vibe, but it seemed out of place for this dry block of a city. Embarrassment flushed your face as you stood before Julien, preventing him from eyeing everything so attentively, then looking down at him so he wouldn’t be inclined to stand up from the couch to take a closer look.

“Uhm, those are nothing, don't mind them!” You chuckled awkwardly, yet he seemed to tilt his head to the side to keep taking glances before Julien mumbled through a hearty laugh. “Are you trying to lure something into your home?” His face held an odd smile, like he knew something. You seemed to be too caught up in your embarrassment to notice that Julien seemed proud.

You averted your gaze to save yourself from the embarrassment of having to explain that from a young age you’ve been into mythicals and have been trying to catch one. With a sigh you sat down next to Julien on your couch and started speaking. Hoping to get this out the way so it wouldn't be brought up again. “You know those childhood stories of werewolves and vampires?” One look in Julien’s way and he was already nodding his head along with a small knowing smile. “So, basically I am convinced they’re actually real…and I might have been trying to see one. By…trying to catch one..”

The sigh you let out was deafening and so was the silence that followed, lingering and looming over the room. A chuckle brought your gaze back up to meet with Julien’s, effectively having broken your insecurity filled thoughts. “No luck then?” You had to laugh along at the absurdity of this confession. “No luck.” You let out an airy chuckle while shaking your head. “ Honestly I’m starting to doubt they were real in the first place.”

Julien seems to hum for a moment, his eyes lingering on you for a bit too long. Turning to properly face him, you give a slight brow raise and Julien smiles. “What if I tell you they are real?” His smirk widens and he seems more and more proud. Smug about something you can’t wrap your head around.

Instead of your confusion subsiding it actually increases. A lot. “You don’t have to lie to me to make childhood me happy.” Dismissing what you had heard. You didn’t need pity for something you had decided to not believe in as of 3 minutes ago.

“I’m not lying.” Julien pushes on and moves closer to you on the couch, trying to see when you would catch on. “They are real.” The scoff that left your lips couldn’t be helped. Looking away with a grumble, you had missed the frown that have made it’s way onto Julien’s face.

“Trust me..” Julien whispers oddly close to you now. You hadn’t even noticed the moment he had leaned over to practically kiss all the way up your neck. With a shiver you turn your head to try and look at Julien. Confused why he’s so adamant on having you believe this fantasy.

Within seconds you feel his lips on your neck, pushing you to lie down on the couch while he straddles you. “You see, I am one of these creatures.” Julien continues, his thighs holding you down on the couch while his hot breath fans your skin. “And my god do you smell divine. You probably taste godly too..”

No time was left for you to voice your scepticism and confusion about how you had ended up in this position. Pinned under Julien.  Because as soon as you wanted to say something, to ease the doubt behind your eyes, Julien had pressed his sharp fangs against your skin. Piercing through it with a satisfying rip only you could hear. ‘They are real. What the fuck!?’ That was your initial reaction before it began morphing.

‘Fuuck..’ your second thought was accompanied a sharp breath in, very well, so well in fact that it gave off the idea you had liked it. Which you, surprise surprise, did like. You had never expected to meet a guy, have him be a vampire, become friends, invite him over and then have him feast on you. Pressing your eyes shut as you came to terms with the tingly and slightly burning sensations that came along with being a blood bag for a vampire. 

To Julien’s surprise you didn’t push him off at all, just lying below him. Taking this. All pinned for him. He could hear your heavy breaths and the way your hands had moved to hold his shoulders. Hands tightening around his shoulders when it had become slightly painful, drawing out a low breath of pure delight. A groan if you will.

With slight hesitancy Julien pulled his teeth out from your skin, lapping the treasured bite clean to both save precious blood and to ensure you didn’t stain anything. Then he looked down at your flushed face with a twinge of amusement. His eyes travelled down to where he was straddling you. Your eyes still pressed shut as you’re more concerned with calming your erratic breathing even though you could feel Julien’s eyes travel down your heaving body.

Julien licked his fangs clean and shifted in his place, drawing out another groan from you. “Someone seems to have liked being fed on.” His words smug as he looks down at you, letting his fingers leave feather-like touches against your neck. The bite he had left there. It sent a thrilling sensation through his body. Seeing how you withered and shivered below him. A perfect guy to snack on.

“You’re mighty hard against me.” The words are more teasing than the last, purposefully grinding his hips against your hard on to prove a point. With a whimper you finally opened your eyes, staring at him with mild embarrassment. “Shut up-”

Your bratty protest was easily silenced by a meticulously constructed grind against you. “Shit- mmh..okay fine it..sort of felt good when you did that.” A fang bearing smile made its way onto Julien’s face. He ran his hand up your torso to play with his bite mark again. “That's rather cute. Getting all hard for me from a bite.” 

Julien leaned down to look into your eyes, holding onto your chin to keep you looking at him. The blush and slightly pouty look on you tugged at Julien’s heartstrings. “How bout this..” he proposed, his words sly and clearly in his favour. “You let me drink some more and as a reward I'll help you out with your problem.”

It didn’t take more than a second of consideration from you, because as soon as the words ahad left Julien's mouth you were already nodding. Begging with your actions to keep this going. You didn’t know why, but it felt so good. So good to have Julien feed off you. Not only did you have proof that these creatures were real. You had one right here on top of you. Only an idiot would let such a perfect opportunity go to waste. Aand you happened to be a self proclaimed genius.

A lick up the other side of your neck earned a shiver alongside a small groan. You could feel how Julien smiled against your skin. It was clear that he was enjoying this a lot more than he let on. You were certainly going to put that information to good use. Feeling how his fangs grazed along the delicate skin of a human, you let your hands sneak their way to Julien’s sides while he was distracted.

With a smirk you held him down against you and bucked your hips up. The sudden action made Julien’s fangs enter your system with a small yelp from him. Having Julien connected to you, sucking out your delicious blood, gave you a perfect recipe for satisfaction. 

Keeping him down atop you, you grind your hips up against him. Feeling the way both friction from your movements and the pressure from your jeans add to your straining dick, it was enough to draw out some breaths and shudders here and there. Though the star of the show was Julien and his fangs that were lodged right into you.

Julien in return had pressed his head against you harder, trying to get as much blood from you as he could. Hands holding your shoulders while he sucked on your neck. As a bonus it seems like your grinding had started to affect him and with small pants against your neck Julien began grinding his hips down against your dick. A perfect melody of pleasure and pain. It was wonderful.

Feeling how both of your straining hard ons pressed against one another. The friction from thrusts into nothing and pressure from trying to stimulate your erections made both of you needy. Feeling how your dick twitched in the limiting confines of your pants urged you to keep going. To satisfy yourself like promised by Julien.

Your already breathy and whiny mouth let out a louder whine from the loss of fangs in your neck. Julien was becoming sloppy, too pleasured out of his mind to continue feeding on you. Truth be told he didn’t need to anymore but you just tasted heavenly to him, so an extra snack later on wouldn’t hurt, yeah?

The sight of your neck stained red with iron, flushed face and parted lips added to Julien’s need for release. He pressed himself down harder and faster, desperately grinding against you with renowned determination. You followed along with just as eager moves against Julien as he moved against you. Hands gripping onto Julien’s hips as you murmur, “Pleasepleaseplease- Mmh!”

Feeling the pit in your stomach tighten, grow warm with every mutual thrust against one another. Pants and frantic bucks driving home the pleasure that threatened to consume. Julien moved down to finally lick your dripping neck clean, the sensation of his wet tongue adding to the immense pleasure of a nearing orgasm.

To your surprise however, it seemed that the licked up blood didn’t make it to Julien’s system, but instead was consumed by you. His lips pressing against yours as he forced you to taste yourself. The metallic liquid coating both of your mouths. It was a sudden chance and one that gave the final push.

With a groan into the kiss and a relatively more forceful thrust against Julien, you came with a shudder, feeling how Julien had done the exact same. Shuddering and panting against each other. Body convulsing against the couch as you come down from your high. Julien sat up straight, letting go of the kiss in a sensual way with his lips begging to stay connected to yours. To have your taste a little longer.

Julien breathed heavily on top of you, enjoying the sight of a satisfied human and being a satisfied vampire himself. Both of you letting out heavy whines and pants as blotches of sticky and wet residue slowly seep through both of your pants. It was a little pathetic. At least both of you came, right?

“You taste godly, and I bet you would feel even more exquisite.” Julien panted the words out as he watched you shudder when he touched your softening dick. “Unfortunately, I'm more than full for now.” 

Feeling how your chin was made to face Julien, you forced your eyes open and he smiled back at you. That same damned sweet smile. “I'll be back for a taste soon enough, make sure you rejuvenate yourself.” A quick cheeky kiss was pressed against your lips before Julien got off you. Swiftly moving to the closest exit, which happened to be a window, and leaving through that.

Your unfocused eyes only caught a glimpse of his figure turning to shadows as he disappeared into the night after murmuring something of a ‘Good vampire summoner’.

You were too hazed out of your mind to properly make sense of everything. Panting and overwhelmed, still coming down from your climax. ‘How the fuck did I get myself into this mess?’ You murmur to yourself as you finally let the activities of your day and now vampire filled night take over. Closing your eyes to get some rest and then maybe…hopefully think about this with a clear head tomorrow.

‘...shit.’ You couldn’t fall asleep at all. All you could think about was how it felt to have Julien sink his teeth into you and lap up your blood. Yeah…you better go and take care of your needy erection before you accidently manage to summon an incubus.