#nothing will help my pain i feel for these two

[rafesangelita]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | PROLOGUE

a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©

SUMMARY: nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the handsome kook that came crashing into your life.. quite literally. it’s hard to think that at one point you and rafe didn’t know one another, especially since you two have spent every passing day together for the last four months.

WARNINGS: drug use, driving under the influence, reckless driving, rafe arguing with ward, descriptions of a mild injury, mentions of addiction and sobriety, blood, reader tends to rafe’s wounds, fluff, opposite of slowburn, forced proximity (?), time skip (from four months ago to the current day), slight angst

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ahhhhh!! it’s finally here, and i couldn’t be more excited to share this with all of you!! all feedback is deeply appreciated <3 feel free to ask to be added to the taglist if you’d like!

LINKS: series masterlist | next chapter

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

rafe set a new record for himself tonight, and he wasn’t proud of it. not only did he lose count of the lines he snorted off of topper’s coffee table, he also had ward blowing up his phone. “aye, man, i don’t think you should be driving.” topper slurred, downing the alcohol in his glass. cleaning the residue from his nose, rafe shook him off, stumbling through the crowd of people in the living room before hopping in his truck and peeling out of the packed street.

jaw ticking, rafe cursed to himself when his phone started ringing, ward’s contact lighting up the screen. “i’m going home already, alright? yes— yes, dad! i know we have a meeting with some investors in the morning.. what? no i’m not fuckin’ high!” he rambled on, feigning offense when his father called his bluff. “just stop— i know, okay? i’ll be there in a minute—” before rafe could finish his sentence, he took a sharp turn, swerving onto the curb before hitting a light pole.

you were locking up the icecream parlor when you heard the high pitched squeal of tires against the pavement, a loud crash making you jump from your spot in front of the door. spinning on your heels, your eyes widened when you saw a black truck just feet away from the main street, smoke billowing from under the hood. unsure of what to do, you looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but of course, the strip was always empty at this time of the night.

“son of a bitch!” you heard someone groan before they tumbled out of the front seat, falling face down against the concrete. you gasped, dropping your purse before running across the street. “are you okay?!” you helped the stranger sit up, wincing when you saw blood dripping from his nose. he stared at you wide eyed, his pupils blown as you kneeled in front of him. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” you reassured him, slipping off your cardigan before holding it against his nose. you noticed the open gash on his brow, your heart sinking when you saw his eyes soften. “we really need to get you to the emergency, do you have a phone?” rafe shook his head, leaning back against the tire of his truck. “no. well, yes, i have a phone.. somewhere.. but i can’t go to the emergency, not like this.” just then, rafe felt a sharp pain shoot up to his temple from his neck.

“yes, like this! you’re all scraped up.” you said incredulously. “no, i mean i’m not sober.” as if he was waiting for you to judge him, rafe watched as your expression didn’t falter. “i promise you, going to the emergency and getting help from a professional is a lot more better than not going at all. your truck can always be replaced; you can’t.” your words lit a fire in his chest, the sincerity in your tone making him crack a pained smile.

“i’ll go to jail for this, and i just can’t do that right now. i have to be somewhere in the morning, my dad will kill me if he finds out..” remembering that he was on the phone with ward before he crashed, he scrambled up to find the device, only to groan and plop back down on the street. still holding the pink cardigan to his head, you guided his hand to hold it for you. “what are you looking for? i can try to find it.” rafe let out a shaky breath, mumbling “my phone.” before you got up and spotted it near the tire.

turning it over, you held it up for him to see. it was completely shattered. “i don’t think it’s going to work..” you handed it to him, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “what the fuck?” he breathed out, holding his head in his hands. you’ve never seen someone look so defeated before, your feet moving on their own before you could think. “do you think you can walk? my place is only five minutes away.” rafe looked up like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

“your place?” he repeated, half shocked and half confused as to why you’d offer him help. “yes,” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, “i don’t have a phone there, but i can at least get you cleaned up..” rafe tried to weigh out his options, only to realize he didn’t have any. “are you sure?” he was truly at your mercy. “yes. here— just keep holding this to your head, let me go get my purse and we can be on our way.” you left him with your cardigan, running across the street and grabbing your bag before getting him up.

“i’m a lot stronger than i thought.” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood as you wrapped one of rafe’s arms around your shoulders. “fuck, what about my truck?” rafe leaned his weight on you, nearly making you topple over before you took a step. “someone will find it and call a tow, you could call the towing company tomorrow,” you explained to him, “do you have anything valuable in there?” rafe laughed, shaking his head. “just my piece of shit phone that has no value now.” he grunted, walking with a slight limp.

“hey, uhm, what’s your name?” rafe looked down at you, both of you sharing a glance before he looked away. despite him not being in the right state of mind, there was no doubting how insanely pretty you were. “y/n.. and yours?” why on earth were you getting butterflies right now? “rafe.” was all he replied before he started asking you an abundant amount of questions. rafe learned a lot about you in the short five minute walk to your camper. what you did for a living, where you currently worked for some extra money, what your hobbies consisted of.. along with being a pogue.

“so.. you live all alone in this pink camper in the middle of the woods? aren’t you scared some psycho will come across it and want to know who’s inside?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” rafe watched as you unlocked the small screen door, a chuckle threatening to slip from his throat. “i would laugh if it didn’t feel like i had a thousand needles stabbing me in my brain right now.” he swallowed thickly, accepting the hand you offered him to step in.

he was immediately hit with the smell of freshly baked cake and vanilla frosting. he loved it. “i know it’s really small in here, but you could just take a seat right there on that little couch and i’ll go get my first aid kit.” rafe did as you said, eyes darting around your space. pink florals, white lace trim, usually he’d be irked by this kind of decor, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he didn’t mind it this time. rafe leaned back on the soft sofa, settling into the cushions while you scrambled for the little first aid kit somewhere in your bathroom.

spotting the small box on your little shelf, you grabbed it before making your way back to where rafe was sitting. he opened his eyes momentarily, finding you even more pretty now that darkness didn’t surround you two. he kept his gaze on you, watching as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. “sorry about this..” rafe took the pink cardigan away from his head, the fabric now stained with blood. “oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “you needed it more than i did.”

pressing a damp cloth to his nose, rafe groaned when you applied the slightest bit of pressure. “i’m sorry!” you pouted, taking a seat next to him. rafe reassured you he was alright, a groan leaving his lips as he clutched his stomach. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you lifted his shirt, your eyes widening at the sight. he was scraped and bruised, a small wound adorning his lower abdomen. “here, lets get this off.” you pulled rafe’s t-shirt over his head, both of your cheeks heating at the compromising position.

“we could stop if this is too weird for you—” you shook your head, taking an ice pack out of your freezer. “no, it’s okay.” you pressed the cold bag to his skin, still wiping away the dried blood on his face. “i’m not sure how far you live, but i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk anywhere.” your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound of it soothing rafe more than any kind of medicine he could take right now. “don’t worry about me, i’ll be fine.” rafe watched your fingers dance across his stomach, your nails sparkling underneath the dim lighting of your camper.

you thought for a moment. “i guess what i’m trying to say is; i think you’re better off staying the night here..” you trailed off, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be able to get to a phone in the morning and call whoever you need to. you should just get some rest right now.” rafe was stunned. you wanted him to stay? “i don’t know..” he sounded uneasy, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. “it’s okay, i swear! you could take my bed since there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep on this little thing.”

“no, no way, i’m fine with sleeping on the floor.” you smiled at him, eyes flickering down to his lips. “no, really, it’s okay…?” you trailed off, unsure of what to call him since you didn’t know his name. “rafe.” he answered. “rafe,” he liked the way his name sounded rolling off of your tongue, “i’ve fallen asleep plenty of times over here, i’ll be fine on the couch.” you got up, wringing out the towel you were using to clean him up. “i just have one rule, though,” rafe held the ice pack to his stomach, humming as you grabbed some ointment and a couple of bandages.

“you can only lay in my bed if you’re clean.. and you need a shower.” the corner of rafe’s lips quirked. “if you want to see me naked all you have to do is ask.” you blinked, pushing his chest softly. “that’s not what i meant.” you giggled. “i’ll get you a change of clothes, just get in there for right now.” rafe was already too far in to look back. getting up with your assistance, you guided rafe to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. “there’s clean towels and wash rags on the shelf!” you called from the kitchen, yawning as all of tonight’s events started to catch up with you.

rafe didn’t know what to make of all of this. one minute he was high out of his mind, crashing into a light pole with his dad on the phone, and the next he was inside some gorgeous girl’s camper getting tended to before using a strawberry scented body wash in her shower. what the fuck was his luck? taking his time in the shower, rafe thought about how he’d explain everything to ward tomorrow, from the towed truck to the cuts and bruises.

he wondered if ward would even care.

by the time rafe was done, he was stepping out of the bathroom smelling like a slice of strawberry cake with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he glanced over at the couch, your back facing him as you slept soundlessly. moving aside the pink curtain that concealed the doorway to your room, rafe slipped into the sweatpants you left out for him, settling underneath your silky soft sheets shortly after.

how was it that you just happened to be the only person around when he crashed? how did he crash right in front of where you worked? and why were you being so nice to him? rafe had so many questions and couldn’t think of any logical answers. he didn’t believe in fate, but looking back on it, that seems to be the only explanation. the next day he woke up to his clothes freshly washed and wearable again, your music playing softly in the kitchen. “good morning!” you chirped, your hair and makeup already done for the day.

“hey..” rafe was still shirtless, his eyes following your every move. “what time is it?” he took a seat at the little booth by the wall, his head no longer pounding the way it did last night. “it’s about to be ten. i was debating if whether or not i should’ve woken you up earlier, but you really needed to sleep.” you leaned back against the counter, admiring the handsome man in your camper. “your wallet should also be with your clothes there on that chair,” you started, “..so i was thinking; the little store just right outside of these woods has a pay phone that you can use.”

rafe nodded. “yeah, that sounds good.” he couldn’t think of the last time he woke up without wanting the day to be over with already. “hey, listen— uhm, i owe you a huge one for everything you’ve done for me.. i apologize if it was an inconvenience in any way, but i really do appreciate you.” rafe got up, grabbing his wallet from your room. “here. please take it.” you looked down at the hundred dollar bills tucked between his fingers, shaking your head as you moved his hands away.

“absolutely not.” you laughed. “no, please, take it.” rafe got closer, opening one of your palms before closing it around the bills. “rafe, i don’t want it!” you backed away, “i’m serious.” rafe let out a sigh. he already knew how this would go, so instead of urging you to keep it, he placed the money on your dresser after he was done changing. “well i guess i’ll be leaving now.” you masked the disappointment on your face by offering him a smile. “yeah, i guess so..” without saying a word, you and rafe stared at each other before he wrapped his arms around you, the action giving you butterflies.

before you could say or do anything, he pulled away and left, leaving your camper feeling more emptier than usual. you walked over to the door where you watched him walk away until you couldn’t see him anymore, a pout on your lips as you did so. while you were sure that you would more than likely never see him again, you couldn’t be more wrong. that day was the first of approximately one hundred and twenty one days, and counting, that you two would spend together. rafe came back to you the next day with a brand new pink cardigan to replace the other one you so selflessly let him ruin.

one icecream date turned into several, which then progressed into him coming over to your place with an overnight bag, his very own toothbrush now taking a spot next to yours. which then led to him picking you up and dropping you off at work, and so on until he finally said that you were his. you two spent the entire summer underneath the trees, rolling around in the grass as you two gasped each other’s names into your mouths, sharing sweet kisses and an even sweeter love that continued to grow with no intentions of ever stopping.

rafe had gotten sober out of fear that he wouldn’t remember what a love like this felt like if he was high all the time, and without judgement, you were there with him every step of the way. you stayed by his side when he felt like all hope was lost, and for that he could never thank you enough. although ward wondered where rafe would go off to, he didn’t bring himself to care as long as he was doing what he needed to do for the family business. with his dad off of his back, and you to come ‘home’ to everyday, he could say that he was truly happy.

even now as you two sat in your favorite diner, sharing a milkshake and laughing at whatever the other was saying, you felt no worries when you and rafe were together, your heart threatening to burst at the seams everytime you looked at him. everything was perfect.. at least for now. all good things must come to an end, and when you two are threatened by none other than ward himself, the love bubble you two have been mindlessly floating in is suddenly popped.

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[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Shadow

Mingyu has a little fight with you.

Requested? Yes!

Word count: 1.2k

Genre: Angst, with a tiny bit of comfort and fluff

Mingyu watches you slam the car door behind you as you exit and he grits his teeth. You’re mad at him. Which is totally unfair because he should be mad at you.

And he is, so he doesn’t wait long before jumping out of the car and following you into the apartment building and into the elevator. He grinds his teeth a little more when you almost let the elevator door close before he can enter.

At the apartment door, you slam your key into the lock and twist violently. The door flings open and you both begin roughly putting away shoes and coats in tense silence.

You go to the kitchen and get a glass of water, and he sits down at the dining room table facing you, tugging at his tie to loosen it. “So that’s it?” He bites. “The silent treatment?”

You narrow your eyes at him over the edge of the glass. “You want me to say something? Right now?”

It’s spoken like a dare. A challenge of ‘you couldn’t handle what I want to say’. You should know better than to issue such a statement because the grinding in Mingyu’s jaw is becoming downright painful. “When have you ever not had something to say? So you might as well say it,” he insists, palm slapping onto the table.

You give him a long, harsh glare, before setting the glass down to cross your arms across your chest. You’re still dressed up, with your dress tight and plunging at the neckline. He’s so mad that he’s not that distracted by it, even though you looking like that is the whole reason you two are mad at each other now.

“You’re an ass,” you start. He rolls his eyes because you’ve called him that a thousand times. He waits for you to get to the good stuff. “You got temperamental and got us kicked out of our favorite club.”

“With good reason,” Mingyu rages, sitting up in his seat. “He was all over you. And you were letting him!”

“And that was reason enough to get in his face like that?” You counter hotly. “That was embarrassing, Mingyu. It’s a good thing we’ve been banned because I never want to show my face there again.”

“And it’s embarrassing to me for you to entertain anyone else like that,” Mingyu bites back, jumping from his seat. “He was touching you, whispering into your ear, asking you to go home with him, and you stood there and played coy and let him.”

“Mingyu, do you think he would have listened if I asked him to back off? Truly, think about it for a second,” you seethe. “I was trying to play it safe until you got back from the bathroom!”

“Then you make him back off. You don’t make me make him back off and then get mad at me for it,” Mingyu raises his voice, fueled by the fiery look you’re giving him.

“Nothing you did was discreet! You were practically lifting him by the collar. Where is the subtle ‘hey, babe. Who’s this?’ to get him to back off without violence?” He’s even more irritated at how you drop your tone to mimic him.

“I’m not going to be discreet when he’s touching you,” Mingyu snaps. “And you stood there and let him.”

“I told you, it was to be safe!” You cry out, angry tears pricking your eyes. “I knew you were coming back, I was waiting for you to come help me get away from him. And you did that tenfold.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, heading toward the door again. “I can’t do this with you right now. I’m going to Wonwoo’s. Don’t wait up.”

You watch him shove his feet in his shoes again, slamming the door behind him.

~

It’s hours before Mingyu comes back. The apartment is dark and quiet, and he can still feel the tension hanging in the air from earlier. But now, the tension doesn’t make him angry. It makes him feel guilty.

Wonwoo had listened to a few of the bullet points of the fight and had interrupted to tell Mingyu he was in the wrong. He trusted Wonwoo, so when he opened his mouth to argue, something about Wonwoo’s look told him to shut up and listen. And he had, while Wonwoo set him straight on a few things.

He comes into the bedroom and can tell you’re still awake, even though your back is to him. He changes clothes and hangs by the foot of the bed for a few long seconds. “Can I stay in here or do you want me to go to the couch?” He asks weakly.

In the darkness, he can see your shoulders tense, before finally saying, “you can stay.” Your voice cracks roughly, a tell-tale sign that you’ve cried since he left. It tugs at his heart stings, but he climbs under the covers before you can change your mind. He lays on his side, staring at your back, eventually reaching out. Touch is a love language for both of you, but he still does it hesitantly just in case, hand gently landing on your arm, thumb rubbing your skin softly. “I’m sorry.” He hopes you hear how much be means it, but he’s still sad when you tense under his hand.

“For what?” You sniffle.

Mingyu sighs softly. “For losing my temper. For getting us kicked out. And for getting mad at you when you were really just concerned for your safety. I shouldn't have left you alone in the first place.”

You let a few long seconds tick by before you finally roll over. He can see more evidence of your crying in your red eyes. He reaches out to swipe a thumb underneath one. It’s dry now. A small reprieve.

“Do you trust me?”

Your question makes his eyes flare. “Of course, I do,” he says passionately. “I trust you more than anyone else.”

Your eyes are a little guarded. “And you know I’m yours, right? Just like I hope you’re mine?”

Mingyu nods enthusiastically, because possessive as it sounds, he wants to be yours and he wants you to be his. “Of course. That’s all that I want.”

“Then know I’m yours and protect me from creeps in a club,” you say simply. “I didn't want him to be near me at all, but I was nervous and just waiting for you to come back. Then you were nearly in a fistfight as soon as you found me.”

Mingyu frowns. “Yeah, maybe not my finest moment.”

This makes you giggle and the sound is so soothing that it makes him a little emotional. “Maybe not,” you agree. He scoots closer to you, arms folding around you while he buries his face into your neck. It becomes less of him holding you and more like you holding him and it makes you giggle again. “My big, tough, scary boyfriend is actually the biggest baby,” you mumble, running a hand through his hair.

It makes him giggle a little too. “Only for you.”

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - pregnant

You let out a long, exhausted sigh as you settled into the couch, one hand cradling your round belly and the other rubbing the small of your aching back. The baby had been sitting low all day, and no amount of shifting, pillows, or stretches seemed to help.

Chris, who had been scrolling through his phone on the opposite end of the couch, glanced over at you. He frowned, setting his phone down as he noticed you wince while trying to find a more comfortable position.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his tone laced with concern.

“Yeah,” you said, though your voice betrayed you. “My back’s just killing me. I’ll be fine.” you muttered, trying to brush it off as no big deal like you normally did.

Chris didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you as you tried — unsuccessfully — to adjust again. Finally, he stood up.

“Alright, I want to try something,” he said, moving toward you with a determined look. You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘try something’? Chris, what are you—”

“Just trust me,” he interrupted gently, holding out his hands to help you up. “It’s nothing crazy, I promise.” With a curious look, you took his hands, letting him pull you to your feet. You groaned as the weight of your belly immediately pulled on your back again.

“Turn around,” he said softly, positioning himself behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, still confused but willing to go along with whatever he had planned. “Chris, if this is some kind of weird massage thing—”

“It’s not,” he cut in, his hands carefully sliding around your belly. “Just hold still for a second.” You tensed slightly as his hands cupped the underside of your belly, but then he gently lifted, taking the full weight off your back. The relief was so immediate and overwhelming that you gasped.

“Oh my god,” you murmured, your head tilting back slightly to rest against his shoulder as the tension in your back melted away. “Chris… what are you doing?” you mumbled.

“Helping,” he said simply, holding your belly steady as he peeked over your shoulder. “I saw this thing earlier, and I thought it might work. Does it?” he asked.

“Does it?!” you exclaimed, a laugh bubbling out of you. “Chris, this feels amazing. How did you even think of this?” you retorted.

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I just hate seeing you in pain. If I can take some of the weight off for a bit, I’ll do it.” he stated — and it was true. He was the one who did this to you in the first place.

Your chest tightened at his words, warmth spreading through your chest as you leaned back against him even more. “You’re too good to me, you know that?” you say softly.

“Not possible,” he teased, swaying slightly as he kept holding your belly. “You carry this around all day, every day. This is the least I can do.” You sighed contentedly, letting yourself relax into him. “I wish you could do this forever. I feel like I’m floating.” say say, the relief laced into your voice.

He chuckled softly, his hands steady under your belly. “Yeah, well, I don’t know about forever. My arms are starting to feel it already.” he teased lightly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t you dare let go,” you warned, half-joking but entirely serious. Chris laughed again, a low, warm sound in your ear. “I’ll give you a little longer, but you’re gonna have to figure out another way to bribe me if you want more time.”

For a few minutes, the two of you stood like that, swaying slightly as he held your belly. You felt lighter than you had in weeks, and the pain that had been nagging at you all day was nothing more than a distant memory.

But then, slowly, Chris eased his grip, lowering your belly back to where it naturally rested. The relief vanished almost instantly, and the familiar ache shot through your back like a rubber band snapping.

“Chris!” you whined, leaning forward slightly as you tried to ease the discomfort on your own. “Why’d you stop? That was perfect!” He smirked, coming around to face you. “Because my arms aren’t built for holding that forever. Besides, you’re the one with super strength, carrying this around all day.”

“I don’t want super strength,” you pouted, shifting your weight and rubbing your back. “I want you to hold it again.” Chris leaned in, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You’re so cute when you’re dramatic,” he teased.

You swatted at his chest half-heartedly, glaring at him. “Chris, I’m serious! That was the only time I haven’t felt like I’m being crushed under a boulder all day.” you say, your pout deepening.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his grin softening. “I’ll hold it again later, I promise. But right now, I’m getting you some water and a heating pad.”

You grumbled under your breath but allowed him to guide you back to the couch. As you lowered yourself carefully, you muttered, “Next time, you’re holding it for an hour.”

Chris laughed, tucking a blanket around you. “Next time, I’m hiring someone to do it for me.” he teased — though he wasn’t serious about that. He would hold your stomach again over and over again for you until you were satisfied.

Despite your complaints, you couldn’t help but smile at him. He always had a way of making you feel loved — even if he was a tease about it.

© strnilolover

[thememestrider]

40k Sfw Alphabet - Sanguinius

Thanks for all the love my first one of these has been getting! It's now, like, my second most liked/reblogged post. So, again, thank you guys so much!!

By popular demand, my next primary is the glorious hawk boy himself, Sanguinius.

Please enjoy (and watch out for errors cause this is unedited)

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sanguinius is VERY affectionate, both physically and verbally. In public, in private, doesn't matter. Wherever you two are, he's whispering sweet nothings in your ear or ensuring he's got a hand on you. Part of it is to be a tease, but most of it is for his own comfort. He always wants to know you're close. Always wants you to know how important you are to him. If he's in particular need of this reassurance, he might drape a wing over your shoulder or around your waist, just for that extra bit of physical touch.

B - Best friend (What are they like as a friend? How would the friendship start?)

Aside from Vulkan, Sangy is about the easiest person to be friends with. He's charismatic, he's well-adjusted and he's genuinely a really sweet dude. But to be best friends with him, that might take more time. See, Sangy is used to people befriending him because of what he is- the Great Angel, the perfect primarch- and not necessarily because of who he is. So, even with friends, he maintains his angelic mask, and he will be resistant to letting it slip. Given enough time, however, I can see him feeling comfortable enough around you that he feels he can be himself, and maybe even share some of the darker things he deals with.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Sanguinius-cuddles are about the only thing that rival Vulkan-cuddles, if not exceeds them. If he could swallow you up with his arms alone, he would. At times, you might have to ask him to let up a little, lest you suffocate from his grip.

Sanguinius absolutely makes use of his wings with cuddles, too. Like a pair of enormous downy blankets, he will encase you in them, humming contentedly as he feels you stir against their feathers.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Sanguinius is definately the type to want to settle down. He wishes a life where he doesn't have to live up to the expectations of the Emperor and mankind as a whole. A life where he can just... live.

And doing so with the person he loves most? That's just about the perfect dream.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Sangy is breaking up with you, he's letting you down gently. He's explaining how he feels and trying to keep you from blaming yourself. Trying to remain friends would be too painful for him, though, and I believe once you two parted ways, you wouldn't see much of each other again.

Now, if you broke up with him, it's a slightly different story. Others have already head canoned that beneath the surface, Sanguinius has a possessiveness streak, and I believe that a break up he did not want would absolutely trigger that streak. He'd never hurt you, nor intentionally do anything to cause you distress or torment. But you're never leaving his sight, whether you know he's there or not. And Emperor help any man who tries to touch you- consensually or otherwise.

F - Fiancé (How to they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

With his powers of foresight, Sanguinius probably knew you'd be the one he'd marry the moment he laid eyes on you. So, with that in mind, he would want to rush things at all. He knows how this is going to end, so he's going to enjoy every moment of it: from the awkward first dates right up until he buys your ring.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally?)

Only primarch more gentle in both regards is Vulkan.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

Much the same as cuddling. Super crushing, super loving, and making good use of those big beautiful wings.

I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take a while, I think, purely because before he were to say it, Sanguinius would need to realise that he doesn't have to maintain the facade of perfection when he's with you. I see that taking a long time. But once he does realise this... Oh boy, you're getting the confession and the proposal all in the same say.

J - Jealous (How jealous do they get? What are they like when they're jealous?)

Sanguinius trusts you with every ounce of his soul. He knows you are his and that he is yours, and he knows that he will never have to worry about you betraying him.

However...

As mentioned back in E, I am part of the group that head canons that Sanguinius has a secret, buried possessive streak. He is aware of it, he strives to keep it under control, and nine times out of ten he is successful. But he is not always successful. And when he is not successful, the most common way his possessiveness shows itself is jealousy. Are you being particularly friendly with one of his brothers? He may intervene. One of your male friends embrace you for just a little too long? Sanguinius will be glaring daggers at him, might even bare his fangs. This behaviour is worse when he's feeling particularly insecure, or if the stress and grief of war is getting to him. But as I said before, he's aware of this, and he will communicate with you exactly how he's feeling and what he needs from you in terms of support.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Depending on the mood and what both your desires are, Sanguinius kisses range from gentle and sweet all the way up to intense, getting-your-lip-bitten, can't-breathe-cause-he-won't-let-you-go passion. With Sangy, you get the best of both worlds.

L - Little Ones (How are they around children?)

Only primarch better around children than Sangy is Vulkan. Enough said.

M - Mornings (How are morning spent with them?)

Sleepy, I think. One, because Sanguinius loves nothing more than lying in bed and holding you close to him like a teddy bear; and two, because sleeping while wrapped in his wings is so damn comfy, why would you ever wanna get up?

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Depending on the mood, ranging from cuddle sessions that lead to you both falling asleep in each other's arms, to make-out seshs that led to said cuddling sessions, all the way up to... well, this isn't the nsfw alphabet, so I'll let you guys... you know...

O - Openess (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal things slowly over time or all at once?)

At first, getting Sanguinius to open up is like trying to pry open a steel crate with your bare hands: fucking difficult. He's the Great Angel, after all; perfection doesn't even begin to describe the expectations he has to live up to, let alone those that he holds himself to personally. So getting him to divulge how he really feels or that, under the surface, he's struggling under all that weight? Yeah, I don't see that being easy. However, when Sanguinius DOES finally trust you and he realises he loves you, it'll be like opening the proverbial floodgates. For the first time in his long life, Sanguinius has someone he can admit his flaws to and they will love him all the same: he's going to make use of that and he's going to cherish that. Right up until his last, dying breath.

P - Patience (How easily are they angered?)

Sanguinius has all the patience in the world for you. However, if he's particularly stressed or the Red Thirst is gnawing at his mind, I can see it suddenly becoming very thin. He would deeply regret anything hurtful he ever said in these moments, though, and would go above and beyond to make it up to you.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail or do they forget the minor things?)

Every little detail he has committed to memory. How you look, what you like, all the memories you've made together. You can bet your bottom dollar that, when he lay dying at Horus' feet, he was flashing back to every single second he spent with you.

R - Remember (What's their favourite memory of the relationship?)

The moment he realised he could be himself with you, Red Thirst and all. It's the moment he realised why he'd forsee you to be his soul mate- because you love him for him. All of him. Every perfect curve and jagged edge. For both the angel and the beast.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Part one isn't even a question. The mere possibility of you coming to harm is enough to get his Red Thirst raging. And if something actually DID happen to you? Emperor help whoever or whatever was responsible.

Much like all of the primarchs honestly, the kind of protection Sanguinius needs from you is the emotional kind. He needs someone with whom he does not have to maintain the facade of the Great Angel. He needs someone who sees him for what he is: a man. A man with demons that he needs help in fighting. He's not an "I fix can him" type beat like some of his brothers (cough cough, Konrad, cough, cough). More "he can fix himself with your support."

T - Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts and everyday tasks?)

U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's putting in the whe nine yards: whatever that means for you, Sanguinius is doing it. Even if he's distracted by war, taking care of you is his number one priority.

Aforementioned possessiveness. Another could be emotional guardedness, at least in the beginning of your relationship.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Only in terms of wanting to impress you or make you happy. I could also see Sanguinius having a real thing about his wings: constantly preening them, always wanting to ensure his feathers are all nicely aligned and smoothed down. Couldn't tell you why I think this, just feels right to me idk.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely.

X - Xtra (A random head cannon for them)

In the wake of Sanguinius' death, the Blood Angels see you as his successor. In their eyes, you are their Primarch now, in all ways other than literally. They revere you the way they do their father. They hold your word above any commander or high lord, even on matters that, by rights, you should have no say in. They'd also see you as their matriarch. Their mother. And as such, many of their warriors would confide in you the same way one would with a trusted maternal figure. I can see you becoming an emotional rock for a lot of them- not just collectively, but individually, as well. So much so, I could even see your presence and/or intervention being a kind of soother of The Black Rage. After all, the only thing strong enough to pull a Blood Angel free from the grief of his father's death is the love of his mother.

As mentioned above, Sanguinius' death was a loss so devastating to the Blood Angels' collective psyche that it spawned a literal curse of madness within the legion. So you can bet everything that the Blood Angels aren't letting you out of their sight. If you thought the Salamanders were protective... you ain't seen nothing yet.

You go nowhere without an entire Astartes squad by your side; as well as snipers lining your route/location and an entire strike cruiser in orbit over the planet you're currently on. They'd probably give you your own set of armour, too, designed by the Blood Angels' own artists before being crafted by their own weaponsmiths.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like in a partner, or in general?)

In general, a lack of empathy and arrogance. I could also see him really not liking someone who does not or cannot recognise their own flaws and shortcomings, what with how massive of a focus self-improvement and self-awareness is to the culture he fosters within the Blood Angels.

Z - Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

You're getting wrapped in the wings. Even if it's sweltering hot outside, Sanguinius is cuddling you right up under his wings like a mama bird with her chick. He'll stop if you ask, of course, but you WILL have to ask.

Tags: @solspina @beckyninja

[daisymbin]

21. "we should bake something together—it’ll be a disaster, but fun."

Vernon has a craving for chocolate chip cookies and asks reader for help. lots of fluff and very domestic pls 🙂‍↕️

omg I love this....thank you for requesting this ahh!!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

fluff prompt #21: "we should bake something together—it'll be a disaster, but fun."

hansol stood in the doorway of the living room, biting his lip nervously. he shuffled his feet a little, as if he couldn’t quite figure out how to ask. you looked up from your book, giving him an expectant look.

"hey," he started, his voice soft. "want to bake something with me?"

you blinked, a little confused. "bake? really? you hate cooking."

"yeah, well..." he scratched the back of his neck, glancing away for a second. "i was thinking... maybe we could make chocolate chip cookies? it’ll probably be a disaster, but, you know, fun."

you raised an eyebrow, setting the book down. "fun? you do realize you can’t even make toast without burning it, right?"

"hey, that was a one-time thing," hansol protested, his eyes widening with mock offense. "i was just distracted."

you snorted, crossing your arms. "uh-huh. distracted by what? nothing burns toast like that except for someone who’s not paying attention."

he pouted, his bottom lip jutting out dramatically. "there's a good 90% chance that I was probably distracted by you. now, come on. please? i promise i’ll make it up to you if it’s a mess. i’ll even clean up afterwards."

you sighed, feeling your resolve crumble. hansol could be annoyingly persuasive when he wanted to be. "fine. but if the kitchen ends up looking like a war zone, you're cleaning it up."

"deal!" he said with a bright grin, practically bouncing on his heels. "it’s going to be a fun one, i promise."

as you both headed into the kitchen, hansol started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets with such enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but laugh. flour, sugar, butter—he was setting it all up like he’d done it a hundred times before, even though you both knew he hadn’t.

you grabbed the chocolate chips from the counter. "you know," you started, "it’s kind of weird that you suddenly want to bake. you’ve always said cooking’s a pain."

hansol paused mid-movement, glancing at you with a sheepish smile. "well, yeah. it’s not really my thing, you know? but..." he trailed off, his gaze softening. "i don’t know. i guess i just... want to spend more time with you."

you blinked, surprised by his sudden honesty. "spend time with me? we spend time together all the time."

he shifted his weight, looking down at the counter, clearly trying to find the right words. "i don’t know... lately, i feel like we haven’t really... been doing things together, y’know? with all the schedules and work, it’s like i’m always busy, and i miss you. i miss hanging out with you, just... doing something simple." he gave you a small, almost shy smile. "so i thought baking would be a good excuse."

you felt your heart soften at his words. he’d always been so busy, always on the move. the rare moments when he was home, really home, felt like treasures. you smiled at him, walking over to where he stood, and lightly nudged him with your shoulder. "you really do miss me, huh?"

"yeah," he said quietly, a little sheepish but undeniably sincere. "i do.

you chuckled, brushing a stray piece of flour off his cheek, and reached for the mixing bowl. "well, how can i say no to that? let’s make these cookies, then."

hansol’s face lit up with a grin, his earlier hesitation vanishing. "really?"

"yeah," you said, feeling your heart flutter at his excitement. "let’s make a mess. we’ll burn a few cookies along the way, but it'll be worth it."

"yes!" hansol cheered, practically jumping into action. "this is gonna be great, i swear."

the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, flour dusting the air as you measured out ingredients and mixed them together. hansol was surprisingly good at cracking eggs without making a mess, though he did drop one onto the counter once and laughed it off.

"well, that’s one egg down," he joked, looking at the mess on the counter like it was no big deal. "but hey, we're getting there!" he quickly reassures you.

you laughed, shaking your head. "we’ll be lucky if the cookies don’t end up as hockey pucks."

"nah," hansol said, confidently. "i’m a pro at this now. we got this."

as you mixed the dough together, hansol snuck a piece of chocolate chip dough, only to be caught red-handed by you. "hey! no eating the dough yet," you scolded with a laugh.

he made a face, his mouth full of dough. "but it’s so good!" he protested through a mouthful. "you can’t blame me for sampling."

you rolled your eyes but smiled, pulling out the baking sheet to spoon out the dough. "just make sure the cookies are actually edible. that’s all i ask."

you both giggled your way through the whole process—laughter filling the kitchen as you dropped spoonfuls of dough onto the tray. even when a little flour splashed onto hansol’s shirt, he just grinned like it was all part of the plan.

when the cookies were finally in the oven, hansol leaned against the counter, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "thanks for agreeing to do this with me," he said quietly. "i know i can be a pain sometimes."

you reached out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "you’re not a pain. i’m glad we did this. it’s nice... being here with you."

he smiled, his eyes lighting up. "i like it too. i like being with you."

the timer went off, and the two of you rushed to the oven, pulling out the tray with the cookies that were perfectly golden brown. well, mostly perfect. a couple were a little overcooked, but they were still good.

"they’re beautiful," hansol said with a grin, holding up one of the cookies as if it was a masterpiece.

you took a bite, and despite a slightly burnt edge, the warmth and sweetness hit you just right. "not bad for a first-time baker."

"i told you," hansol said, with a wink. "disaster, but fun."

you laughed, taking another cookie and handing him one. "definitely fun. and maybe not such a disaster after all."

hansol smiled, a little shy but warm, as he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "i’m really glad we did this," he said softly. "i missed you."

you squeezed his hand back, your heart swelling. "me too, hansol. me too."

[naffeclipse]

Taste Test

Reader x Mermaid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm back once more for a lovely little request from @counterbalance who wanted Y/N and Mer Eclipse to play a little game involving food, taste buds, and guessing! This was a sweet little treat to write, ah! Eclipse loves his yummy fish and deep sea delicaties but Y/N has a few tasty morsels from on land to try and stump Eclipse with.

———

The sea is gentle with its waves. Softly lapping against the side of the Rustbucket II, the water holds still and calm. The late evening light burns golden over your boat. Looking out the small window of the cabin, you watch the glittering shards of light dance over the smallest stirrings of the ocean. 

A small shiver comes over you. Tucking your thick wool coat tighter around your sweater and overalls, you sit at the humble wooden table slotted into the narrow space. Your fishing boat is far from glamorous, but it has always served you well. 

A familiar, kind pulse fills the space of your ribcage, and you smile.

“Hey, big guy.”

The resounding swell within you answers, and you nearly close your eyes to soak in the vivid desire he holds to scoop you up in his palm and gently nuzzle your face.

But not right now. You two are playing a game. The leviathan has tucked himself away in his cavern so there is no chance of cheating—not that he would. It’s just that his big eyes tend to stray over to whatever you’ve prepared for the game when he’s lingering along the surface, and you can’t help but turn your head towards whatever catch he has thrashing in the water.

Now that you’ve learned just how acutely you can share things over the magical bond of your soul connection, you’ve developed a guessing game.

Four bowls spread over the tabletop before you. One holds small bites of beef jerky, another salty nuts, the next some dry fruits, and lastly, a bowl of ice cream that’s beginning to melt. 

“Are you ready?” you whisper to the air, concentrating on the great warmth in your middle. 

A resounding heat rolls through you. You feel the splashing excitement beginning to surge through him, and then a wayward thought of what meals he’s chosen before he cuts those off from your presence.

“Nothing is spicy, I promise,” you say quickly.

A pouty swell moves through you. Of course, you don’t eat spice often simply do not torment Eclipse with the wicked heat on your tongue. But you will warn him whenever you’re about to enjoy a meal with a kick to it. 

The first time you had unknowingly subjected him to such an experience, he had been confounded by your willingness to subject yourself to such painful torment as cayenne pepper. 

You first.

Eclipse nudges you gently, and you sit up straighter in your seat. You pluck a bit of beef jerky. It’s a bit more expensive than you’ll usually splurge on, but you want to feel his reaction to a lump of meat that is not fish. 

Popping it in your mouth, you begin chewing. You throw all your concentration into the flavor filling your mouth, savory and rich. You chew and chew, your molars working on the tough and dried meat. 

You feel Eclipse in the distance. His jaw unconsciously works with yours. You keep your thoughts close to him as if you drew a curtain around your mind, but he feels the sensation in your mouth all the same. 

He knows that you don’t have it a lot. It is saved for only rare occasions.

Something once alive.

“Correct,” you say around your morsel.

You feel his mind working, jumping from textures of fish he’s caught from a large, elderly whale to an armor-crusted deep sea creature you have no name for. 

His guess jumps into you. The latter fish he thought of. 

“Sorry, that’s not it.” You swallow the bite with a grin. “It’s beef jerky. It comes from a cow.”

He pouts, a lighthearted tide touching against you. It’s not meant to be easy, but the point is to feel each other’s thought process while taking from their own experiences and trying to decipher something the other has never tried.

My turn.

“Go ahead, big guy.” You sit back in your chair. Closing your eyes, you focus on the inner tugs of your soul. 

Eclipse lifts something to his mouth. He takes one big bite, and you frown at the texture. You feel it slipping over his tongue as if it were your own. You’ve sensed such a sensation before. 

Oh, this is easy.

“Squid,” you point your finger upwards in an ‘ah ha’ moment. 

A pleasurable flow moves through you. It would have been sad had you gotten that wrong, considering that it’s one of his favorites. Not that you can imagine eating squid in such a fashion.

In-kind, you move on to the salty nut. Tossing a handful into your mouth, you hardly have a second to chew before Eclipse correctly guesses the food. It’s a favored snack of yours. 

Too easy.

You huff out a breath at him before he dines on something else. Something new. You frown at the unique texture. It’s supple but rich in flavor. Lean and strong. Eclipse chews it with delight before swallowing it down.

“I… I don’t know,” you manage, stumped. “What is it?”

You are impressed upon with visions deep in the blue sea. Then there are silverfish. Large compared to you, but bite size for Eclipse. The long, flattened bills give away what they are.

“Swordfish.” You never would have guessed.

Eclipse rumbles in delight though admits he doesn’t usually eat them. They’re too much of a pain to catch, but he wanted to win you on something. 

You laugh.

“Cheater.”

He rebuffs you with a promise that he would never, and you reassure him that you’re well aware. You just wanted to pull his leg—or tail.

You taste the dry fruits next. The natural sweetness bursts over your tongue though kept contained without the juices. Eclipse makes a face, finding it leathery and strange.

He has no answer until you reveal it to him. 

The last food from Eclipse has him buzzing. You stir with his energy as he sets something in his mouth, and it crunches. You almost flinch from the great sound. It’s meaty as well. 

“Clams?” you ask, though you’re grasping at straws. “Mussels?”

Eclipse trills inwardly. Wrong. Wrong.

Then he gives you an impression of a crab, a great deep sea one that almost looks too alien to walk this earth. 

He got you again.

You straighten and grab a spoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

Eclipse immediately stills, his curiosity piqued while you spoon up a small bite of chocolate ice cream. It begins to pool the bowl, but it retains its cool richness. 

You take the bite and slowly swirl the ice cream around with your tongue. The sweet treat immediately sends a shiver down your back.

You feel Eclipse shudder with the sensation, but his frills pick up and his presence burns within you in delight.

He loves it, though not any brain freezes that might come with it

Ice cream.

“It sure is, big guy,” you grin. “Do you want to share some more?”

His resounding answer makes you laugh softly.

[the-bi-space-ace]

I’m Cold

I told you I was back on my Crosshair and Echo bullshit and you couldn’t stop me and I’m back again. This time with another headcanon and a short fic for EchoVember for everyone to enjoy 🩶

I think the phrase “I’m cold.” Became a sign for these two to let the other comfort them. To stop arguments about feeling coddled or not wanting to appear weak. “I’m cold” means move over. Let me take some of the burden. Don’t argue with me. It’s a way to make the other feel better about accepting comfort so they feel more willing to accept it, as if they're helping the other person instead.

How about a cute little fic about how that starts?

Have you ever wanted a fic like "Oh, Shut Up" but the roles reversed? Well, here ya go! Some Echo and Crosshair hurt/comfort for your enjoyment <3

Happy Echovember!

Echo woke to what sounded like the cross of a groan and a whine, high pitched but pained. Instinct threw him to his feet, touching down onto the metal floor of the Marauder, confronted only with the dim light of the bunk room and the subtle snores from his squad. All sleeping except for Wrecker up in the cockpit on watch. It was still deep in the night cycle, their next mission still a rotation out from their current position. There that noise was again. This time Echo could pinpoint where it was coming from. He turned towards it, spotting the restless lump on the bunk across from him. 

Crosshair was sleeping but it wasn’t restful, body tossing and turning underneath the covers. Every so often he let out a noise not unlike the first one. Short gasps and grumbles that could have been words but Echo couldn’t discern what he was trying to say. It wasn’t often that Crosshair got nightmares. There were always times bad dreams plagued them but Crosshair’s were few and far between. It was always possible that he just hid it better than the rest of them, too proud to show himself needing help in front of them. On the rare occasion he couldn’t hide it, usually Wrecker was at his side the second he made a noise, not even bothering to wake him up before climbing into the bunk. Crosshair always grumbled, bit back something snappy about how he’d been woken up, but he let Wrecker lay with him. Maybe that said more about Crosshair’s state in those moments than anything else. 

Another toss, face screwed up in pain, and Echo couldn’t wait any longer. He was careful not to let his feet make noise when he started to tip toe over to the other bunk. Noise behind him drew his eyes upward, meeting Hunter’s gaze as he was midway through tossing his own blanket off. Hunter tipped his head at Echo, eyes darting between him and their suffering squadmate. Was he the best person for this? That he didn’t quite know but he was already out of bed. No need to have someone else take over what he’d already determined he would do. 

Echo paused but flashed a quick hand signal to his sergeant. 

I’ll take point. 

Surprise flashed across Hunter’s expression for only a second then he flashed a quick OK before settling back down in his bunk. Echo could feel the eyes still on him but he’d committed to this course of action and he’d never been one to give up so soon. 

Approaching a squad mate had never felt so weighty before. The dominoes had been loud, excitable, but he’d never felt quite so out of his depth. Perhaps approaching from eye level was safer. Echo crouched by the side of the bunk so he could watch Crosshair’s face, screwed up as it was. Tear tracks ran down his face, unable to stop the emotion while still asleep, leaving a glistening target in the dark. Echo took a deep breath. 

“Crosshair.” Echo whispered. Nothing. Still tossing and turning uninhibited. With gentleness he’d not exhibited in a while he laid a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder, rocking him gently. “Hey, Cross.” The touch woke him almost instantly, breath sucked in through his nose and bleary eyes cracking open. As quick and observant as ever, Crosshair closed his eyes again and rubbed the back of his arm over his face, trying to disguise the telltale sign of tears. 

Echo’s heart squeezed a bit. He didn’t have to do that. Hide. Not from any of them. 

“What do you want, reg?” He bit out. Scratchiness from sleep mixed with a thickness that Echo hadn’t heard from Crosshair before. 

“You were making noise.” Echo said. His hand was pushed away as Crosshair rolled over onto his back, eyes studying the ceiling above him. 

Crosshair scoffed. “Sorry to disturb your sleep, didn’t realize regs needed such perfect conditions to pass out.” He sniffed, rubbing his arm over his eyes once more to confirm he’d gotten all of the tears off of his cheeks. Echo felt like he was trying to approach a scared tooka, one that was one step away from hissing and batting him away. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, ignoring the dig.

“Piss off.” Crosshair bit out, head turning to face the opposite wall. Wasn’t an answer to the question. 

“I get nightmares, too, ya know.” Echo sighed, resting his arm and scomp against each other on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m aware.” He grumbled, letting them fall into silence. The quiet only lasted until Crosshair huffed, turning back onto his side to stare menacingly at Echo. The red rimmed eyes undercut the curated mask. “Just go back to bed.” A dismissal. He wasn’t going to be thwarted that easily. Breaking down Crosshair’s walls took consistency. He was learning the longer he spent with Clone Force 99 that his bond with Crosshair would take work but once it was earned it would be difficult to break. 

Echo was planning on earning it.

“Already awake. No sense going all the way over there again.” Echo shrugged, gesturing behind him with his scomp. All it did was make Crosshair glare a bit harder as if it would scare Echo away from him. Most of the bite to him was to scare people off, not let them too close otherwise they might start to matter. That’s what freaked Crosshair out, Echo was sure of it, that someone new might matter to him and it would hurt if one day they were gone. Better to ruin it before it got to that point, frighten off Echo before he made up his mind and decided to stay for good. 

Not a chance he was letting that happen. 

Echo had twice Crosshair’s weight in stubbornness. Once his mind was made up he was sticking to it, even if he had to get knocked down a few times before he could stand on his own two feet. He met the glare with a raised eyebrow, tipping his head in challenge. 

A petulant eye roll accompanied a tired deflation. “I’m fine, reg. Use your pity on someone else.” 

“It’s not pity. You woke me, remember? This is your punishment for that.” The joke halfway landed, he saw it in Crosshair’s eyes, but it wasn’t quite enough to soften his mood, still grumbling and keeping his feelings too close to his chest. Echo reached his scomp out as an offering, one that Crosshair eyed but didn’t take. Not taking any of the bait. Must’ve been a pretty shitty dream. Echo deflated. His mind raced through options. Whatever he chose to do might get him slapped for his effort with the way his squadmate was reacting. He was at a loss until he shrugged, letting his head lay on his folded arm. 

“I’m cold.” Echo wasn’t sure how he had meant that to sound, how he’d like it to be taken, but waiting was the only way you got an answer out of their sniper. Crosshair watched his face for what felt like a full minute, thoughts racing behind steady eyes, brow pinching with that well earned skepticism. Temperature was almost always consistent on ships, especially theirs. Tech didn’t like it fluctuating too much. Bad for his ship as he’d say. The ‘cold’ was a poor excuse and they both knew it. Giving up was on the horizon, he’d fumbled this interaction enough it was about time to pack it in, but Crosshair surprised him as he often did. 

Crosshair shuffled backwards, making room on the tiny regulation bunk, then lifted the blanket as if offering an invitation. Hesitation would only make Crosshair skittish so Echo took the opportunity in stride and slid into the free space. The mattress was warm, heated by the body recently laying in that spot, and the blanket thrown over his shoulders added to the exchange of body heat. Echo turned onto his back and lifted his arm to let Crosshair scoot forward, tucking into the space to rest his head comfortably on his chest. Echo held him tightly, hand rubbing absentmindedly over the expanse of his back. A weary sigh left the other man’s body, finally melting into Echo’s side like it had brought at least some relief. 

Echo would like to believe that he could still give this kind of comfort. That he wasn’t so changed that his squad wouldn’t want to share such close space with him. He remembered holding Fives like this, carding fingers through his hair. Crosshair’s wasn’t quite as long but it was enough to run the tips of his fingers through, blunt nails scratching lightly over his scalp. 

“Echo?” The muffled voice brought Echo’s eyes downward. Crosshair wasn’t looking at him but he did squeeze tighter into the space, pressing his forehead to Echo’s neck, his arm stretching across Echo’s waist to keep the hold firm. No other words came but he got the message. Whether it was the way he squeezed back or the way his chest stuttered every so often Echo wouldn’t ever divulge. It was enough of an admission. Enough to know he was on the right track. Echo was as content to be the source of warmth for the night as Crosshair was to accept it now. 

Protectiveness swept through him, almost overwhelmingly so. Something in him wanted to chase away all of those sour thoughts. The ones that made pits grow in your stomach and your throat tighten. Make sure none of Clone Force 99 had to hurt, even if that hurt came in the form of nightmares or cold nights. Without thinking too hard about it Echo pressed a quick kiss to the top of Crosshair’s head. “I know, Cross, I know.” 

[zepskies]

Somehow I didn't see this post, I'm sorry, Michelle!! But I'm so excited to dive into chapter 3...

I swear it's like one step forward, two steps back with this guy...

“Because there’s nothing worse than being trapped, unable to die, only to spend every waking moment in pain. All you want it someone to rescue you. So that’s what I did,” you said quietly.

Ugh I love this moment so much. Finally it seems like they're being raw and real and honest with one another. It's like Ben wants her not to hate him, not to fear him, but he can't help the "don't be a pussy" feeling that surges back up. 🙃

“Your generation is fucking insufferable,” he grumbled, walking across the deck, in through the back door.

LMfaooo okay, Ben. Whatever you say, gramps. 😝

His "two steps back" part of this seems largely because of getting infected, and the way he tries to convince her to stay seems actually genuine. I think by now he's afraid of being alone, whether he admits to it or not.

His story about his father throwing him into the lake... Ugh, it feels really on brand for what that man would do to his own son to try and "toughen him up."

“If you drop the Solider Boy shit and act like Ben. Act like the kind of man you wished your father had been to your mother.” His face went white in shock, Ben’s jaw dropping open slightly. “See? That normal guy is still inside of you. You know it’s wrong to be a dickhead. You fucking know it’s wrong and you do it anyway. But you have to stop. You have to be better. Not perfect, just better. Or else I’m gone Ben and this world gets a lot harder for both of us.”

Oooh my GOD. This had me gaping like a fish right along with Ben. "Act like the kind of man you wished your father had been to your mother."--is a LINE. I love how she calls him out here and points to the actually good man deep down inside him. He really does have to be better.

“How’d he do that? Activate them?” “Through eight years of torture.” Ben stared at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Everything was forced on me, all because of my stupid fucking genes. Do you finally understand why I saved you?”

Her past is so shocking and traumatic, and like she says, Ben can relate. Maybe they're finally having that moment of true connection.

“She would have liked you,” he mumbled. You burrowed into your sheets, letting sleep overtake you.

Aww don't do this to me. 😭😭 Not the "my mother would've liked you" -- it's such a lovely gut punch. But that cliffhanger was a different kind of gut punch! I'm so interested to see where you take this next!! 💚

The Villain’s Protector (Part 3) - Closer

Summary: The reader's in a bad spot when she's cornered by three infected intruders. But when the danger passes, she and Ben need to decide if they really can live together or if they'd be better off on their own...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, violence, life-threatening situations, death (minor characters), mentions of past torture

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving this week! Please enjoy Ben being an asshole/also his hilarious attempts at making up for it...

________

“Oh my god!” Both men spun their heads towards the back door, giving you a chance to make a break for it. You had to deal with the woman but at least you had a chance against her. In three large steps you were in front of her, ducking down to miss her punch. You kicked her knee, the woman shrieking and falling, giving you a chance to kick her back and shove her into your bedroom. You dove into the one across the hall, slamming the door shut behind you. Ben’s suit was draped over the back of a chair, his gun still in it’s holster.

Fuck it. 

You abandoned barricading the door, barely getting across the room before it flew open, all three of them standing there. The gun was in your hand within a second, finger squeezing the trigger blindly. You hit one of them, the other two shouting behind him. You jumped to the right to avoid the woman, getting a few more rounds off. She went down when a blur slammed into you. You crashed back against a window, falling through it and straight onto the back deck. Something sharp was in your back and your hand was empty, eyes blearily opening as the red streaked man stood over you with the shears.

“You could have been one of us, bitch.” He opened the blades and drove them downwards, straight for your torso. 

With a swift breeze, he was gone. You blinked rapidly, Soldier Boy standing over you, staring off to the side of the yard. Every muscle ached but you managed to look, spotting the man impaled on the shears about two hundred feet away in the grass. Strong hands turned your head, Ben’s face almost…worried? 

You blinked, reaching up to grab his wrist, his eyes wide.

“You have glass all over. You need-”

“Are you wearing fucking oven mitts?” You smiled, Ben staring at where your hand rested on the pink things. “Pink oven mitts?”

“Shut your mouth,” he said, pouting when you sat upright with a groan. He ripped them off, kneeling beside you with a grimace. “Uh. How true is that whole can’t die thing?”

“That’s actually really smart,” you said, nodding to the mitts. “If they can’t touch your skin, maybe we can keep you safer. Keep us both-”

“Y/N!” He grabbed your shoulders, eye twitching. “Do not lose it on me. Will you die if I rip that giant shard of glass sticking out of your back out?”

You shook your head, already pulling pieces out of your legs and arms. He sighed, gripping the glass and pulling it out fast, your heart skipping a beat.

“Warn a girl,” you grit out, hands reaching for anything to grip onto through the pain which meant his shirt before you. 

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he said. Shaking, you buried your face in his neck, breathing hard. “Y/N-”

“Take the rest out.” He tore your ruined shirt and jacket off, cool air hitting your back. He didn’t speak as he pulled out the other large shards you felt there but he flinched when you jerked into him and yelped. 

Finally, you felt they were all gone, your head throbbing angrily but you knew it’d dissipate soon.

“I totally had that guy by the way,” you mumbled. Ben’s chest rumbled beneath you, his warm body lulling you into a calmness. “Was that a laugh, Benjamin?”

“You are something else.” With some effort, you leaned back, Ben grasping your chin and turning your face. “Shit, your cuts are healed already.”

“I’m just that special,” you said, trying to stand but falling straight against him when a sharp bolt of hot fire ran across your back.

“You heal fast but the pain-”

“Takes longer. I’ll be better in an hour.” You didn’t move from where he cradled your body against his, Ben’s body strangely relaxed. “Bet you’re happy. You got my shirt off.”

“You do have great tits,” he mumbled, tucking your head under his chin. You raised your eyebrows, gaze focused out on the lake. 

“Ben, there could be more people nearby. We should probably move somewhere-”

“In the eighties I hired a young couple to take care of this place. They had a baby at the time I think. Landscape. Cleaning. That’s why that woman and those men were here. I let them live here in exchange for upkeep and I forgot they were here. This was my fuck up.”

“It was an accident, Ben. I don’t blame you. I’m fine.”

“You don’t realize you screamed when I took those glass pieces out, do you? The only reason you were in there alone was because I pissed you off again. I fucking forgot. I bring out your fucking shell shock, I screw up and you’re shaking in pain because of it. That’s not what a man does.” You sighed, taking a deep breath.

“Soldier Boy, you are ridiculous.” You moved your head so you could face him, Ben’s jaw clenched. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, offering a smile. “I’ve known evil men. Shitty, evil men. But you? You put on pink oven mitts which I’m confident you’ve never worn anything that shade in your life for fear it would shrivel your dick up. Yet, you did it for me. Here you are, apologizing in your own, albeit half-assed, way and look at that. Your dick is still just as big as it was an hour ago.”

He pouted, turning to look at the waters of the lake, ignoring your attempts at getting him to acknowledge his idea of what a man was wasn’t the only one . “Why did you break me out of that CIA black site? The truth this time.”

You closed your eyes, turning your head back under his chin when sharp, stabbing pains started up in your abdomen again. You tried to bite back the whimpers that caught in your throat but a few slipped through, Ben squeezing you tighter, anchoring you.

“Because there’s nothing worse than being trapped, unable to die, only to spend every waking moment in pain. All you want it someone to rescue you. So that’s what I did,” you said quietly.

He hummed, shifting his arms around you, holding your body against his.

“Do you still think I only want to use you, Ben?” He was quiet, slow steady beats of his heart thrumming underneath you for a moment.

“I could be evil. People thought that about me once upon a time. It’s how I ended up in Russia.” You shrugged, Soldier Boy shifting beneath you, soon carrying you back inside bridal style. You poked open an eye, Ben watching you closely. “I was trapped for a reason. Give it five minutes and you’ll hate my guts again.”

“Why would I hate the boy that wears pink oven mitts for me?” you teased. He rolled his eyes so hard you swore they were going to pop out the back of his head. You let your eyelid fall shut, head lolling back until he adjusted you. “If you end up screwing me over, then fine, you’re a monster. But until otherwise, will Mr. Evil please get me into a bath tub?”

“Your generation is fucking insufferable,” he grumbled, walking across the deck, in through the back door.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, Satan.”

“What did I say about shutting that fucking mouth?” 

“Ben.” You opened your eyes when a door creaked, Ben setting you down in a large claw foot tub a moment later. You tilted your head, his face a mixture of annoyance and wanting to get out of the room as fast as possible. 

“What?” he growled, turning the water on warm and slow for you, setting some towels down next to the tub. 

“Just wanted to say we had a whole conversation where we didn’t fight. I think you’re in serious danger of losing your asshole status if you keep this up.” He gave you his bitch face and dropped a bar of soap in your hands. “Admit it. You like this, being yourself again.”

“You are weak and pathetic and like all women, you need a man to save you and then complain about us in the same breath. I ain’t a fucking pussy so don’t get fucking comfortable with me thinking I’m like your fucking girlfriend. I give the orders, not you.” He stood up and slammed the door on his way out.

So much for that progress.

You and Ben kept your distance after that. You spent most of the day cleaning the blood off the walls and floor while Ben disposed of the three bodies in the nearby woods. It was dark by the time he returned, the house smelling of disinfectant.

He threw his boots on the ground and gave you a glare as you ate a bowl of beans at the dining room table. He stormed around the kitchen, narrowing his eyes at the pot on the stove and the empty bowl on the counter beside it.

“Beans? I’ve had fucking paste shoved down my gob for weeks and you make me fucking beans?” You finished off your dinner, leaning back in your seat with crossed arms. He puffed out his chest, pointing a finger. “Don’t you fucking start, bitch.”

“Does it make you feel like more of a man to yell at me? Maybe you even want to hit me. Fucking go for it. We both know I can take it.” You got up, getting in his face and throwing him off guard so much so he stumbled backwards. “You want me to think you’re a monster? Go ahead. Hurt me. Insult me. Prove me wrong. Show me just how awful you really are deep down and that there’s no shred of a soul left in there.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, towering over you, his face turning red. 

“Do it!” He growled, grabbing your arms, picking you straight off the ground.

“Look at me!” You were ready to kick him in the nuts when you noticed the red on his face was…bright. Too bright. Infected bright.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll help you alright.” You put your hand to his face, Ben instantly dropping you, both of you falling to the ground. This felt different than before. There was no sharp pain from the redness your hand absorbed from his face. No, it was warmer, a slow burning sensation that built up and up and had you gritting your teeth.

He gasped and choked before rolling away, your body falling back on the hardwoods. You panted, staring at the wood beams crossing the ceiling when Ben crawled over, staring down.

“I got some of their blood on me earlier when I killed that guy. I think it got on my face,” he breathed out. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “It must act slower that way?”

“Depends. Am I a weak, pathetic bitch?” you said, Ben lowering his head. “Good. See, we’re all good.”

“You didn’t scream this time at least,” he said, helping you sit up against the cabinets. He sat back against the fridge behind him, both of you catching your breath. “Why?”

“The more a particular…injury happens to me, the recovery period from the pain shortens. You didn’t have the streaks in you fully or else you’d be dead so it wasn’t as bad this time.” He shook his head, running a hand through his brown strands. “What?”

“Your powers suck.”

“Not powers,” you sighed, Ben pursing his lips. “I swear. I’ve never taken compound V in my life.”

“Well then you must be a natural born supe. Is Reaper your dad or some shit?” 

“No,” you snapped. Ben held up his hands, giving you just enough of a pout to make you feel bad. He got up and scooped some beans into a bowl, glancing at you once. The floor creaked, your eyes drifting up to watch him settle down across from you, slurping up his dinner. “Why are you eating on the floor?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he said with his mouth full and a roll of his eyes. “Can I eat my dinner where the fuck I want to?”

“Of course you can.” He made a face, pointing his spoon at you when you parted your lips. 

“I swear to God if the next words out of your mouth are to argue with me, you will not like the outcome,” he barked. You swallowed down your comment about how the chair and table would be more comfortable. If he wanted to sit his ass on the hard floor, fine, that was on him.

You closed your eyes and tucked your knees up to your chest, lowering your head to rest it against them. 

“You’re a pretty good liar. Most women are but you put them all to shame.” You frowned, lifting your head wearily. He stood, setting his empty bowl on the counter before squatting down right in front of you. Long fingers grasped your chin, turning your head left, then right. “Your jaw is clenched so hard you could snap a tree in half.”

“Fine. It hurts whenever I absorb that red matter stuff from you. There’s nothing either one of us can do about it so why does it matter if you know?” His grip on your chin tightened, just hard enough to make you wonder if he was considering killing you.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” Ben’s grip loosened, his thumb wiping away the wetness that’d gathered under your eye.

“Like what?” you whispered, intense green eyes boring straight through to your core. He leaned in closer, his breath hot.

“Like I’m going to hurt you.”

“This was a mistake. Just cover yourself up when you go out and you should be okay,” you said. You got to your feet and barely made it out of the kitchen when his hand landed on your shoulder, freezing you in place. “Forget about Reaper. You’re free Ben. Just live your life how you want to.”

“Why the hell are you trying to get out of here so badly all of a sudden?” 

You closed your eyes, clenching your fist when a wave of burning heat flooded your veins. “Why do you care if I stay?”

“I can drown.” You turned around, furrowing your brow. Ben raised his chin, nodding once. “I nearly did as a kid, out in that lake.”

You both looked out to the dark water, gazes slowly drifting back to one another. He sat down on the edge of the couch arm, running a hand through his hair. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, head shaking as he glanced at a knot of wood in the floor near your feet.

“My father took me out in a rowboat to the middle of the lake when I was a boy. Maybe seven, eight? He threw me over the edge, told me to start swimming.” His eyes met yours, his smile faltering. “It wasn’t until I started to sink did he pluck me out. He was so…disappointed in me the whole way back to the dock. I was convinced he’d throw me out any second. I never told my mother what happened but somehow she knew. It was the only time I ever saw her argue back against him. She ended up showing me how to swim over the next week right where it’s shallow at the shore edge.”

“Why are you telling me this Ben?” you asked quietly. He shrugged.

“You can either be terrified that something more powerful than you will kill you and that fear makes you run from it. Or…you can be a man and face it, tell that thing it’s not more powerful. You learn to respect each other’s power and work together.”

“A lake doesn’t snap your neck in your sleep when it gets mad at you,” you whispered. He sighed, his jaw clenching slightly. “You just…you’re so mean to me that I couldn’t even tell you were infected until you were literally ready to pummel me and I saw the red streaks. Ben, I didn’t know you wouldn’t hurt me. I read the CIA’s file on you and god, you’ve hurt so many people Ben. People you supposedly cared about, loved even. How the hell am I not supposed to be terrified of you? Maybe I was wrong and we should just go our separate ways.”

You headed down the hall, pausing when you heard him walk up behind you.

“If you stay…I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“It’s the end of the world, Ben. Forget about Reaper. What could you possibly give me that’d make me okay with staying with you?” You glanced over your shoulder, Ben’s face strangely soft.

“My word.” He held out his hand, fighting back a frown when you narrowed your eyes at it. “I’m fucking trying here.”

“Not good enough.” You stormed into the bedroom, grabbing a duffel from the ground as he huffed. You started to shove some things inside when he cleared his throat.

“Please stay.” You poked your head out in the hallway, Ben gritting his teeth. 

“Did you say please?” you asked. He rolled his eyes. You stepped back out, crossing your arms. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Good-”

“If you drop the Solider Boy shit and act like Ben. Act like the kind of man you wished your father had been to your mother.” His face went white in shock, Ben’s jaw dropping open slightly. “See? That normal guy is still inside of you. You know it’s wrong to be a dickhead. You fucking know it’s wrong and you do it anyway. But you have to stop. You have to be better. Not perfect, just better. Or else I’m gone Ben and this world gets a lot harder for both of us.”

“I…will try if tell me one real thing about yourself, why you don’t die.” He stood his ground, lips pressed into a thin line. You looked away, leaning against the door jam.

“You know how…you know when you did the Compound V trials and all the other participants died except for you?” He nodded once, tilting his head. “That was because your genes are advantageous. Your genes could handle that…evolutionary leap.”

“Like a Punnet square.” You raised your eyebrows. “I’m not a moron.”

“Well, yes, sort of like that. Your gene mixture basically was special. My genes are also…special.” You frowned, Ben’s fingers reaching out to graze your cheek. Your eyes wandered up to meet his, his green eyes curious, guarded. You crossed your arms, looking past him. “My genes, eventually, would have allowed future generations from my bloodline to be natural supes. Millions of years down the line. It’s incredibly rare. Think of it like if your genes and mine were in a race, I’m starting a hundred million miles ahead of yours and we’re racing to the same point.”

“You would get there faster,” he said quietly. You nodded. 

“Reaper found out about my genes. He ended up, activating those special parts of my genes and transfused me with his blood when he did so. He didn’t know what would happen but it gave me the ability to not die, like him. It was all an experiment to him.”

“How’d he do that? Activate them?”

“Through eight years of torture.” Ben stared at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Everything was forced on me, all because of my stupid fucking genes. Do you finally understand why I saved you?”

Ben nodded, letting you slip into your bedroom. You lay back on the old mattress, body in desperate need of sleep and rest. By the time you managed to get out of your jeans and under the covers, the door was cracking open. Ben was carrying something, a mug. Steam billowed from it as he set it down on the nightstand. Then he was leaving, nearly pulling the door shut behind him when he stopped.

“There are things I would say to you if I wouldn’t be a pussy for saying them.”

“Ben?” He looked over his shoulder, catching your smile as you sat up and took a sip of the hot tea. “That’s good enough for tonight. Thank you for the tea.”

He nodded, hesitating once more. “Drink that and then go the fuck to sleep. You look awful.”

“Goodnight to you too.” He grumbled and pulled the door shut, leaving it open a sliver to let in some light from the hall. You heard movement outside and heard a chair scrape along the wood floor. With you mug in hand, you tiptoed over, opening the door.

Ben was sat in a chair right outside your room, frowning when he saw you. “I thought I told you to sleep.”

“What are you doing?” He rolled his eyes.

“Just go to the fuck to sleep. We need to get a game plan together in the morning and you won’t be able to do that if you’re a zombie. Go before I make you.”

You took a sip of tea, offering him a tiny smile. “Try to get some sleep yourself at some point. It was a long day.”

“Y/N…” he warned. You took a big swig of tea and handed him the mug, Ben cautiously taking it.

“I think I’m starting to get you, Ben. You’re an acts of service kind of guy.” He stared at you like you had three heads and shook his own. “I’ll explain someday.”

“Alright, that’s it,” he stood, watching you scurry back to your bedroom. You plopped into bed, Ben pointing a finger at you before sitting back down. You tugged up the covers, putting your back to him as a wave of exhaustion hit you. 

You were just barely holding onto consciousness when something heavy draped over your body in the cool room. 

“She would have liked you,” he mumbled. You burrowed into your sheets, letting sleep overtake you.

That was until four am.

That’s when you woke up to screaming.

___________

A/N: Part 4 coming soon!

[zyafics]

"you're my girlfriend" so he wants me to shoot him

i love this line so much. i was dissecting it with @promiscuousg1rl and at first, it was a throwaway line to showcase their situation. but upon further analysis (and listening to pain is inevitable by daniel caesar), i see him saying that because he's processing his thoughts vocally.

in his text with barry, he was saying how he wants to take the responsibility and has responsibility for reader with taking care of her. he's firm on that. however, there is a tinge of resentment in his words. adding to that, rafe told ward that he was going to figure it out. he's going to make it. so, he has a need to prove something. to show the world—his father and reader included—that he can figure it out.

when reader offered to help him financially, it made him feel insecure. that she, his girlfriend, whom he is supposed to be TAKING CARE OF, is now offering to help him. he sees himself as weak and unable to prove. and when she threw in the line "ur future wife," it hits him that he is worse. that if she's his future wife, he's failing even more as a future husband. so, he lessens the weight and responsibility.

he calls her his girlfriend. and nothing out of spite or hatred. he's just trying to vocalize his thoughts. he added "his girlfriend" next to "i can handle it." because in his head, those two correlates—that she's his gf, therefore he has to handle it himself. but to us, to reader, it reads us "i used to put u as my wife, and now i lessen ur role to gf because i'm angry at you," because he is a TERRIBLE communicator.

yeah, that's my little analysis and reasoning <3

[phone4pills]

Can robot Chris fight? Like what if nerd reader and him go on a late night McDonald's run and on the way back they encounter sketchy people. Like can he defend them?

I've been obsessed with robot Chris omggg. Also, like ik it's about a girl but still I get this song in my head for robot Chris

https://open.spotify.com/track/3FtYbEfBqAlGO46NUDQSAt?si=37ec643a7a0e4798

I listened to the song, it really takes me to robot!Chris and nerd!Reader dancing in the kitchen half way through making cookies or treats together. like this song comes on and they just get lost in time. he probably calls you his ‘electric girl’. also why does it remind of me of New Person, Same Old Mistakes by Tame Impala? idk

robot!Chris doesn’t like to fight but he knows how to deter a threat

fries. nothing brought temporary relief to your aching muscles and overcrowded mind like the savoury smell of the thin cut potatoes. you were glad Chris was willing to drive you guys to McDonald’s at such a late time, usually he’d be fast asleep in your bed with his head on your thighs.

you were on your way back to the car, as the drive thru had shut and there was no other way to order but in-restaurant, when two sketchy looking guys approached you. they had full black on and seemed like they’d been in the parking lot for a while. “scuse me miss, mind helping me out? and you sir. got an important parcel in the back of the car and we can’t get the boot to open.

Chris raised an eyebrow, not even turning to you, only placing a hand around you arm with a strong grip. he shook his head. “we’re sort of in a hurry to go somewhere. barely had to time to stop here for a snack.” the men glanced at each other, and one reached out a hand, placing it on your shoulder. you shuddered at the feel of his nails digging into the bare skin that was revealed by your tank top.

“it’ll only take a minute. you can wait in the car if you’re so inclined to leave.” your breaths became almost sharp as the situation thickened. Chris however, was not having another second of it. “it’ll take a minute for you to get out of our faces. I’d get to it if I were you.”

when the men realised they weren’t going to crack you guys, they hunched over and snuck away. understanding how shaken you were, Chris pulled you into his side. his warm hand made contact with the light bruising on your shoulder, causing you to hiss. he apologised, but kept his hand there. and you were glad he did because the warm of his hand surprisingly soothed the pain in time.

the two of you drove home and you couldn’t fall asleep again. so he turned on the TV and picked a random movie so the two of you could watch it. sort of. because really, it played in the background while you made out.

[theoddest1]

I have no idea what was the point of introducing Stolas and Blitzo as childhood friends. To make them appear as destined to be?

In fact, it just makes Stolitz creepier. This man just obsessed over a kid he knew for a day for the last 25 years and his first instinct is to bang him? It would have been a lot better for Stolas to witness how they treat imps at Stella's party, leading him to reflect on the classist treatment of people like Blitz. This leads him to grow a bit regretful and uncomfortable, leading him to go back to his study to think over things. There, he reconciles with Blitzo, who is trying to steal his book. Unaware of what's going on, Stolas strikes conversation with Blitz on what they've been up to. Blitzo believes this could be a way to distract him, so he's willing to play that part.

They begin to talk out their lives together: their highs, their lows, and their connections. While Blitzo shows little to no interest in Stolas' personal life, Stolas is shocked and saddened by Blitzo's background. While he became a high-ranking figure with a magical skill set and a family of his own, Blitzo's life has been nothing but pain, struggle, and a string of strained relationships. Despite this though, Blitzo continues to try to make a name for himself, whether as a good dad of an adopted daughter or as a successful boss of an underdog business.

Stolas, while sympathetic for Blitzo, tends to also find admiration in his ambition and work. Despite all the people he's hurt and all the people who've hurt him, he keeps moving forward towards a better way of life. They find an unlikely connection this way, leading to a weekly visit between the two. Despite their differences in class and style, they find comfort in each other and eventually become friends. Eventually Stolas grows interested in Blitzo's business life, leading him to lend him access to the Grimoire whenever his business requires it. Not in exchange for sex, but to help out a man he cares for.

Both Stolas and Stella in this rendition are unhappy rather than hateful of one another. For Stolas, he finds little to no interest in Stella romantically (since he's attracted to men). As for Stella, she has had a soft spot for him since their first encounters, much like Stolas with Blitzo. However, she is also unhappy with him both sexually and romantically, as her attempts at a loving connection always meet to no avail. She begins to grow saddened and bitter, believing she is incapable of finding love. Her parents already viewed her as a free ticket to a life of royal luxury, so why would her arranged husband see her more than a woman he's stuck with for an heir? Despite this, however, both Stolas and Stella attempt to make it work for their daughter Octavia.

Unfortunately, things begin to fall apart once Stolas and Blitzo grow into something more than what they believed they'd become. They grow from a pair of unlikely friends to a pair of friends with benefits. Things grow complicated between the two because of this. Blitzo begins to grow attracted to Stolas, which he cannot fathom due to his rank and his self-worth issues. Stolas also begins to grow attracted towards Blitzo, though he begins to question if this is worth throwing away his public image and family life for. Stolas becomes regretful over his feelings for Blitzo, while Blitzo becomes frustrated and worried.

Anyways, sorry for a bunch of rambling lol. Seeing the wasted potential this show has always pumps up my thought bubbles. I wanted to see a raunchy show with an assassin business with a romance subplot between two morally gray people, not what became of it. 

You gotta understand, Anon...this requires reliable writers to pull off and Arcane S1 levels of care, which Viv's ass doesn't have

Fr, this is really solid! There are a few things I'd change [slightly] here and there, but this would be such a solid way to handle their entire relationship. But Viv is a Fujo, so we are ROPED.

[shrimshrim4fun]

Headcanons for Camellya:

Note: How do I see nothing about her 😭 Nobody writes about her, does nobody want content about her? I’m planning on posting about her more this week, anybody interested at all 😓

SFW:

-A very bit tease. Makes light jokes about how you do certain things but cannot handle other people teasing you. Even if it’s jokingly, she will glare at them and is proabably planning how she’s gonna torture them

-Loves clinging onto you especially when she’s napping. The vines from her body sprout out and wrap around you to keep you close not wanting you to leave. Her head usually pressed up against your chest as you both lay in the sun

-Your house is now filled with different flowers and plants. So many flowers everywhere. Even though there are so many the scent is pleasant like an alluring perfume. She loves it when you help take care of them with her. “How considerate of you, helping me water all of them. I hope you’re as excited as I am waiting for them to bloom…”

-Hates it when you’re out of her sight. She’ll find some way to keep track of where you’re going. In some way absolutely despises all your friends saying that they’re keeping you away from her and that you should get rid of them. Shes also really possessive always having a hand around you in public or clinging onto you. She’s obsessed and hates when you leave her side. “They’re trying to deprive me of the one thing that can make me happy. Oh isn’t it so mean of them…but don’t worry I can make them all poof if you let me”

-Sometimes she gets hurt on purpose because she knows you’ll give her extra attention that day to tend to her injuries. She never gets injuries but she’ll make injuries on herself and dismisses it if other people ask. But with you she’ll be so exaggerative when you ask her about it and you’re the only one that she allows to treat her injuries. She love seeing the worried look on your face as if you actually cared. Usually these injuries are large and bloody. She’ll look at you fondly with a smug smile on her face as you tend to them. “Aren’t you gonna kiss them well? I promise that I’ll feel 100 times better if you kiss it better for me”

NSFW:

-Very expressive and loud. She doesn’t care if others can hear her, she’ll only giggle before getting louder. Will tell you how much she loves what you’re doing and how happy she is. “Oh yes~ you’re so good it’s making me crave more…MORE”

-A massive masochist. Love any and all pain you inflict onto her. The more it hurts the better. Temperature play, whipping, paddles, anything you want. Probably a sadist as well but more enjoys it when you inflict it onto her. She moans so much more every time you cause pain on her body. Will stare at herself in the mirror afterward to admire your work.

-Loves leaving marks on your body especially if it’s any that someone else can see like hickeys on your neck. So so so many claw marks on your back. A lot of the time she draws blood on these marking and will lick the blood away. Loving the metallic taste in her mouth. After sex, she sometimes stares at them with a proud smile. Isn’t too much of a biter but will occasionally nip your neck to catch you off guard. “Oh your even more beautiful like this, I wish to make you bleed my dear~”

-Mirror sex is a huge turn on for her. When you bend her over and slam the strap into her ass. My hand tugging her hair up as she sees herself in the mirror. The saliva slipping down the side of her mouth and how messy you two are entangled together like two vines.

-Aftercare consists a hot bath together and laying in bed. Usually with her laying against her, as she traces the red claw marks on your back as she hums softly. Your hand gently rubbing her back as you reassure her. The smell of her shampoo engulfs your senses as you nuzzle into her neck

[silverynight]

The roommate

<---Previous

Part XXVI

"What's your ideal date, Izuku?"

Perhaps it's just an innocent question, but Izuku is so tense because of the mission, he immediately has a bad feeling about the whole situation. Besides, even though he's usually friendly towards anyone, the way Toga is grabbing his arm is making him want to put some distance between them as soon as possible.

"Uhh... it used to be going to the park or maybe a fair and share a crepe with the person I like–"

"Are you hungry, Izuku? Do you want a crepe?" Toga asks, blushing even more.

"No, thanks... I actually have to go."

"Why?" Kana cuts in, the moment she notices that Toga looks disappointed. For the most part, she left them alone; she seemed happier walking right behind the two and not engaging in their conversation at all.

"My boyfriends are waiting for me," Izuku blurts out, not knowing if it's the right thing to do at the moment. He knows he should be trying to pretend things aren't going that great in his relationship, but right now there's nothing he wants more than to see them again.

The grip Toga has around his arm tightens and it becomes slightly painful.

"You're hurting me," he points out and Toga squeezes him even tighter against her before she lets him go.

Izuku doesn't like Toga at all. She makes him feel uncomfortable and nervous.

"They'll eventually hurt you," Toga narrows her eyes. "They don't deserve you."

Izuku starts wondering if Toga is one of those people who started sympathizing with the heroes' haters after Kana was released and shared the villain's ideals with the world or if she was always like that due to personal experiences.

"They love me and they try their best," Izuku argues; the need to defend them is stronger than anything else. "I can't ask for more. Besides, I make mistakes too. Nobody is perfect."

"Pro heroes certainly aren't," Toga huffs, getting more irritated with Izuku's response. "But people seem to think they are."

"Some of them do," he agrees. "But not all of them. It's truly a mistake to idealize people, not only pro heroes. They are human too and although they shouldn't get away with crimes just because of their position, we shouldn't judge them too hard when they make harmless mistakes."

Toga shakes her head, but doesn't argue with Izuku because she doesn't have anything to say to that.

"I don't trust pro heroes and you shouldn't either."

"I trust Kacchan and Shoto."

She hisses and Kana doesn't look happy either, but Izuku stays calm, mostly because there's a lot of people around. Although he shouldn't feel like this; they're just two girls with strong opinions.

"I must go. It was a pleasure to meet you," Izuku tells Toga, before waving at Kana.

It looks like Kana wants to say something else, but Toga stops her; Izuku has never been that relieved to leave a shopping center before.

As he walks away and into a street nearby, he finally has the time to read Hagakure's texts; she apparently didn't like Toga at all and decided to ask Yaoyorozu to find out more about her.

"Izuku."

He hears Shoto's voice and he definitely bumps into a broad chest and a hero suit that looks exactly like his, but as soon as Izuku looks up and stares into familiar mismatched eyes he is completely sure this is not his Shoto.

He knows Hagakure is still following him because it's part of the deal, but he wonders that now that she's seen his "boyfriend" she would go back to the agency immediately.

"Hi," he mumbles nervously before he takes his phone to text her quickly, but a pair of hands snatch it off his as they also take Izuku's groceries.

"Let me help you with that."

"You know what?" Izuku smiles, trying to look as calm as possible. "I forgot something, I need to go back to the mall."

"I know you're really smart, Izuku and I'm sure you know this is not your stupid boyfriend. But you'll have to come with me–"

"Hagakure!" He screams. "This is not Shoto!"

The villain makes such a disgusted expression that looks so foreign on Shoto's features that it makes Izuku to instinctively take a couple of steps back. He's ready to run.

"There's a pro hero here?" The fake Shoto hisses. "I should've known!"

Then he takes a knife out and Izuku has the sudden feeling (maybe because of his nightmares or the way Toga approached him earlier) that he has finally solved a complex puzzle.

"Toga?"

"I told you to call me Himiko!" She hisses again with Shoto's face before stabbing him.

Izuku screams in pain.

"What are you doing? You told me you weren't going to hurt him!" Is that Kana's voice? She doesn't sound happy anymore.

"I won't kill him. He just needs to learn a lesson!"

Izuku wishes she stopped using his boyfriend's face and voice because it hurts to see Shoto trying to harm him, even though Izuku knows it's not the real one.

Then, she removes the knife, which is even more painful; he knows it'll also make him bleed profusely. Then, something collides with Toga, and she begins to turn back into her original form.

A blond, naked, but wild young woman willing to do anything for what she wants.

Although Izuku is not sure what she wants at the moment, the only thing he knows is that he's bleeding, feels dizzy and his knees can't support him anymore.

He falls to the ground as he realizes Hagakure is the one fighting Toga.

There are a couple of people in that area now and some of them are calling an ambulance and others the police and asking to be transferred to a hero agency.

A couple of them are taking videos of what's going on. At least they have Toga's transformation on their phones now.

Everything's confusing.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know she was going to hurt you!" Kana is at his side now, although Izuku can't be that sure; his vision has become blurry out of the sudden.

He's going to pass out.

"She's confused, but she means well..."

There's a scream, but this time it comes from Toga.

"What did you do? You blinded me!"

Izuku nerd's heart would have loved to see how Hagakure managed to do that with her quirk; he has seen her on YouTube videos a couple of times... does she reflect light to the point–

His vision turns completely black for a second.

Maybe it's not the time for hero combat analysis.

"Die!"

The familiar, absolutely rude yell comforts Izuku immediately and even the explosion that follows it.

"Izuku, love, are you alright?"

For a second, he flinches at the sight of Shoto, but one look tells him this is his boyfriend, the real one.

"It's alright, Izuku. It's me, please..."

He feels safe now, despite the pain and the amount of blood that's coming from his open wound; Izuku had been trying to stop it with his hands, but he's too weak to put pressure on it.

His vision is turning black again.

"Izuku, don't close your eyes," Shoto pleads, desperate, worried; Izuku is almost sure he's about to cry. "Stay with me. The paramedics are here–Izuku!"

"IZUKU!"

His Katsuki is getting closer now, but he can't stay awake anymore.

At least he's with them again.

***

He wakes up a couple of times; the first one he's inside an ambulance and the paramedic is asking a few questions to Katsuki.

"Izuku?"

His eyes can't stay open for too long.

The next time he's on a bed, in a room that smells too clean and covered on light blue sheets.

"Are you alright, baby?"

Izuku beams as he looks up at Katsuki; he's being extremely soft and gentle with him because he's worried. He also looks tired and like he's about to break.

"Love?"

Shoto is there too, which makes Izuku feel better immediately; he's still dizzy, but there's no pain now, although Izuku suspects they gave him a couple of painkillers for that.

Suddenly, his boyfriends take his hands and lean closer to him.

"I'm glad you're here," he manages to say.

"Don't you dare scare us like that again!" Katsuki huffs, trying to hide his own concern, but he intertwines his fingers with Izuku's. His eyes are red; he must've been crying. Shoto doesn't look any better.

"I was scared." The man with mismatched eyes admits.

"It's okay," Izuku smiles, pulling them closer (one at a time) to give them both a kiss on the forehead. "I'm here."

***

You can read Part XXVII, Part XXVIII and Part XXIX on my patreon already.

Patreon

[natromanovxx]

"And I know that you won't fear me But I fear that you cannot help me And I know every day that I'm lost in a dream"

- Dream (Acoustic) Amaranthe

Read my fanfic here <3

Playlist Links I made for songs that remind me of these two ~ Apple Music Spotify

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier (No relation to the AU of the same name)

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