#n those shots where it would just focus on his eyes when he was inside the suit like i do love a man w beautiful brown eyes i wont lie

[wayvtual]

i just got back home from watching blue beetle again. i actually need xolo so bad

[singmyaubade]

Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: oh hey... this is kinda based on those cliche 2000's movies where the girl is ugly but not really and she has that glow up or whatever. this was written so quick and not proofread, don't kill me. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

STARTING off your sixth year at Hogwarts being an entirely new person wasn't something that you had planned or expected.

On the inside, you felt exactly the same, the same girl who was bold and could ferociously win a fight when it came to her character.

The same girl who was witty and sarcastic, surprising half of the people around you when you made a joke once in a lifetime.

But on the outside, you didn't have an awkward mis-shaped bob and you no longer wore baggy jackets that didn't do a thing for your figure.

And you didn't hide your face anymore, trying your best to be invisible.

It wasn't that you were shy or that you felt like a loser but you thought social hierarchy was bullshit and the only thing you wanted to focus on was your studies.

You may have been a brave Gryffindor on the inside but on the outside, you had to play the part of a shy mouse as corny as that sounds.

Unfortunately for you, invisibility only tends to last for so long until one moment, you are a nobody and then all eyes are upon you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't heard the Marauders discussing you the previous year, you would have stayed the same.

You had passed by the boys dormitory to give Remus his textbooks back as you always did when you let you borrow when you heard them speaking of the very person behind the door,

"I still have yet to understand why Lily and the rest of them act like she's some charity case," James huffed, "I mean, she's not some sick patient, they only feel the need to pity her because of how she looks."

You always knew that James had a foul mouth but to be speaking about someone like this, it was cruel.

Remus hissed, "That's not nice Prongs,"

"I'm not even saying it to be a dick!" James groaned, "I just mean, I pity her more for the fact that they don't even invite her to anything outside of breakfast and dinner," He explained, causing Remus to go silent.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "That's absolutely horrid."

James reclined on his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just saying, if I were Y/N, I’d be mortified."

Your eyes widened as they began to water, they were speaking about you.

Remus leaned against the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with Lily and the others."

"Moony, seriously," James shot back, sitting up. "Where is Y/N right now, and where are the other girls?" His eyebrow cocked, trying to make his point as Remus silenced.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t we investigate for ourselves?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a flourish. "Alright, we’ve got Lily, Dorcas, Mary, and Marlene all at Hogsmeade, but Y/N is..." His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.

James leaned closer, annoyance creeping into his tone as he grabbed the map, "She's-" He stopped, the color fading from his face.

"Fucking spit it out!" Remus said next as he snatched the map finally and saw that the map had shown that you were right outside their door.

"Shit!" You heard Remus say as he started making his way to the door.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, you quickly moved away from the door, bolting for your room.

Once you made it back to your dorm, you had sinked the floor. You put your hand on your mouth, muffling yourself as you cried silently.

You honestly hated to even say it but you did consider Lily and the rest of them your friends. You had never really thought about how they didn't invite you to places.

And if you were being truthful, they had never asked you to have breakfast or dinner with them.

You had always just assumed that you could join but they never told you to leave or swooshed you off. Another part of you hated how stupid you were, trying to intrude on their private time.

You didn't want to let it get to you what a bunch of seventeen year old boys were saying but it did sting horribly.

But in a way, it also motivated you to be who you were on the inside. You already had the top marks in your entire year and your plan to work in the Ministry after Hogwarts had already been set.

And now your chance to be something at Hogwarts was right in front of you, an opportunity that you couldn't miss.

You had to do it for yourself.

The Marauders had no idea who you truly were or even cared to know. And although Remus was kind to you, you could always see that he never made any effort to be your friend.

Not that you expected him to but it only taught you that they truly thought you were some hopeless case.

And an assignment to make the Marauders bite their tongues was one that you couldn't bare to fail.

After hearing that, you decided to avoid the Marauders for the next month, especially with summer break approaching. To your surprise, you barely saw them outside of classes, never giving them a chance to reach out—even Remus.

And then that summer, everything changed. You let your hair grow past your shoulders, embracing your natural curls instead of straightening them. You started wearing clothes that were trendy and form-fitting, a huge contrast to your old style.

You discovered a newfound love for self-care, enjoying the process far more than you expected. Each day felt like a transformation, and by the end of summer, your mother couldn’t help but notice. “Finally listening to me about your style, huh?” she teased.

You only laughed as you embraced her,

If only she knew what had caused it in the first place.

As you said goodbye to your family, anticipation mingled with dread. You knew the train ride would be the least of your worries, but the welcome dinner and the ceremony ahead felt like they might just be hell reincarnate.

As you entered Hogwarts, you admired it as much as you did when you were a first year. The castle was something you considered a second home and everything about it was magical, there was no doubting that.

A crowd of students, including yourself, moved toward the Great Hall, and you settled into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

You spotted the Marauders and the usual group of girls approaching, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They took their usual spots in front of you, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. James sat beside you, and Lily was directly in front of him.

You never quite understood why they arranged themselves like that, but it hardly mattered in the moment.

They were busy in conversation before James had noticed someone next to him, his eyes widening. You couldn't quite read his face but it seemed like a mix of confusion and flustered.

You stared at him back but he still had yet to mutter a word. You cleared your throat, "Uh hello," You practically whispered.

He snapped back into reality, "Oh sorry, hi," He muttered back.

Silence took over you both as James couldn't find the words of what to say to you.

On one hand, he wanted to call you beautiful, to tell you that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. On the other, he just wanted to stare at you for a few more minutes like a creep.

Lily noticed his gaze and leaned in, smirking. "Excuse my friend; we’re still trying to figure out if he has a brain."

"I thought we solved that decades ago," Marlene chimed in, stifling a laugh.

Lily turned to you with a curious smile. "I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?"

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

You scoffed, "I'm Y/N,"

The entire group looked at you in awe, even the ones who weren't chimed in on the conversation.

"Y/N L/N?" Sirius asked, mouth gaping.

"Yep, that one," You snorted.

They all looked like they had seen a ghost, "You look different," Marlene said as Mary shoved her.

"She means in a good way!" Mary added.

"Uh thanks," You said, awkwardly.

They all continued to stare at you like you were an exhibit in a museum, their eyes scanning you up and down.

"Do you all mind not staring at me?" you asked, trying to break the tension. They all looked away, feigning innocence as they muttered apologies.

"How have you been?" Lily asked, clearly trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, your tone clipped.

You caught the pained expressions on the Marauders' faces, realizing they were the reason for your dismissive attitude.

"That's great," Lily said, forcing a smile.

You felt a wave of frustration at the awkwardness surrouding you and decided it was time to escape. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announced, heading toward the exit before they could respond.

As you walked away, you could already here the mutters and whispers emerging from the table, the fascinating topic being you.

You paced as you heard footsteps trailing behind you, but you ignored them, letting your gaze wander around the castle.

"Y/N!" someone called out, startling you.

You turned to see Sirius, James, and Remus hurrying after you. You only let out a snort before continuing your same way.

A hand suddenly reached around your forearm as you turned to see Remus. You quickly snatched your hand away, finally stopping to look at the group of boys who you despised.

Crossing your arms, you shot them a hostile look. "What?"

"We just wanna—"

"We're so—"

"Listen, we just—"

They all spoke at once, but you scoffed and turned back toward the bathroom, starting to walk away.

You were hoping that they would realize you wanted nothing to do with them but instead, it only made them want to chase you more.

They quickened their pace, and you spun around sharply. "For fuck's sake, what do you want?" you snapped.

James took a breath, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've been thinking about it since you left. I was an awful twat, and you didn't deserve a thing of what I said."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you serious?" You asked as your expression changed to furious, "You basically called me a loser and said that Lily and the rest of them were only hanging out with me out of pity,"

James hissed as your statement, feeling the razor in your voice.

"-And now you all want to act as if I should just forgive you since I don't look the same anymore," You got closer to James's face, "Fuck off."

You turned your heel again and this time, the boys didn't follow you.

You finally entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you struggled to read the expression on your face. You were furious at the Marauders, and the idea of forgiving them felt impossible.

Yet, there was a flicker of gratitude that you felt for the change you’d undergone. You’d gained a new confidence that felt good, but the sting of their cruel words still lingered in your mind.

And you knew that you couldn't let it get to you but knowing they thought that of you, even Remus. It still did things to you that you would never admit out loud.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized it was almost time to head to the dormitory.

The rest of the night had flown by, with first years being introduced to their new home for the next six years while everyone else relaxed in the common room. Despite curfews, fifth years and above knew they could hang out longer—the curfew was mostly for the first years anyway.

"Caput Draconis," you muttered, and the Fat Lady nodded, granting you entrance.

Stepping into the common room, your heart sank as you spotted the last group you wanted to see. They noticed you just as quickly, encouraging you to pick up your pace toward the dorm.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dorcas called out, making you wince as you turned to see her waving.

The Marauders looked down, shame etched on their faces, avoiding your gaze as if you were Medusa.

You approached them slowly, dread settling in your stomach as they eyed you like a science project.

"We were just about to play a fun little game," Dorcas said enticingly, while Marlene snorted beside her.

"I don’t know if Spin the Bottle is a great idea for the first night back," Marlene added, taking a sip of her beer.

"A little peck never hurt anyone," Lily chimed in, clapping her hands together.

Of all people, you’d never expect Lily Evans to approve such a thing. This was the same girl who nearly fainted when she heard about Marlene and Dorcas kissing the previous year.

"I don’t know if this is the game for me," you replied, eyeing the group warily.

"Of course it is!" Lily insisted, but you raised an eyebrow. "Oh my gosh! Not like that, I just mean it's a fun game for us all to play," she quickly added, looking flustered.

Part of you wanted to say no and retreat to your bed, but that was the old you, and you knew it wouldn’t help. This was a new year, and you were determined to embrace new experiences.

Besides, you’d never participated in any scandalous games for all of the years you've been at Hogwarts—it felt like a crime in itself.

So, after a moment’s hesitation, you said, "Okay, sure." The girls erupted in cheers, while the Marauders exchanged worried glances.

What if you had to kiss one of them? Would you refuse and create a scene? Would you want to strangle them for even suggesting it?

The possibilities raced through their mind, but there was no turning back as everyone began to form a circle.

As you sat in the circle, a shiver of nervousness enveloped you. You had never kissed anyone before and the whole thought made you nervous within itself.

Don't get it wrong, you've had chances but they never seemed right and you certainly weren't kissing Matthew Trunchbull underneath the bleachers of the Quidditch field.

So when you got offered a shot of firewhiskey to cool your nerves by Marlene, you took it happily as it burned down your throat.

You brushed off all the negative thoughts entering your mind,

What really is the worst thing that could happen?

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

Hello, may I request a #15 with Sergei Kravinoff from the prompts?

Thank you.

You got it hon. I hope this hits the spot for you. ★

𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙚

Sergei Kravinoff x Submissive!F!Reader

◢ Genre: Prompt Request — Suitable For Adults Only. Minors will be blocked.

◢ Warnings: 18+ only, please. AFAB Reader. PWP (maybe slight plotting, mostly smut). Angst. The reader is referred to as a property of sorts. Submissive reader. Reader being defiant. Being dominated by Sergei. Manhandling of the reader. Sexual Choking (don't try unless you know what you are doing). Ripping clothes off reader. P-in-V. Dirty Talk. Orgasm denial. Internal ejaculation.

◢ Word Count: 1.6K

◢ A/N: Gif was made by me, please credit me if you use it. Likes are enjoyed. Reblogs are always greatly appreciated. And I am always down to hear what you think.

2K Follower Prompt List

"I'm not your property." You spit at him, an anger in your voice that continued the argument that was already going on. Sergei turns to look at you. There was confusion on his face. His brow furrows heavily. The tension in his shoulders spreads through his body. He lets out a heavy breath, and you can see the way his muscles move heavily with movements. The Russian was taken aback by your words.

"Since when?" He growls at you. "Since I say so. I'm in charge of me. Not you."

Sergei blinks, his head tilting slightly. He was trying to process your words, and they weren't sinking in. Since the start of your relationship with him, it had been clear where your place was with him. He was in charge. He says jump and you are supposed to say 'yes sir, how high'. But today, he might have struck a nerve with you that sent you into this state. Maybe you just needed a good reminder of how this relationship with him worked. Reaching up, Sergei runs his fingers over his lips, thinking.

"You have one chance to correct yourself." He says.

Those were words you had never heard out of his mouth. But your arms crossed in defiance. You stand your ground, putting your foot down on the matter. He could read the brat in your body language. It would be a lie to say that a part of him wasn't turned on by it. You were normally such a good girl, and here you were with your big girl panties on thinking that you could call the shots simply because you were frustrated with him. Angry even. Eventually, he might realize that he was an asshole, but right now the only thing he could focus on was putting you back into your place. To hear you moaning and pining for him like the simple creature you are.

It's a matter of seconds and his left hand is around your throat. He catches you off guard and you reach up, grabbing at his arm. Your eyes go wide, but you don't feel unsafe. You have never felt unsafe with the man, and truthfully he'd never hurt you. Not in a way you didn't enjoy, anyway. You can feel his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck. He's limiting the blood flow, causing you to feel a weirdly euphoric feeling. You tense and relax at the same time. His eyes meet yours with an intense stare and before you have the chance to respond, Sergei is gripping your shirt with his free hand. You hear the sound of ripping fabric from your body. He shreds it with ease, removing it from your body, and exposing your upper half.

A slight smirk comes to his face. You can see the corner of his mouth twitch slightly at the sight of you like this. He likes it, feeling the authority over you coursing through his veins like a slight adrenaline high. He backs you up against the wall, his hand pinning you by your neck to it. His free hand goes to your panties, ripping the sides of them and removing them from you. You feel as thin fabric slides down the inside of your legs and to the floor at your feet. For that brief moment, you both stare at each other.

It wasn't the first time you had been manhandled by the brute, but it was the first time in this situation. You feel your mind slipping into a state of submission, realizing that he was about to correct the poor choice of words that came from you. The hand against your throat loosens slightly before it tightens again. His free hand moves to his black pants, freeing himself from it. Sergei's hard, already at attention, and aching to remind you exactly where you belong. You can feel your mouth water in anticipation and you're already becoming slick between your legs. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. The emotions went from angry and frustrated to, utter desire to feel that correction. All it took was the simple actions of a hand around your throat and that piercing gaze to lock with yours.

His movements are quick as you feel the hand go from your throat to your hips. He lifts you up with ease, positioning you quickly so that he can thrust himself up into you. You feel a wave of heat wash over your body as your skin becomes sensitive. He fills you quickly, bringing your hips to his as his entire length presses into you. He slams you against the wall slightly, growling as he feels the way your body flexes around him. You let out a moan that causes Sergei to growl against the crook of your neck. This wasn't about you, but he still wanted to hear those moans. They fueled him to start pumping into with an aggressive nature.

Your hands go to brace themselves, but you feel like you don't know where to put them. They grip his arms, his shoulders. You try and hold on as he starts to pump away. The sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room. You can't contain the noises coming from your lips as you start to moan louder, and louder with each almost slightly painful thrust between your legs. He was using your hole for his own pleasure, making sure you were aware that it was his. Your body is his. Your mind is his. He was going to do with it as he pleased. You weren't going to stand there and tell him that you weren't his. You brought out that deeply primal dom in his body, he was making sure you felt it and knew it.

The louder you became, the harder he started to thrust. You could feel the base of him meeting at your swollen cunt, that tease of sensation that caused your body to tremble in his strong grip. He noticed it, growling at you slightly. His fingertips pressed into your thighs and lower ass with every intention of leaving little painful bruises for you to remember later.

"Don't you dare cum." He growled into your ear. "You haven't earned that." He added.

"But..." You went to plead with him as your tone whimpers for him. Were you even going to be able to stop yourself from doing that? He growled again, pressing you against the wall a little more. His head shakes with a no.

"Whose hole is that?" He asks deeply, groaning slightly. "Y-yours!" You cry out, feeling a hard thrust up into you. "Say it again." He snaps at you. "It's yours! My hole is yours!" You say, your fingers pressing into his skin as you continue to try and brace yourself.

He growls again, moaning at the end of it, almost as if he was approving of what was said without having to say it. He adjusts himself slightly, moving your weight so that he can stop thrusting. He moves your body for you, bouncing you along his length with such ease, his hand bracing you with your thighs a little more. He was using you, every bit of you for his own satisfaction. You could feel the tension in his shoulders and arms. You can tell there were bruises already starting to form from his fingers.

You do your best to hold off a finish, feeling as sweet spots were hit. Your body can't help but tremble, which adds fuel to his fire. He bounces you faster, harder, using how he moved your body to milk himself into you. Being with him long enough made it easy to read his body language, and he was starting to reach that finish with a goal in mind. You wanted so badly to finish with him, to finish at all, but the idea of him telling you that you weren't allowed sent a need through your mind. Let him use you, let him get that point across and maybe, just maybe you can earn a finish later.

Sergei's growling and moaning become more intense, becoming more frequent as he feels that building pressure. He wasn't holding back. That wasn't the point of any of this. He was going to be clear about where you stood in this relationship with him. He felt that heavy twitch in his cock, and his fingers press even harder into your skin as he braces you against the wall once more and buries himself deeply in between your legs. Your fingers press into his skin, nails digging into him as you fight off the urge to finish with him. You can feel his seed start to fill you, the warmth of it seeping out between the flesh that met his. He pressed as deeply as he could, twitching heavily as he made sure you took every last drop of him.

A hand moves back to your neck as he pulls from you. There is a mess between your legs, you can feel it. He lowers you back to your feet, the hand moving to grip your jaw and he forces you to look deeply into his eyes. At first, there is silence. You both stare at each other as he observes the way you are going to react to him, to all of this. There is no negative reaction, maybe a slight look of shock, but you can feel this deeper connection with him. That frustrated brat mode had faded away, and you're putty in his hands.

"You're mine." He says, making sure that the words are loud and clear. "You're mine in every sense of the term. Don't think I am done correcting you. I'm not."

Extra Tags: @voxmortuus

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.2)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Ororo Munroe, Mystique, Magik, Colossus & Sunspot

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Being in a relationship with Pietro Maximoff was like living life at lightning speed—quite literally. His world was always in motion, and being with him meant constantly adapting to the rapid pace of his thoughts and actions. But beneath his fast-talking, sometimes brash exterior, you found someone who was deeply caring, even if his way of showing it was a little unconventional. He adored you, always racing back to you after a mission or zipping out to grab your favorite food when you were feeling down. But sometimes, Pietro’s powers got the best of him.

Today had been one of those days. It started out fine—Pietro had taken you on a whirlwind day trip to Paris, as he often did, running across the Atlantic in the blink of an eye. You had laughed as he effortlessly carried you through the streets, dodging between pedestrians, never once bumping into anyone. The two of you had spent hours exploring the city, grabbing pastries from the corner café, and watching the sunset by the Seine.

But on the way back to the mansion, something went wrong.

Pietro, in his typical rush, had underestimated just how tired he was. He carried you back across the ocean, but this time, his focus slipped for just a second. That second was all it took.

One moment you were in his arms, the wind whipping through your hair, and the next you were falling. The blur of the world slowed into a terrifying clarity as your body hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and pain flared through your side. For a moment, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, Pietro was there, his face pale with fear. He was kneeling beside you, his hands hovering over you but not touching, as if afraid his very presence would break you further.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, his usual confidence and swagger gone, replaced by sheer panic. “Oh god, I—I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—”

You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made you gasp. Pietro’s hands immediately shot forward, but then he froze, torn between wanting to help and being terrified of making things worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve never… I didn’t think this would happen. I’m so stupid! I—”

“Pietro,” you gasped, forcing a weak smile. “It was an accident.”

He shook his head furiously, his silver hair falling into his eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t careful. I was too fast. I always do this—”

“Hey, stop.” You reached out, grabbing his wrist to ground him. “I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

His eyes, wide and filled with guilt, locked onto yours. For once, Pietro didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t have a joke or a grin to deflect. He looked devastated, as if the very thought of hurting you had broken something inside him.

“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You… you’re everything to me, and I… I hurt you.”

You gently pulled his hand toward you, resting it over your heart. “Pietro, I trust you. Always. This was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone.”

Pietro’s face crumpled, and he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips trembled against your skin, and you felt his breath hitch.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll never let this happen again.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Being with Wanda was like stepping into a world where magic and reality blurred together. You were always mesmerized by the way her crimson energy glowed at her fingertips, the way she could bend the world to her will, her power immense but her heart so fragile. You’d been through a lot together, and you’d come to understand the weight of her power, the burden she carried with each spell cast, each alteration of reality. But despite her best efforts, sometimes things spiraled out of control.

Today, it had started as a simple, quiet day in your shared apartment. Wanda had been in a particularly good mood, her laughter filling the room as she practiced her magic casually. She’d been making small changes to the space—coloring the walls with a wave of her hand, rearranging furniture with a flick of her wrist, changing a painting on the wall just for fun. You’d always admired how natural her magic was to her, as if it were an extension of her being.

"Look at this!" Wanda giggled, twirling around as she summoned a cluster of glowing red orbs that danced in the air between you. You smiled, watching her joy with an affectionate gaze. She was so radiant when she let her guard down, when she allowed herself to play without worry.

You reached out, trying to touch one of the floating orbs, but suddenly, her expression shifted. Something flickered in her eyes—panic, uncertainty—and the magic faltered.

Before you could react, the energy exploded outward in a burst of chaotic force. You were thrown back, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. The wind was knocked out of you, and pain seared through your back and head as you crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented.

“Y/N!” Wanda’s voice was filled with horror as she rushed toward you, her crimson energy quickly dissipating as she knelt by your side, her hands hovering over you. “Oh my God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to—I lost control—”

You winced, trying to catch your breath as you pushed yourself up, but every movement sent sharp pain radiating through your body. Wanda’s hands trembled as she touched your arm lightly, afraid to cause any more harm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—my magic—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, even though you were still catching your breath, your body aching from the impact. You managed a weak smile, reaching up to touch her hand. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Wanda’s face was pale, her green eyes wide with guilt and fear. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t control it sometimes, and this is exactly what I was afraid of. I hurt you. I could have—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her gloved hands to her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Wanda…” you breathed, slowly pulling yourself into a sitting position despite the pain. You cupped her cheek gently, brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. “You didn’t lose control. It was an accident. I’m fine.”

She shook her head, her chest tight with emotion as she looked at you, her guilt weighing heavily on her. “I could have done worse. What if next time it’s worse? I can’t live with myself if—”

You silenced her with a soft kiss on her forehead, your touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. I trust you. We’ll work through this. You have more control than you think, Wanda. I’ve seen you do amazing things, and I know you can handle this.”

Her tears slowed as she gazed at you, her heart swelling with love and guilt, her hands carefully cradling your face. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be so careful. I promise, I’ll never hurt you again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, leaning into her touch, knowing that together, you could face anything—even the occasional chaos of her powers.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Your relationship with Charles Xavier was built on a deep, unspoken understanding. His mind was a marvel—brilliant, compassionate, but weighed down by the burden of leading the X-Men and carrying the future of mutantkind on his shoulders. You loved him for his wisdom, his kindness, and his unwavering dedication to his ideals. But with his incredible psychic abilities came risks, especially in moments when his concentration slipped, when the weight of his mental strain became too much.

The day had started like any other. You had been sitting across from Charles in his study, watching him as he went through a pile of documents. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read over reports from Cerebro, the faint hum of the machine in the background. You could tell he was tired, the mental strain from constant use of his powers weighing on him. He rarely admitted it, but you could always sense when he needed rest.

"Charles," you said softly, setting your book aside. "You’ve been working too hard. You need a break."

He glanced up from his papers, offering you a small, tired smile. "You worry too much about me," he said, though the affection in his voice was clear. "But I appreciate it."

Before you could reply, something shifted. Charles’s expression grew distant, his eyes glazing over as his mind seemed to drift away. You had seen this before—when Cerebro pulled him into a deep telepathic connection, when his mind traveled across the globe in search of new mutants.

But this time, something went wrong.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through your head, so intense it felt like your skull was being split apart. You gasped, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion overwhelmed your senses. Images flashed before your eyes—disjointed, chaotic thoughts that weren’t your own. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, your body wracked with the intense pressure of Charles’s mind accidentally invading yours.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

You collapsed into the chair, gasping for air as the pain ebbed away, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. Charles was immediately by your side, his wheelchair rolling quickly to you, his face filled with horror and guilt.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I—I didn’t mean to—are you alright?”

You blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from your mind as you looked up at him. His hands were trembling slightly, something you had never seen before. The great Charles Xavier, always calm and composed, was visibly shaken.

“It was an accident,” you managed to say, though your head still pounded from the psychic overload. “I’m okay.”

Charles shook his head, his guilt written plainly across his features. “No. I wasn’t careful. I—my mind slipped, and I hurt you. I should have been more aware. I…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You reached out, placing a hand over his, trying to convey your forgiveness through your touch. “Charles, it’s okay. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. I’m fine. Really.”

He looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes, the weight of centuries of knowledge and responsibility pressing down on him. “I could have done much worse. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would never… I would never want to harm you.”

“I know,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “You’ve been carrying so much. It’s no wonder your mind slipped. But I’m not afraid of you, Charles. I never will be.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “You are far too forgiving, my love. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve everything,” you said softly, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips, reassuring him with your touch. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Let me help you.”

He gazed at you with such deep gratitude, his hand brushing your cheek softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, knowing that, no matter what, you would always be by his side.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

You’ve always admired Hank’s intelligence and his unparalleled kindness. For someone so physically imposing, he was remarkably gentle, both in mind and heart. Being with him had been a gift, his endless curiosity and deep compassion bringing a unique sense of warmth into your life. You loved watching him in the lab, his mind constantly at work as he balanced his brilliant scientific endeavors with his more primal, physical side.

Today was no different, except for one thing. He’d been stressed recently, working long hours in his lab to perfect a new serum, one that could enhance mutant abilities without adverse side effects. He was meticulous, often pushing himself too hard, and you could see the toll it was taking on him.

“Love, you’ve been at this for hours,” you said, leaning against the doorframe of the lab, watching as he adjusted some delicate equipment. His large, fur-covered hands moved with surprising precision. “You should take a break.”

Hank glanced up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he offered you a weary smile. “I’m almost finished,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with both affection and fatigue. “Just a few more calculations, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

You sighed, knowing how hard it was to pull him away when he was so focused. Still, you couldn’t help but worry. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

He looked up from his work, his blue eyes softening as he reached for your hand, pulling you close. “You always know how to take care of me,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I promise, just a little longer.”

You smiled, resting your head against his broad chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heart. But as you pulled away to give him space, something unexpected happened.

A sudden crash echoed through the lab. One of Hank’s devices, an experimental generator, sputtered and sparked. Hank reacted instantly, his instincts taking over as he lunged forward to stop the malfunction. But in his haste, he misjudged his own strength.

Before you could react, his powerful arm swung out, hitting you square in the side. The force of the blow sent you flying into a nearby table, your body crashing against the hard surface. Pain shot through you, sharp and unforgiving, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Hank’s voice was filled with horror as he rushed to your side, his hands shaking as he carefully lifted you into his arms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you—are you alright?”

You winced, trying to catch your breath, the pain in your ribs making it hard to move. “I’m… okay,” you managed, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the impact. “It was an accident.”

Hank’s face was a mixture of guilt and fear as he cradled you against his chest, his large hands carefully checking you for injuries. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—sometimes I forget how strong I am.”

You could see the anguish in his eyes, the way his self-loathing threatened to consume him. He had always been so careful with you, so aware of his strength and size. To have hurt you, even by accident, was his worst nightmare.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing through his thick fur. “I’ll be okay, Hank. It’s not your fault.”

But he shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I should have been more careful. I—” His voice broke, and he pulled you closer, his arms trembling as he held you. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, trying to soothe his guilt with your touch. “I trust you,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and reassurance. “I’ll always trust you.”

Hank held you close, his heart aching with both love and guilt, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this never happened again.

Emma Frost

Being with Emma Frost was never simple. She was a woman of many layers, her sharp intellect and cold exterior often hiding the vulnerability and passion that lay beneath. But you knew her better than anyone. You’d seen the cracks in her icy façade, the warmth she reserved only for you. Emma was fiercely protective, but she also had her moments of weakness, and today, that weakness had shown itself in the worst way.

You were in the Danger Room, watching her train. Emma was skilled, both in her telepathy and her diamond form, and she took pride in her ability to protect herself and those she cared about. You had always admired her strength, but you also knew how much pressure she put on herself to be perfect.

“Darling, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you called out, leaning against the control panel as she finished a particularly brutal round of training simulations. “You’re already incredible.”

Emma smirked, her blue eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered over to you, her body shimmering as she shifted out of her diamond form. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she purred, though there was a hint of tension in her voice.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Are you okay?”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “There’s… a lot on my mind.”

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here.”

For a moment, Emma softened, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability she rarely showed. But then, something shifted. Her telepathy flared without warning, a sharp, unintentional burst of psychic energy hitting you like a tidal wave. Your mind was flooded with overwhelming thoughts and emotions—fear, pain, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm.

You cried out, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion tore through your mind, leaving you gasping for air. The pressure was unbearable, your thoughts splintering as Emma’s powers overwhelmed your senses.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Emma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done, her hands shaking as she reached for you. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You staggered, still reeling from the psychic onslaught, but you managed to steady yourself, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the aftershock. “It was an accident.”

Emma’s usually composed expression crumbled, her icy exterior shattering as guilt washed over her. “I hurt you,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “I swore I’d never let that happen.”

You reached out, gently touching her cheek, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of her face. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, your voice filled with understanding. “You were overwhelmed. I get it.”

But Emma shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have been stronger. I should have controlled it. I—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, her shoulders tense with guilt.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her from behind, resting your head against her shoulder. “Emma, you don’t have to be perfect. I love you for who you are, flaws and all. I’m not afraid of you.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into your embrace as the tension slowly melted away. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You deserve everything.”

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Ororo was breathtaking in every sense. From the calm in her voice to the ferocity of her powers, she was like the perfect storm—gentle and violent, all at once. You had fallen in love with her grace, her wisdom, and the way she treated you like the calm at the eye of her whirlwind. But even the most controlled storm can lose its way, and today, you found yourself caught in the middle of one.

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon at Xavier’s mansion. Ororo had been training in the backyard, working on perfecting her connection with the elements as she often did. You sat nearby, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, the rhythmic sound of the wind responding to her commands soothing your nerves.

“Be careful, love,” you called out with a teasing smile. “You know how you get when you push yourself too hard.”

Ororo’s golden eyes met yours, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve got everything under control, darling,” she reassured you, her voice like a summer breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of rain.

You relaxed into the moment, watching as she raised her arms to the sky, commanding the clouds to shift, the wind to change direction. You were used to this—Ororo playing with the elements like a conductor leading an orchestra. But today, something felt off. The air grew heavier, the skies darker, and a sense of tension filled the space around you.

Suddenly, without warning, a crack of thunder split the sky. You barely had time to react before a sudden gust of wind, stronger than any you’d ever felt, slammed into you, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, pain radiating through your body as the wind continued to rage, swirling around you with an almost tangible fury.

“Y/N!” Ororo’s voice broke through the chaos, panic evident in her tone.

She was by your side in an instant, the storm vanishing as quickly as it had come. You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made it difficult to breathe. Ororo’s hands were gentle but frantic as she helped you sit up, her face pale with fear.

“I didn’t mean to—oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she touched your cheek, her fingers soft against your skin. ���I lost control for just a moment. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You winced but managed a small smile, reaching up to place your hand over hers. “It’s okay, Ororo,” you said, though your voice was weak. “It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Ororo shook her head, her eyes filled with guilt and self-reproach. “I should have been more careful. I never should have put you at risk like that.” She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively as though she could shield you from the storm that had already passed.

“I trust you,” you whispered, resting your head against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

Ororo held you tightly, her breath shaky as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never let it happen again,” she promised, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of her storm, you knew that she meant every word.

Raven Darkholme (Mystique)

Loving Raven had always been a risk. Her world was filled with danger, deception, and ever-changing faces. But you had fallen for her, despite it all, because beneath her tough exterior was someone you loved with all your heart. Still, there were moments when her powers—her ability to shift and change—created unintended consequences.

Today had been one of those days. You and Raven were in the middle of a mission, something quick and straightforward. But things had gone wrong. In the heat of the battle, you had gotten too close, and without realizing it, Raven had shifted into a form with a sharper edge—literally. Her arm, now covered in razor-like scales, brushed against your side as she fought off an enemy, and you felt a searing pain slice through your skin.

You gasped, stumbling back as you clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers, and Raven’s eyes immediately snapped to you. Her form shifted back into her usual self, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in her eyes.

"Y/N!" she called out, her voice shaking with an emotion she rarely showed—panic. She was at your side in an instant, her hands already on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "I didn’t see you… I didn’t realize…" Her voice was frantic, and the guilt that clouded her expression was unlike anything you’d seen before.

"It’s okay," you said, wincing as the pain shot through you. Your vision blurred slightly, but you forced yourself to smile up at her. "It was an accident."

But Raven wasn’t hearing it. "I’m supposed to protect you," she muttered, her voice thick with frustration and anger—though not at you, at herself. "I’m supposed to be in control, and I hurt you."

You placed your hand over hers, despite the pain. "Raven, it was a mistake. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Her jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle she was fighting. Raven prided herself on being in control, on never letting her emotions—or her powers—slip. But this time, she had, and it was eating her up inside.

"I won’t let this happen again," she whispered, her voice hard with determination as she pressed her forehead against yours. "I won’t lose control like that again."

You smiled softly, despite the pain radiating from your wound. "I know you won’t," you whispered back, your hand gently squeezing hers. "I trust you, Raven. I always will."

Raven’s eyes softened at your words, and she carefully lifted you into her arms, her movements gentle despite her strength. As she carried you to safety, you could feel the tension in her body, the way she held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

The wound would heal, but the love between you and Raven only deepened. She became even more protective of you after that day, never letting her guard down again when you were near. But through it all, the bond between you remained unbreakable.

Illyana Rasputin (Magik)

You knew Illyana had a complicated relationship with her powers, especially with the dark side of Limbo that constantly pulled at her. Despite this, you loved her fiercely, and she loved you with a passion that could light up even the darkest realms. She was careful around you, more than anyone else, but today, things had slipped out of her control.

You had been helping her train, something simple, nothing too intense. But the energies of Limbo were unpredictable, and without warning, a surge of dark magic shot out from her sword, the edge of it grazing your arm. The moment it hit, a burning sensation spread up your skin, and you let out a gasp, staggering backward as the pain ripped through you.

Illyana’s eyes flared with panic, and within seconds, she was at your side, her sword vanishing into thin air. "Y/N!" she cried, her voice breaking as she grabbed your shoulders, her hands trembling. "I didn’t mean to! I— I lost control for a second!"

You winced, feeling the magic burn deeper into your flesh, but you forced a smile through the pain. "I know," you whispered, your hand coming up to rest on hers. "I know, Illyana. It’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay to her. Her eyes were wide with fear, with guilt. "No… no, it’s not. I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have let this happen." Her fingers traced the burn on your arm, her magic already working to heal it, but the regret in her expression remained.

You could see the darkness lurking just behind her eyes, the worry that she might hurt you again. "Illyana, listen to me." You gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet your gaze. "I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to. This doesn’t change how I feel about you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of her that she rarely let anyone else see. She kissed your forehead softly, her lips lingering there as if trying to absorb your pain. "I love you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to hurt you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "You won’t. I know you, Illyana. You’re stronger than the darkness."

She nodded slowly, her arms wrapping around you tightly. From that moment on, she became even more protective, determined to never let her powers slip around you again. And through it all, your love for her only grew stronger.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

The weight of Piotr's presence always made you feel safe, but today, that same strength was what had hurt you. You and Piotr had decided to engage in some light sparring in the Danger Room, a regular part of your routine since you liked to train together. Piotr, in his towering, metal form, was always so careful with you, knowing the tremendous strength he carried. But today, something went wrong.

The match had been going smoothly until you tried to land a playful punch on his side, which he quickly blocked. But his reflexes, powerful and fast, caught you off guard. He turned, his metal fist too swift and forceful, and connected with your shoulder before either of you could stop it. The impact was immediate, sending a shock of pain through your body and knocking you to the ground.

You gasped in shock, clutching your shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath. "Y/N!" Piotr's voice was laced with panic as he immediately knelt beside you, his large metallic hands trembling as he reached for you. "I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. Are you hurt badly?" His deep, accented voice was almost a whisper as his guilt consumed him.

The pain was sharp, but you forced yourself to give him a reassuring smile, though it was more of a grimace. "I’m okay," you managed to say, though the pain in your shoulder said otherwise. You knew Piotr would never intentionally hurt you, but the guilt that filled his eyes was almost unbearable.

"I should never have agreed to spar with you," Piotr muttered, his voice full of self-reproach. His hands hovered over your body, unsure of where to touch, afraid of causing you further harm. "I’m too dangerous. I hurt you. I could’ve—"

"Piotr, stop," you interrupted softly, reaching up with your good arm to rest your hand against his cool, metal cheek. "It was an accident. You’d never hurt me on purpose."

He closed his eyes at your touch, but the pain in his expression didn’t lessen. "You are too precious to me," he whispered, his accent thick with emotion. "I cannot forgive myself for this."

Despite the pain, you leaned into his embrace as he carefully lifted you in his arms. His metal skin was cool against your body, but you could still feel the warmth of his love beneath it. "I know you love me, Piotr," you said, resting your head against his broad chest. "That’s why I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Piotr carried you to the med bay, never once letting you go. Even though the pain in your shoulder would take time to heal, the bond between you and Piotr only grew stronger. He became even more protective of you, but the love and devotion he showed was something that would never waver.

Roberto Da Costa (Sunspot)

Roberto’s energy had always been one of the things that attracted you to him. His fire, his passion, his vibrancy—he was like the sun, impossible to resist. But today, that same energy had gone out of control. You and Roberto were training together, as usual, but he had been pushing himself harder than normal, his powers flaring hotter and wilder than you had ever seen before.

You had been standing too close when it happened—a massive surge of solar energy burst from Roberto’s body, and before you could react, the heat slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. The burning pain spread through your chest and arms, and you cried out in shock, clutching at your skin as it stung from the impact.

"Y/N!" Roberto’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed over to you, his hands still glowing with the residual energy from the blast. "Oh god, are you okay? I—" He knelt beside you, his usually confident demeanor shattered as he took in the sight of you, wincing from the pain.

You tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace, as you lay on the ground, the heat from the blast still radiating through your skin. "I’m okay," you said weakly, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. The burn was painful, but the look of guilt on Roberto’s face was worse.

"I didn’t mean to," Roberto said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I lost control for a second, I swear. I would never… I’d never hurt you on purpose." His hands hovered over you, glowing with warmth but not daring to touch you, as if afraid he’d burn you again.

"I know, Roberto," you said, your voice soft but filled with reassurance. "I know you didn’t mean to."

He shook his head, his dark eyes filled with regret. "I should’ve been more careful. I could’ve hurt you so much worse." He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. "I can’t believe I let this happen."

You reached up with your uninjured hand, gently placing it on his arm. "You didn’t let anything happen," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the pain. "It was an accident. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

Roberto’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled shakily. "I love you so much, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what I’d do if I really hurt you."

You smiled softly, despite the burn, and pulled him closer to you. "I love you too," you whispered back. "And you didn’t hurt me on purpose. That’s all that matters."

Roberto carefully helped you up, his arms gentle but protective as he guided you to the med bay. The pain would fade in time, but the love between you and Roberto only grew stronger. He was more careful with his powers around you from that day on, but the bond between you remained unbreakable.

[sageispunk]

are you ever gonna post the method man fics 😩

what's it gonna be? (18+)

pairing: Silas P. Silas x black!reader

↳ When two friends finally get a night alone...

wordcount: 2.5k+

warnings: this is all smut fr, fwb to lovers, daddy kink!!!, P in V sex, reader is referred to as "girl" "ma" "mama" "boo", squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, dom! reader for a sec, light choking, hint at/mention of weed use, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, nipple play...lmk if i missed any!!

A/N: ask and you shall receive!! (sorry for the wait though, i've had this sitting unfinished for a min cause i didn't know if anyone actually wanted it LMAO) i hope u like it anon and anyone else, lmk how u feel in the comments!! pls like + reblog as well MWAH 🫶🏾

“Damn girl…” 

Silas groaned below you, with his big hands gripping your hips as you moved up and down his length. The two of you locked desperate eyes, communicating nothing but everything at the same time.

You needed this as much as he did, especially once that familiar green haze behind your eyes set in. You were on your feet, using the strength in your legs and knees to increase your pace on him. With each bounce you could feel him deep inside your belly, touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. 

You also couldn't figure out how his tall self managed to squeeze into your twin XL dorm bed, but you weren’t in any position to question it either. The room was dark, only illuminated by the dim screen of your television on the dresser, in addition to the red LED lights on the wall above you. Whichever tv show began when your movie went off went unnoticed, their conversations drowned out by the breathy pants escaping your lips. 

The lewd sounds filling up the room had you both in heaven. Beautiful brown bodies under that rouge coloring– moaning, grunting, smacking, and squishing. Like one of those early 2000s classic Ebony films–just nasty. You could only hope no one could hear from outside your door. 

You moved your hips up and down, taking him all the way down to the base each time, biting your lip with a debauched look on your face. You watched as Silas moaned, loud and needy and uncaring, his eyes rolling back into his head. Your confidence shot up through the roof, leading you to take a little more control. You held his jaw with your dominant hand, bringing your lips up to his earlobe and letting your mouth run off whatever popped into your head, not leaving a second to second guess yourself. 

“Does it feel good when I do it like that?”

With your soft, teasing voice in his ears, you squeezed your inner walls, slowing yourself a bit and ignoring that growing burn in your thighs. “You betta stop it, girl..” His voice came out grunted, rough. His fingers dug into your hips as he struggled to hold onto his nut, a deep moan vibrating through his chest. 

“What about when I do it like that? Hmm?”

You felt him nodding against your skin before his hips stuttered, kissing your spot perfectly for only  a split second. Your body jerked up, momentarily frozen around him as your vision went white. “Silas, FUCK, I’m–!!!”

“Yeahhh, let it out baby..” He murmured, a goofy, cocky grin spreading across his face. Even then, you could still tell that he was struggling to hold on, with your pussy pulsing,  nearly suffocating him like a goddamn boa constrictor. 

Silas kept his eyes on you, his focus wandering up and down, and back and forth, his mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to fixate on only one part of you. He loved your thighs–every time you’d wear this particular pair of biker shorts that defined each of your curves, he would have to mentally go elsewhere just to keep from bursting out his jeans.

Your breasts also held a special place in his heart, especially in those times where he’d seek you out for comfort, resting against the soft, cushiony headrest that your chest provided. Similarly, the softness of your tummy was something he could never turn down, he’d be touching on it every time you showed a little extra skin in a crop top or a backless dress.

As you slowed down to a stop on top of him, he let his hands wander. His left hand traveled up your side, slowly, taking in your beautiful map of scars and stretch marks on the way. Once his thick fingers reached your breasts, they traced around your mocha areolas before latching onto your hardened nipples. Silas rubbed and pinched lightly, alternating between teasing each as he watched the euphoric haze grow across your face. 

“Silas…” You still were sensitive from your sudden orgasm, slightly trembling from the aftershocks as he touched you. Nevertheless, that warmth and excitement began to flood your core once again, that hunger taking over your every thought. His hard dick throbbing eight inches deep inside your core didn't help either. But you needed more, you craved to see him, feel him come undone inside of you. 

You gasped as his right hand made its way to your throat, keeping your gaze steadily on his. The grip of his fingers on your skin had you feeling weak, and under his spell. And his voice, all deep and rough and dripping with desire.

“I gotchu mama, just tell me what you need..” Your eyes scanned over his face, taking in the glaze of sweat on his forehead, above his furrowed eyebrows, as well as the slight pout in his plump bottom lip. You wanted to bite it so bad. “Tell daddy what you need, baby, I gotta hear you.”

Silas repeating the nickname you accidentally gave him the first time you’d hooked up made your tummy flutter. You couldn’t believe it yourself when the word flew out your mouth, while you blurredly watched him take you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror in some frat party bathroom. From then he never let you forget it. He always made sure to remind you of his special status, without fail making you cum harder than anyone else ever had, every single time. 

“Cum in me, Si...please.” 

The plea fell from your lips as you lazily swirled your hips in his lap, enjoying the way his curved length rubbed deliciously against all your inner spots. Like you were made to fit one another. Your hands held onto his right arm as he continued to choke you, only slightly tightening his grip around your throat. The growing lack of air made you tense around his dick, whining and moaning out as he spoke. “You know if I cum in this pussy, that means it's mine, right?” 

Hearing those words with that thick New York accent while he was so deep in your belly nearly made you cum again. Leaning in, you nodded your response with your gaze fixed directly on his brown eyes.

A look of understanding flashed across Silas’ face for a second, before he released your throat, hand settling on the nape of your neck to bring you in closer. Your plush lips met his own as he swallowed down your moans, exploring your mouth with his hungry tongue.

You opened up, letting him take control of the nastiest kissing you’ve ever participated in–tongues dancing, spit swapping, lip sucking until both of your mouths were glistening. Sinful. 

Silas’ free hand squeezed your hip, grounding you on top of him as he began to slowly grind up into you. Your mouths separated but your faces remained close as he held the back of your neck. Silas watched your face contort while he deepened his stroke inside you, letting you feel every single inch in your stomach.

The only thing you could focus on was his mouth, and how much you wanted that bottom lip back in your mouth. Fuzziness took over your brain, your eyes tearing up from the agonizingly slow but deep pace he was set on. 

The moment was intimate, much more than it had been previously, closer and slower than all those other times Silas had you broken you down. For the past few weeks, you resorted to quickies on the bathroom counter if you were at a party, in either of your cars parked somewhere dark, you’d even let him finger you under the table in the library while you were supposed to be “studying”. And now, with your roommate gone for the weekend, you were finally able to have a nice, passionate moment in a bed. 

In a way, the rushed, adrenaline-filled aspect of all your previous entanglements in those less intimate settings kept you from taking a deeper look at your relationship with Silas. You were friends, albeit much, much closer than “normal” friends should be. You met in a shared biology lecture, after Silas showed up late–and high as hell–and the only seat left open was to your right. You eventually agreed to become study partners, and you didn’t mind when some of those late night study sessions in Silas’ dorm turned into heated smoke sessions, which further turned into nasty intoxicated confessions from you both. 

Silas propped his feet up, lifting his hips before flipping you both over. He placed his hands on the backs of your knees, pushing back and kneeling down to lick a slow, wide stripe up your glossy cunt. You cried out from the new stimulation, squirming in his grasp.

“You taste so mothafuckin’ good, girl..” He moaned against your pussy in appreciation, slurping up your juices and rhythmically sucking on your clit with those pretty ass lips of his. You were entranced, eyes stuck on the scene in front of you, wondering what good you had done in this world to deserve all the bliss flowing through your system.

You watched as he pulled back from your pussy, chin glistening in your essence. He spread your sticky lips apart with two big fingers, hungrily watching you clench and pulse around nothing. The ravenous look in his eyes as he stared at your pussy turned you on like no other. They met yours again, and he licked and bit on his lip, letting you know that he was craving more, just as you were.

Your eyes and mouth fell wide open when Silas let a string of warm spit fall directly onto your clit, both the sensation and the view filling you with an immense amount of pleasure. You could feel the electricity flowing from your pussy to your toes, and back up through your spine, a complete shock to your system.

He let your legs fall to the side, big, warm hands on your face as he leaned in, kissing you once more. The sounds of you both groaning into each other's mouths as you tasted yourself on his lips echoed throughout the room. Your hips grinded up against his, needing to feel his length on and in you again. He pulled away first, one of his hands coming down to pin your knee out to the side, setting you still in place. “You want me to cum in this pussy?” 

You nodded, almost too eagerly. There was nothing else on your mind but the vision of him leaking out of you, vanilla cream dripping down your lips, the perfect match for your coffee complexion.

“Use ya words, boo.” 

You reached up, manicured hands pulling his face to just a couple inches from your own. He watched, expectantly, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips and back up again. You could feel him now, twitching and leaking against your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him most. “Cum in your pussy, Daddy.” 

With a curse under his breath, he sheathed himself inside of you in a quick movement, pausing once he filled you to the base. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared into your eyes, mouth hung open like he’d never felt the warm, tight hug of your cunt around him before. His breath faltered, warm breath against your lips and vulnerability written across his face.

Your own breath was caught in your chest when he slid back, and then forced out when he pushed inside, gliding through your slick walls with ease. A wail escaped your lips as he punished your pussy, or at least that’s what it felt like he was doing. Reminding you of who he was. And reminding you of who you were. 

Your eyes clamped shut, toes curling and spine arching up off the bed more and more each time he touched your precious g-spot. Another orgasm began to build within your core, your body tightening up underneath him as you fiercely dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Curses flew from your lips, broken and jumbled together, barely making any sense. You released his face, blindly allowing your hands to find his shoulders for support. Silas leaned down, moaning and groaning in your ear, filling you up with his dick before taking it all away, over and over and over again. 

“Daddyyy…fuck!!!” 

“Tell me it’s mine, baby, c’mon ma, I’m so fuckin’ close…” 

Your bodies were sticky with sweat and all your juices, creating the nastiest smacking sound each time he plunged inside. “It’s yours, I swear to god, it’s all yours baby, ohmyfuckinggoddd…”  You rambled off, barely even able to hear your own words. Your brain was much more focused on the ecstacy spreading through your entire body, making you tingle from your head to your toes. “I’m gonna cum, daddy, please don’t stop!!” 

“Give it to me, baby, c’mon, gimme that shit!” He kept the pace strong, not letting up until you fell apart on his dick one final time, this time with your juices spraying and splashing between your bodies. Your tightness mixed with the sudden wetness of your squirt sent him over the edge, causing him to yell out as he finally released deep inside you. 

“Fuuuck!!” His hips twitched and stuttered as he emptied himself out, not daring to pull out while you were still grasping onto him from underneath.

You whimpered, your body trembling, shaking like a leaf as your nails dug into his shoulders, deep enough to leave a few red crescent-shaped marks. The feeling of his nut filling you gave you the warmest feeling in your tummy, satisfaction spreading through your mind, body, and soul.

The two of you rested for a moment, the sounds of your heavy breathing became your only focus. The audience laughter from the television was more noticeable now, but neither of you could care less. Silas let more of his weight fall on you, cradling you from above while you calmed down your breathing. You turned your face, tucking yourself into his neck and leaving a few soft kisses on the damp skin in appreciation. 

Silas softly chuckled when you teased him with your tongue against his collarbone, knowing you both were too tuckered out for another round just yet. He pulled out of you, slowly, hissing at the overstimulation on his sensitive length. Sitting back on his knees in between your legs, he watched in admiration as seed spilled from your swollen lips, giving him a perfect view of the most beautiful painting he’s ever laid his eyes on–better than anything he’s seen in the MET. 

Observing his mark on you–in you–was gratifying, a surge of endearment and devotion growing within his own core. “C’mere..” 

You obeyed, lazily allowing him to reposition you on top of his chest, your faces just centimeters apart. 

“Tell me somethin’ real quick...you meant it?” 

That vulnerable look was back, although he did try to hide it by avoiding eye contact, instead focusing on your slightly puffy lips, swollen from all the kissing and biting and sucking. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew it was more than just dirty sex talk–something had been growing between the two of you and it was undeniable at this point. 

“Every word.”

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[kissitbttr]

I SEE YOU (FIRST TIME IS A CHARM)

a/n: a simple first date of frat!miguel and cheerleader!reader after the party

warnings; tiny angst but then turned to comfort<3

—

miguel sometimes think it would be good if he occasionally pinches himself in the arm. or glen could do it if he wanted to since he’s got quite a grip. enough to make sure he’s not living the dream.

for example, finally scoring a chance to take you out after months of pining on you? not getting rejected by his long time crush?! scratch pinching, somebody slap the dog shit out of him and tell him that this is real,

he had texted beck prior the date that he needed his right hand man to keep tabs on everything at the party. and being the good best friend that he is, beck congratulated him for finally having the balls to actually do it,

beck: so i guess that means we don’t have to hear about you moaning her name again during sleep?

miguel: shut the fuck up, kingsley. do as what you’re told.

beck: aye aye buddy

“so uh.. are you hungry? we could grab something to eat if you want to” he asked you while looking over to the passengers seat

“starving, actually” you replied with a giggle, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. “got any recommendations, o’hara?”

but for a guy who knows his ways around women, he sure is nervous when it comes to you. and fuck, he cursed himself for being like this. he wanted to look cool in front of you, not stupid. what is wrong with him?!

“well we can have something off the diner on 13th street. that’s twenty minutes from campus, though. sushi stop, i know one where they serve the best sashimi. and kebab food truck but i don’t think you-“

“a kebab?!” a gasp fell from your mouth, eyes widening at the sound of middle eastern delicacy. “yes. no doubt. i want it. let’s punch it!”

he swore he’s not the type who falls in love quickly. but the way your eyes twinkle in excitement when he mentioned about kebabs,

he might just have,

he smiled at you before putting his focus back on the road. “kebab food truck it is”

one thing that miguel had forgotten to mention, is that food trucks don’t have tables and chairs. so people either eat them while standing up or inside their cars,

he didn’t want to trouble you at all, because looking at you right now, in a very pretty dress and heels, he doubt. that you actually wanted to eat while standing up,

“i’m so sorry, muñeca. i forgot to say something about this” he scratched the back of his head. eyes looking through the window where the kebab truck is at,

with a shrug you shot him a reassuring smile. “i don’t mind standing up while eating if that’s what you worried about”

he shook his head. “i mind actually. can’t let you eat and get tired while standing. how about we’ll eat in my car and i’ll go order something for you, si? what do you prefer? i swear if it you say vegan, i will leave you”

you laughed at that comment, “no of course not. i’ll get the chicken one, medium sized. and a cold water”

he pulled out his cash from the back pocket, smiling at you. “be right back”

there was definitely something different about him. a good different. one of them was how miguel is not how the people at campus had painted him to be. could be too soon for that conclusion but throughout the car ride, you were extremely sure that miguel is not a jackass.

instead, he had asked about which songs you wanted him to play in his car. whether or not if you’re comfortable and constantly saying sorry if he overstepped. it all seemed so sweet to you,

your friends would probably give you a weird look praising such simple things. the bare minimum. but these days, those ‘bare minimums’ are hard to pluck from a decent person, correct? nothing’s wrong with praising them anyway.

he knocked on the window, pulling you out of the train thoughts, in which you then rolled it down. “here you go, muñeca. the man assumed that it was for me so he put a lot of chicken there, so-“

“it’s fine. i said i was starving anyway” you took it from his hand, the smell of the delicious meal was making your mouth water.

miguel had himself crouched down to your eye level, thumb pointing over his shoulder. “so. standing up? or my car?”

you thought for a while, then an idea came into your mind with a pretty smile. “got a better one”

miguel frowned in confusion at that, watching you opening the door before walking out of the vehicle. and that’s when you and him standing almost chest to chest, unintentionally.

the moment he looked at you, his mind immediately went blank. in that exact moment, he thought that if it was possible to put charges on someone for how they stare with their eyes, yours would be number one.

because it felt like he was getting hypnotized by your beautiful irises and that there’s no turning back for him. he would volunteer to drown himself in them if it means he gets to see those eyes forever,

“—way nicer”

he blinked. mentally slapping himself in the forehead because he had just realized he wasn’t listening to you at all, too busy day dreaming about your gaze.

“i’m sorry, w-what were you saying?”

an amused smile made it towards your lips, “i said, we could sit by the pavement here. it’s way nicer. we could act like one of those drunk people after night out.”

“but we’re not drunk, muñeca”

“i said act, miguel” you reply in a duh tone, closing the door behind before guiding him to one of the empty ones where it’s not taken, “see? this one’s good spot”

one thing he noticed, you were wearing a pretty dress. “wait!” miguel then rushed towards the back of his car to grab a jacket before going back to you and laying it down on the asphalt. “there. now you can sit”

that one made your heart flutter, eyes moved up to him. “miguel you can’t just do that. your jacket will get dirty”

“I don’t mind. they made washing machine for a reason. i wasn’t going to let your dress get dirty anyway. the color is too pretty” he smiled, finally taking a seat on the rough surface with you following his actions after,

it was quite a cold night, and you regret not bringing a jacket along with you. what even was this weather? sometimes it’s hot, sometimes it’s rainy and sometimes you couldn’t even fucking predict it,

you tried not to let the chills get to you, because it seemed like miguel wasn’t really bothered by it. this man had his whole arms out in a muscle tank and he sat still like it was nothing,

“this is the best kebab i have ever tasted” you moaned with your eyes close on you had the first bite, chewing on the sweet delish,

miguel tried not to let his mind wander when he saw you doing that. “you like it?”

“like?! i love it! miguel this is amazing!” eyes turning into hearts when you gaze the food upon your hands, “how did you find this perfect place?”

“me and the guys often tried to find new places to eat other than burgers and hot dogs after parties and football practice” he settled his legs down, crossing them. “saw this truck while passing by and decided to give it a go”

you hummed. “do you do that a lot?”

“do what a lot?”

“partying” you took another bite, looking over at him as he raised his brows at the question,

“w-well” he chuckled nervously, thinking of a better way to answer. “if i’m being honest, i don’t enjoy it… as much as i did before”

“really?”

“yeah. it was fun at first. partying, getting shit faced… feels lame now. also, probably because now i think of alcohol are just empty calories”

“is that why you wanted to take me out? so you didn’t have a reason to stay there?”

his eyes turned wide, shaking his head in panic mode. “what? no! no of course not! i wanted to! i mean—it just felt like it was the perfect timing! and i— I—so—didn’t i tell you i have a crush on you?!”

with that, you laughed. placing a hand over his knee. “just joking, miguel”

oh fuck you’re touching him.

‘keep it cool, miguel’ he thought,

“oh-oh right, right. sorry” he replied, clearing his throat. still feeling nervous. “you know, i rarely see you at our weekly parties. only gloria and some of your friends.” he pointed out. wiping some of the sauce from the corner of his lips,

you answered. “not really my scene”

“you don’t like parties?”

“not really. i prefer when it’s just a few people that i know. not a whole campus. i like it better when it’s intimate”

“why is that?” he couldn’t help but ask,

“so i can hear people better when they talk. i love having a conversation”. it’s simple really. and it’s true.

you haven’t gone out to wild parties or clubs in a while, and it was safe to say that your life is truly at peace now. not saying that you would turn down any offer to go to one, but you just don’t do it as often,

waste of money and energy. simple things like sleeping before eleven, waking up early, getting your work done and having walks or working out regularly have been your main priorities now,

“ah, i see” he nodded at that, a smile appeared on his face. “intimate party yeah? i keep that in mind”

you raised one of your brows. “you don’t have to just because i said so, miguel”

he shrugged, taking another bite of his food “if that’s what i have to do just so i could see you around more often”

his response completely took you by surprise. and you had no clue what to say to that. fluttered? sure, that’s why you tried to suppress the smile on your face by looking away. you were quite thankful that it was dark out. that way, he wouldn’t be able to see the blush prominent on your cheeks.

the two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a while. devouring the perfect late night meal while watching the cars go by, accompanied by mindless chatters from left to right,

it did come to a surprise that you and miguel have a lot more in common than you think. something that you didn’t see coming. hell, you didn’t even think that you would actually converse with the head of a fraternity and captain of a football team.

a person whom you always try to avoid ever since freshmen year.

“another thing—why haven’t i seen you in lots of my games?”

“miguel, i come to your games. i’m the cheerleader for crying out loud”

“what i meant was why have you never stick around? you do your part and then poof! you’re gone”

raising an eyebrow, you eye him. “are you stalking me now?” he laughs at the accusation, but it’s not entirely false. “i have no reason to stay, why would i stick around?”

“not even for me?” he fakes a dramatic gasp, hand over his chest as if he’s actually hurt. “that pains me, muñeca”

“you’re getting way ahead of yourself, o’hara” you reply with an eye roll but smile anyway,

miguel then looks at the road, shaking his head. “unbelievable. and here i thought about handing you my jersey for you to wear next at our championship game”

and man, did your heart somehow stop for a second there.

because miguel o’hara do not give away his jersey numbers. not the real one nor the merch ones.

“you’re joking?”

“why would i be?” miguel turned his head at you, finding it is much better to look at you rather than the busy road ahead of him,

shrugging, you looked down at your open kebab. “people talk about how your jerseys are off limits. you don’t give away those numbers for anyone”

“well” he breathed out, chewing his lower lip while fiddling with his fingers. “you’re not just anyone to me”

a breath hitched on your throat when his ruby eyes met with your pretty ones once more. and he made a mental note on how your smile deflated in seconds after he said that,

and fuck fuck fuck, he didn’t mean to make you feel weird or uncomfortable. it was the last thing he wanted to do. because he did feel like he was confessing too much to you that night.

but what could he have done?! he likes you and you make him nervous. put the two and two together, and miguel would sputter bunch of shit from his mouth without actually thinking,

“shit” he shook his head, looking away from embarrassment. “i didn’t—I didn’t mean to say that— i mean, i did but—sorry if it made you feel weird. that was too straight forward”

you couldn’t lie, it was rather entertaining to see the captain of a football team and the so called ‘player of campus’ stumble upon his words like that. usually, you would simply roll your eyes and brushed every single guy who had said that to you. because you knew all they wanted to do was to get into your pants,

however miguel looked genuine. and by how fast his cheeks were warming to the color of crimson red or how he scratched the tip of his ears was pretty explanatory,

he wasn’t trying to get into your pants,

instead of giving him a dirty look, you just smiled shyly at him who looked down on his lap. probably re-thinking about his life choices.

“that’s cute” you managed to mumble, scooting a bit closer to his body. putting the half of kebab down beside you. “you actually like me, huh?”

he scoffed at the silly thought, as if the answer to that question had already been written well enough. “i really like you” he confessed, craning his head towards you and he almost passed out on how close you were to him. “makes me go crazy every time i see you, muñeca—i counted the times that you looked at me for just one split second and i died on days that you didn’t”

the way he spoke so carefully and lovingly with you was truly something you had longed from someone. took you by surprise just how much it meant to him for something so simple like wanting you to look at him for once,

one that you didn’t expect miguel o’hara would have said,

“yeah?” and this time, your voice wavered a little. almost like he made his mission accomplished by making you nervous too. “have you been gawking at me then?”

“god you made it sound like i’m a creep” he shook his head out of embarrassment making you laugh. “not gawk—just simply admiring you from afar—during class and your cheerleading practice. but it’s not a weird ass admiring or something like that. hope that’s okay”

it was. indeed it was.

because before this happened, you always assumed that miguel was the typical jock that romcoms have always shown. heartless, player, annoying, screw ups, and the list goes on.

but fuck was he different.

“more than okay” you responded rather quietly, letting your shoulder touched with his and it made miguel’s eyebrows quirk upwards,

and the moment miguel let his eyes looked into yours for more than twenty seconds, he knew for the second time that night—he was in. hooked line and sinker.

you pulled him in deeper than anyone had ever did without you even realizing. he hadn’t even shared a three hour conversation with you. this is the longest he had spoken with the girl he had a crush on,

miguel gulped by the sight of your pretty lips and doe eyes looking up at him. the innocence twinkled within your gaze and he had to refrain himself from kissing you out in the street,

it was one of the hardest thing he had to do that night,

“i just wanted you to give me a chance” he admitted, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at you. “to look at me as me—not as someone who people had spread rumors about on campus—because i’m not that— i don’t sleep around, i promise I don’t”

it was a weird feeling on how your heart broke a little by how defeated he sounded at the moment. his eyes were soften, voice turned small. he was begging silently for you to look past the ‘playboy miguel’ talk from the people that barely even knows him,

he didn’t care if others don’t believe him but he cared if you did.

that’s the only approval he needed,

“i want you to see me” he shyly continued when you chose not to say anything, only looking at him with your widening eyes. “that’s all”

trust has always been something you struggle with from time to time. because it’s easier said than done.

relationships are indeed not your strongest virtue. you shared some in the past but not all of it were pretty except for one. and you haven’t even heard about that person in a long time but you did wish he was okay.

it is unbelievably difficult to put your heart upon someone else’s hands and asking them to take care of it knowing how easy it would be for them to break it along the way,

which was the reason why you avoided miguel in the first place,

to say you hate him with all of your guts and soul would probably be too much. you wouldn’t go that far. you hardly know the man.

but you were persuaded by the gossips and girl talk scattered throughout campus. how he used girls for sex, only to dump them the next day. despite gloria telling you the opposite, you refused to believe her. you were solemnly only trying to protect yourself.

yet only now the guilt was eating you alive. why didn’t you even try to find out for yourself instead of listening to a gang of plastics who love to start off disgusting rumors about others?

looking at him now just made your heart clenched and for your head tilt to the side, just so you can look at him a bit better. you wanted to look at his eyes. you wanted him to not avoid your gaze because you understood now,

more clearer than ever.

“i do. i see you, miguel” you placed a hand on top of his, gently rubbing the skin until his ruby eyes turned to you at the sudden affection,

miguel’s heart almost did a somersault at your smile. even more to the words you had chosen to say next,

“i see you, baby”

—

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! it would make my day:)

[afictionalwhor3]

Mrs. Serensin

A/N: Back again from the dead lol. College is kicking my ass I cannot even lie. Also, I've been pissed at the lack of diversity in fandoms/fan fics until I realized I can literally change that lol so here's my take enjoy. One shot, I wrote wherever the wind took me.

Dad!Jake Serensin x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, established relationship, fluff (Jake and reader being domestic and in love), only minorly proofread.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't the warm sun on your skin that woke you up. Or even the usual patter of feet and knocking at your door that pulled you abruptly from sleep. It was the feeling of soft lips on your skin. Feather light and if you didn't focus you might've missed them. You stirred softly looking over your shoulder as Jake looked back at you with those gorgeous green eyes you fell in love with so many years ago.

"Morning Mrs. Serensin" He says with that famous boyish grin on his face as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

"Morning" You mumble wiping your eyes after you kiss him back. "What time is it? Where are the kids?" You asked him. In seemingly no rush Jake went back to his previous role applying warm kisses to the column on your throat and along your shoulder. As much as you wanted to enjoy the moment you couldn't help but anticipate the screaming of children.

"Relax... kids are still sleeping. It's pretty early. It's just me and you darling" He says and some of his Texas drawl slips out making you smile. You lay on your back to properly look at him your hands tracing over his exposed chest down to his defined stomach. His ability to keep up with his physique while parenting three kids always ceased to amaze you. Jake smirks down at you putting his hands on your hips and giving them a squeeze.

"So are you telling me Mr. Serensin that I have you all to myself for the unforseeable future?" You ask smiling at him as he leans in close to you.

"You do Mrs. Serensin. But I don't know for how long so I plan on making the most of it," He says pressing his lips to yours passionately as you wrap your legs around his waist. After your third child, you were scared that yours and Jake's sex life would die down, or maybe he wouldn't even find you attractive anymore. Boy, you couldn't be further from the truth. You could swear that after each kid Jake only began to worship you more.

"You're gorgeous. Always so pretty" Jake whispers to himself when he pulls away from your lip to kiss at your jaw. He then quickly gets rid of his old navy shirt you had on. Slipping a finger up your slit smirking as you whimper. "Always so wet for me mama. I love it." He says pressing his lips to yours again as he slides a finger into your pussy making you moan.

"Jake please. I need you so bad. No teasing please," You beg. The nagging feeling of getting caught lingering at the back of your brain and you don't know what you'd with yourself if this moment between you two was interrupted. Jake slides another finger into you curling them just right to make your eyes roll back as you grab his wrist.

"There you go baby. I got ya. Always gotta make sure you're ready for me." Jake says pressing kisses to your collarbone as he gently pulls his fingers out and takes off his boxers. He guides himself up to your slit teasing you briefly before slowly sliding himself inside your heat both of you letting out breaths of pleasure. "Fuck you're always so tight for me mama. Three kids and you're still tight as the first night we met" Jake breathes into your neck.

One of the many things you loved about sex with Jake was how he wasn't scared to be vocal. You loved all the filthy things he would tell you as he fucked you into oblivion. No matter how many times the two of you had sex it would never get old. And this time was no different as he began thrusting in and out of you, "Yes Jake. Right there baby" You moan your hands finding his back as your nails dig gently into his flesh.

"Pussy's always ready for me. Always ready to take me. Ain't that right baby?" Jake asks as you nod. Usually, he loves to take his time with you, always wanting to make you cum before he even thinks about pleasuring himself. Unfortuantely this morning he didn't have that luxury and there is no way he would pass up an opportunity to watch you lose yourself on his cock. He sits up putting one leg over his shoulder and after a couple of hard thrusts he watches your jaw go slack and your eyes roll back. "There we go mama. There's the spot I was looking for. Feels so good doesn't it baby?"

All you can give him is moan after moan as you spiral deeper and deeper into pleasure. Jake realizes you losing your volume control and presses his lips to yours. "So loud for me. Love when you vocalize how good I'm fucking you baby" He whispers against your lips.

"Jake you're fucking me too good. Don't stop baby and I'll cum. Gonna cum all over your cock" You moan locking eyes with him. Now it is Jake's turn to get lost in your big brown eyes. The same ones he saw everytime he looked at your children.

"Gonna make a mess on my cock baby? Go ahead. Cum for me, I got you" He instructs as he slips a hand in between your body and begins to toy with your clit. That is the final straw for you as you bite softly into his shoulder to control your moans of pleasure. The spasming of your orgasm around Jake's cock has him cumming only a few strokes after you "Fuck baby I'm stuffing your pussy Oh god!" He moans into your ear before relaxing against your body.

You both lay in post orgasmic haze for what feels like forever "We should probably get ourselves together sometime soon before we end up having the birds and the bees conversation a lot sooner than we planned," Jake says making you smile. You run your hands through his hair a few times always trying to maximize the alone time you two shared,

"I guess you have a point there" You say as he smiles looking at you and kissing you "You are the love of my life Mrs. Serensin" He says before slowly pulling out of you as you whimper at the loss of contact. He stands up getting a warm cloth to clean you up with before he uses it for himself. After he does so you stand up so you can start getting ready for the day. You walk over to your closet finding clothes to put on after your quick shower. As you do so you hear Jake whistle behind you making you look over your shoulder,

"Looking good has always Mrs. Serensin. Do you know that everyday we are together you get sexier?" Jake asks as you roll your eyes and go back to the task at your hand biting your lip to hide your smile. You grab a towel before looking at him again,

"You know you don't have to sweet talk me anymore? We're married you know I'll give it to you whenever you want. Also I have a name outside of Mrs. Serensin" You say rhetorically loving that he calls you that all the time and never stops trying to woo you like the days he asked for your number.

"You know better than anyone I love the chase. As long as I'm on earth I'll spend that time hitting on you. You're too hot not to. And if I wanted to call you by your name I wouldn't of married you." He says as you continue to hide your smile from him and walk towards the bathroom. Before he can even ask you say, "No Mr. Serensin you cannot join," you smile as you see him fake pout out of the corner of your eye.

~

"They have the little festival thing in the park we could take them to. Wyatt and Cam loved it last year with the face painting and the balloon animals." You say as you and Jake finish getting dressed for the day almost ready to wake the kids up. Jake walks over slapping your bum gently before wrapping his arms around you.

"Whenever you tell me to go Mrs. Serensin is where I'll be" He says as you roll your eyes. He buries his head in crevice of your neck enjoying the fresh smell of vanilla that is so uniquely you he can smell it wherever he goes.

"Well there's also-" You start before both you and Jake hear a loud crash from downstairs. Both looking scared you race out of your room and downstairs. Jake keeps you behind him the whole time as you walk into the kitchen and see your three children covered in some kind of mix and eggs. Both of your jaws hanging open.

"We wanted to surprise you and make you guys pancakes" Your oldest Wyatt says as you sigh taking a deep breath as you see Jake try to refrain himself from laughing. You hit him lightly in the arm as you get closer to your babies.

"That is so sweet of you guys but next time you can get one of us and we will help you. Just to make sure no one gets hurt." You say picking up your youngest, your little girl Julia as she smiles that big toothy grin at you. "Surprise!!" she says holding her arms out as you hold her at an arms length laughing softly.

"How about daddy helps you guys get cleaned up and dressed for the day while I clean this mess up. After that we will all get breakfast and if you're good go to the park." You say as they all clap in unison. Wyatt and Cam make a dash past Jake racing to the bathroom as you walk over to him putting Julia in his arms.

"Get to cleaning Daddy. There's a lot of work to do" You smile giving him a kiss as Julia cuddles into him leaving Jake stunned and just as dirty now. Yet he can't help but smile at you, then his little girl, and at the life he currently as. Despite the egg yolk on his shirt, and the mess that he can already hear happening in the upstairs bathroom, he swears he wouldn't change his life for anything.

[chaoticforever]

Misinterpreted Intentions | Lucifer Morningstar x Male! Reader

Summary: When faced with danger, unforeseen complications can always arise. However, not only do unforeseen complications happen in the middle of danger — but also behind closed doors. Y/n and Lucifer learn that the hard way.

A/n: Guess who’s back?

A ripple of tension coursed through his jaw, the muscles flexing with restrained intensity. The man's hands curled into a clenched fist, an outward manifestation of the anger that was stirring inside him.

The air in the precinct was tense as Lucifer Morningstar and Chloe Decker delved into their latest case. They were at Chloe's desk, sifting through piles of evidence and discussing possible leads. As they engaged in their detective work, Lucifer's piercing gaze, however, strayed from the files and landed on a sight that provoked a spark of jealousy inside him. 

Across the space, Y/n, his boyfriend and fellow detective was standing at his own desk, immersed in conversation with an Officer. The Devil's eyes trailed over the curve of Y/n's smile and the playful glint in his eye. His eyes narrowed, looking at Y/n's body language and the way he had leaned closer to the man. They’re flirting.

Their laughter echoed through the room, and Lucifer couldn't help but feel a knot tighten in his stomach. He just couldn’t believe that his boyfriend would flirt with someone else when he had Lucifer. His mind raced with doubts and insecurities, clouding his normally razor-sharp focus. Lucifer found it increasingly challenging to concentrate on the case at hand from watching the man who had captured his heart like no other flirt with another man.

And what ignited a primal fire inside him is when Lucifer witnessed Y/n sensually rubbing the officer's well-defined biceps. 

Lucifer gritted his teeth. 

Chloe shot him a concerned glance, her brows furrowing. "Lucifer, are you okay?" 

Without providing an explanation, The Devil strode across the room, his steps filled with an uncharacteristic urgency. Each click of his polished shoes against the floor made the anger inside him boil.

In his haste, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small silver whistle that he had used for devilish amusement on a previous occasion. Stopping in front of the pair, Lucifer blew the whistle with a sharp, piercing sound that reverberated throughout the room without a thought. 

The unexpected interruption caused Y/n and the officer's conversation to cease, their eyes widening in surprise. Lucifer stood before them, a suave smile firmly plastered on his face to hide his feelings.

Y/n's eyes locked onto his. "Oh, hi, Luci."

"Y/n." Lucifer's voice carried a subtle yet unmistakable undercurrent of tension. "I couldn't help but notice your... display of affection towards Officer Biceps. Do you wanna tell me why you were doing that?"

"Oh, I wanted to know where Jason was feeling sore after his intense workout at the gym yesterday," The man in question explained, his e/c eyes scanning Jason's physique appreciatively. "And it appears  that the gym has worked wonders since he looks like a God with those muscles; I suppose the pain is a small price to pay." 

A rosy hue tainted Jason's cheeks as his friend's words echoed in the station, but he instinctively took a step back when he was met with Lucifer's heated glare. Y/n's gaze drifted between the two men. 

"Lucifer, are you alright?" Y/n's voice was filled with genuine concern as he placed a comforting hand on Lucifer's shoulder.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Lucifer's eyes. How could Y/n seriously have the audacity to ask if he was alright while shamelessly flirting with another man right in front of him? Did Y/n not value their relationship? Did he not take their relationship seriously? Lucifer knew he couldn't let these doubts consume him, but he realized that he had to confront the issue head-on, right at that moment. 

Before any further conversation could unfold, however, Chloe's voice rang out, cutting through the tension in the room like a sharp blade. "Lucifer, Y/n, we have a situation," she said urgently, holding up her phone to display the breaking news. "There was a murder downtown and the Captain wants us three to head out now."

The weight of the murder investigation hung heavily in the air, extinguishing any opportunity for Lucifer to confront Y/n. now. The pressing urgency of their duty took precedence over personal matters. 

Reluctantly, Lucifer tore his gaze away from Y/n, his mind churning with a mix of jealousy and unanswered questions. "Seems the universe has other plans," he said, disappointment evident in his tone. 

Lucifer followed Chloe's lead, his steps heavy with a mix of emotions with Y/n, walking beside him. He cast a lingering glance at his lover, who wore a mixture of confusion and concern. He would be sure to address this issue at a later time.

The case demanded their attention now. 

XXXXX XXXXX 

Lucifer, Chloe, and Y/n finally arrived at the crime scene, greeted by the flashing lights of police cars and the murmur of curious onlookers. The three detectives stepped out of their sleek black car and made their way toward the yellow police tape that marked the perimeter of the crime scene and onlookers before them. 

As they entered the dimly lit warehouse, the scent of death hung heavy in the air. The victim, a young man, lay motionless on the ground floor. Ella — the forensics expert — was busily capturing images of the dead guy, so the trio approached her. 

"Hi, Ella, can you tell us about what has happened here so far?” Chloe asked, her eyes raking over the deceased individual.

"Someone did a real number on this guy. The victim's name is Samuel Anderson. Thirty-two. There are red marks around his neck to indicate that he was choked before being shot three times —  once in the shoulder and twice in the forehead. Oh! And there's another peculiar detail — the number three is carved into the back of his neck... along with some writing on the wall in his own blood," Ella explained, capturing another snapshot of the dead.

"Looks like someone wanted to exercise their creative side." The Devil remarked, eyes peering closely at the lifeless body. Despite his feelings regarding Y/n at the time, Lucifer maintained his composure, his sharp wit and dry humor fully intact. 

Chloe rolled her eyes at Lucifer's flippant remarks. "Are there any witnesses?" The blonde detective asked, hoping for leads.

Ella pointed to the left, where a man, tall and muscular, stood. "That guy standing over there, Benjamin Young, was the one to call the police and discover the body."

Y/n's gaze lifted from the lifeless body after hearing that name, a name he was familiar with. A friend from his past. The male followed Ella's pointing finger and, without a doubt, saw his old friend there.

The h/c haired male walked over to him. 

"Well, if it isn't Benny Young himself," Y/n remarked, shooing the officer away but keeping his gaze fixed on his old friend. Once alone, he added, "It seems trouble has a knack for finding you, doesn't it?"

Benny chuckled, giving Y/n a once-over. "Looks like you've fulfilled your dream of becoming the hottest male detective in Los Angeles, Y/n L/n," he noted before addressing Y/n's remark. "And spot on, trouble has a way of gravitating towards me. But you know what they say, trouble loves good company, and I can’t help but notice that you're always nearby. Maybe, just maybe, you've got a taste for it too."

Y/n hummed in contemplation, stroking his chin in fake seriousness. "You might be onto something there. We should talk about your little fetish over drinks later?"

Benny smirked. "Sounds like a plan."

Chloe, watching the two friends interact, couldn't help but roll her eyes. She was used to Y/n’s flirtatious nature, but at a crime scene, it was highly inappropriate. 

Lucifer could not contain his discomfort either. The devil crossed his arms, a hint of jealousy creeping into his expression. He discreetly moved closer, pretending to examine a piece of evidence nearby. 

Clearing his throat, Lucifer interrupted Benny and Y/n’s conversation. "Ahem," Lucifer coughed, drawing their attention. "Y/n, I see you have found yourself quite the captivating conversation partner, but you need to focus on the investigation, not engaging in personal conversations."

Y/n turned towards Lucifer, momentarily taken aback by his reprimand. Normally, they were the ones cracking jokes and goofing off, but now Lucifer was calling him out. He opened his mouth to speak but caught Chloe's disapproving glance. He nodded in acknowledgment instead.

"Right, sorry," Y/n apologized, expression turning serious, "Benny, this is Detective Decker and Lucifer Morningstar. Do you mind if they ask you certain questions?"

"Ask away."

Chloe took charge, probing Benny about how he stumbled upon the body. Benny explained he was heading to the coffee shop nearby when he heard gunshots from this nearby warehouse. Spotting a figure fleeing, he entered the warehouse and found the victim dead on the ground.

While Chloe questioned Benny further, Lucifer scrutinized him. Though tall, well-built, and somewhat charismatic — three qualities that would attract Y/n — Benny paled in comparison to Lucifer. And this thought brought a smirk to Lucifer's lips.

As Chloe listened to Benny's statement, Benny eventually asked if he could leave and Lucifer noticed his fidgety behavior.

The Devil's eyes narrowed again.

"What's the hurry, Mr. Young?" He asked, accusation present in his tone of voice. "Maybe you were the one who killed this guy or knows someone who could have."

"Lucifer, Benny just said that he has no connection to the victim," Y/n reminded him, but Lucifer disregarded his words. Instead, he leaned in real close to Benny, maintaining strong eye contact with him.

"Tell me, Benjamin, what is it you desire?"

Y/n sighed as he and Chloe watched as Lucifer's mojo took effect on Benny fast. "I... I want to spend time alone with Y/n."

Upon hearing Benny utter his true desire, a frown etched itself onto Lucifer's face. Y/n, on the other hand, grinned brightly at his old friend. "Oh, Benny, you always know how to tug at my heartstrings," Y/n draped his arm around Benny's shoulder. "How about you and I spend some time together now that doesn't involve a dead body lying in the middle of the ground?"

"Y/n, we have a case to do," the blonde added in, giving the man a pointed look.

"Don't worry, Detective. I'm sure you and Lucifer can handle the case without me," Y/n reassured Chloe. "Besides, Benny is our only witness, so he'll need someone to keep him safe. It's the right job for me."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Don't go anywhere with this man. Stay here and help me solve this case, Lucifer thought.

"Well, I think it's a perfect idea," the h/c haired male countered, gently squeezing Benny's arm. "Let's catch up, old friend." Then, Y/n and Benny left the warehouse.

A fist formed in Lucifer's hands. He had the burning desire to bring Y/n back to his side to keep him away from that guy. Watching his lover flirt with his friends was already bad enough, but seeing Y/n leave with one of them? It didn't sit well with him. He hated that. Lucifer moved forward, attempting to follow after Y/n and remind him who he belongs to, who he'll always belong to when the blonde's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"You know, jealousy isn't a good color on you. Y/n is just reconnecting with an old friend, so there's no need to be jealous. You know he loves and cares about you."

The Devil was uncertain about whether to believe the detective's words. He had witnessed much today that contradicted the statement, and actions spoke louder than words. Nevertheless, he had a duty to fulfill. He planned to address Y/n's behavior later that night. Straightening himself up, he forced a smile at Chloe, temporarily setting aside his emotions.

"On with the case, Detective!"

XXXXX XXXXX

Later in the night, once the sun retreated and the moon took its place in the dark sky, casting a soft, gentle glow upon the city, Lucifer stood inside his penthouse, drink in hand, phone in the other, looking out the window. The night sky, adorned with twinkling stars, stretched endlessly across the horizon. All comforting vibes.

Finishing the last sip of his drink, Lucifer acknowledged the beauty and solace of the outside view, yet couldn't extend the same sentiment to inside the penthouse.

Because Y/n was conspicuously absent.

Lucifer had been calling and texting him ever since he returned to the penthouse, but every single call went to voicemail, and his messages were left on delivered.

He forced himself to inhale and exhale so he wouldn't unleash hell on Earth, but the thought grew increasingly tempting. The man who had promised to be his is out with another man somewhere, doing who knows what with that muscular guy.

Lucifer's frustration peaked as he dialed Y/n's number again — only to be greeted by the unwelcome voice of voicemail. In a surge of anger, he clenched that phone tightly, feeling its fragile frame give way in his hand. With a resounding crack, the device shattered, its pieces crumbling in his grasp before tumbling to the ground.

And then, Lucifer's clenched fist collided with the windows, shattering the pristine glass into many shimmering fragments. The shards of broken glass mirrored the shattered pieces of his own uncertainty.

The dark-haired devil headed over to the mini-bar, pouring himself another drink and downing it in one swift motion. The doors to the elevator suddenly slid open and out stepped Y/n L/n, a radiant smile gracing his features. He was oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface.

"Hey, Luci," Y/n walked over to Lucifer. and placed a hand on his shoulder, but Lucifer quickly shrugged off the gesture, rejecting the touch and Y/n's expression twisted in confusion at the unexpected coldness. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Darkness clouded Lucifer's gaze. "Am I okay? Really? After your behavior today, how can you even ask me that question?"

Y/n's confusion deepened. "What do—"

"So, tell me Y/n, how was your date with your old friend? Did you enjoy your time bonding over shared memories, holding hands like some love-struck teenagers?"

Y/n blinked twice, his gaze lingering on his boyfriend. "Uh, yeah, Benny and I had a good time, and he shared information that could help with the case," he shared, his words punctuated by a pause before he broached a delicate question. "Um, is everything okay?" Y/n's words carried an undertone of both concern and curiosity.

"No, everything is not okay, Y/n."

"What's wrong?" Y/n inquired worriedly.

"What's wrong," the devil's voice crackled throughout the room, his tone carrying a sinister edge as he clenched the glass in his hand until it shattered. "is that you're out there, flirting with other guys in front of me, touching them, staring at them as if you want to be with them and not me. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Y/n shrugged, failing to grasp the gravity of the situation and Lucifer's feelings. "I love to playfully flirt with my friends. It's all harmless fun. It's really not a big deal."

"The big deal is that you should not be flirting with anyone on this earth but me."

"Well, as I said, it's all just harmless fun. You, of all people, can understand that."

Lucifer tilted his head, stepping closer to Y/n. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Y/n stood his ground, mirroring Lucifer's steps and closing the distance between them. "You know what I mean. You used to flirt with others all the time, but when I do it with my dear friends, it's an issue?"

"Yes, it's an issue because you're flirting with others when you're in a committed relationship.  Since we've been together, I haven't flirted with anyone else and you need to stop flirting with people as well."

"No," Y/n shook his head, dismissing the brown-haired man's explanation, despite acknowledging a kernel of truth within it. "I'm not changing how I interact with my friends just to meet your expectations."

Lucifer couldn't believe what Y/n said. How could he justify flirting with others, even in a friendship context, while being in a relationship with him? It seemed like Y/n lacked genuine commitment to their relationship and failed to recognize how this particular problem affected Lucifer.

"Well, then maybe you should go be with Benny Young or Officer Biceps since you clearly want to be with them and not me."

"You know what? Maybe I will."

Y/n didn't even hesitate for a moment as he pivoted and stepped into the awaiting elevator, leaving Lucifer there — all alone.

The Devil released a heavy sigh, feeling disheartened by the turn of events. This was not the resolution he had hoped for. He wanted to address the issue with Y/n, to find a way to reconcile, but instead, it appeared as though Y/n was slipping further away with each passing moment.

"Dammit!" Lucifer lashed out at the nearest thing within reach — his beloved piano that now lay in ruins under his feet.

It was the same piano where Lucifer and the h/c haired man had shared their first kiss together. Y/n had sat beside Lucifer, listening as the dark-haired man sang to him. Their hands had intertwined on the keys, and in that moment, their eyes met one another. They couldn't resist sharing a passionate kiss. It was a scene etched into Lucifer's heart. The piano had once symbolized the love and bond they had.

Now, the piano lay shattered, its once seamless surface split in two, mirroring the fractured state of their relationship.

XXXXX XXXXX

Lucifer couldn’t sleep.  

His mind raced, thinking about what had transpired today and his argument with Y/n. His hand instinctively reached over; Lucifer usually wrapped his arm around Y/n and pulled him closer, but there was no one to pull closer. He was alone. The bed felt considerably cold without Y/n.

The Devil got to his feet and walked over to the bar filled with alcoholic drinks. He sank onto a barstool and poured himself a drink, letting the alcohol flow down his trachea. It was going to be a long night.

In the past, when Lucifer sometimes felt hurt or confused, he'd find somebody to or both, he would find someone to have sex with as a means of relief. A thought came into his mind at that very second.

The dark-haired guy considered going to his club to find someone to have a good time with tonight, knowing that he easily attracts both men and women. However, he dismissed the thought from his mind as quickly as it came. He wouldn't cheat on Y/n because they were still together.

So, alcohol was his only companion now.

Lucifer downed one glass, then another, and then another. He sometimes mixed different alcohols or drank straight from the bottle, liquor burning down his throat.

As the night wore on, the sun had finally ascended, casting a warm glow through the window, but Lucifer paid it no mind. The Devil walked across the room and looked at himself in the nearby mirror.

And there it was:

The telltale signs of a drunk night.

His skin was pale and his eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath that made him look like a zombie from a scary film. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and his stubble only added to his disreputable appearance, making him look like he had just rolled out of his bed after a week-long bender. He looked a mess, and it was Y/n's fault.

Glancing at the clock, Lucifer realized he was late for work. He put his suit jacket on and left the penthouse, unconcerned with his disheveled state. Upon arriving at the precinct, Lucifer's feet carried him to the board room, where he saw Chloe looking over the evidence on the board.

"Hello, Detective."

"It’s about time you showed up, Lucifer. You’re very late," Chloe's gaze traveled to the man in question, and she took in his disheveled state. "And you look like hell."

A mixture of a snicker and a chuckle left his lips. "I haven’t heard that one before."

The blonde squinted. "Are you drunk?"

"Only slightly drunk, unfortunately. This supernatural metabolism keeps getting in the way. Still doesn't stop me from trying, though." Lucifer reached into his jacket and retrieved his silver flask — he raised it to his mouth and a long swig.

"No, Lucifer!" Chloe took the flask from Lucifer, "No, drinking on the job. We have a case to solve, and Dan and Y/n should be here any second with information for us. I need you to be focused, not drunk."

Right at that very moment, Y/n and Dan walked into the boardroom, and, as if on cue, they both looked straight at Lucifer. Since Lucifer usually takes great care to seem well-groomed, except today, Y/n's eyes widened as he examined Lucifer as if he had never seen him in such a state.

Which, to be fair, he hasn't.

"Well, speak of the devil's boyfriend," he muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on Y/n. "Though I don't know if that title still applies after your little cheating scandal."

Y/n let out a sigh, e/c eyes meeting his. "Luci, can we talk about this in private?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Y/n. We have a case to solve, not to discuss the relationship problems you caused. So what information do you have for us?"

Chloe and Dan exchanged a little glance, feeling the tension in the room between the two men but staying quiet. Y/n rolled his eyes but recognized that this wasn't the time for that personal conversation.

Dan cleared his throat, bringing the focus back to the case. "Well, Y/n and I think we have a lead. Benjamin sat down with the sketch artist and identified the man he saw leaving the scene: Thomas Wilson, a criminal with history of running an illegal drug operation in Los Angeles. He had been convicted and sentenced to life in prison without parole for drugs and being a child killer two years ago."

Y/n handed Chloe a file and she opened it, scanning the contents inside. Lucifer leaned over to get a look at the criminal. He was tall, with a buzz cut, brown eyes, and pale skin tone. A scar above his left eyebrow added a touch of menace to his features, complemented by a blue tattoo of a snake featured on his right forearm.

"That's one way to get a lifetime supply of free room and board," Lucifer quipped, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But what does his biography have to do with this?"

"The victim, Samuel Anderson, was the third juror to convict him," Y/n explained, "And there have been two similar cases like this weeks ago. The victims were a young female named Jane Smythe and an older man named Jackson Williams. They were the first two people to convict Thomas, with the numbers one and two carved into the back of their neck. Their blood was used to write on the wall too."

Chloe nodded, looking up from the file. "So, Thomas is seeking revenge on the ones who convicted him. That's a clear motive. But you said he was in jail, Dan."

Dan shook his head. "He was. According to the Beverly Hills Police Department, it was said that Thomas killed himself two days before the murders. Hung himself."

"How convenient," Lucifer said.

Y/n voiced his own theory. "Honestly, I believe he faked his death to avoid being a prime suspect. Dan and I are heading to the morgue to see if he's dead or not."

Chloe nodded in agreement. "Good idea. Lucifer, you're with me. We'll head to the prison and see if we can find any clues."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that's necessary, Detective? I mean, if Y/n's theory is right, Thomas is long gone, and there won't be any clues left behind."

"We cannot rule out certain possibilities. Someone who works there could give us some insight into Thomas' state of mind or any allies he might've had. Now, let's go." The blonde female left out the door.

Lucifer's brown eyes narrowed, his gaze following Y/n and Dan as they prepared to leave. A sense of unease settled into his stomach at the thought of Y/n being alone with Daniel, especially since they needed to talk after their argument last night. Betrayal still lingered heavily and the alcohol did little to ease his worries. With a sigh, Lucifer followed Chloe out the door, feet dragging against the floor.

Under a sky where only a few fluffy clouds lazily drifted by, Dan and Y/n cruised down the open road, windows rolled down, the calming breeze hitting their faces. Dan cast a quick glance at Y/n, seated in the passenger seat, before returning his focus to the road ahead.

The silence between the two detectives was comfortable, but Dan decided to ask Y/n something that had been on his mind. "So, what’s going on with you and Lucifer, Y/n?" Dan broke the silence, his foot pressing the brake. The light's red.

Y/n's gaze drifted from the window. "Nothing. Lucifer’s just being dramatic."

"Dramatic? How so?"

"Okay, so you know how I like to playfully flirt with some friends? Well, Lucifer got upset last night because of some playful banter between me and Benny. He blew it out of proportion. Can you believe it?"

The brown-haired guy nodded slowly, his eyes back on the road as the light turned green. "I can believe it." Y/n looked up at him, surprised by his partner’s lack of agreement. Dan continued, "It is kind of disrespectful to flirt with others when you’re in a committed relationship."

Not understanding Dan's point of view, Y/n frowned. After all, the casual flirting was completely lighthearted and strictly platonic. Besides, he would never cheat on Lucifer, so why are people attempting to make it become something it's not?

"It’s harmless flirting. It’s not a big deal." 

"It may not be a big deal to you, Y/n, but Lucifer sees it differently. As his partner, you need to consider his feelings. How would you feel if Lucifer started flirting with others right in front of your face?"

Y/n fell silent, considering Dan's words. In all honesty, if Lucifer were to flirt with people in front of him, he would not like it because he would only want Lucifer to have eyes for him. Furthermore, it would only make him think that he wasn’t good enough for Lucifer if he had to resort to flirting with someone who wasn't Y/n.

"I wouldn’t like it at all." He murmured. 

"Exactly," Dan said, his voice gentle. "And that's how Lucifer feels. It's important to consider his feelings and make an effort to respect his boundaries, too. After all, relationships are about compromise and understanding. So, after we wrap up this case, you need to apologize to him and make an effort to stop that flirting, too."

Y/n nodded his head, feeling remorseful for his actions. Perhaps, Dan and Lucifer were right. He liked his playful side and had thought that it was an aspect of his personality that made Y/n... well...Y/n.

But Y/n was willing to change that part of himself to help save his relationship. And the first step in doing that was to apologize to Lucifer whenever he could.

"You’re right. I’ll fix it." He leaned back in his seat, grateful for Dan’s perspective. "Since when did you get philosophical?"

Dan shrugged as he pulled into the morgue parking lot. "Since Trixie makes me read philosophical books to her." He put the car in park and faced Y/n. "Now, are you ready to see if Michael Myers is really dead or if he's a walking zombie?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The two detectives exited the car and entered the morgue. Rachel Walker, a medical examiner, looked up from her paperwork as they walked in. "Hello, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

The h/c haired guy detective flashed his badge,  "I'm Detective L/n, and this is my partner, Detective Espinosa. We're here to examine the body of Thomas Wilson. We understand that he was brought here after his supposed suicide in prison, yes?"

Y/n ended his statement in an accusing manner and Rachel's eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if she sensed the skepticism in Y/n's tone. "Yes, his body was brought in a day after his death. The authorities suspected foul play, so they wanted an autopsy performed to determine if his cause of death was really suicide or not."

"And what were your findings, exactly?" Dan asked, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of the body in question.

"Follow me, and I'll show you," Rachel led the guys deeper into the morgue. They passed rows of stainless steel drawers, each one containing the remains of a person whose life had ended too soon.

Finally, they stopped in front of a drawer with a plate that read "Thomas Wilson." Rachel pulled the drawer open, revealing the man whose face matched Thomas Wilson. His skin was pale and waxy, his eyes closed, and his lips pulled back into a grimace, revealing yellowed teeth. A deep purple bruise encircled his neck, a testament to the method of his suicide.

Dan and Y/n carefully inspected the dead body before them. The face was without a doubt Thomas Wilson but as Dan looked over at his facial features, he noticed that there wasn’t a scar present above Thomas’ eyebrow. And Y/n noted that the snake tattoo wasn’t on his right arm like the file, but was on his left arm.

The two detectives shared a look with each other. It was clear that something wasn’t right here and they were going to find out what was wrong. Additionally, if Thomas was truly dead, then who was killing the jurors? And for what reason?

Suddenly, a thought came to Y/n's mind. 

"Rachel," he turned to face the specialist. "we need your expertise. I have a theory that I'd like to run by you if that's okay."

"Oh, I love a good theory. Ask away."

"Well, I was thinking," Y/n began, "What if Thomas Wilson had an identical twin?"

Rachel's eyes widened. "A twin? That's certainly an interesting theory. Go on."

"We checked the file on Thomas Wilson, and there are some discrepancies," Dan explained. "The file we had describes a scar above his left eyebrow and a snake tattoo on his right arm. However, when we just examined the body, there was no scar, and the tattoo was on his left arm."

"Hmm, that is odd," Rachel pursed her lips in concentration. "Identical twins do tend to have minor physical differences, but a missing scar and a reversed tattoo are certainly significant discrepancies."

"So, could this body be Thomas Wilson's twin, and Thomas himself is still alive?"

"It's a plausible theory. Identical twins do share many physical characteristics, but their DNA isn't always exactly the same. Even identical twins can have variations."

"So, it's possible that if we ran a DNA test on the body, it could come back as a match for Thomas Wilson, even if it's actually his twin?" Dan asked. "And is it possible that a standard DNA test might not be able to distinguish between them?"

"Technically, yes," Rachel confirmed. "Especially if the twins are monozygotic, which means they develop from a single fertilized egg that splits into two. In that case, their DNA would be very similar and it could be very difficult to tell them apart genetically," She paused to inhale and exhale, "As for your second question detective, it is possible. Especially if the test is searching for a limited number of genetic markers. More advanced tests could detect the subtle differences, but those aren't typically used in a standard forensic analysis. If you two would like, I’d be happy to run any tests you need. This case is quite fascinating to me."

"That’d be great, thank you," Y/n reached into his jacket and gave her a small card with his contact information on it. He asked her to call him when she had the results before leaving the place with Dan.

When they arrived back at the car, Dan turned to his right to face Y/n. "Do you really think this Thomas guy has a twin?"

"I'm not that sure, but him having a twin makes a hell of a lot of sense. It’s either that or we have a copycat on our hands."

The sudden ringing of Y/n's phone reverberated across the car. Y/n took out his phone and noticed that Chloe was calling. He answered the call and put it on speaker so that Dan could hear.

"Hey, Chloe. Any updates from the police station?" Y/n's question came out fast.

"Not much new information," she replied, her voice carrying a note of frustration. "The warden said he was a problematic inmate, always causing disruptions and getting into fights. And one day, he was discovered hanging in his cell during a routine check — information we already knew." There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. "Did you and Dan find anything out about Thomas's body?"

"Well, there's a body in the morgue that's labeled as Thomas Wilson, and the face matches the description we have, but—"

"—you don't think it's him, do you?" Chloe finished the sentence for Y/n, hearing the way his tone of voice sounded.

Y/n shook his head, not that Chloe could see him through the phone. "No, I don't. I think we're dealing with twins. There are some physical discrepancies that don't match. I think that Thomas is still alive and is posing as his twin brother, while his twin brother's body is taking the fall."

"Hm, well, from a criminal's perspective, that'd be a genius plan," Chloe was silent for a moment and Y/n could hear sirens blaring in the background. "I hope you're right because we have another problem."

"What problem?"

"Another murder. Downtown. Her name is Elizabeth Taylor. The same MO as the other victims, with blood writing on the wall and a number carved right into her neck. This time, it was the number four."

Elizabeth Taylor. The name rang a bell, but Y/n couldn't quite place it. He turned to Dan. "Do we know an Elizabeth Taylor?"

Dan's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a piece of paper. Dan's eyes scanned the page, his finger sliding down the list of names. "We do. Elizabeth Taylor was one of the jurors in the Thomas Wilson case. She was the fourth person to convict him."

"Crap, who's the fifth person on that list?"

Dan's eyes continued to scan the page. "Ethan Miller," he pulled out his phone to do further research on their next victim. "He's the CEO of CYLO, a popular video game company. They're launching a new game tonight at seven before he heads off on a business trip to New York City."

"Thomas will definitely show up there," Y/n concluded. "We need to get there and stop him before he strikes again."

"Send me the address," the blonde said. "Lucifer and I will meet you guys there."

Chloe hung up the phone. Dan started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot, onto the proceeding road. This case just got very interesting very fast.

XXXXX XXXXX 

The sun was a molten orange as it sank below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the building where the launch party was in full swing. Dan and Y/n were in their unmarked car, their eyes scanning the arriving guests with a critical eye.

Finally, Ethan Miller, the guest of honor, arrived in a sleek black limousine and he was flanked by security. He stepped out, his tall frame clad in a perfectly tailored black suit, his eyes hidden behind a pair of stylish sunglasses. Tons of fans were taking pictures and video recording him.

As people filtered into the building, Dan and Y/n maintained their vigilant watch. Then, Y/n's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw it was an unfamiliar number. He answered, asking who was calling and the female voice introduced herself as the medical examiner, Rachel, whom he had spoken to earlier. She said she had the results that Y/n requested.  

"What are the results?"

"Your theory was correct, Detective L/n," Rachel said. "The body in the morgue is not that of Thomas Wilson. The genetic makeup is very similar, indicating that he does have an identical twin brother, and the one here in the morgue is that twin."

"Are you sure?" Y/n needed confirmation.

"Positive," she confirmed. "I compared the samples from the body to the DNA on file for Thomas Wilson, and while the fingerprints were similar, they were not an exact match. This misidentification occurred due to switched dental records."

"Thanks, Rachel. Your help is invaluable."

As Y/n hung up the phone, he turned to Dan, who was looking at him. "We were right. The dead body in the morgue isn't Wilson, which means he's still out there."

Dan nodded. "And that means he's here tonight. Let's go." Dan grabbed his gun and the two detectives left the car and entered the party, which was crowded.

Y/n and Dan made their way through the crowd and spotted Chloe and Lucifer near the food table, their eyes alert and watchful, and having a discussion. Y/n's gaze lingered on his boyfriend, who held a plate with a slice of devil's food cake.

An ironic choice.

The four detectives huddled together, sharing their findings and formulating a plan. They decided to split up, each pair taking one side of the room to quickly find Thomas and anyone who could be working with him. Dan and Y/n took the left side of the room, Lucifer and Chloe took the right side. Y/n thought that was a good idea. And after this case is over, he could focus on fixing his relationship. One step at a time, he reminded himself.

Y/n moved through the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of their suspect. Ethan Miller took the stage to give a speech and announce the release of his new game, "Metro Rush." As Ethan spoke, Y/n's attention drifted to a man in glasses and a Nike baseball cap. He did not look suspicious at first glance, but there was something about him that set off alarm bells in Y/n's head. Just wrong.

Y/n tapped his earpiece. "Dan, look to your right. There's a guy in glasses, Nike cap, black T-shirt. Keep your eye on him. Something about him doesn't feel right."

"Copy that," Dan replied, his gaze locking onto the man in question.

Y/n continued to observe the man  As Ethan Miller concluded his speech and prepared to demonstrate his new game, the man with glasses pulled out a gun.

Then, the man raised his gun, pointing it in Miller's direction and pulled the trigger just as Dan tackled the assailant to the floor. Ethan had been hit in the shoulder, falling backward from the impact as screams rang throughout the crowd and people started running towards the exit. 

Chloe and Lucifer came rushing over to the commotion, with Chloe's gun drawn. Chloe's gaze landed on the gunman and she immediately raised her gun at him.

"LAPD, put your hands in the air!"

Surprisingly, the man complied, and Dan quickly cuffed his hands. Meanwhile, up on the balcony, Thomas Wilson watched through his sniper scope as one of his men was apprehended. Thomas turned his sniper rifle onto the blonde female, his finger tightening on the trigger point.

But before he could pull the shot, he felt the cold press of a gun barrel against his temple. Y/n's voice was steady as he spoke. "Nice try, Wilson. But your games over. Put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest for the murders of Jackson Williams, Jane Smythe, Samuel Anderson, and Elizabeth Taylor as well."

Reluctantly, Wilson complied, placing his hands behind his back. Y/n cuffed him, taking him downstairs to join the others.

Lucifer watched as Y/n descended the stairs, Thomas in tow. Despite Lucifer’s feelings regarding Y/n, he could say in his mind that he was impressed with Y/n’s intelligent mindset and being able to get the culprit. Lucifer hoped that now, with the case resolved, they could focus on repairing their fractured relationship.

However, the unexpected happened.

Another gunshot rang out.

Lucifer felt his blood run cold as he saw Y/n stumble and fall, his body crumpling to the ground. A red stain spread across Y/n's shirt, and Lucifer's heart stopped as he realized his lover had been shot.

His beloved had been shot from behind, and the sight of Y/n's blood staining the floor was more than Lucifer could bear.

At that moment, all Lucifer saw was red.

The world around him faded to black. All he could see was red— the color of rage, of anger, of the deepest, darkest corners of Hell. Lucifer's eyes flared red, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed his true devil face to emerge. It was a terrifying sight, and the gunman who had shot Y/n cowered in fear, scrambling backward.

With a single punch, Lucifer knocked the gunman unconscious. The true Devil in him was unleashed at this very moment and nothing would stand in Lucifer's way.

He turned to see Dan handling the other perpetrators outside, as Chloe applied pressure to Y/n's wound. Lucifer rushed over, his heart pounding in his chest. He gently took Y/n into his arms, his voice shaking as he tried to reassure him and Chloe went to secure the unconscious.

Y/n whimpered, "L-Lucifer…"

"Shh, it's alright," Lucifer soothed softly as he attempted to remain calm for his sake. "You are going to be fine, Y/n. The ambulance should be here any second."

"I-I hope so..." Y/n's breath hitched, and their hand reached out weakly to grasp Lucifer's shirt. "I'm so tired, so sleepy..."

"Stay awake," Lucifer's tone was soft and firm at the same time. He was not going to lose Y/n yet, especially not like this. It wasn’t his time yet. His next words were a quiet whisper, blinking away a certain action that attempted to leave his eyes. "Don’t even think about leaving me, Y/n."

Y/n nodded, his eyelids growing heavy as he struggled to stay conscious. A dry cough escaped his lips as he started to fall in and out of consciousness. Lucifer noticed his lover's eyes flutter open and closed, and Lucifer felt a twinge of fear.

After some time, the ambulance arrived, and Y/n was carefully loaded inside the vehicle. Lucifer stayed right with him as the two paramedics tried their best to stop the bleeding and keep Y/n awake.

"You are going to be fine, Y/n. I promise."

For the universe’s sake, Y/n better be. 

XXXXX XXXXX

Y/n woke up in the hospital, feeling very groggy and disoriented. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the overhead light providing just enough illumination for the e/c-eyed male to see. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fuzziness from his vision, and slowly sat up in bed, wincing as pain shot through his chest. Y/n quickly became aware of the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to him and the IV lines hooked up to his arm. 

His eyes landed on the figure sitting in the chair next to the bed. It was Lucifer, his eyes closed as he leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was sleeping, but Y/n knew that he was awake and watching over him.

"Lucifer?" Y/n's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat, trying to moisten it.

Upon hearing the sound of Y/n's voice, Lucifer's eyes snapped open, and he sat up straighter, a look of concern crossing his face. "Y/n, you're awake. How're you feeling?" He stood up and moved closer to the bed, his dark eyes looking at Y/n's face for any signs of pain or discomfort.

Y/n’s throat was so dry and he licked his lips. "Like I got shot," he shot him a weak grin before the memory of the shooting came back to him fast. "What happened to Thomas? And what happened to me?"

"It's okay," Lucifer reassured, reaching out to take Y/n's hand in his, letting his thumb rub gently over the back of Y/n's hand. "We got him. Wilson is in custody, along with his accomplices. You were shot by one of them at the launch party. Thankfully, the bullet missed any vital organs, but you still lost a lot of blood. You've been unconscious for two days."

Two days? Y/n's been out for that long. His eyes widened at hearing this. Guess he was out longer than he thought. Y/n nodded, his eyes closing as exhaustion washed over him. He felt Lucifer's hand squeeze his, and he re-opened his eyes since he wanted — no needed — to say something to his boyfriend. "Lucifer, I—"

"Shh," The dark-haired devil interrupted, placing a finger on Y/n's lips. "Now isn't the time for apologies or explanations."

"Yes, it is," Y/n insisted firmly. "I have to apologize to you for what happened. I'm really sorry for flirting with other people and making you feel like I was cheating on you. I should have taken your feelings into consideration — and I didn’t, and for that, I’m sorry. It will not happen again."

Lucifer's heart twisted at the sincerity in Y/n's eyes. "I appreciate that, Y/n. And I'm sorry, too. I should not have reacted that way to your playful banter with your friends.  I know that it's just your nature, and I shouldn't have taken it personally." 

"No, Lucifer," Y/n shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize  for." Y/n may have felt tired and weak in this moment but he was going to make Lucifer see that he wasn’t at fault for the altercation they had. "I am completely in the wrong. I know that now, and I want you to know that I'll never act like that again, and to be more considerate of your feelings."

Lucifer nodded, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. He was grateful that Y/n understood his perspective, but he was curious about what had prompted this change of heart. "You're forgiven, Y/n. But what made you realize all of this?"

"I had a conversation with Dan at the morgue. He helped me see things from another perspective — your perspective."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Lucifer's face. "Daniel, huh? I didn't think he had it in him to give such wise advice. Though even a broken clock is right twice a day. I’ll have to do something nice for him."

"Maybe you can start by not stealing his pudding at work." Y/n chuckled softly.

"Oh, I’m never going to stop doing that."

The two men shared a laugh as Lucifer’s thumb continued its gentle caress on Y/n's hand. So much has happened these past few days, but he was happy that he and Y/n were able to work things out for the sake of their relationship. And most importantly, he was happy that Y/n was still alive and on the road to recovery. 

Lucifer leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Y/n's forehead. "I love you, Y/n. More than ever. And I'm not letting you go anytime soon." He whispered gently.

The h/c-haired male smiled brightly.

"Good, because I love you, too, Lucifer."

XXXXX XXXXX 

[bluebeary-jay]

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out.  It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

“Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

[fanfic-inator795]

Spoilers for Puss in Boots: Last Wish (specifically Perrito) below

My bff and I were talking about this last night, but I figured I’d write it all out here: one thing I really do appreciate about Perrito is that while other characters may see him as naive and innocent, the film never treats him as overly naive or foolish.

The best example of this is when he’s explaining his backstory. It would have been SO easy to have him be still searching for his family/litter mates, believing firmly that they still wanted him/were still playing ‘hide and seek’. If they’d done this, then Perrito really would have been an extremely naive character (as well as all the more unnecessarily tragic). It also would have been easy to have this be Perrito’s wish, as well as the lesson that he needed to learn - that he doesn’t need his former (and incredibly crappy) fam, and that he can/should move on from his tragic backstory, letting himself be with his new friends instead.

But the film doesn’t go this route... Because Perrito has already realized and internalized this lesson.

Think about it. For as much as he may seemingly still see the whole ‘swim in the river’ incident as an extra challenge to a game of Hide ‘n Seek, outside of the “Guess I’m still It!” joke, Perrito doesn’t dwell on the fact that he never saw his family again. Just as he never dwells on nearly drowning. He only brings up his past when others ask him about it, otherwise he’s only focus on the present - which is why he’s so satisfied with things to the point of not needing a wish.

When it comes to his backstory, he instead just sees the brighter side of things regarding it (getting a new ‘sweater’ that he was able to grow into) and focuses on moving forward and meeting new friends, instead of going on an endless search for those who left him behind. Even while he’s at Mama Luna’s, he still tries to socialize with the other cats - though he backs off when they hiss at them, still understanding that he isn’t exactly well-liked there.

What’s more, it’s made VERY clear that Perrito’s tendency to trust in people without hesitation is not out of naivete: it is out of choice. He knows that people can be cruel (we see him briefly get scared of Jack Horner and the Bears when he gets kidnapped, even if he ends up making friends with the latter) and he knows that he can’t exactly fight back against that, being such a tiny dog. But he’d still rather give people a chance instead of just hiding away from the world. He never tries to claim that every person has some good in them or anything like that, he simply states “well, you have to trust somebody”.

What really drives this point home - aside from the excellent advice that Perrito gives throughout the film, showing just how thoughtful and wise he is, even when he seems totally clueless in other moments - is his moment in the film’s climax with Jack, where he’s finally able to do the cutesy eyes. The joke is how Jack is ‘dead inside’ and would never fall for such a ploy, and how Perrito is (or rather, would be) dumb for thinking that simply being cute would stop this heartless bastard.

But the twist is that Perrito already knows this. There isn’t a moment where it’s shown that he thinks this act will work. No, Perrito meant it as a distraction the entire time - he wanted to try and help, and he trusted his friends to catch on and take the shot once the distraction worked. And I freaking LOVE THAT! I love that Perrito is so much more than just ‘diet Donkey’ or ‘innocent and naive dog that doesn’t know how the real world works’.

He knows how it works, he just chooses to still see the bright side in things in order to improve others’ lives as well as his own, because there’s a difference between naively trusting people who haven’t proven themselves and just giving people a genuine chance to be your ally/friend. And I’m just so happy that Dreamworks not only made a character like this but just did a fantastic job writing him.

[shitsndgiggs]

a kenan fanfic in where he is rumoured to be dating another model which leads to yn, becoming insecure and believing that he is cheating on her because she went abroad to study for a few months. maybe like she blocks him or something and he flies out to her?

DO BETTER - KENAN YILDIZ

In which you think that he is cheating

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The news hit me like a punch to the gut. Sitting in my tiny dorm room, thousands of miles away from home, I stared at my phone screen, unable to process what I was seeing.

Pictures of Kenan with another model were plastered all over social media, accompanied by headlines suggesting that they were dating.

My heart sank, and insecurity gnawed at my insides. Was it true? Was Kenan cheating on me while I was abroad studying?

I tried calling him, needing to hear his voice, but he didn’t answer.

Each missed call only fueled my fears. In a moment of frustration and heartbreak, I blocked his number, cutting off any means of communication between us.

The following days were a blur. I threw myself into my studies, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy and sadness that tightened my chest every time I thought of Kenan.

But the rumors and photos kept surfacing, making it impossible to focus.

The feeling of betrayal grew, and I started to believe that our relationship was over.

He hadn't even bothered to explain or reassure me. Maybe he didn't care anymore.

A week passed, then another. Each day without hearing from Kenan solidified my belief that he had moved on.

I tried to convince myself to do the same, but my heart wouldn’t let go. My friends noticed my distress, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth.

It was too painful to admit that the man I loved might have betrayed me.

Three weeks later, I was sitting in my dorm room, attempting to study, when there was a knock at the door.

Sighing, I pushed my books aside and went to answer it. My heart stopped when I saw Kenan standing there, looking exhausted and worried.

“Kenan?” I gasped, unable to believe my eyes.

“Y/N, please, can we talk?” he pleaded, his eyes searching mine.

I stepped back, letting him in. He closed the door behind him and immediately took my hands in his. “I flew here as soon as I could. Those rumors, those photos—they’re all lies. I would never cheat on you.”

“Then why were you with her?” I demanded, my voice trembling with hurt and anger.

Kenan sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It was a charity event. She was just a date for the evening, nothing more. The media twisted it into something it wasn’t.”

I pulled my hands from his grasp, pacing the small room. “It’s hard to believe you when I’m so far away and all I see are those pictures.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice full of regret. “I should have been more transparent with you. I should have called and explained everything.”

“But you didn’t,” I shot back, tears welling up in my eyes. “You left me to find out through gossip and headlines.”

Kenan stepped closer, gently tilting my chin up so I had to look at him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was trying to protect you from the stress and drama, but I ended up hurting you instead. Please, believe me when I say that you are the only one for me. I love you.”

I searched his eyes, finding the sincerity and desperation there. My anger began to dissolve, replaced by the overwhelming relief that he was here, that he cared enough to fly halfway around the world to see me.

“I’m sorry too,” I whispered. “I should have given you a chance to explain before shutting you out.”

Kenan pulled me into a tight embrace, kissing the top of my head. “We both made mistakes. Let’s not let this come between us. You mean everything to me, Y/N.”

We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the distance and doubt melting away.

Over the next few days, Kenan and I spent every moment we could together, rebuilding the trust that had been shaken. He took me out to dinner, where we talked and laughed for hours.

We walked through the city, exploring little shops, holding hands and stealing kisses.

One evening, as we lay in bed, Kenan turned to me, his expression serious. “I know I’ve been busy with football and it’s been hard being apart, but I promise to do better. I’ll make sure you never doubt my love for you again.”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his words. “I believe you, Kenan. And I’ll work on trusting you more. We’ll get through this, together.”

[the1975attheirverybest]

A/N: wanother one of those mini scenes or whatever.

Warnings: smut (not too sexy though).

———

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of Matty’s lips between her legs, his tongue on her clit, his curls tickling the insides of her thighs. Any minute now, it’ll set in. Just gotta focus. Just gotta stop thinking. She wondered if Matty was beginning to worry. Surely he can tell that she’s not reacting the way that she normally would? It must be weighing on him. Making him second-guess what he’s doing? Maybe if she just got a little more friction. Got him to go faster. Or harsher. Press harder. She bucked her hips, trying to move against his tongue; to feel something.

Reflexively, Matty’s arms snaked around her waist to prop her up, taking some of the pressure off her back, but he remained unfazed by her sudden movement. That is, until he heard her whine out in frustration. His eyes shot open. Was that a good whine? A bad whine? Was it just his ears or did she sound upset? He pulled away for a moment. Glancing at her for clues.

Her whining broke into a plaintive sob.

Matty froze for a moment. Unsure how to proceed. Had he hurt her? Had he done something wrong? Touched her someplace he shouldn’t have? Some way he shouldn’t have?

“Hey, babe, fuck- what is it? What’s happened?” His voice soft and gentle, he pulled his hands away from her, keeping them up where she could see them.

“Fuck! I hate this; I hate this!” She groaned rolling on her stomach, burying her face into her pillow, her fists slamming down on the mattress.

“Oh- umm- okay…” Matty murmured a series of monosyllabic responses. “I mean, ouch…I guess? But that’s - fine. We don’t have to do that.”

He pulled away from her dragging himself off the bed.

She panicked as soon as she felt the bed shift beneath her. “Oh, gosh. No- no! That, not-“

“Thought you said you wanted me to give you head, but…” Matty shrugged, looking down at the floor, a frown on his face. His hand shot up to clear away the curls in his eyes. “Not to be like- a fuckin fragile- not to be a guy about it, but like….it’s fine if you’ve changed your mind. You know that. Could you just be nice about it next time?”

“Wait, what? Oh my god, Matty-“

He turned around , as he spoke, walking away from the bed and scanning the floor for his discarded jacket. “I- like it when you tell me what you want in bed. I do.” He bent down, picking the jacket up off the floor. “Makes me feel good, knowing we can be comfortable with each other like that. But “I hate this” over and over?” He laughed. “Maybe I’m being immature. Can’t be that bad?? Normally, you’re too incoherent to even beg- and if - if you’re not in the mood that’s fine! You could just tell me you’ve changed your mind.” He pulled the stash of weed out the jacket pocket, looking for the joint he’d rolled earlier.

“Matty, shut up!” She yelled out. “Sorry, that was- loud. But seriously, babe, shut up. I wasn’t- it wasn’t about you. I wasn’t talking about you when I said ‘I hate this’”

“Oh?” Matty put away the lighter he’d been in the middle of flicking on. “Well, then- what is it?” He began to walk back towards her, feeling apprehensive as he watched her blush and avert her eyes, her fingers fiddling with the duvet nervously.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed. Extending a hand out to her cautiously. “Hey,” he kissed the hand that she’d placed in his. “It’s me. You can talk to me, yeah?”

She nodded. “Hug?”

His response was to smile and pull her, silently, into his arms. He kissed the top of her head, feeling her fists cling to his t shirt. She’d mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out. “What?”

The way he’d always say “what?” in that exact tone, instead of “pardon” or “excuse me” always made her giggle, without fail, including this time.

“Said I’m sorry!” She enunciated, still burying her face into his neck.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

She whined, trying to think of a way out of this conversation. She wanted to tell him. She just didn’t know how to.

Matty could feel her sudden stiffness, so he pulled her from his chest, looking down into her eyes. “I just wanna know that you’re alright.”

“It’s sooo embarrassing” she laughed nervously. “I- I’m so fuckin horny,”

Matty chuckled, “you say that shamelessly all the time.”

“No, but i can’t get off. Like- I want to. Need to. Feel so frustrated. But I think…I think it’s the antidepressants?” She leaned forward again, seeking refuse in his arms.

“Oh…..oh I see.”

“I think they affect the, like, sensation or something. I don’t know. It’s like….I feel SOMETHING but only enough to make me hornier. Not to, like, DO anything.”

“Oh.” Matty was at a loss. Kissing her head gently, he placed a protective hand on her back.

“And when I do cum? It’s the most disappointing non-orgasm ever.”

“How long’s this been going on?”

She shrugged in his arms. “Weeks.”

“Why didn’t you say-“

“Because I want the sex Matty! I want it. I like it. You’re so hot.” Matty laughed incredulously. His chest rising and falling against her body. “I mean it! you are! You’re so hot. And you usually feel so fuckin good. And I want the- I want the touch. The feeling of- being close. You on top of me. I like it. I miss it when you’re not here. I just can’t-“

“Cum.” He finished her sentence for her.

“Well….yeah.”

Matty peeled her body off of his again, pushing her to lay back down on the bed. “Take your shirt off for me?” He requested as he stood up and took off his own clothes.

“W-what? I just told you I can’t-“

“Just cuz you can’t cum, doesn’t mean you can’t….enjoy your hot boyfriend.” He grinned.

“Oh, I knew it would go to your head!” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m gonna lay on top of you without my shirt on. I’m gonna hold you. And I’m gonna kiss you all over your face…..and your neck, a bit, too, so it doesn’t feel left out. Alright? We don’t have to do anything else. How’s that sound?”

She stuck her arms out. “Yes, please, hurry. I need you.”

“Greedy, impatient girl.” He shook his head. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

She gave him a dramatic pout.

“Alright, alright. Be a good girl now. For fucks sakes.”

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

CHECKMATE:

Chishiya x Reader

Requested: Chishiya plans to betray Arisu but she has changed.

Y/N would be lying if she said she hadn’t changed. Of course she had changed. They all had.

Borderlands was no walk in the park; it was not a place where innocence and honesty would flourish. Borderlands was about survival in its rawest and most brutal sense.

Chishiya had changed too. At least that’s what Y/N told herself as she watched him silently surveying his surroundings, assessing every person who might pose a potential threat. She missed the warmth of his embrace on cold nights and the whisper of his encouraging words in her ear when her only worry was passing her final exams. Sometimes she could even feel the echo of his touch when he brushed past her without acknowledging her presence. “It’s better if we don’t get associated,” he would say. And she believed him, as she always did, because after all, he was Chishiya.

But things didn’t take long to change.

It was a game night, a particularly intricate and demanding game. She felt conflicted discovering she was in the same group as her boyfriend. She had never played with him before, and she preferred it that way, but she couldn’t shake the sense of security and illusory calm that came from knowing he would be by her side. It turned out to be a game of tag, a Five of Clubs. Chishiya remained silent as the rules were explained, leaning against the wall with an enviable calmness. Y/N kept her distance, just as he had incessantly reminded her; it was better to maintain space in public places.

Once the game began, people started to run, racing through the building that was the stage for death that night, relentlessly searching for the safe zone behind one of the numerous doors leading to the top floor. She watched as Chishiya walked slowly toward the elevator. For some reason, seeing Aguni and his henchmen, who were also playing that night, vanish down the stairs prompted her to follow him. Once inside the elevator, and as the doors closed, Chishiya turned to her.

“Follow me if you want, but don’t talk to me.” He didn’t even look at her.

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard, feeling her heart constrict in her chest.

When the elevator reached the top floor and the doors opened, he stepped out. With a bored stride and his hands in his pockets, he moved toward a secluded corner, a strategic position from which he could observe the entire field without risk of being caught off guard by the hunter. Y/N slowly approached him, keeping a respectful distance. She heard Chishiya huff in annoyance, and for a moment, she was tempted to leave. She had played many games alone and survived; this time didn’t have to be different. However, when the first shot echoed through the air, all those thoughts faded away.

Minutes passed, and people began to fall, with no sign of the safe room that had been mentioned in the rules.

“The bomb will explode,” she said, gripping the railing tightly as she tried to envision where the safe door could be.

Chishiya didn’t respond.

A fire ignited within her. She wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing while people died trying to find the safe zone; they were players too, and this was a game of teamwork. She glanced at the man one last time, trying to find something familiar in his eyes that would assure her the man she knew was still there, but he didn’t look at her. She felt something inside her finally give way and shatter, and with determined steps, more resolute than her own certainty, she rushed toward the stairs, bounding down two steps at a time. In her focus, she didn’t see Chishiya watching her with astonishment etched on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Ten minutes remaining,” announced the robotic voice of her phone.

Y/N felt her body collide with a hard surface.

“I’m sorry,” she heard.

It was a man she remembered seeing in the lobby during the wait for the game to start.

“It’s fine,” she replied. She found the strange conventionality of their conversation amusing in such an extreme situation.

“Have you found the safe zone?” he asked.

“N—no,” Y/N dared not tell him that she hadn’t moved from her spot during the ten minutes the game had been running.

“Come on!” he urged as he ran.

For some reason, her legs activated before her brain, and she began to chase after the boy who would later introduce himself as Arisu.

When it was all over, and the car was filled to take the few survivors back to The Beach, Y/N found herself reunited with Chishiya. He had stayed hidden for almost the entire duration of the game, only appearing at the end, when there were barely five minutes left before the bomb would explode. A fire coursed through her as she watched him walk with absolute calm, urging Arisu to open the door behind which another hunter was hiding.

If they were alive, it was thanks to Arisu—this was the conclusion she reached and clung to when, upon arriving at The Beach, Chishiya knocked on her door.

“What do you want?” she asked as she opened it.

“You were impulsive tonight,” he replied, his tone flat and his demeanor bored.

Y/N closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to let herself be swayed by the bitter feelings that had been bubbling within her since the start of the game, perhaps even for days, which she had kept at bay.

“I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She shut the door, leaving him bewildered outside.

The next day, Y/N made an effort to avoid Chishiya. She did the same the following day. And the next. This game of hide-and-seek lasted almost a week until, for better or worse, Kuina decided to intervene.

“Chishiya wants to talk to you,” she said, entering Y/N’s room without knocking and wrapping her arm around hers, pulling her eagerly toward the man’s room.

Y/N had no choice but to let herself be led by the woman, well aware that when Kuina got something in her head, it was impossible to dissuade her. For some reason, she had become Chishiya’s loyal companion, doing anything he asked of her. “My boyfriend…” she thought. She didn’t even know if they were still together.

Upon reaching the room, Kuina pushed the door open, shoving Y/N inside and closing it behind her. Now they were alone.

Y/N watched Chishiya from behind, seated at his desk, working on one of his strange devices. No one spoke for a few seconds; the metallic sound of the gadget being adjusted filled the room alongside her quickened breath.

“Your friend is at The Beach,” Chishiya finally broke the silence, still facing away from her.

This took Y/N by surprise.

“My friend?” she asked, genuine hesitation in her voice.

Silence fell again for a moment, during which Y/N decided it was better not to breathe.

“Arisu,” Chishiya said, finally turning around.

An unintelligible sound escaped her lips as she exhaled the air she had been holding. She looked at him. His stoic expression revealed nothing about what might be going through his mind at that moment, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets. Y/N tried to find something in his eyes, in his gaze, that might indicate what he was thinking. It wasn’t necessary when he spoke again.

“I’m going to steal the cards, and Arisu is going to die.”

The girl didn’t know how those two ideas were connected, but a chill ran down her spine when she realized that whatever he was planning, whatever his goal was, Chishiya felt no remorse for that man’s life. Perhaps he felt no remorse for hers either, and that was where it shattered.

Y/N didn’t wait for him to continue speaking before turning on her heel and leaving the room, passing by Kuina, who had been leaning against the wall and startled at her sudden departure.

“Y/N!” Kuina called after her.

She ignored the call, swallowing her tears as she ran to her room. Finally, everything she had been holding deep in her heart, all those thoughts she had tried to banish from her mind over the past few days… all crumbled into tears that spilled from her eyes. She wouldn’t be his puppet; she wouldn’t be another victim of his deception, wouldn’t fall into the jaws of a man she could no longer recognize.

A few doors down, Chishiya was ushering a worried Kuina out of his room. He needed time to think, he told himself as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong. He knew precisely when things had begun to go awry, pinpointing it to the moment they both arrived in Borderlands. From that instant, his sole purpose had been to get them both out of that place and, until that was possible, to prioritize her safety, Y/N’s safety, and if that meant being cold and distant with her, impassive and indifferent in their interactions, so be it. But she clearly seemed incapable of seeing beyond his harsh actions; she didn’t understand that he did it for her own good, and that his only concern was for them to leave together. That’s why he was willing to risk the lives of the pawns on his chessboard, to sacrifice them without a second thought just to save the king and his queen—just to save her. It pained him when she looked at him with that distrust, that skepticism and disbelief… “As if I could ever betray her…” he scoffed as he buried his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead harshly.

It was going to be difficult to regain her trust, especially after that last glance filled with fear and disappointment that she had thrown at him before leaving her room.

Several days passed during which Chishiya’s plans were stalled. He decided not to make any moves until he was sure that his queen was still in the game, and for that, he had to use some of his intricate tricks.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, on the terrace, staring into the horizon.

“I considered not coming,” she replied honestly, “but Arisu told me it was important.”

“It is,” he responded, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice. The last thing he wanted, after days of silence, was for her to mention another man.

He turned to look at her. He noticed she was pale with sunken eyes; she must not have been sleeping well. Not that Chishiya didn’t know; he had been keeping an eye on her from the shadows, aware that she had been visibly uncomfortable and agitated after his announcement about stealing the cards. However, what pleasantly surprised him was that she hadn’t said anything to anyone, not even to Kuina, whom he sent every day to try to talk to her.

“I think you didn’t understand me well the other night,” he continued, taking a step closer to her.

“You told me you would steal the cards and kill Arisu,” she replied sharply.

Chishiya chuckled softly.

“I said I would steal the cards and that Arisu would die,” he answered, smiling with smugness.

A perfectly constructed mask.

Y/N rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Seeing this, Chishiya stepped closer, still smiling, coming within inches of her. Y/N felt her breath catch at the sudden and unexpected movement from the white-haired boy. Chishiya lifted his arms and uncrossed hers, letting them drop to her sides. Seizing the newly established space between them, he took another step forward and grasped her hands.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, Y/N,” Chishiya whispered softly, so quietly that Y/N momentarily thought she had imagined it.

He cleared his throat and raised his gaze, meeting her bright, anxious eyes.

His mask began to falter.

“I want to get out of here, but I want us to do it together. If we don’t get out together, if we don’t go home together... nothing would make sense,” he continued, feeling his voice waver as he forced himself to utter words he never would have thought would be in his vocabulary. “Everything I do... I do it for you. I do it because I love you.” And that was the last straw.

The woman wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Chishiya felt the dampness start to soak through his shirt, and along with the small sobs escaping from her, he realized she was crying. He embraced her too, gently stroking her back, trying to soothe her in the best way he knew how. It wasn’t something he did often.

Neither of them spoke as the rain began to fall, soaking the terrace and disguising the tears that had begun to slide down Chishiya’s cheek. “To think I could have lost her...” he thought, allowing the rain to wash away any trace of his mask.

He had spent all this time worried that the girl would remain alive, that she wouldn’t be used against him if anyone discovered his feelings for her, that she would be safe. But he seemed to have forgotten that she was not just another piece in his chess game; she was not something he could move at will. No, Y/N was his queen. Y/N was the most important piece on the board, the piece for which it was worth continuing the game. She was everything; no plan or strategy made sense if, at the end of the day, he didn’t have her. But Chishiya was a clever man, smarter than most, and he knew this wouldn’t be the end.

He swallowed his tears with regret and understood that he would never be willing to change his plans. He would achieve his goal; he would get her out of that place even if it meant lying to her, deceiving her, betraying her, hurting her, and being the cause of her tears. Savoring that embrace, he held her tighter against his chest, trying to imprint the feeling of her arms around him in his mind. He would deceive her, betray her, and hurt her; he would hate himself for it, but she would survive. She would escape that place.

And when he finally won the game he was playing, when he toppled the king, he would have a good reason to make the final checkmate, and his queen could be free; she could be happy. Even if it was without him.

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

--

✨

[fixfoxnox]

Luke's Spicy Snippets (10)

Note: Had a request for some Ghost/Reader with lots of tattoos and piercings!! So here that bad boy is!!

Warnings: Reader has a dick piercing, hand jobs, smut, no use of y/n

Pairing: Ghost/Male! Reader

He worked his tongue over his boyfriend's chest, trailing from his navel slowly up. His tongue piercing tracing along Ghost's skin pulled a shiver from the blonde.

Ghost's body tensed and he arched up into the man above him, a desperate gasp escaping his lips as his boyfriend flicked his tongue across one of his nipples, the cool metal against his burning skin added an extra layer of pleasure to the movement.

Ghost's breathing grew heavy and his hands were quick to grab tight to his boyfriend's shoulders, gripping desperately at the inked skin. He tried to trace the tattoos with his eyes, desperate for something to take his focus away from the three fingers pressed inside his tight hole, ever so slowly stretching him out.

His boyfriend was being mean, he knew that from the moment that he'd been guided into the bedroom with a hand groping at his ass. He could tell this was going to be one of those mean days where he was forced to appreciate every piece of what his boyfriend had to offer him.

Every piece meant that the tongue flicking at his nipples made sure that the piercing would hit with every move. Every piece meant their cocks rubbing together as his boyfriend fingered him open, the various piercings along his boyfriend's dick rutting against his sensitive skin. All of it was almost overwhelming for Ghost. He appreciated his boyfriends piercings constantly, but like this? Like this it was so much easier to love them.

"Simon," his boyfriend whispered against his chest. He was still rutting their cocks together and still slowly pumping his fingers in and out of him, keeping him right on the edge of not-enough pleasure.

Ghost tried to answer, but his words only came out as a small groan. His body felt hot and the attention that his boyfriend was attacking him with was almost too much. His mind was already tilting toward just giving in to what he knew his boyfriend wanted.

The chuckle that vibrated through the air lit Ghost's insides on fire. It was unbelievably hot, but also certainly a bit embarrassing for him. His boyfriend knew that he had him right where he wanted him.

Slowly his boyfriend started trailing his mouth away from Ghost's nipples, their chest sliding together as he worked his way up to connect their mouths in a heated kiss. Pleasure shot down Ghosts spine and a whimper escaped his throat. With the change of position, his boyfriends chest was rubbing against his own, the piercings through his boyfriends own nipples providing a sweet friction.

"Simon," his boyfriend nipped at his lip before pulling back, a wicked grin on his face. "You want me to fuck you, baby?

Ghost groaned at the words, his head falling back against the pillows as the fingers working in and out of him sped up to a quick pace. "I hate you," he managed to maon out after a moment, his nails digging in to his boyfriends shoulders.

"Do you now?" He chuckled and started to trail kisses along Ghost's neck, nipping and biting when he could. The pleasure zipping up Ghost's spine was enough that he could only glare at him for a moment before another moan tore from his mouth as his boyfriend took both of their cocks into his hand, rutting them together more effectively.

It was all too much for Ghost to handle. The hand on his cock in combination with the piercings rubbing against him. The fingers pounding in and out of him at a quick pace. The piercings brushing up against his nipples with just enough force to pull a shiver from his spine. His mind fizzled out quickly and he found himself taken by how gorgeous his boyfriend was and how desperately he wanted to feel those piercings inside of him.

"Please," he finally moaned out, his voice shakey.

"Please what, Si?" Amusement was clear in his boyfriends voice and, if Ghost wasn't too far gone, he would have blushed at the tone.

"Please, he managed again, gasping as his boyfriend's fingers just brushed against his prostate. He didn't hit it again. "Please," he spoke a bit more desperately. His hands yanked at his boyfriend's shoulders, "fuck me, please I need you. I need to," he tilted his head back with another groan at the thought, "need to feel you inside of me."

His boyfriend captured his mouth again in a sloppy kiss, his tongue licking across Ghost's teeth, forcing its way as far into his mouth as he could get it. When he finally pulled away, it wasn't without a few satisfied nips to Ghost's lips. "Thought you'd never ask."

He pulled his hands away from Ghost quickly, reaching out for the lube that had been discarded on the bed earlier. A decent amount went into his hands as Ghost watched on, squirming in place, desperate for the pleasure that he knew was coming.

As soon as he was satisfied with the amount of lube over his dick, the bottle was discarded away and his hands were tightly grabbing at Ghost's thighs. He used his grip to drag the large man down the bed toward him, a grin pulling at his lips as he noticed how red the action had caused Ghost to turn.

He gave a few ruts of his cock against Ghost's ass, moaning at the feeling of the friction against his cock. Finally, when Ghost gave a low whine at his teasing, he started to slowly feed his cock into his boyfriend.

For Ghost, the feeling was almost overwhelming. His mouth fell open and he could only stare on with glazed over eyes as he was split open on his boyfriends cock. With every inch that his boyfriend sunk into his tight hole, he could feel another piercing brushing against his sensitive walls. He could hardly breathe for the way that they rolled inside of him, providing a familiar friction that he adored.

Both he and his boyfriend gave a loud moan when he finally bottomed out. Their breathing was heavy, though that didn't stop Ghost from arching upward as his boyfriend gave a slow roll of his hips. "Feels," he gave several shakey gasps as his boyfriend started to slowly pull out of him, "so, so good. Fuck-"

Ghost scrambled for some sort of purchase as his boyfriend began almost immediately with a bruising pace. Their hips slapped together with every move and heat began to curl over Ghosts's gut and seep into his mind, taking any coherent thoughts away from him. All he could focus on was the continuous slam of his boyfriends cock against his prostate and the way that his piercings rubbed deliciously against his walls.

He grabbed at Ghost's chin, turning his head to face him with a wicked grin. "Pretty boy," he gave a low chuckle and continued fucking into him, his own pleasure from his piercings and Ghost's tight heat around him made it hard to focus, but he managed. "Taking it so fucking well, Simon. You, oh fuck, you're so fucking perfect." He leaned down to nip across Ghost's skin. He traced paths with his teeth until he could nip at the man's ear and whisper to him, "Like feeling me inside of you? God, you're so fucking tight and you're fucking close already, aren't you?" His hand wrapped around Ghost's cock to begin stroking him over quickly. The move caused Ghost to arch up against him again and choke on his own moans, his moans and pleas grew louder. "Like that you can fucking feel them, don't you?" He gave a chuckle and tightened his grip on Ghost's cock so that he could stroke him faster. "Dirty boy, Simon. Don't worry," he slapped Ghost's thigh hard, "I'll make sure you won't stop feeling those piercings for fucking weeks."

Ghost knew that he would make good on his promise.

[kat-thepoet]

Invisible string

CHAPTER FIVE

A/N: I really don't want to go back to school ☹️ Anyways, enjoy!

Previous chapters: CHAPTERS

Word count: 5090

When we got back to the group, the cold wind biting at my face, Erik was already storming toward me, his expression dark. The snow crunched under his boots, and before I could even catch my breath, he was yelling.

"Where the hell were you?" His voice boomed, harsh and accusatory, cutting through the chaos around us. His glare was fixed on me, and I could feel the weight of his anger like a physical thing pressing down on me.

I stood there, still trying to process everything that had just happened—the man in the cage, the guards, the alarms. It was all a blur, but Erik didn't care. All he saw was that I'd gone off the grid, and now he was furious.

"I—" I started, my voice shaky. "I found something."

"You found something?" he snapped, taking a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "We're in the middle of a mission, and you just wander off to 'find something'? You put everyone at risk."

I clenched my jaw, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise up. "I didn't wander off. I had to check out what was in that room—"

"You had to check it out?" Erik cut me off, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're not a soldier, Flora. You don't get to make those calls. You don't have the experience, and you sure as hell don't have the right to go rogue during a mission."

My chest tightened with frustration. "I didn't go rogue. I found that man in the cage—he was being tortured. I couldn't just leave him there!"

Erik's face darkened even more, his fists clenching at his sides. "You should've waited for backup. We have protocols for a reason."

"She did the right thing," Raven's voice cut in, firm and unwavering as she stepped between us. "That man would still be locked up in that cage if it weren't for her."

Erik's glare shifted to Raven, his jaw tightening. "You're defending her? She didn't follow orders—"

"Enough!" Charles's voice came through the earpiece, his tone commanding. "We don't have time for this. Everyone back to the jet, now."

Erik's eyes flickered with frustration, but he didn't argue with Charles. He shot me one last cold look before turning and stalking off toward the jet, the tension between us still thick in the air.

Raven placed a hand on my shoulder, her expression softening. "Don't let him get to you. You did what you thought was right."

I nodded, my heart still pounding in my chest. "He's right, though. I didn't follow protocol. I should've told someone—"

"You followed your instincts," Raven said, her voice low but firm. "And sometimes that's more important than following the rules. You saved that man."

I glanced back at the unconscious figure being carried toward the jet, still unsure of whether I had made the right call. But there was no turning back now.

With a deep breath, I fell into step with the others, my mind spinning as we headed back to the jet. Erik's words still echoed in my head, but Raven's reassurance helped ease the knot of doubt tightening in my chest.

As we boarded the jet, the atmosphere was tense. Erik sat in his usual seat, his gaze hard and distant, refusing to even look at me. I sat as far from him as possible, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

The jet began to lift off, the hum of the engines filling the cabin as I tried to focus on anything but Erik's lingering glare. My eyes drifted to the unconscious man lying on the floor, his chest rising and falling steadily, but still, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sorrow for him.

He had been locked in that metal box, tortured, maybe for years, and I couldn't stop imagining what he must have gone through. The thought made my heart ache for him. His body was defended with muscle, which was tense even in unconsciousness, as if he had been on edge for so long that he didn't know how to relax.

I leaned forward slightly, watching him closely, and something in me just wanted to reach out, to comfort him. He looked so vulnerable now, but I knew from what I had seen earlier—the way he'd taken out those guards—that he was anything but.

Who was he? And why had he been locked up like that?

The questions ran through my mind as I studied him. His bare chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and I wondered how much pain he had endured. How long had he been trapped in that hellhole? A wave of empathy washed over me, and I felt a deep urge to help him. Not just now, but to make sure he was okay, to understand what had happened to him.

We finally got back home, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But curiosity gnawed at me—what were they going to do with that man? Despite my exhaustion, I found myself watching Jean and Hank as they worked on him. Charles was there too, his calm demeanor hiding something beneath the surface.

As Jean and Hank continued their work, Charles tried to enter the man's mind. I watched as his expression shifted, a look of shock and discomfort crossing his face. Sensing something was wrong, I stepped closer to him.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Charles took a breath, his eyes still on the man. "He's been through... a lot. He's in a great deal of pain and confusion."

I glanced at the man lying unconscious on the table, his face finally relaxed but still bearing the weight of whatever horrors he'd endured. "I knew it," I muttered, looking back at Charles, who seemed deep in thought.

After a pause, Charles spoke again, his voice low. "His name is Logan."

Logan. I turned the name over in my mind. Somehow, I thought he looked more like a James, but I quickly erased the thought, knowing it wasn't necessary right now.

Jean and Hank finished whatever they were doing and quietly left the room, leaving just Charles and me with the man. Charles, sensing my lingering thoughts, gave me a gentle look.

"You should get some sleep," he suggested, his tone kind but firm.

"Yeah, I will," I replied, my gaze still fixed on Logan. "I'll be up in a minute."

Charles nodded, understanding, and without another word, he wheeled away, leaving me alone with Logan.

I stayed with Logan for a while, watching him sleep peacefully, his face finally free from whatever pain had gripped him for so long. The calmness in his features felt like a stark contrast to the chaos we had just witnessed. I knew I needed to do the same—rest, let my mind settle after everything that had happened—but something held me there a little longer.

Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I decided to head to my room. Before that, I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, hoping it would help settle my nerves. As I entered the kitchen, Erik was already there, leaning against the counter with a glass in hand. His gaze flicked toward me, cold and assessing, and before I could even reach for a glass, his voice cut through the silence.

"So, you're staying up late playing nurse now? Watching over the wild animal you let loose?"

His tone was sharp, and it stopped me in my tracks. I felt the frustration bubble up instantly. Of course, Erik would find a way to make this about my supposed recklessness.

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. "He's not a wild animal. His name is Logan. And I was making sure he was okay."

Erik scoffed, setting his glass down with an irritated clink. "That thing is a weapon, not some poor soul you need to save. You don't even know what you've unleashed."

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my cool. "I was trying to help him. He was trapped in there, Erik. You saw what they did to him."

"Yeah, I saw," he said, his eyes hardening. "And now we've got another loose cannon to deal with. All because you couldn't resist playing the hero."

I felt my temper flare, gripping the edge of the counter. "I wasn't trying to be a hero. I was trying to do what's right. Something you clearly don't understand."

Erik's gaze darkened, his posture tense. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. You think every problem can be fixed with good intentions, but the world doesn't work that way."

I took a step closer, my frustration boiling over. "And what? You think shutting everyone out, pushing them away, and acting like you're the only one who knows anything is better? Maybe you're the one who doesn't understand."

The air between us felt charged, heavy with unspoken words and tension. Erik's expression was cold, but beneath it, I could see something flicker—a crack in the armor he always wore.

"You're reckless," he said quietly, his voice low but cutting. "You put everyone at risk back there. Opening that cage without knowing what was inside. That man could've killed you."

I crossed my arms, refusing to back down. "I knew he wouldn't. I could feel it. Not everything's as black and white as you think."

"You're going to get yourself killed one day," Erik shot back, his eyes narrowing. "And you'll take others down with you."

I glared at him, my pulse racing with anger. "You don't know anything about me."

He took a step forward, his voice cold and unyielding. "I know enough. I know you won't last long if you keep making reckless decisions."

I stared at him, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge. But I couldn't let him get to me, not tonight. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the kitchen, the tension still crackling in the air behind me.

As soon as I walked away from Erik, the frustration bubbled up inside me. His constant need to be rude and dismissive was starting to wear me down. Every time we crossed paths, he found a way to tear me down, and tonight was no different. I felt the heat rising in my chest as I made my way back to my room, my fists clenched at my sides.

When I finally got to my door, I slammed it shut a little harder than necessary, the echo of it bouncing off the walls. I paced the room for a few moments, trying to shake off the anger, but it only seemed to grow stronger.

"Who does he think he is?" I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. "Logan's done nothing wrong, and Erik acts like I'm the villain for caring about him."

I sat on the edge of my bed, taking a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. But Erik's sharp words echoed in my head, playing over and over again. His constant coldness, his need to always be in control, and the way he treated me like I was some kind of nuisance. I just didn't understand him.

I flopped back onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the conversation in my head. Part of me wanted to understand why he acted this way, why he went out of his way to make everything harder for me. But the other part of me was just... angry. I had done nothing to deserve this treatment.

I grabbed my pillow, burying my face in it and letting out a muffled groan of frustration. I had dealt with difficult people before, but Erik was on a whole different level. He was rude, dismissive, and just plain mean. And yet, despite it all, I couldn't stop thinking about him—about what his deal was, about why he seemed to have such a problem with me.

"I don't need his approval," I whispered to myself. "I don't need him to like me."

But even as I said the words, a small part of me wondered why it still bothered me so much. Why did I care what Erik thought? Why did his constant judgment get under my skin the way it did?

I sighed, turning on my side and staring out the window. The moonlight streamed in, casting a soft glow across the room. I needed to sleep—I had enough on my plate without Erik's attitude making things worse. Tomorrow would be another long day, and I needed to be focused.

But as I closed my eyes, trying to block out the thoughts, Erik's voice still lingered in my mind, his cold, sarcastic tone biting at the edges of my thoughts. I clenched my fists, determined not to let him ruin my night, but it was easier said than done.

"Why does he always have to be like this?" I whispered into the dark room, wishing for once I had an answer.

With a deep sigh, too lazy to change into something more comfortable, I rolled over, burying myself under the covers, hoping that sleep would finally come and take the frustration away.

I woke up the next morning, groggy and feeling the weight of my restless night. I glanced at the clock—7:45. My heart skipped a beat. I had just an hour before class started.

Panic set in as I scrambled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. I took the quickest shower of my life, throwing on some pants and a sweater as soon as I was dry. My hair was still a bit damp, but I combed it as best I could before brushing my teeth and slipping into my shoes. I barely had time to think, my mind focused on getting downstairs and grabbing something to eat before class started.

As I rushed down the hall, my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything since that unfortunate encounter with Erik last night. I quickened my pace, heading straight for the kitchen, hoping to find something quick and easy.

When I walked in, I found Raven and Jean already seated at the table, sipping their coffee and chatting casually. They looked up as I entered, offering me friendly smiles.

"Morning, Flora," Jean greeted, her voice warm.

"Hey, you're up early," Raven added with a teasing grin, clearly noticing the slightly frazzled state I was in.

"Yeah, well, I overslept a little," I admitted sheepishly, grabbing an apple from the counter and taking a bite. "I've got class in less than an hour, and I still need to finish setting up."

Jean gave me a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. It's normal to feel a little rushed in the mornings. You'll get into a rhythm soon enough."

Raven nodded, leaning back in her chair. "Trust me, we've all had our 'oh crap, I'm late' moments. You'll survive."

I chuckled softly, grateful for their reassurance, but my mind was still buzzing with everything I had to do before class started. I quickly scarfed down the apple, grabbed a piece of toast, and leaned against the counter, trying to eat as fast as I could.

"How's your class planning going?" Raven asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Pretty good, I think," I replied between bites. "Yesterday went well, so I'm hoping today will be the same. I just... hope I'm not forgetting anything."

"You've got this, Flora," Jean said with a confident smile. "Just trust yourself."

I smiled back at her, feeling a little better. "Thanks. I'll do my best."

Finishing the last bite of my toast, I grabbed a quick glass of water and headed toward the door, waving goodbye to the two of them. "I'll see you guys later. Gotta get to class."

"Good luck!" Raven called after me, her voice light and encouraging.

With my stomach somewhat satisfied and a little more confidence in my step, I hurried toward the classroom, determined to make today a good one—no matter how tired or rushed I felt.

I made it to class just in time, relieved that I'd managed to pull everything together. The lesson went smoothly—today, I introduced the kids to the story of Helen Keller. They were all captivated by her life and how she overcame so many obstacles, their faces lighting up with curiosity and awe as they watched the video I had prepared. I could tell they were intrigued, asking questions and engaging with the material in a way that made me feel like I was truly connecting with them.

After class, I graded the worksheets they had completed based on the video. Their answers were thoughtful, and I smiled as I reviewed them. Once I finished, I gathered my things and decided to check on Logan. Something about him stuck with me—the pain, the mystery. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him, wanting to understand what he had been through.

When I arrived in the med bay, Jean was already there, standing by Logan's bed with a concerned expression on her face.

"Still hasn't woken up?" I asked, stepping closer to her.

Jean shook her head, looking puzzled. "No, and it's strange. His healing ability is remarkable, yet he's been unconscious for this long. It doesn't make sense."

I thought back to when I had put him to sleep back at the facility. "Well, I'm the one who put him to sleep," I said hesitantly. "Maybe I can wake him up?"

Jean paused for a moment, considering it, then nodded. "If you think that might work, go ahead. It's worth a try."

As she stepped away to put some tools back, I moved closer to Logan's bedside, feeling the familiar sensation of using my powers welling up within me. His chest rose and fell steadily, his face peaceful yet tense, like he was caught in a dream. I reached out, placing my hand gently on his forehead, feeling the coolness of his skin beneath my fingers.

"Wake up," I whispered softly, focusing my energy on pulling him out of the deep sleep I had put him in.

At first, nothing happened. But then, suddenly, Logan's body jerked violently, and his eyes shot open, wide with confusion and panic. Before I could react, his hand shot up, grabbing me by the throat with a force that knocked the breath out of me. I gasped, my hands instinctively reaching for his wrist, trying to pull it away, but his grip was strong—too strong.

His eyes were wild, filled with fear and disorientation, as if he didn't recognize where he was or who I was. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he stared at me like I was a threat.

I couldn't breathe, the pressure on my throat tightening with each passing second. Panic surged through me, but I knew I had to stay calm. I focused on my powers, reaching out to him not with words, but with my touch. I pressed my hand against his wrist, channeling my energy into him, trying to soothe the fear that gripped him.

"Calm down," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I struggled to breathe. "It's okay. You're safe."

For a moment, nothing happened. But then, slowly, I felt the tension in his body begin to ease. His grip on my throat loosened, and his breathing started to slow. His eyes, once filled with confusion, began to clear, and he blinked, looking at me with a mix of realization and regret.

I gasped for air as he released me completely, stumbling back slightly, my hand instinctively going to my throat.

Logan sat up on the bed, his chest still heaving, but his gaze was no longer wild. He looked at me, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What... where am I?" His voice was gravelly, as if it hadn't been used in a while.

I took a step back, trying to catch my breath. "You're... you're safe now. You're at a school. We found you."

Logan's eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings. He was still on edge, but at least he wasn't attacking me anymore. Jean rushed over, concern written all over her face.

"What happened?" she asked, glancing between the two of us.

"He woke up... but he didn't exactly take it well," I said, still rubbing my sore throat.

Logan rubbed his temples, wincing slightly as if he was trying to piece together what had happened. "How long... how long was I out?"

"Too long," Jean said softly, glancing at me. "But you're okay now."

Logan didn't respond, his mind clearly elsewhere as he tried to process everything.

Jean glanced between Logan and me, her expression thoughtful. "I'll let the professor know he's awake," she said, giving Logan one last look before turning to leave. Just as she reached the door, her voice echoed in my mind. "Are you going to be alright alone with him?" she asked telepathically, her concern clear.

"Yes," I replied, though I wasn't entirely sure if I meant it. "I'll be fine."

Jean gave a brief nod and left the room, her footsteps fading down the hall. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone with Logan.

The silence in the room was heavy, but I tried to shake off the tension, focusing on Logan. He looked lost, still disoriented, and it tugged at something inside me. Without saying a word, I grabbed a hoodie that had been left on a chair nearby, probably one of Hank's. I walked over and handed it to him.

"Here," I said, offering a small, tentative smile. "You might want this."

Logan blinked, his gaze shifting to the hoodie, then back to me. He hesitated for a second before taking it from my hands, his movements slow and unsure.

"Thanks," he mumbled, pulling the hoodie over his head. The fabric covered the worst of the scars and bruises that marked his chest.

I rubbed my neck absentmindedly, wincing as I felt the soreness where his hand had gripped me. "That's definitely going to leave a bruise," I thought, still feeling the raw sting from his sudden attack. But I kept quiet about it, not wanting to make him feel worse.

Logan noticed the gesture, his eyes briefly flicking to my throat, and his expression softened slightly, though he didn't say anything. There was a heaviness between us, an unspoken understanding that whatever had happened to him had pushed him into survival mode—and I had just been caught in the crossfire.

"It's okay," I said softly, my voice a little raspy. "You didn't mean to."

Logan just stared at me for a moment, his jaw tightening, but he didn't respond. Instead, he looked away, his eyes distant, as if the weight of whatever he had been through was still too much to process.

I sat down in the chair next to him, keeping my distance but staying close enough to let him know I wasn't afraid. 

To break the heavy silence, I asked, "Are you hungry?"

Logan glanced at me, his eyes still clouded, and shook his head. "I'm more thirsty," he said, his voice gravelly.

Nodding, I stood and walked over to the small kitchen area in the corner. I grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water, my mind still spinning with everything that had just happened. When I handed the glass to him, he didn't hesitate. He downed the water in one long gulp, like a man who hadn't had a drink in days.

I chuckled softly, unable to help myself. "You want more?"

He looked at me, a little sheepish, his rough exterior cracking just a bit. "Uh, yes please."

I smiled and took the glass back, filling it again. When I handed it to him this time, he sipped more slowly, as if he were trying to regain control, trying to ground himself in this unfamiliar place.

As he drank, I leaned against the counter, watching him, wondering how long it had been since someone had treated him with basic kindness. The awkwardness between us began to ease slightly, replaced by a tentative understanding. Logan was clearly a man who had been through hell, and I didn't need to push him to talk about it—not yet.

For now, offering water and a bit of normalcy was enough.

Just as Logan finished the second glass of water, the door to the room opened, and Charles, Hank, and Jean walked in. I instinctively moved to stand next to Logan, not wanting him to feel cornered. Hank's eyes immediately landed on me, and his expression shifted to one of concern.

"What the hell happened to your neck?" he asked, his voice a mix of alarm and worry.

I reached up and touched my neck, wincing slightly as my fingers brushed against the tender skin. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet, but I could tell the bruises were already visible, likely darkening with each passing moment.

"It's nothing," I replied quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

Hank frowned, clearly not satisfied with my answer, but he didn't push it. Jean, standing beside him, glanced between me and Logan, her expression unreadable but thoughtful.

Charles, meanwhile, wheeled himself closer to the bed, his eyes on Logan. "Logan, how are you feeling?" he asked calmly, as if trying to gauge the man's mental state.

Logan didn't respond right away. He glanced at me, then at the others, his eyes still carrying the weight of disorientation, but there was something calmer about him now. "I'm...fine," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

Hank continued to glance between Logan and me, still visibly concerned about my neck. I gave him a small, reassuring smile, hoping it would ease his worry, though deep down, I couldn't ignore the throbbing pain that pulsed with every breath.

"We need to run some tests," Jean said softly, her tone gentle as she addressed Logan, clearly trying to keep the situation calm. "Just to make sure everything is okay."

Logan's jaw clenched slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah, whatever."

I stayed close to Logan, quietly observing, knowing that things would only get more complicated from here. But even with the bruises throbbing on my neck, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of protection for him.

After making sure Logan was settled and that everything was under control, I decided it was time to slip away. My neck throbbed with every step I took, a constant reminder of the bruises that were probably blooming there.

As soon as I reached my room, I closed the door behind me and went straight to the mirror. I winced as I tilted my head to the side, revealing the dark bruises wrapping around my throat like an ugly necklace. Logan's grip had been strong—too strong—and now the evidence was plain as day.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. There was no way I could walk around like this without people asking questions. Maybe I could find Raven or Storm and see if they had any makeup to help cover it up.

With that thought in mind, I grabbed my phone and sent a quick message to Raven: "Hey, do you or Storm have any makeup I could borrow? Got a bit of a situation here."

I hoped she wouldn't ask too many questions. The last thing I needed was a lecture from Raven about getting into situations I couldn't handle, even though, technically, it hadn't been my fault.

A few moments later, my phone buzzed with a response: "I've got some. Come by my room."

I sighed in relief and grabbed a hoodie to cover up my neck until I could get there. Time to fix this little mess.

As I walked out of my room, I tried to ignore the throbbing in my neck and headed down the hallway, hoping to avoid any encounters. But, of course, Erik was standing there, leaning against the wall like some statue.

His eyes flickered to my neck for a split second, and I could see the corner of his mouth twitch. "Getting into more trouble, I see," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I shot him a look, already exhausted from everything. "What's it to you?"

He shrugged, his gaze not leaving my neck. "Just making an observation. Seems like you're making a habit of getting yourself hurt."

I turned to face him fully, crossing my arms. "I'm fine, Erik. And I don't need your commentary on my life."

He gave a nonchalant shrug, but there was something in his eyes, something quieter beneath the snark. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that," he said, his voice softer now, though his words still had that edge.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why do you even care?"

For a brief second, it looked like he might say something real, something that wasn't just another cutting remark. But instead, he scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't. Just hate seeing people make stupid mistakes."

I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away, feeling both irritated and confused. But as I left him standing there, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his words than just his usual sarcasm. Maybe he cared more than he was willing to admit—though, knowing Erik, he'd never make that easy to figure out.

I made my way down the hall, still fuming from my brief encounter with Erik. My neck ached with every step, and I couldn't help but feel self-conscious about the bruises that were probably becoming more visible. When I reached Raven's door, I knocked lightly before stepping inside.

She was lounging on her bed, flipping through a magazine, but the moment she saw me, her eyes widened. "Wow. What the fuck happened to you?"

I sighed, rubbing my neck lightly. "Logan woke up. Let's just say it didn't go as smoothly as I planned."

Raven sat up, tossing the magazine aside. "Did he do that?" She gestured to my neck, her tone a mix of shock and concern.

I nodded, trying to play it off. "Yeah, but it was an accident. He was confused. I, uh... I calmed him down."

"Calmed him down?" Raven's eyebrows shot up. "With your throat?"

I chuckled softly, despite the soreness. "Not exactly. I used my powers to make him relax. He was just scared, I think."

Raven shook her head, looking at me like I'd just walked through fire. "Flora, you need to stop volunteering for the 'getting hurt' committee. First Erik, now this?"

"Trust me, I didn't sign up for either of those," I replied, feeling a little lighter now that I could joke about it.

Raven stood up and crossed the room, inspecting the bruises on my neck with a skeptical look. "You sure you're okay? Because this looks nasty."

"I'll live," I said with a shrug. "I just need some makeup to cover it up. Can you help me?"

Raven sighed but gave me a small smile. "Yeah, I got you. But seriously, Flora... maybe try staying out of trouble for a bit?"

I rolled my eyes playfully. "I'll try. No promises."

As she went to grab her makeup bag, I felt the weight of the day settling in. The bruise on my neck might fade, but the tension between me and Erik? That was a whole other story.

🏷️ @nizem8 @maximumchilddreamland @mostlymarvelgirl

Chapter: SIX

[inazumass]

Lost In The Fire || Part One

I just got out of surgery and realized I forgot to post this one on tumblr... priorities. No smut in this part, but be aware that its me and there will be smut later on... Minors do not follow me please, you will be blocked.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57089236

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, major character death, semi graphic descriptions of violence, blood, death, nightmares, Pro Hero Suneater Lemillion and Nejire Chan, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, mutual pining, GN!Reader, No use of Y/N, freeform, Recommended for mature readers due to violence/blood

Word Count: 6.9k

Smoke rose high in the sky and he could hear the sound of sirens blaring outside, their urgent cries echoing off of the nearby buildings as he ran through the darkened hallways. Tamaki’s body felt heavy as he ran, almost as if he were running through quicksand. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was about to come up through his throat. It wasn’t good, he was panicking and he knew it. There was no time to think, no time to slow down. 

 The screams of civilians rang out from all around him but there was no one here. He could hear the fight going on, but it seemed as if it was coming from all around him now. All alone in the hall, all he could do was run blindly toward the mayhem. Pain shot through his body as glass crunched beneath his bare feet. He didn’t care, only letting out a strained hiss as he rounded the outer corner inside the large office building. Following the sound of the chaos. 

He couldn’t remember how the four of you had gotten so split up. Was it during the blast? He could have sworn you were just right beside him. That didn’t matter now, he needed to find someone. Anyone. The three of you were tough, he knew that. You, Mirio, and Nejire were all forces to be reckoned with in your own right. When it came down to a fight you weren’t just threats, you were a goddamn promise to bring any nearby enemies to their knees.

He knew you could handle it.

So what was with this feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach threatening to devour him from the inside out?

The villain– he hadn’t caught his name– was unlike any he’d ever seen before. That hulking form, those horrible blasts… Was this his quirk? Or did he have two somehow… he didn’t look like a Nomu when he’d seen the guy. Was he working with someone else? 

Down the hallway a familiar voice broke through the chaos.

“Suneater, where are you?!” 

It sounded broken, desperate, and so, so unlike you. 

The hero raced to the end of the hallway, leaping over debris as he raced toward the voice, your voice. He was so close, even as his feet went numb from the pain of running through broken glass he didn’t stop. He still couldn’t tell where the fight was but he didn’t need to right now. The urgency in your voice was unmistakable, even in a few short words he could hear the wobble in it. It was all wrong, this was bad.

Tamaki all but skittered to a halt as he reached another bend in the hallway and saw you there, hunched over in the middle of the hall. 

There was blood, so much blood.

“It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay, just stay with me.” You all but sobbed out. From your tone it wasn’t clear whether you were trying to convince yourself or the body beneath you. “I’ll get someone to get help.”

At first he couldn’t see who it was in front of you, their body obscured by your form, their clothes tattered and stained with the deep crimson of what he could only assume was their life force draining from them at an alarming rate. He didn’t even have time to panic.

His blood ran cold when he moved forward to see Mirio crumpled beneath you, his usually vibrant violet eyes glassy, barely open as he tried to focus on your face. Tamaki could practically see the colour draining from them as he stared down at him in horror. 

He didn’t know what to do at first, and that split second of freezing would cost him, he was certain. 

“I’ll be fine.” Mirio rasped out with a broken smile, coughing and sputtering up blood to punctuate his sentence as he looked up at the two of you.

Tamaki rushed to your side, attempting to assess the damage but he couldn’t see past all the blood. It was a mess. Your hands were braced against the blond’s sturdy body, your firm grip trying to slow the bleeding as best as you could, putting pressure on the worst of his wounds. 

Mirio’s cape was wrapped around him tightly, ripped pieces of it tied against his arms and legs like makeshift tourniquets– no, not like, that’s exactly what they were. How bad was it? Could he have stopped it even if he had been here?

“I-I can’t move him. I have to put pressure on his wounds you need to-”

“I’ll get help.” Tamaki muttered, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder before turning away.

His throat was dry, his mind was spinning. He’d get someone from support, he'd find someone, who could handle this- He had to keep a level head. Don’t succumb to panic. Be realistic about this; manifest wasn’t suited for healing, he knew that. He knew you were better suited to handle the situation. But he couldn’t help but feel useless running away from someone in need. 

But you were usually so calm in crisis situations, and he couldn’t get the image of your tear stained face out of his mind, the tired look on Mirio's as he got closer and closer to losing consciousness. You knew more about first aid than he did, you were a better healer than he could ever be– but now wasn’t the time to compare.

The support team had to be outside by now, he could swear he’d seen paramedics from the windows earlier he just had to find a way to-

“LOOK OUT!” 

That was Nejire, her pale hand outstretched as she rushed past him. But she wasn’t talking to him, no, she’d been looking past him. His neck turned so fast it nearly gave him whiplash as he watched her race toward you and Mirio. At that moment it felt like time slowed down. It was as if he could see things in slow motion, but he couldn’t move fast enough.

Three things happened next in quick succession.

First, the sound of shattering glass ripped through the air, the window exploding in a glittering sea of shards that rained down on the three people he cared most about. Glass tore across your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and braced for impact, unable to take your hands off of the man in front of you in fear of losing him too.

Second, the section of the hallway you were in started to get darker. It was as if night had descended upon the three of you in an instant. Nejire tried to let out a blast but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fast enough. Even just from a quick glance at her it was clear that she’d nearly entirely exhausted her stamina in the fight. Mirio told you and Nejire to run but you wouldn’t move, you couldn’t leave him there. Cries of ‘just go, leave me’ and ‘you need to run’ followed by your voice breaking when you told him you couldn’t just leave him there to die.

Finally, the source of the darkness bit into the ceiling above the three of you. Something– one of the villains surely– had sent an ambulance hurtling straight through the outside wall of the hallway from the street below. Tamaki had already stretched out his tentacles to try and grab his friends but it was too late, he’d just barely gotten a grip on you and Nejire when the ceiling began to crumble.

He’d caught you both just in time to watch as the vehicle slammed into the wall, completely obliterating his outstretched appendages and pinning the pulverised remnants to the ground. His eyes went wide, his mouth opened in a scream he couldn’t hear as the rubble crashed into the three of you. He watched as Mirio closed his eyes and clasped your fists, his lips moved but Tamaki couldn’t hear him over the sound of crunching metal and crumbling concrete.

Nejire’s scream rang in his ears before she gurgled and went eerily silent. He couldn’t look, his eyes slammed shut as soon as he’d seen the piece of broken concrete headed in her direction. There had been no time to move, by the time he’d already stretched out his arm to save her it was already too close. He knew he didn’t want to see what came next. There was no time to drive, no time to let it sink in.

His left arm was ruined, but he could still save the two of you. 

There was still time.

At least that’s what he thought. Your eyes found his, a resigned look on your face as you stared back at him with that gentle smile that always comforted him. The world slowed around him again, he’d hoped this time it was merciful. If he could just get a grip on you and Mirio he might be able to get the three of you outside and to the paramedics before he succumbed to blood loss. Your mouth opened to say something right before the shattered rebar went straight through your head and the ceiling rained down on you and Mirio.

Tamaki jerked awake in his bed shortly thereafter, his heart still pounding in his ears. His pulse was through the roof, tears were already streaming down his face as he sat up in the darkness. His breaths came out in ragged pants as he tried to calm himself down. He fought the urge to scream, grasping at his left arm as if he expected it not to be there. 

It was just a dream… It was just a dream but it had all felt so real that he could swear he still felt the sting of the glass biting into the soles of his feet. 

A shaking hand clamped over his mouth as the first sob of many wracked his body. Tamaki curled in on himself in bed, covers long abandoned during his tossing and turning in the night. His body shook with the force of his cries as he recalled the image of the three of you dead on the floor in front of him. His arm stung with the memory of being pinned beneath the gnarled shreds of metal. But it was still there, free of the blood and gore his mind had created just to torment him in the dead of night.

He tried hard not to close his eyes for too long, for if he did the image would come rushing back instantaneously. The way Mirio’s blood pooled and seeped into the carpet, the empty look in your eyes as you left your body, the death rattles of yours and Nejire’s last breaths– He gagged at the thought, nausea bubbling up in his stomach as he fought back the urge to vomit.

A hand clamped over his mouth in the darkness as soon as he felt the bile rising in his throat. A choked sob muffled out around his palm. He was shaking like a leaf already, trying to breathe to calm himself but unable to take in enough air through the sobs. A quick glance at the clock told him it was well past midnight. 

Once his cries had calmed enough, he considered calling Mirio and Nejire. He picked up his phone, staring at the dim screen for a moment before deciding against it. What was he supposed to say? What would they think of him texting them this late? He couldn’t just say “Hey, I had a nightmare and I just really need you to wake up and text me back right now and tell me that you’re alive”. 

No. Absolutely not. That would be ridiculous and so embarrassing. 

Eventually he got up on wobbly legs, walking across the room to grab the water bottle off of his desk. He took a long drink to replace what he’d lost through his tear ducts. His head was pounding now, the tears still streaming freely down his face as he braced himself against the wooden surface for support.

If nothing else, the cool wood was grounding him here to reality. There were no villains here, he was in his room, the air was cool, the night was calm.

He moved to walk back to his bed so he could find a way to force himself to take his mind off of it before a sharp pain bit into the bottom of his foot and sent a shock through him with his last step. Glass. He thought briefly, his mind going right back to the rush of his heartbeat in his ears and the stench of iron in his nose. 

When he jumped back, he realised that it was only a stray pin that had fallen off of his bag at some point. Its sharp point sticking up from the carpet and laying in wait for an unsuspecting victim. But the damage was done. That pain sent the images from the nightmare flashing behind his eyes once again, another shaky cry ripping from his throat. He couldn’t take it anymore, stewing in this alone. At this rate he’d never get back to sleep and he’d spend the rest of the night thinking about the image of your crumpled bodies on the hallway floor.

It wasn’t like Tamaki to invade your personal space, especially when it came to the late hours of the night. He was the type of roommate who was content to be a ghost in the apartment, often hiding away in his bedroom or leaving you to your own devices unless you happened to approach him first. In the months that you two had shared the space, he had never dared to so much as bother you after you’d gone to bed for the night. 

But right now he couldn’t stop himself. 

Even as his hands shook reaching for your bedroom door, he cursed himself internally for how pitiful he was right now. A shaking, crying mess all because of one stupid little nightmare. Still, he needed to make sure you were alright, he hoped you were awake. He couldn’t take this alone, as much as he didn’t want you to see him like this. 

He wanted to run back now but he’d already called your name as he went and knocked on your door.

“A-are you awake?” A quiet little sniffle punctuated his question as the door pushed open from his light knocking. 

The hinges squeaked quietly in the darkness, just barely disturbing your slumber as you slowly came to. Tamaki froze, suddenly feeling even more guilty for having woken you up as you whined at the intrusion, grumbling softly about how late it was before your eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

"Mmh.... Tamaki?" You muttered, lightly rubbing sleep from your eyes as you looked up at him in your doorway.

Even through your sleepy haze and the dim lighting of the bedroom they could see the tears welled up in his eyes. In an instant you were completely awake, sitting up quickly without a second thought. The covers of your bed slipped down into your lap and you shoved them away. 

"What’s wrong?" You asked softly, your mind already running through the possible worst case scenarios as you searched for some kind of hint in his eyes. 

Even with the tears sliding down his cheeks you could see his shoulders relaxing as he laid eyes on you. Then he seemed to stiffen up a little as the dam broke again and he let out a muffled sob. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He whimpered, feeling awful about having woken you up. This was so embarrassing, he should have simply dealt with it on his own, of course you were fine. It was just a stupid nightmare and here he was crawling into your room like an idiot and-

“Hey, hey…” You cooed, reaching out to grab his hand from where you sat on your bed before thinking better of it. 

"Here, come here… Is it okay if I hold you right now?"

Despite the urge to run back to his room and bury himself in his covers he sniffled and nodded, allowing you to gently pull him down to sit next to you. You felt the bed shift beneath you as he joined, leaning into your one armed hug and hiding his face in your shoulder.

Your familiar touch was just enough to begin to lure him back into some sense of security and comfort once more. The light scent of the soap you used still clinging to your body replaced the stench of iron lingering in his mind, aiding in calming him down. He squeezed his eyes shut, only to be met with that horrible image from his nightmare once again. 

It was as if it had never left his mind, just waiting behind his eyelids to torment him every time he closed them. 

You wrapped your other arm around him then, feeling him shift uncomfortably at the memory. Reaching behind him, you grabbed your comforter, pulling it tight around the both of you for added security.

“It’s okay,” Your soft voice cooed as you rubbed his back. 

It was both mortifying and absolute bliss being babied like this, but he didn’t have time to enjoy it right now. Too busy reliving those images from his nightmare over and over.

This had never happened before, you couldn’t think of a single time when you’d seen him cry so openly, much less a time when he’d come into your room announced or otherwise. It was unclear how the best way to handle it would be so you just kept rubbing gentle circles in his back, hoping that he might soon calm down enough to tell you what was going on. 

“It’s alright, Tamaki.” You breathed, resting your cheek against the top of his head as you held onto him.

It was a few moments before his whimpers and sniffles calmed down enough for you to feel like you could ask; “Do you wanna talk about it?”

His voice was smaller than usual, almost fragile as he began to speak. 

"I... I guess," his voice wobbled as he tried to think about how to explain it. He at least owed you that for disturbing your peace so late at night. 

“It… it was awful,” Tamaki’s voice broke again, a hand clamping down over his mouth as he tried to stifle the sob that came out.

"It's okay, honey, take your time." You whispered, still rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe his cries. Of course, you wanted to know what possibly could have upset him enough that he would let you see him like this. 

"I-I had a nightmare..." He confessed, as if having read your mind. The elf eared boy sniffled again between his words as he tried to explain. His voice was trembling slightly as snapshots of the dream played on loop in his mind, taunting him. He didn’t want you to know the full scope of it. 

"I… I couldn't protect them..."

Ah, so that was it. You nodded gently, cheek moving to rest on your roommate’s shoulder as he cried. 

He was grateful for that, your gaze obscured from his view thanks to his messy hair obscuring his pitiful expression before he buried his face in your shirt. You were kind enough to spare him the burden of being perceived in full right now, knowing that he might very well shrivel up and die right here if he had to look at you in the state he was in.

"It's okay," You breathed.

You were tired but glad that he trusted you enough to feel safe here in your arms. It broke your heart to see him so distressed. 

Of course being a professional hero would come along with this sort of stress. It only made sense that these sorts of fears would creep in sooner or later but it didn't mean that it was something he needed to work through alone. Especially after all the four of you had been through together.

Even so, you didn't know what to say yet, unsure on how to comfort him best. 

"I woke up feeling so guilty and scared..." He mumbled, his tears staining your night shirt as he spoke. 

He had never felt such an intense fear before, and it was eating away at him from the inside out.

"I can't stop thinking about it…” 

Your grip on your roommate tightened a little bit as he continued on, your throat tightening at the way his voice broke when he talked about it. 

“It’s okay,” You repeated, mind blanking as you fought to find the right words to say to him in the moment. “I know how bad they can be… it was just a nightmare.” You said, giving him a tight squeeze as he began to cry harder. 

You knew it wasn’t enough, that facts didn’t care about things surrounding the realm of feelings and fear. It wasn’t enough that it wasn’t real, but you couldn’t think of anything more to say as he sobbed into your chest.

Having graduated from the hero support program, you couldn’t imagine the sort of pressure he was under in his current position. Four years of training and the two of you were in completely different leagues, on different yet similar paths. You’d both fought countless villains, but you were never the one to face things head on unless you were completely out of options. It was a blessing that you’d gotten the quirk you had, but it lacked combat potential. Healing could be used for torture and restraint, but only if you desperately needed to.

“What do you need me to do for you right now?” You asked, not sure if it would be better to help him find some sort of distraction or to let him cry it out for a little bit longer.

"Just... stay here with me, please..." He mumbled, still shaking slightly. He’d feel awful about this moment tomorrow for sure, but for now in your arms and beneath your duvet it felt like he was being engulfed in a safe haven. “I…” Tamaki’s voice quivered.

As much as he wanted to hold it back he couldn’t help it when the words came rushing out. "I-I thought I lost you." He sobbed out, thinking back to the moment in his dream when he’d watched in horror as blood gurgled out of your throat 

His voice was barely a whisper at the end, breaking in the middle of his confession. Quiet sobs wracked his body while he cried, his slender fingers gripping you even tighter as he buried his face in your neck now. He didn't want to go back to sleep yet, not wanting to risk seeing the images from that nightmare again. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, let alone having to watch his closest friends all dying in front of him because he wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough.

That simple sentence felt like a stab in the gut, momentarily rendering you immobile while you held him. You froze. Tamaki’s cries broke your heart and all you could do was squeeze him back as he cried in your arms. 

"I'm right here, Tama', it's okay." You breathed, gently stroking his deep indigo hair while holding onto him tightly. Determined to banish the nightmare from his mind, you continued: "I'm not going anywhere, it's okay... I'm here.” 

His hair was soft beneath your fingertips. It was a mess from tossing and turning in his sleep, but you didn’t mind.

"Y-you... promise?" He asked between sobs, gripping onto you as if his life depended on it. 

It was obvious to you that the nightmare had shaken him to his core. You didn’t dare press for more information.

Perhaps he just needed to know that someone was there for him at that moment. That you were here, alive and well. Something about your warmth pressed in next to him was enough to push the memory away for now. The soft smell of your body wash lingered on your skin, something akin to the calming rush of lavender flooding his nose and easing his racing thoughts. 

"Cross my heart." You replied, playing with his hair as you gently rocked him back and forth. You swayed slowly, the gentle motion slowing his sobs. "I'm sorry you had that nightmare, but it's okay. I'm alright, I'm safe." 

For now, the memory of your blood staining the hallway in front of him was slowly replaced with this moment. The nightmare slowly faded to a dull, uneasy ache. Calloused hands gripped the thin fabric of your tearstained shirt, determined to keep you close regardless. Even if the panic was gone for now, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to let you out of his sight for the foreseeable future.

"Mmm... th-thank you..." He murmured, his sobs slowly subsiding as he calmed down.

You offered him a gentle smile as you pulled back from the hug. The dim moonlight filtered in through the curtains in your bedroom, bathing it in a soft silvery glow. Slowly, you reached a hand up to brush away the tears from his pretty face. Your thumb swiped lightly across his cheek before you pulled your hand away from him.

The soft glow from outside cradled your head like a halo. Tamaki just blinked up at you, eyes bloodshot and sparkling with unshed tears as you treated him so delicately. 

"Of course, what are friends for?" You replied.

You didn’t see the way he looked away from you then, that subtle ache rising in his chest at the rhetorical question. He understood the sentiment well enough, and he was thankful that he’d been lucky enough to be your roommate.

"Y-yeah..." He agreed softly, staring at you for a moment before letting out a deep breath.

He was never one to be all that optimistic or cheerful. This was especially true when it came to matters involving himself or his physical strength… or really anything that had to do with his own self image. 

Even then he'd never let anyone see him this bad, but it had all felt so real in the moment. Too real, too possible. If he had allowed himself to stew in silence he’d still be able to hear the way your scream echoed, piercing the air sharply and ringing through his mind even after he’d woken up. His arm lingered around you, his grip on the fabric of your shirt slowly easing up as he convinced himself that everything was okay. 

Even if it wasn’t real… the situation was all too plausible in your line of work. What if he couldn’t get to you in time? Heroes couldn’t save everyone, even before graduating UA he knew that. During the war it got drilled into his head to the point where he couldn’t forget it no matter how badly he wanted it to be a lie.

"I'm... sorry I woke you." He mumbled, though the apology was sincere.

"Don't be, I'm glad you did." You replied, gently reaching up to tuck a strand of hair back behind Tamaki's pointed ears. "You can stay in my room as long as you like."

"Really?" He asked, as if surprised by the offer. It took a second for it to settle in but he was grateful nonetheless. "T-th... thanks." 

"Of course!" Honestly, a little part of you was grateful that you’d earned his trust enough for him to come and seek you out for comfort. 

Tamaki wasn’t one to seek out help when it concerned his insecurities or anxiety. Though his timid nature was adorable, getting to know him had been like trying to earn the trust of a feral kitten. The process had been long and slow, but you thanked your lucky stars that you’d gotten to the point in your friendship that you did. 

"Is there anything else I can do for you right now?" You asked, knowing that your roommate was still upset but not knowing what would be best for him right now... silent comfort, maybe a late night snack? A distraction? It was unlikely he’d want to divulge more about it while he was still coming down from the rush of fear and adrenaline. You weren't sure what he needed right now, and considering it was far past quiet time in your apartment building it was hard to say whether or not it would be a good idea to risk making a commotion in the kitchen and possibly waking up your downstairs neighbour. 

"No, just... staying here with you is enough." He replied, still slowly relaxing into the warmth of your presence. He let out a soft sigh, his breath hitching slightly as he felt tears sting at the back of his eyes again.

Without thinking, you reached out and squeezed his hand softly, wanting to reassure him that he was safe here no matter what. Whatever he needed right now he would get, though you may not have wanted to admit it aloud, you'd always had a soft spot for Tamaki. 

Something about his soft nature, his lack of self confidence despite the power he wielded both mentally and physically, it struck a chord with you. No matter what you promised yourself that you would always cheer him on. Something about your bashful roommate made your heart flutter no matter how much you tried to ignore it. He was just so sweet. 

He squeezed your hand back gently, leaning back into the touch as a sense of comfort washed over him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts and slow his heartbeat once more. 

Unbeknownst to you, before you’d gotten closer you had always set him on edge. Though it was more prevalent in your relationship at the beginning. 

Despite your best efforts he could never gather up the courage to start conversations with you. It had been so hard for him to talk to you, even after you’d been taken in by his group of friends. Even when Nejire and Mirio had conveniently left the two of you two your own devices on more than one occasion.

The elf eared boy would never admit it to you, much less to himself, but you sent his heart fluttering from day one. 

The easy way you spoke with the others as if you’d been old friends, your kind hearted nature. He could never forget the first time you’d healed him after a training accident, the way your fingers pressed carefully against his heated skin. The sharp pain of the bones snapping back into place had been the last thing on his mind. Your gaze had been so soft as you reassured him that it was alright, how you had calmly listened to him when you’d dragged a story out of him to keep him talking and keep his mind off the injury while you worked.

Your movements pulled him back to reality as one arm moved to pull the covers up a little bit, making sure Tamaki was covered up as well before you moved to lay back down against your soft bedding. Your grip on his hand never faltered though, reassuring him that you’d be here as long as he needed. Your thumb ran softly against the back of his hand in slow soothing circles.

Exhaustion was already creeping back into your bones as the dip in your bed welcomed your body. Your head rested against your pillow, unconsciously making space in the bed for him while your eyes fell shut.

"I... I think I'll be okay now." He whispered, closing his eyes as he listened to your soft breathing beside him. He felt a warmth spreading through his chest at the contact. With Mirio and Nejire living on the opposite side of the neighbourhood, it was nice having someone closer in proximity to rely on when things got tough. 

Tamaki would never have been confident enough, even in his darkest moments, to reach out for you at a time like this. If it weren’t for the fact that you shared all but a room he may have never gotten a moment alone with you like this.

You smiled at his whispered words, your soft lips curving up into a sweet smile that crinkled your eyes. 

"I'm glad... I'm sorry about your nightmare though, that must have been awful." Had it been reversed, you might have done the same thing. Just seeing him so shaken up made your heart ache, you couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose him... dream or not.

At least now you were happy to hear that he was feeling at least a little better now. 

With the fear gone now he could feel the warmth creeping back into his cheeks as embarrassment began to flood his senses again. It really was pathetic of him to creep in here while you were sleeping. He should have been able to deal with this on his own, after all it was just a stupid nightmare, right? 

"I-it's just a dream... you know? No need to apologise." He stammered, his voice wavering as he tried to convince himself of the same sentiment. 

He still couldn’t look at you or the spot where your hands lay connected on your bed. He was doing an awful job of persuading himself. Dream or not, he’d felt it all as if it were happening in real time. With the rise in organised crime and villainous behaviour across the nation still recent enough to be fresh in his memory it was safe to assume that there would be many more battles ahead of you both. 

Even pro heroes had people they couldn’t save. He’d repeated to himself in his mind.

All Might himself couldn’t save every citizen during a disaster, so why would he be any exception? 

"I know... but I wish you didn't have to worry like that, you know?" You smiled sadly up at the ceiling as you spoke, still not wanting to subject him to your gaze while he was feeling low.

A beat passed before you added on to what you’d been saying. "Plus, I'm super quick.” It was halfway between teasing and a joke, and he could practically hear the smile in your voice even without turning to look at you. 

You weren’t wrong there, but everyone slips up sometimes. Attacks with a healing quirk had limitations, and as fast as you were there was always someone faster.

"And you're super strong, Tamaki!" You continued, “You’re an incredible hero.” He just needed a little more confidence in himself, and you knew Fatgum tried his best to help him in that area but that sort of thing didn’t just change overnight. 

It was a learned behaviour, something that came from within. Slowly replacing negative thoughts with positive ones may have sounded easy enough, but it was even more than that. Though, you’d be lying if you said that his reserved, bashful nature didn’t send your heartrate through the roof whenever he’d look away with a deep blush in his cheeks. The way the tips of his ears tinged red with embarrassment at the slightest thing.

"You’re just saying that," He whimpered.

A part of him truly believed that you’d only say something like that to reassure him and feed his nonexistent ego. Still, he couldn’t help the way his eyes sparkled a little in the low light of the room at your praise. 

Some small part of him cherished those kind words. It was no secret that he struggled with his self perception more often than not, but hearing it from someone he admired and trusted did feel good. Even when Mirio or Fatgum said nice things to him there was a small part that secretly took it to heart.

"Are you kidding? I mean it!” You shot back lightheartedly. 

“I've seen the way you fight when we were all training… and the way you took on those three villains all by yourself during the Shie Hassaikai raid was so badass! Not to mention everything you did during the war…” your voice trailed off a little at the thought, glancing down at the scars on your arm from that time. You were lucky those were the only souvenirs you’d received. 

“You're way cooler than you realise, Suneater." You smiled, heart fluttering a bit at that little flicker in his eyes. “Not only are you strong, but you’re a pretty good strategist too.. And you’re kind. It’s an honour to call you my friend.”

Sometimes it was frustrating trying to get through to him. Not only because you meant every word you said but because you knew the way his mind would twist it all too well. You knew exactly how it felt to feel like nothing but desperately need to be more. It felt hopeless, crushing… but it faded with time and effort. You knew better than anyone that you couldn’t compliment the problem away but he needed to hear it nonetheless. 

You needed to say it, to have it out there in the open.

Tamaki felt his heart swell with warmth at your words. "R-really...?" 

"Of course!" You beamed, unconsciously squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He whispered a soft “Thank you” in response, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink at your compliments and the squeeze of your hand on his. Even if he didn’t necessarily believe all of it, it felt good coming from you.

You just smiled in response before settling back into bed, still not bothering to let go of his hand. The warmth was comforting, the slightly roughened skin of his hands against yours and the connection you shared in that moment. 

It was sweet. That, and you hadn’t thought to let go, you didn't want to and neither did he, the comfort of knowing you were still there by his side was more than enough.

A little sigh escaped him as he settled down again, mirroring your position as he laid back against the headboard of your bed. You couldn’t help the blush that swept across your skin at the pretty sound that pushed past his lips. 

Eyes falling shut, you unconsciously moved the slightest bit closer to him in bed. Warmth and exhaustion clouded your mind now, the feeling of his weight beside you in the bed lulling you back to sleep. He found his own eyes fluttering shut as well as the rush of adrenaline wore off completely at last. 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep next to you, but the weight of your blankets overtop of him and the scent of you in bed next to him had him dizzy when his mind finally stopped racing.

There was nothing to replace the adrenaline in his system now, nostrils flooded with the gentle fragrances that filled your room, body relaxing into the warmth of your sheets. It wasn't long before the both of you drifted off to sleep, warmth spreading through your chest as you relaxed completely into the bed.

It was cute, really. If Mirio could see him now he’d be pumping his fist in the air in excitement. He’d spent far too long watching his friends not so subtly pining after each other. The way Tamaki would steal glances at you when you weren’t looking. How he’d turn away and cower from the faintest little smile from you in the beginning. It had taken the two of you long enough to finally start talking, he’d pulled just enough strings to get the two of you in closer proximity just hoping that one of you would finally have the guts to admit to yourselves that you had feelings for the other person. 

Neither him nor Nejire had ever gone so far as to pressure you vocally, though they’d dropped a couple hints here and there when Tamaki wasn’t in earshot. No one had told her though, she’d simply ‘gotten a vibe’ and wanted to question you about it. Why not? She figured you two would be cute together and she knew she was right.

The two of you laid like that for a long while, bodies perfectly intertwined in the bed as if you’d been made to lay together this way. If he’d been awake it was certain that his heart wouldn’t be able to take such an intimate situation. Free and unencumbered by the anxiety that plagued him during his waking hours, it was easier for his body to give in to what he craved.

If you’d been awake, the way he squeezed you would have sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It was needy, almost protective in the way he curled around you, his body craving your touch. 

Even in your sleep you felt it though, wrapped up in his arms and his scent, your mind wandered in your dreams. You could hear the slow, shallow breaths he took, the warmth of them fanning across the nape of your neck as he nuzzled into you in his sleep.

Tamaki’s breathing slowed down, his chest rising and falling gently against your back as he curled up around you. His sleep was a merciful one, his mind and body relaxing as he was enveloped by your covers. In your sleep you pressed back against him beneath the covers, his strong arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

Dreams danced behind your eyelids, no doubt affected by the close proximity to your friend. The heat of his chest slotted against your back like two connected puzzle pieces.