#she said we can’t keep waiting to bury him

[maidofmetal]

i have to sell my l7 concert tickets because the next day is my uncles memorial services and i’m so upset n it’s stupid but 🤬

[ohcaptains]

knuckle velvet

synopsis. he walks you home, then lets himself in.

pairing. logan howlett x f!reader. tags. [18+] dubious consent, vaginal penetration, female receiving oral sex, spitting. honey don't feed it, it'll come back type beat.

Some deep part of Canada, where everything was white. Snowstorms that swarmed through the sky, and the only warmth you could find came from the bottom of a bottle.

The wood floor of the sticky bar you worked in was soaked from frost covered boots – haphazardly scraped across the welcome mat, owners preoccupied with getting their first drink than keeping the place tidy.

You existed there, behind the bar that patrons lent against, like a metal cage with leering onlookers. They paid in drinks, but you took the money home as tips, your warmth stoked in a fireplace.

How you’d ended up there in that forgotten part of the world, you didn’t know.

Perhaps you’d followed a narrow path, one strung out with thorns and rubbish, but the money was okay.

When it got slow, and there wasn’t much else to do, your boss let you read a bit, too, while you sipped on your endless supply of Coca-Cola.

At the end of your shift, your teeth were fuzzy from all the sugar. 

An easy existence, but some nights, the patrons got too friendly.

They were fresh off their trucks, looking for some place warm to bury for the night, but you weren’t offering.

So, you’d peer at them, watch them make a fool of themselves as they spewed putrid words in your general direction – alcohol and lack of sleep causing the floor to sway from beneath their feet.

It was always the new boys who would try it.

Risk it all for a chance between your thighs, unaware of the hound sitting at the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey and a vendetta.

The first time he fought for you, the air had changed. Gone cloudy with the chance of a brawl – that sixth sense that all bartenders have switching on.

“Lady said no, ain’t she?” he bellowed from across the bar.

The voice thick with smoke and alcohol, you recognised him as the guy who’d been drinking whiskey all night, but he was as sober as a nun. No stumble to his step, or slur to his cadence, either.

He was built like an oak tree. You noticed when you served him. Slid him his drink and gazed at the sheer bulk of him. At the weathered, handsome age to his face, to the spray of grey in his brown hair.

His thick arms were snugly buried under a button up shirt, and you didn’t see, but rather imagined, the way his muscular legs were stuffed into jeans, and the way his size 12’s rested against the hardwood.

His eyes though, were hiding something. Milky brown concealing his curiosity – easily done with the hard panes of his face.

You imagined letting him take you home, and you thought about being friendly, before a whisper in the back of your cranium told you to back off.

Perhaps safer.

You didn’t know where this man had come from, let alone where he’d been. So, you continued to serve him drinks, and tried to ignore the quiet hum of his presence, until the hum turned to a crash.

The patron was scorned. He paused, and turned to the end of the bar, where the brown eyed stranger was waiting. “What’s it to you?” he slurred.

But the man with the whiskey wasn’t looking to him. He sipped his drink, and said, “she said no. You don’t remember your manners?”

The bar adorned an eerie quiet. Nerves sat low in your belly, heart picking up speed.   “This guy serious?” he asked you.

You went to say something, but he was already throwing words at the stranger.

“She yours or something?” “It matter?” “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The stranger scoffed, and brought his drink to his lips, “whatever bub.”

“We got a problem?” the man uttered, stalking towards him, but his friend took him by the arm and whispered something in his ear, forcing him to deflate.

You wondered what he’d uttered. Whether there were rumours about the guy – a reputation you didn’t know about.

Brown eyes didn’t bat an eye when the man and his buddy slid out the door, cold filling the room before the door slammed shut.

The bar exhaled.

People went back to their business, and you thought about it, you really did. Thought about leaving him alone. Going back to your measly existence. Your home – the pit for all of your things.

But it didn’t win over in the end.

You topped up his drink. He took it, and glanced at you, brown eyes ringed with mystery.

“That happen often?” he uttered, voice a gruff grunt.

You put the bottle down, and looked away, thinking back to last week when you nearly fought a guy for staring for too long. You glanced back to him. “Sometimes.” “Your boss is an asshole for letting you work here alone.” “That so?” you laughed, shocked at his candour. He nodded and downed his drink, eyeing you from over the rim.

Finished, he put the glass down on the bar, and shrugged his jacket on. He got up to leave, and you felt a chasm begin to open up in your chest.

You went to say something. Anything, to make him stay. But he paused and looked over his shoulder.

His jaw was clenched when he tentatively offered, “be safe.”

When you locked up, he was waiting for you. 

It didn’t scare you. Really, it should, but when you left the bar and saw him standing there, toking on a cigar in the cold, all it did was make you pause. He stood there, gazing at you, eyes clouded by smoke. 

“You waiting for me?” you uttered, making it real, even if the light drift of snow was giving the world a dream like quality. 

He shrugged. “Just waiting.” 

You nodded, and put the bar keys in your bag, ignoring the chasm get wider. If he was going to rob the place, he’d have to get through layers of receipts and tissues to get in. But you knew the bar wasn’t what he was after. Something about his posture, the luring look in his brown eyes — curious, like he was trying to figure something out. 

You began to walk past him, but when he didn’t follow, you paused. You peered over your shoulder, and he was still looking at you. 

Taking you in. “Well,” you started, hitching your bag up your arm, “you gonna walk me home, or what?” 

He followed you in comfortable silence.

Just you, the night, and the crunch of dirt under his boots. His cigar smoke drifted by, and it wafted through your subconscious, followed by pine, and crisp scent of the snow.

He sounded like the noise of the woods — ever present in these parts. A comfort, if one had adapted to its unpredictability. When you got to your familiar walkway, you opened the gate, but he didn’t follow you through.

Instead, he stood by the entrance, watching you unlock your door like he’d just dropped you off from a date. it was when you were halfway through that he spoke up. “You work every night?”

“Yeah,” you started quickly, looking to him. “Apart from Wednesday and Sunday.” He considered you, then gave you a sharp nod, and turned to leave.

That’s how you ended up with a wolf at your door.

Every night, he was the last one left, then he silently walked you home.

Some nights, you’d find him leaning against the entrance, and he’d quietly peel away from the door and follow you. At first, he simply walked closely behind, a looming shadow, until he began walking beside you.

Then one night, you let him in.

Made him a cup of coffee to fight off all the liquor he consumed, and he sat at your kitchen table, and drank every drop.

Watched you in the low, fluorescent lighting, and you did the same. Curiously studied him. He looked different in your home. In your kitchen. Looked a little softer around the edges, even if he couldn’t relax completely.

It went like that for a while. It was on one of these nights that he gave you his name, followed by a shitty cup of coffee. Sometimes two. Maybe a biscuit, or a piece of cake. Leftovers turned into home cooked meals. Sat at the kitchen table and watched him eat. Roast beef. Mashed potatoes. Lasagna. Sipped at your cup of tea as he slopped up his pasta, using the back of his hand to wipe the sauce off his mouth.

You left him finishing off his plate to get ready for bed, and it was when you were sorting your hair out, that he came into your bedroom and began taking his boots off.

You stood at your mirror and watched him place them near your door.

Then he reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt.

One by one, you watched his thick fingers reach the bottom. He took it off, revealing a white tank off and broad chest, and hung the shirt up on your door frame.

Jeans next.

Popped the button and shucked them to his feet -- threw them with his boots and dragged himself towards your bed.  

You went to say something. Anything.

But he looked so exhausted as he crashed onto your frilly bed, that all you could manage was, “You lock the door?”

Logan nodded. His eyes were already closed, and he was hugging the pillow when he uttered, “you coming to bed, or what?”

You let him stay the night.

Maybe it was raining, maybe he was too tired – it didn’t matter. All that mattered, was that he was warm, and sometimes, when you woke and felt the terrifying ache of being alive, he’d be there to quiet the pain.

Hush you with the soft swell of his lips and wandering hands.

You’d come with a hushed whisper, hot and sticky over his calloused fingers -- drowsy from how high he took you. Then he’d kiss you, fix your clothes, and go back to sleep.

Always the middle of the night. When it was dark and quiet out, and it felt as if you were the last people alive.

His skilled hands bringing you to the brink, a soft kiss, then back to bed.

You would wait for it. Watch him nurse his whiskey at the end of the bar, the night dragging with every drink you poured. Then, he watched you lock up.

Waited at the door for you, so you could walk home together, wordlessly taking the familiar trail.

He’d eat, you’d watch, then leave for your room.

Once, you woke to his head between your thighs. The night was quiet, room dark – slither of moonlight from your window cutting a line through your bodies.

You were slick with sweat, and as you flexed your taunt muscles, they fizzled and singed. Hot heat pushed low in your belly, rooted between your thighs.

Logan hummed, and you reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, whimpering his name to grab his attention.

He had palm fulls of you. Fists of your thighs, soft of your belly, leaving marks with his desire – desperation. The first thing he did was apologise. Muttered a hoarse, m’sorry, into your soaking cunt, but continued tasting you.

You used his hair as leverage, and hitched your hips up an inch, causing his nose to bump into your sensitive clit, and you hissed, as if in pain, but the sound trailed off into something similar to his name, and Logan grunted, moving your hips further up so he could twist a thick finger inside.

You took all he gave.

Moaned into the pillow beside you as you rocked your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth. Said shit you didn’t mean, but meant all the same, and Logan got off on it.

This mysterious man who had taken over your life, grunted your name like it belonged to him. Made you come on his thick beard and puffy lips, then made you taste yourself as he kissed you.

You hugged his sweat slick frame to you, fingers scratching his scalp, mindlessly grinding against his clothed cock. You were content to just kiss him, until he dragged his fingers between your thighs again.

You startled, gasping into his hot mouth, but Logan hummed, near smiling against your lips.

“’think there’s another in there for me,” he drawled.

When he fucked you, there was so much of him that you went blind with it. Eyes half lidded, delirious as he pushed inside, making himself fit. Stuffing you full, then pulling out, just to feel it all over again.

Again and again. You moaned his name into his soaked, scarred chest. Felt yourself leave your body, so hot, so wet, that it was all sensation. Just the slap of his hips against yours, the feel of his hands on your tits, in your mouth, telling you to open wide.

He spat, and when he missed, he smeared the mess off of your chin and rubbed it into your cunt.

Made you come, then filled you with his own. Leant back, and watched it drip out of you. You were so consumed by him, that you didn’t have enough energy to feel self-conscious.

No, when he had his wild eyes on you, you reached between your thighs and stuffed it back inside.

The next evening, and he was back at the bar, waiting for you to bring him his whiskey. When you placed it in front of him, those wild eyes were on you again.

Waiting. Always waiting.

Waiting to play out your usual routine.

masterlist | ask | reblogs appreciated endlessly

[luveline]

hey! i wanted to request r with a best friend!marauder, and she feels guilty for being a clingy/touchy bsf? eg. always holds hands and loops arms together and loves hugs. but said marauder comforts her? thank you jadey

The steps off of the bus feel especially steep on just four hours sleep. You’re not dizzy, but when James offers his hand from the ground, you accept it. Much less scary to know he could catch you if you slipped. 

“I’m surprised we weren’t holding hands already,” he says, giving yours a squeeze as you land, and pulling you to the side where the already departed rugby team and their family members wait for their luggage to be retrieved from the bus’ belly.

“Oh, I know,” you say. There’s an odd awkwardness to it that you’re trying to bury. 

James is used to you. Your hand in his is casual, perhaps a little too much for company, but it’s just hand-holding. You like feeling that he’s near, the slight chill of British summer more readily suffered with his palm against yours. He runs hot. 

He lets your joined hands swing gently with the wait, doesn’t bother letting it go until the luggage is all out. James grabs his duffel bag and your suitcase, and everyone makes their way to the hotel. It’s late —the team were expecting to be here much sooner but there had been a punctured tire, and then an accident on the M4. James will have to play the game tomorrow with less hours of sleep than intended, but he’ll play well. 

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” James says a little later, when you’ve shoved your suitcase under the double bed. He turns off the big light. 

“That is an uncharacteristically large word.” 

“Loser,” he says, pushing down the blankets to sit next to you. He rubs his mouth and nose, then he turns to you, all business. “You are quiet, though. What’s the matter? Still feel poorly?” 

“I feel fine.” 

“You look awful.” He winces at his own harshness. “You look upset, sorry. And you still have sleep in your eyes, let me–”

You sigh and tilt your head up for him to scratch the sleep from your eye. For a moment, it’s quiet, just your face in his hand, his fingernail against the delicate inside of your eye. “Do you ever think we’re too close?” 

“Not really. Sometimes when you kick me in your sleep, maybe.” He takes back his hands. 

“You don’t care that I’m, like, constantly on you? I don’t know, like earlier, when you helped me off of the bus. Most friends wouldn’t keep holding on to each other after, but we do.” 

“Most friends wouldn’t take a nine hour bus just to see me play an away game, so…” James gives you a little poke in the ribs. “But we aren’t friends, we’re best friends. So what if we want to hold hands? That’s our business.” 

You frown. “You really don’t care? Even when I’m harassing you for hugs and stuff?” Nausea sits in your chest, waiting for him to say, Yeah, actually, the hugging is a bit much. 

“Babe, I love you,” James says, his glasses slipping down his nose as he gives a shake of the head. His eyebrows are pinched in confusion, but his mouth is softening. “How long have you been thinking about this?” 

“I just don’t want to be a burden.” 

“You’re never a burden.” He opens his arms. 

You crawl into his embrace, reassured by his chin where it digs into your forehead, and his warm voice. 

“You don’t bother me. We bother each other, right? We fight like kids. I love it, I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything.” He pauses. Hums. “‘Cept a Big Mac. I’m starving, I can’t believe we got stuck on the motorway like that.” 

“You’d trade me for a Big Mac?” 

“In a moment of weakness.” 

His smile curves against your head. His arms settle on your back. It’s the same as every other hug you’ve shared, warm and easy. “I wouldn’t,” he murmurs, “I don’t know why you’re worried about being too much, but don’t bother. You’re touchy, I’m touchy, we’re affectionate people.” 

“I spent too long on that stupid bus,” you say, dropping your flushed face into his shoulder. 

“You definitely did. Why would I care about you hugging me too much?” His hand moves gently up and down. “You give the best hugs around.” 

[moonstruckme]

omg ok idea! James or Sirius with a gf whose chatty but just not super crass and May be she comes home drunk from girl's night and is just openly trying to seduce him and he's just so taken aback like who is this person?!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: intoxication, dubious consent but nothing more than kissing

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 717 words

Sirius has never received such determined kisses in his life. 

He turns his lips from yours, smearing them over your brow in consolation when you make a piteous, dejected sound he’s going to pretend for your benefit isn’t hilarious. You keep planting kisses on his jaw, his neck. Sirius catches your wrists in his hands when you start pulling up the hem of his shirt. 

“Hey, hey,” he laughs. “What happened to ‘hello’? Is this how we greet each other now, sweetness?” 

The kisses had begun the second he’d shut the door on your friends. They’d chatted for a minute before that, and you’d had this strange smile on your face as you waited for them to go. At the time, Sirius had chalked it up to your obvious inebriation, but now he knows it for depravity. 

“Preferably,” you mumble, mouth busy with the bits of chest you can get at by pulling down the collar of his shirt. Sirius isn’t sure whether you can’t stand on your own or whether you’ve just decided pressing yourself fully against him is the way to go. Any other time, he really wouldn’t be opposed. 

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, delighted and exercising every ounce of self restraint in his battered soul to keep from kissing you back. He starts pulling you towards the couch, your uncoordinated feet following behind. 

You pause in your ravishment to grin up at him. You look positively impish. “Like, d’you want a list?” 

Sirius laughs, astonished. “What happened to my shy girl? Were you freaky fridayed by someone in the club?” 

“Freaky fridayed in the club.” You snort, flopping down onto the couch when he does and immediately getting into his lap. “That could mean lots of things.” 

Sirius feels a tug on his mouth. “Such as?” 

You bury your head in his neck, voice vibrating against his skin. “It’d make a good band name.” 

“It might,” he agrees, taking your face between both hands and removing you from him like a leech. A very pretty, beloved leech. “Do you feel like it might be time for bed, lovebug?” 

Your eyes spark. “Yeah,” you say heartily. 

“To sleep,” he clarifies. 

“Oh.” Your face falls. “Well, no. I thought we could have sex first.” 

Sirius guffaws, the sound short and loud, and his amusement really only worsens when you frown sullenly.

“Baby,” he tries gentling his tone, “I would love that, but you know why we can’t.” 

“Why?” you ask obstinately. 

Sirius pushes his thumbs into your cheeks, making wishful dimples on either side of your frown. “Because of what’s gotten into you.” 

“But I want to,” you whine. 

He pouts right back at you. “Me too, darling. It’s a tragedy.” 

“Not even a kiss?” you ask, tilting your head in his hands and looking up at him with huge, sweet eyes. Have you been able to do that this whole time? Fuck, he’s lucky you’re not often feeling bold enough to use it. 

“I could do a kiss,” he concedes. 

“A nice one,” you demand.

Sirius feels his lips pull up. “Agreed. A nice one.” 

You close your eyes, expectant, and he bends towards you, pressing his lips to yours sweetly. You taste like all manner of booze, but still his girl. You make a soft sound in your throat, lips parting for his, coaxing him in. In an extraordinary show of willpower, Sirius pulls away. 

“Hey.” You look betrayed, and he can’t help himself, planting a quick peck on your nose that makes it scrunch adorably. “You said it’d be a nice one!”

“That felt pretty nice to me,” he says, laughing when you try to move in for more and he has to dodge you. He turns his head to the side and catches at your hands when they go for his shirt. “That’s it for tonight. If you want more kisses tomorrow, I promise to let you have as many as you like.” 

You sigh, giving up and hooking your chin on his shoulder. “Your lips were, like, buzzing,” you mumble, wistful. “It was nice.” 

“Pretty sure that’s just you, sweetness,” Sirius tells you kindly, breaking his promise once more to press his lips to your hair. “Ready for bed now?”

“To sleep?” you ask despondently. 

“Yeah, baby. To sleep.”

[star2fishmeg]

can I request 143 and all three hughes 🙈

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #143 Skinny dipping

📞 dialling…

ǫᴜɪɴɴ

Dipping in next to her, Quinn’s nerves swirled in his stomach, yet the excitement fizzled in his chest. He’d never felt like that since college, usually he felt a consuming level of nerves, but the addition of y/n’s bare body submerged under the water, waiting for him, just eased those fears, “Are you sure this is safe?”

The weren’t far out into the lake, just next to the dock where their clothes lie in piles with their towels. He held the ladder for support, to not only keep them afloat, but in hope to shelter them from any eyes. 

“You said you wanted to live a little before training camp, didn’t you? Well, wouldn’t this be something to cross off the bucket list?” She replied, his arm winding around her waist until he pulled her into him, chests pressed together as her arms snaked around his shoulders.

“True, I just hope our neighbours can’t see, oh god, or my family.” He buried his face into her shoulder, “I’d never live that down.”

She giggled, placing a kiss to his hair before cupping his cheeks, her thumbs caressing over his cheekbones as her legs hooked around his waist. Although unnoticeable in the dark, his face radiated a raging heat and she knew he was blushing furiously. She smiled lazily, kissing his nose.

“It’s two in the morning, Q. And we’re in water. In the dark.” She watched his lips falter, “C’mere and I’ll take care of you.”

She pressed her lips to his, a sweet kiss quickly becoming greedy when he softly moaned into her, the grip around her waist tightening and hugging their bodies closer, fingers sliding to his nape and tangling in his curls and mouths opening to welcome tongues into a languid rhythm. He licked into her mouth desperately, the guttural moan vibrated against their chests as saliva coated their lips and his hand trailed down the small of her back to grasp her ass, almost smiling when a whimper slipped past her lips.

He pulled away first, panting and pressing his forehead against hers, mumbling low, “I missed this.”

“Missed what? I kiss you all the time.” She traced circles on his shoulder with her fingertip, her nose bumping with his.

Even such a small act of passion could open the floodgates of memories, they were still young but gone were the days of dumb ideas with no consequences. If they were back in college, he knew they would have moved quickly by now, jumping into sex just for the thrill of it but where they were now was romantic paradise. The company of another was enough even if they were skinny dipping.

“Not that, being young and stupid. Like in college when we thought mixing vodka and milk and then inhaling a McDonalds was a good idea until we were just puking the whole night simultaneously in our friend’s toilet. Or that stealing shopping carts phase.” He said, eyes steadying on hers, a frenzied sparking feeling surging through his limbs.

She cocked an eyebrow, smirking, “And falling asleep while making out-” 

“-I was wasted, oh my god!” He groaned, half-amused with a twinge of embarrassment, silencing her laughter with his mouth, once again connecting their tongues to lap against each other and create the sweet sound of wet kissing to fill the void of the atmosphere.

ᴊᴀᴄᴋ

“See? Isn’t this better than whatever Trevor’s up to?” y/n grinned, swimming backwards from the dock, not too far in the pitch black of the summer’s night, the water chilling at first but gradually holding her into a warm embrace. Social media could be a pain in the ass and Jack succumbed to it, falling into a glum mood over being unable to attend Trevor’s party due to being in Michigan. 

Jack hesitantly pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the deck before fumbling with the ties of his jersey shorts, “Seeing you naked is better than anything, pretty girl.”

He kicked his shorts and boxers off, taking a small run up until he launched himself over the dock, cannonballing into the lake next to her and disappearing under the water. She waited for a little bit, glancing towards the house in case someone heard them at the dead of night. But they were safe. 

Jack resurfaced quietly, flipping his hair back from his forehead and winding his arm around her waist, pressing his chest into her back until his palms cupped her breasts, wet kisses smothering up her neck and drowning in her soft giggles that just made his stomach warm and fuzzy.

“You gonna move those hands or am I gonna have to pry them off me?” she leant her head back onto his shoulder, gazing up into his half-lidded eyes and feeling his lips meet hers for a slow but gentle kiss, hands kneading her breasts tenderly, boyishly, fascinated by the way they moulded to his palms.

“But your boobs make me feel better,” he murmured playfully with a smirk against her lips, before the hands in question slid down the sides of her waist, arms wrapping around her torso and the transferring of their bodies’ heat like a blanket in the chill. “I’m kidding, this is so much better than some party. I get to swim in a lake, in privacy with my girl while naked. That’s so much better, babe.”

With nothing but the crickets singing their songs, they leant their heads on each other’s, watching the moonlight cascade over the ripples and sparkle against the reflection. They missed moments like that, where it was just the two of them in each other’s company, entirely. Skinny dipping in the lake wasn’t a conventional way to spend time with someone, but if they were happy, whatever.

ʟᴜᴋᴇ

With both hands in his, Luke led y/n into the lake, both their clothes and towels piled at the bank as the cold water nipped at their bare skins and woke every goosebump to run over them. 

“Are you sure about this, Lu? What if we get caught?” she whispered, looking back at the lake house in the far distance, not a light to be seen. She wasn’t really walking, it was more letting Luke pull her into the water with him, feeling her knees submerge knowing he’d be further in. 

“Then we get caught, we’re adults, we’re allowed to do what we want, angel. It’s gonna be a good story to tell.” He lured her in further until the water covered their shoulders, the temperature freezing yet when Luke pressed her body into his, arms secured around her waist, it didn’t seem so unbearable. When she’d said she was too hot, skinny dipping wasn’t on her mind, yet her chest squished against his brought that familiar comfort she was used to in bed. 

She wound one arm around his shoulders, her other helping him tread water, noses ghosting with dilated pupils and electric urges in their chests to close the gap between them, “Lu, I don’t want anyone seeing me ass naked, that’s so embarrassing. We could have just dug out another fan.” 

“But you’re beautiful, and where’s the fun in that?” his warm lips met her cheek softly, peppering her face and travelling to her neck gradually, smiling when she broke into a hushed giggle. “I wouldn’t let anyone see you, don’t worry. You’re all mine, babe. Have you cooled down now?”

She scratched her nails lightly at the nape of his neck, in the curls that sat there and were soaked for the water’s surface, relishing in the way he tipped his head back into the feeling that left tingles over his scalp, his eyes closing, “Mmm, yeah. But this is nice.”

[darnell-la]

Could you write something Logan x reader where she uses a safe word? Like usually she is fine and enjoys the rougher play but for whatever reason she is overwhelmed or gets scared. Maybe she is embarrassed or feels bad for it because she doesn’t want him to blame himself or something

note: our most active author's birthday was yesterday, so we’ve been pretty busy. we apologize for the gap in our posting but trust me, we have a lot of posts coming. stay tuned!

btw, I gave you guys a lil tease at the end…

———

Today has been a long day of teaching for y/n. She hoped to come home and rest, but Logan also had a bad day. Usually, when he does, he needs to kiss, feel, or be in y/n to relax.

“I’ve missed you all day. Damn kids always pushin’ my buttons,” Logan spoke low in the crook of y/n’s neck as his hips slowly moved.

“You just take all of my stress away, baby. Love you so much,” Logan growled, now snapping his hips. He loved the feeling of her growing wet underneath him. He loved her so much.

Y/n let out a small and soft moan, enjoying the pleasure, but she still felt off. She hadn’t told Logan she wanted a break today, because the man looked more stressed than usual.

“You sound so beautiful, baby. Can’t get enough,” the man rolled his hips in the right spot, getting him close to his climax.

As he was thrusting, he realized y/n hadn’t come yet. “C’mon, baby. Cum on me. Wanna feel you,” the ma buried his face into her neck to bite down a bit, just how she liked it, but right now, she felt off.

“Fuck, baby, c’mon! C’mon!” The man growled, snapping his hips at a fast and hard pace. “L-Logan,” y/n stuttered, feeling the pleasure but more pain since her body was working against her.

“Yes, baby, that’s it. That’s it!” Logan placed one hand next to Y/n’s head and used the other to grip her waist, pulling her body into his thrust.

“S-Stop,” y/n begged low, not knowing if she should stop the man, or let him relax. “Ssh, baby — So fuckin’ close,” the man said as his cock twitched in her.

Y/n tried keeping herself together, knowing this would only last several more thrusts, but her eyes began to tear.

“R-Red,” y/n said low, instantly, making Logan slow his hips down. “Red!” Y/n cried out. Logan quickly pulled out of y/n and pushed himself off of the bed.

Logan went to speak, but he cut himself off after seeing y/n curl up on their shared bed. He was afraid he did something wrong. He didn’t know if he should comfort her or stay back.

“Bub?” Logan asked, voice soft so he wouldn’t alarm her. “Baby? A-Are you okay?” He asked as he slowly crawled on the bed to look over her curled body.

“Y-Yes, I just need time,” Y/n said, shutting her eyes tighter in embarrassment. How could she stop her own husband as he got closer to finishing, just because she had a bad day at work.

“O-Okay, sweetheart, just- I’m here if you need anything, okay?” He asked as y/n slowly turned around. “No, no, don’t leave. I-I didn’t mean it,” Y/n said as she rubbed her tears away.

“Just a bad day at work. It’s nothing serious, so we can continue-“ Logan cut her off before she could continue. “Nah uh, we’ll continue tomorrow. Let’s just relax for right now, okay?” He said as she went to pull y/n down to lay with him, but she refused.

“No, no, I’m fine! I swear, we can keep going. I-It’s not that serious-“ Before she could continue again, he got her off. “It is serious if you’re shouting safe words, y/n,” Logan said.

Y/n stayed silent at his tone, not knowing how to respond.

“Baby, if you’re not down to make love, you gotta tell me. I see you every day, almost all day. I can take a little break to just lay and look into your pretty eyes,” Logan sat up and rubbed y/n’s wet cheek.

“I know, it’s just-“ y/n was cut off again. “No! No, I don’t want to hear it. C’mere and lay down, before I get upset. Mhmkay?” The man said as he laid back again, waiting for her to do the same, and so she did.

“I’m not relaxed unless you are, princess. Need my baby fully in the mood when I touch her. No exceptions. No matter how much I need to taste you,”

“But, I want you to finish,” y/n said, looking up at the man who she knew needed to release. “Baby, don’t worry about me. I can live until tomorrow or whenever you feel better,” the man said, but it was hard to ignore his hard-on against her body as they lay together.

“C-Can I watch you? I just don’t feel like doing anything, you know? But I can watch you,” she said, feeling a bit awkward, but she couldn’t lie and say she didn’t want to satisfy her man a little tonight.

“Baby, I think you should rest-“ This time, before he could dish, y/n cut him off. “Please, baby? You were so close,” Y/n said as she dragged her hand up his long and thick shaft.

“Fuck,” the man breathed out, feeling his coco twitch instantly. He was painfully hard and leaking out of his tip worse than she’d ever seen before. If he didn’t cum now, he would’ve been in his sleep.

“Fine, but don’t touch me anymore, baby. Feels too good, and I want you to rest,” Logan said as he removed her hand and replaced it with his own.

Logan began fishing his cock slowly, stroking her leftover wetness on his cock to make his hand glide smoother.

“Mhm hm,” Logan tried holding his moan in, feeling a bit off that he was the only one moaning, but when he looked to the side to see y/n’s eyes lust over him storming himself, he let them out.

“Fuck, baby — Not even touchin’ me and I feel like I’m goin’ crazy for you,” Logan said in between his grunts. Y/n placed a hand on his lower stomach, teasing him even after he said to now to uh her anymore.

“What did I say, princess? D-Don’t touch me. Just relax,” he said, but she ignored him and slightly scratched at his skin. “Augh fuck,” the man let out, hips fucking upwards as he felt himself near.

Logan’s feet curled, as his legs pointed in-word, letting y/n know he was right there. “That’s it, baby,” Y/n said, and that was it for Logan.

Logan groaned loudly, fist staying in place as his grip tightened around himself. Cum shot out of him and painted all over his thighs, abs, chest, and y/n’s hands and arms.

Y/n talked the man through his high, trying something new as she stroked his face. Logan accepted it all, softly placing his hand on her hand as he shook and caught his breath.

Logan never knew someone could make him feel this crazy with minimal touch. He’s fallen harder than he was before.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

hiya love, I just want to say how amazing your pieces are xx

I would like to make an ot8 request: so basically yn falls out with one of the members (like Minho for example) for whatever reason (you can decide) so there's like a huge argument and the members try to break the argument up but the member who yn is arguing with says something horrible so yn leaves the house quickly and ends up getting hurt (like breaking an ankle/ leg or something) so she can't walk home and the members go out to find her. so basically and angsty start with a really fluffy ending.

I really hope that you understand what I mean.

𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕

Warning: Angst/comfort/fluff

Summary: Request!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"That was totally uncalled for!" Han exclaimed, following Y/N into the house, clearly upset.

"Babe, I told you—he wasn’t flirting with me. He just wanted to borrow some notes," she said, taking off her shoes.

"Nah-uh! You didn’t even introduce me as your boyfriend when he asked you out for coffee!" Han crossed his arms, frustration written all over his face.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I respectfully declined! Can we just let it go? We’ve been arguing for five minutes." She dropped her bag on the couch with a sigh.

"Hey guys!" Changbin chimed in as he walked in, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hey babe," Y/N replied, but Han wasn’t finished.

"Hey babe- anyways Y/nie, this isn't fair you never introduce me as your boyfriend." he said, pouting.

"That’s not true!" she started, but Changbin leaned in to give her a quick kiss, then turned to give one to Han. "Thats not true Han, you know that," she finished looking up at him.

"Yes it is and to make matters worse, you let him sit with us!" Han groaned, raising his voice.

"Whoa, what’s going on? How was the study date?" Changbin asked, sensing the tension.

"What study date? Y/N's 'friend' interrupted and ruined it. She didn’t even say anything!" Han rolled his eyes.

"Okay, he’s being dramatic—"

"Dramatic? I get called dramatic every time I share my feelings!" Han shot back.

"Alright, Han, you’re overreacting," Y/N said, feeling her own frustration rise.

"Let’s just talk it out," Changbin suggested, trying to mediate.

"You let him disrespect me!" Han shouted.

"That’s just how he jokes!" Y/N defended, her voice rising.

"He didn’t make fun of your masculinity, did he?!" Han yelled.

"Who made jokes about your masculinity?" Leeknow asked, walking in, confused.

"Y/N's new boyfriend," Han scoffed.

"Han, stop! You don’t need to drag everyone into this. Let’s just figure it out ourselves," Y/N pleaded.

"Oh, what?! You don’t want them knowing you’ve been 'hoe-ing' around?" Han retorted, sarcasm thick in his tone.

"Wow, maybe I am a hoe! You know me—a girl dating eight guys. Biggest hoe on the planet, right?" she shot back, standing up from the couch.

"What did I just walk into...?" Chan asked, joining the conversation.

"Y/N, that’s not what I meant!" Han groaned.

"Both of you, just stop," Changbin grumbled, trying to restore order.

"Wait, I’m confused... Who made fun of Han’s masculinity, and why is Y/N a hoe?" Leeknow asked, sitting down.

"Who’s a hoe?" Hyunjin chimed in, walking into the room, curious.

Y/N buried her face in her hands. Great, now everyone’s here!

"We were having our study date, and then this guy—"

"My friend," she interrupted.

"Yeah, whatever," Han scoffed. "He came over, flirted with her, even asked her out. And when he asked who I was, she didn’t even introduce me! Mind you, she never introduces me as heer boyfriend!"

"Well, I didn’t want to shout it for the whole world to hear!" she replied, crossing her arms.

"Sh, Y/N, let him finish," Chan said, trying to keep the peace.

"Then he sat at our table, and instead of defending me, she laughed at his jokes about how feminine I look!" Han finished, glaring at her. "I know I’m not the buffest guy, but at least back me up!"

"Han!" she yelled, exasperated. "There’s nothing wrong with being feminine! And I can’t defend you all the time!"

"I know you can’t, but you were right there!" he shot back.

"Y/N, you should have said something. Letting him sit with you was crossing a line..." Leeknow said, shaking his head.

"You could have told himyou were on a date. I’d be hurt if you didn’t," Chan added, softening his tone.

Y/N felt like everyone was against her, and it hurt. She wasn’t in the wrong; she didn’t want that guy, and they were overreacting.

"See! Even they get it!" Han scoffed.

"You guys don’t understand!" she yelled, feeling defeated. "You think I wanted his attention?!"

"Get what?! Did you just want to flirt?" Han pressed.

"Han, stop saying that. It really hurts," she shot back, her voice trembling.

"Well, I guess we’re all hurt now, huh? Don’t you think you’re being ‘dramatic’?" he said mockingly, and that was the last straw.

"Are none of you going to stand up for me?" she looked around, feeling abandoned. With a huff, she walked past Han, grabbing her shoes.

"Where are you going?" Hyunjin asked, concerned.

"Away from him," she said simply, her heart racing.

"Well great! Don’t come back, and I hope the door doesn’t hit you on the way out!" Han snapped.

Y/N looked back, hurt. "Maybe I won’t come back. Thanks, Han," she said quietly, tying her laces.

"Now you’re playing the victim?" he shot back.

"Han, that’s enough. Y/N, don’t go out. It’s late and cold," Changbin said, standing up.

"It’s fine. Just leave me alone," she replied, feeling empty as she stepped outside. She walked quickly, needing to escape.

Her breathing grew shallow. She didn’t want an anxiety attack, but everything felt overwhelming. The world felt like it was crashing down, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

It was super cold out, and her chest was aching. God, she hated asthma with a passion. Her condition always seemed to make everything ten times worse. This walk was already giving her trouble with her breathing.

Deciding to take a break, she sat on one of the benches. It was dark outside, and she didn’t know exactly what time it was or how long she had been out, but it felt like hours.

Her body was freezing cold, and she started to feel her chest tighten. Little coughs escaped her mouth.

“Why do I always have to go through this?” she grumbled, remembering the fight back at the house.

Tears began to escape her eyes as her breathing grew harder. Her hands automatically reached for her inhaler.

“Shit,” she cursed when she realized she had left it in her bag at home. She didn’t want to go back—well, not yet—so she decided to tough it out, trying to take deep breaths.

“Why does it hurt so much?” she cried, clutching her chest. She looked around, hoping to find a store, but there were none, and she was too cold and too weak to move.

Maybe she could call I.N to pick her up? she wondered, but cursed again when she realized she didn’t have her phone.

Trying to get up from the seat, she took a few steps before completely missing a staircase. Her head was too busy thinking about Han to pay attention.

She let out a yelp as she hit the ground hard.

“Ow,” she groaned, feeling the pain shoot up her leg and quickly grabbing it.

It really hurt, and she couldn’t help but curse at herself.

“So pathetic, Y/N,” she said to herself. She was cold, on the verge of a panic attack, and had a sprained ankle. Great! Today was not her day at all.

Back at the house the boys started to grow worried.

“Yeah, I’m going out there,” Chan said, grabbing his jacket. “It’s freezing, and she doesn’t have half her things.” He slipped on his shoes quickly.

“We’ll come with,” Hyunjin chimed in, determination in his voice.

“What did you guys say to her that made her so upset?” Felix had just walked in and was confused by the tension.

“Yeah, I’m confused too,” Seungmin added, looking between them.

“Can we explain later, babe?” Lee Know said, pulling on his own jacket.

“Okay, but if you guys are in the wrong, I’m kicking your asses. You know she has asthma and you didn’t bother chasing after her.” Felix glared at them before heading for the door.

“She’s probably at the park,” Chan sighed, shivering. He couldn’t imagine how cold she must be.

“I’ll grab an extra jacket just in case,” I.N said, dashing back into the house to retrieve her warm jacket.

The walk to the park took about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes filled with silence, heavy with unspoken worries, especially since Han had been crying—now sobbing—for two hours straight.

“Han, please, you’re going to get dehydrated with all this crying,” Changbin said gently, holding the smaller boy tightly.

“I can’t help it! This is my fault. I told her not to come back, and she probably won’t,” Han cried harder at the thought, guilt flooding his voice. “I should have just shut up.”

“We all should have,” Lee Know grumbled more to himself than the others.

“Crying right now won’t bring her back; you’re just tiring yourself out, baby,” Changbin said softly, wiping Han’s tears away.

“S-sorry,” Han whispered, trying to calm down.

When they finally reached the park, they split up, scanning the area. It was a vast, dark expanse, and the fear of what could happen to her sent chills down their spines.

“There she is!” I.N yelled suddenly, pointing as he and Felix rushed over.

“Y/N? Babe?” Felix called out, panic rising in his voice as he quickly approached her shivering form. Her lips were blue, and she was coughing uncontrollably.

“Can you hear me?” Felix shook her lightly, desperation in his tone.

“Innie?” she said faintly, her eyes barely opening. “Home, please…” she cried, gripping him tightly.

“I got you, baby,” I.N replied, swiftly removing his jacket and draping it around her shoulders before grabbing her jacket from Felix and putting it on her as well. "Breathe for me."

“Should I call the hyungs?” Felix asked, pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try to carry her,” I.N said, holding her closer. The adrenaline coursing through him made him feel warm despite the cold.

“Y/N? Talk to me, baby. I need you awake. Don’t pass out,” he pleaded softly.

“C-cold,” she stuttered, struggling to speak. “I-I sprained m-my ankle,” she managed to say. “I-is Hannie o-okay?”

“Yes, baby, he’s fine, but right now we need to focus on you,” I.N said firmly. “Lix, I’ll carry her. Tell the boys to meet us at the entrance; it’s quicker.” Without wasting another moment, he lifted her into his arms.

Felix followed close behind, keeping a watchful eye on both of them until the rest of the group joined them at the entrance.

“Jesus…” Chan gasped at the sight before him.

“Y/Nnie? Y/Nnie, I’m so sorry! Please don’t die,” Han was the first to rush to her side, clutching her freezing hands.

“Is she heavy, I.N? I can carry her,” Chan offered, but I.N shook his head.

“You guys are the reason we’re here in the first place,” he growled, protective.

“B-be nice,” Y/N scolded him weakly. I.N let out a small chuckle, grateful she still had the strength to say something.

“I’ll run her a hot bath!” Felix shouted, dashing ahead into the house.

“I’ll turn on the fire place,” Seungmin said, moving swiftly.

“I’ll make some hot chocolate,” Lee Know volunteered, hurrying after Felix.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” Chan added, following suit.

“I’ll turn on the heater,” Hyunjin said, already on his way inside.

“And I’ll grab blankets,” Changbin finished, bringing up the rear.

“I’ll take her upstairs,” I.N said, carrying Y/N gently. Han followed closely, worried and anxious. I.N carefully set her down on the bed before removing her soaking clothes, replacing them with warm, dry ones.

She looked a little better, her normal color slowly returning, but her mind was racing.

“Anything hurting, babe?” I.N asked gently once she was settled.

“Chest hurts,” she whispered, still clinging to him. She felt so cold.

“Can I help with something?” Han asked softly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He’d been quietly crying, too afraid to touch her, feeling responsible for the situation.

“Maybe go down and grab her stuff?” I.N suggested, not wanting Han to feel worse.

“Hannie?” Y/N croaked. “I w-want Hannie,” she cried.

Han was there in seconds, right by her side.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Baby, I’m right here. No need to say sorry. I’m sorry, okay? We just need to get you better now,” he said, kissing her forehead gently. She instinctively clung to his chest, and he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“The bath is ready,” Felix announced as he came back into the room. I.N nodded before carefully carrying her to the tub. She let out small whimpers; the hot water felt both painful and soothing against her cold skin.

“Is it good, baby?” I.N asked softly as he began to shampoo her hair.

“Mhm…” she murmured, her eyes growing heavy. She drifted off to sleep, finally feeling safe and warm.

When she woke up, she found herself in the middle of a cuddle pile, wrapped in soft pajamas and socks. A beanie rested on her head, and someone was massaging her ankle gently.

She groaned at the pain before instinctively cuddling into the person next to her.

“Hey there,” Lee Know said softly, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. “Hungry?”

She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed. But eventually, Lee Know encouraged her to drink some hot tea and hot cocoa, followed by Chan bringing her all sorts of tablets.

As everyone tended to her, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her, and she couldn’t help but giggle at the thought.

“Feeling better?” I.N asked, looking over at her with a soft smile.

“Yes, please,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

She looked around and saw Han sitting up. He was fidgeting with his hands, looking like he wanted to say something.

“Han, you okay?” she asked, concerned. He looked at her with pleading eyes, then sighed and crawled closer, craving her touch.

“Y/N, I want to apologize for what I said earlier,” Han began, his voice soft. “It was wrong of me, and I was out of line. I was just really upset about everything and feeling insecure. I thought maybe you were embarrassed by me being more 'feminin'. I know it’s not an excuse, but I’m truly sorry. I love you, and you’re not someone who seeks attention. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked away, trying to hide his tears, but they slipped out. Y/N's heart broke. This was all a misunderstanding, and she wished he had said this sooner.

“Han, come here,” she said gently. She made space for him to squeeze in between her and Felix, who was clinging to her. He settled into the cuddle pile, and she held him close.

“I know you’re a feminin guy, and that’s what makes me love you even more. It hurts me to think you feel insecure just because you’re different. I don’t like that guy who teased you; I find him really annoying. I only let him sit with us because of his connection to school. When he was teasing you, I thought you were confident enough to handle it. I promise I’ll stand up for you next time, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to be someone you’re not plus i have like four boyfriends that are very much built like stone. No offense," she turned to look at the 4 elders of the group who just chuckled, "Its nice painting my nails with you, Felix, Seungmin and I.N. It's fun playing dress up and going shopping and you guys not caring. It's nice when you guys cling to me and want kisses and cuddles. I love you for you and i hope you don't ever feel like you have to be manly for me...” She kissed his forehead and finished.

“That was really sweet…” Han said, feeling a bit shy with his red cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied, giving him a quick kiss.

“We should also apologize for how we acted,” Lee Know said, looking a bit guilty.

“Yeah, we should have tried to calm things down and listened to you,” Chan added.

“Oh fuck off,” Y/N laughed, pulling Han closer. “Only Han gets my special love; the rest of you are on dish duty!” she teased.

“What?! That’s not fair,” Hyunjin pouted.

“Too bad! I’m too lazy,” she stuck out her tongue, making everyone burst into laughter.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you @mbioooo0000!

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[tusks-and-claws]

Cold Love/Hot Blood

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: “Between teeth on a broken jaw/following a bloodtrail, frothing at the maw”

Miguel is struck with something that he’s never experienced before

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, dubcon by way of pheromones, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, feral Miguel, biting, marking, blood drinking, paralytic venom

Wordcount: 3k

Ao3 link here

-

You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light from the bleary haze. Wincing, you raised your hand to your head. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it definitely felt wrong. What had happened? You were on a mission. That's right. And it had been going so well, until… until the anomaly villain threw something at you and Miguel. What was it? It had such an awful smell to it. And, where was Miguel?

You traversed the rubble of the abandoned building you were in. You couldn't see him. You shouted out for him.

"Here, I'm here," you heard him from the distance. Following his voice, you found him under some pieces of sheetrock from a collapsed wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask.

"Geez, Miguel, are you alright?"

"Been better." His voice sounded strained. "Got a transmission from Jess that she's got hands on the anomaly. We'll meet her back at HQ. You go on ahead of me."

"What? No, we have to-" you started grabbing at the rubble to pull it off of him. He caught your arm before you could keep lifting.

"Please," he said, trying to meet your eyes from behind his mask. "Just go."

"What the hell is going on, Miguel? You're not… you're not acting right. We have to get you out of here."

He brought his hands up, holding his head in frustration. "Please, just do it. Don't make me beg."

"LYLA, please check him," you said, the avatar popping up and saluting you.

"No, don't-!" He tried to catch her in the air but she evaded him.

"His heart rate is really elevated but he seems okay otherwise. I think he's being dramatic. I don't detect any major injuries," she reported. You thanked her and she disappeared.

You crouched down to where he was. "What's going on, Miguel?" Your tone was serious.

He tried to hold your gaze for a moment until he swore and looked away. "That bomb that the anomaly threw… it affected me in a way that it clearly didn't affect anyone else, alright? Are you happy now?"

You furrowed your brow. "I don't understand."

He sighed, his breath shaking ever so slightly. "Itwasapheromonebomb." He said it so quickly and quietly.

"...What?"

"It was a pheromone bomb. Just leave me here so I can wait it out. This is so shocking humiliating- I," he sighed again. "Don't make me explain any further."

You blushed, not sure what to say. But you couldn't leave him like that, half-buried and vulnerable. "Can I at least help you up…? I promise I won't make fun of you. I just can't leave you defenseless like this."

He seethed for a moment, considering your offer. "...Fine. Grab this stupid sheetrock."

You did so, lifting it off of him with some effort. He did his best to stand up quickly. Despite his best, though, you could see the source of his embarrassment. He had a rock hard erection, and a particularly desperate one, by the looks of it. It laid upward, reaching towards his abdomen and pushing up against the tight fabric of his suit, straining. The size of him was nothing short of impressive.

You turned your gaze pointedly towards the ground as he moved away from the pile of rubble. Don't react don't react don't react. Could you pretend like you didn't notice? Even though not noticing was impossible, even from a single glance? You swallowed a lump in your throat, your head swimming with unprofessional thoughts.

Miguel turned from you, crouching down, hissing out a slow breath. "Fuck, it's getting worse," he whispered to himself, his body starting to tremble.

You took a step closer, reaching a hand out to his shoulder.

"Your proximity isn't… isn't helping." He admitted without turning around.

You stopped, silently moving your hand away from him. Touching him would surely make things harder.

"Miguel, I don't think waiting it out is an option for you. You just said it was getting worse."

He swore under his breath to himself. "I didn't mean for you to hear that. This is- shock it- this is completely foreign to me. Never been hit by anything like this before, it's s-so intense."

You winced at that, you'd never heard his voice so pained. But, what was the other option? You shivered just to think about it, your body reacting in ways that surprised you. How could you possibly propose helping him without making him think less of you? Would he even want help from you? Across from you, he was in turmoil, on his hands and knees trying desperately to control his breathing.

“Miguel… how can I help you?” It was a foolish question, a loaded question.

“You know the answer,” he replied from over his shoulder, his tone cold. He cried out again. “I- I can’t- can’t do that to you.”

“What if I’m offering?” You asked, a little too quickly, pushing down your fear and embarrassment for even thinking such things.

He turned further to meet your eyes, though you still couldn’t see his from behind the mask. You didn’t even need to see his eyes, his body language was communicating perfectly on their behalf. His muscles were pent up and quivering. Every breath rocked his massive shoulders. “Why?”

You didn’t think he’d ask that question. You searched your brain for an answer. “Because it isn’t your fault. And I respect you enough that this won’t change my mind.”

His thoughts seemed to be diverting to his baser instincts, his voice becoming a growl. “Need you… to be sure. Don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I’m sure,” you said.

In no time at all, he pounced, bringing you to the ground. He was on top of you, his taloned fingers caging in your wrists against the cracked concrete of the floor, your arms above your head. You landed with your legs apart and with him between them, his hips desperately close to yours. Your eyes widened at his feral energy, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. He brought his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling. His exhale was shaky. “You smell so good… always smelled so good.”

Your body grew hot upon hearing that. Always? Had he thought about you in that way before? You smiled to yourself as he nuzzled the nose of his masked face into your neck, his hot breath coming through and ghosting over your skin. You could feel his huge frame shaking around you. He brought his hips down to your pelvis, seemingly being as cautious as possible as he began to grind his hardened length against you. His breath quickened at the contact, and he met you again with fervor, stimulating himself on you. His cock was unbelievably hard and hot, the temperature of him coming through both of your suits to meet your skin and overwhelm you. The feeling of him against you was sending shivers down your spine, the pleasant pressure made even sweeter by the promise of more to come. He positioned himself on top of you in such a way that each rhythmic, grinding rock found your clit and teased it with clothed contact.

You moaned lightly, the sound of it causing him to growl into your neck. You lifted your hips up, meeting him with the same tempo so he could grind into you more thoroughly, your bodies now writhing in tandem. His heavy breathing became panting. "Need to… need to touch you." He picked up his head and released your wrists, one hand steadying himself on the concrete, the other reaching down eagerly.

You got the memo, quickly slipping the pants of your suit down and throwing them aside so he wouldn't rip them off for you. You had at least enough hindsight to know you couldn't go back to HQ looking so disheveled. He dismissed the gloves of his suit and retracted his talons as his fingers found you immediately, honing in on the wet heat of your sex. Two plunged inside as he loomed above you, his muscles shaking again as he wet his fingers with your arousal. You shook right alongside him, your reaction bodily, as your back arched and your legs closed instinctively to hold his hand in place and not let him go. His fingers hooked inside of you, already relentless.

"Soaked," he whispered, almost to himself. The word resonated with a deep, animalistic hunger. Without removing his fingers from your warmth, he sat back on his knees and used his free hand to pry your legs open. "Need to see," he said. He watched the length of his fingers disappear over and over. The large hand that kept your legs wide was squeezing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he seemed fixated on the way it was yielding to his rough touches. Nearly everyone was small compared to Miguel, but you… you were different. He had his hands on you, inside of you, the comparison was tangible. You were small, soft, and his. His mind swam with how he would take you, how he would sheath himself inside of you until he bottomed out, how he would desperately fill you with his hot cum and hold your hips up to keep any precious drops from leaking out. It took everything in him to not reach down and start rubbing his impatient cock through his suit, but his fevered brain convinced him to keep his free hand on your leg so he could watch you fall apart from his fingers alone.

He was delirious as your walls started to spasm around his fingers, white hot pleasure pooling in your core, threatening to overflow as he kept up his efforts. The constriction of your muscles bolstered him, and he began to go faster and harder, starting to overstimulate you. You threw your head back, hands wildly trying to grasp at something on the concrete floor but coming up short. He removed his hand from your throbbing sex to start teasing your clit with abandon, and you moaned as your body lifted up off the floor.

"H-holy shit, Miguel," you gasped out. "It's- it's so much."

His hand moved so fast against your swollen clit that you could hardly think. The feeling was electric, and your orgasm was dangerously close. Your legs started to shake and tried to close around him again, but he kept them forced open as he intently watched, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. You came and it utterly racked you, your body shuddering as you cried out, hot liquid spewing from you and drenching Miguel's hand and forearm. You squirted on him, because of him. You thought you should be embarrassed, but he gave you no opportunity.

As your head just started to clear, he recalled his mask into the neck of his suit. You quietly gasped at unexpectedly seeing his face. So strong, angular, and handsome. His red eyes looked wild, his mouth was open, his fangs fully extended. He studied his hand, turning it over so the mess you made could catch the light. As it started to dry down on him, he brought the two fingers that had been inside of you up to his mouth, and he licked them both clean. You gaped at him, almost fully unable to process what was happening.

When he was finished, he turned his gaze from his fingers and back onto you, as you sat up on your elbows to watch him. You saw that his cock was still as hard as ever, still pushing to break free. As if reading your mind, he recalled that part of his suit too as he grabbed your legs and yanked you toward him. He rested his cock over your abdomen, once again reveling in just how much bigger than you he was. The hot weight of his manhood on your skin set you ablaze once more and you eagerly awaited him. He thrusted but without penetrating you, sliding himself over you and wetting his cock on your cum. His exhales quaked with anticipation until he could wait no longer. Even on his knees, he towered over you, and so he needed to tilt your hips up further so your entrance could meet the head of his leaking cock. He shifted his grip to your waist, holding firm as you steadied yourself on your elbows and looked to him with bated breath.

He slowly pushed his hips into you, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. The steady penetration had you reeling. You needed to feel him, all of him. Every inch, all at once. It felt like it took ages for him to finally reach the hilt, but when he did, he waited inside of you for a brief, merciful moment. You basked in the feeling of being so full, so complete. He began to pull himself out of you, leaving you cold and empty for a split second until he slammed his entire length back into you, repeating and repeating at an unwavering pace.

Each powerful thrust reached so deep inside of you that it was nearly painful. Immediately, the head of his cock found your cervix and was hitting it with each hard pump that Miguel delivered. Your eyelids grew heavy as your eyes began to roll back towards your skull. His onslaught was so thorough, every smack of his hips against your pelvis reverberating through every inch of your body. The overstimulation of when he fingerfucked you had carried over, and you were already close to losing control all over again. He felt it too, as he growled in response to your pulsating walls.

"This cunt…." He snarled through his fangs. "This cunt is mine."

"Yours," you moaned, meeting his words a little too quickly.

"Going to mark you… so everyone knows."

"Mark me, Miguel." You agreed, not quite realizing what he meant. He started to lay you down onto the ground without removing himself from you, continuing to fuck you in missionary as he brought his face down to the crook of your neck. Your pulse quickened with excitement. He opened his mouth, his breath making your skin somehow even warmer. You wished that you could've seen the flash of his fangs before what came next.

He bit down on you, hard, and you could feel the course of his venom like molten lava through your veins. When the searing heat reached its crest, a soothing wash of warmth followed in its wake, leaving your muscles loosened and relaxed. Blood started to drip down your shoulder, the wet trickle quickly cooling as it made contact with the atmosphere. Miguel stayed latched to you as his tongue met your skin, lapping at the red stream, determined to consume it all.

You submitted to him fully, allowing him to position you how he saw fit so he could fulfill his feral need. His strong hands snaked around your torso to your back, lifting you up with him as he rocked back onto his knees. He helped you to swing your legs around his slim waist and to drape your arms over his huge shoulders. You let your face settle against his neck, the clean musky smell of him overwhelming your senses. His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up and down on his cock, fucking himself with your pussy like you weighed nothing at all. You moaned into him as you clenched around his cock, your limp body succumbing to the overpowering feeling of him. You started to shudder as your orgasm claimed you with a white-knuckled grip. You whined into Miguel's neck as it hit you with shock after shock, your vision going spotty while your cunt tightened around him.  

He couldn't hold it any longer, and his cock jerked inside of you as he came. You were still getting hit with aftershocks of your own climax, your muscles bearing down to milk every drop of cum that he filled you with. He held you closer and he thrusted himself as far into you as he possibly could, instinctively trying to make sure as little seed would have the chance to leak out of you as possible.

Your muscle control started to slowly come back to you as you and Miguel were chest-to-chest, both of you sweating and heaving. You weakly raised your arms so your hands could tangle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You lingered there for a bit, his strong arms holding you in the place as you played with soft locks of chocolate hair. You finally leaned back to see clarity slowly returning to Miguel's expression, and he looked utterly mortified. He held your gaze as he turned red, removing one hand from your body so he could cover his face.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "What the shock came over me?"

You were struck with sudden fear. "Do you… not remember?" The fact that he was still buried inside you should've been a dead giveaway.

"No, I do," he said, nervously. "I remember getting hit with that stupid bomb, and you helping me, then me wanting to split you in half."

You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"I tried to make sure I wasn't too rough with you. I was still in there, the whole time," he said, taking his hand away from his face to smooth your hair. He stopped when he reached your neck, seeing the bite marks he left. "Guess I didn't do all that well, did I?"

"It's fine. I can take it."

"Clearly," he said, raising his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "Thank you. I… don't know what I would have gone through if you hadn't been so… generous. But… for God’s sake, let’s not go around telling people what happened. We have reputations.”

You agreed, the secret safe between the two of you, the puncture wounds on your neck a silent souvenir.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Puppy Love | CL16

PART OF MY IS IT CASUAL NOW? SERIES

Summary: He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her.

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As summer break arrived, Monaco blossomed under the warm sun, and so did their situationship. Charles was back, and he practically took up residence at her place. He’d returned with a clinginess that was both amusing and endearing, like a puppy yearning for attention, which only made her smile.

Every time she prepared for work, he would wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face into her neck, groaning dramatically. “Do you really have to go?” he would whine, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “Can’t you just call in sick? I’m pretty sure they’ll survive without you for one day.”

She’d chuckle, playfully shoving him away. “Charles, I can’t just bail on work because you’re back. Besides, someone has to pay for all those late-night takeout orders.”

His eyes widened dramatically, and he pulled away slightly, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. “Excuse me? Are you saying I’m not paying for your late-night snacks? I’m literally a millionaire! I can pay for anything you want! You could just stay here with me forever!”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she moved toward the door. “Oh, really? You think I could live off your millionaire bank account while you’re out racing? What a dream that would be!”

“Absolutely! You could be my princess, and I’ll treat you like royalty!” he declared, leaning against the wall, his expression teasingly serious.

“Yeah, right,” she replied, picking up a nearby pillow and tossing it at him. “You’d probably just put me in charge of your laundry!”

He caught the pillow with ease, clutching it to his chest as he feigned heartbreak. “That’s a very important job! Someone has to make sure my clothes don’t get wrinkled!”

“Poor Charles,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “It must be so hard being a millionaire and all.”

He pouted, but she couldn’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss on his cheek “I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

His pout was so exaggerated it was almost comical, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. “But I miss you when you’re gone!” he’d argue, pulling her back toward him and pressing a quick, soft kiss to her forehead. “It feels like I just got back, and you’re already abandoning me.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re such a baby! It’s just a few hours. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her.

One sunny afternoon, as she was tidying up the apartment, the door swung open, and Charles strode in, his excitement palpable. In his arms was a little bundle of fur that yipped playfully, its tail wagging furiously.

“What on earth is that?” she asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed, a bright grin on his face. “Meet Leo!”

She looked from Charles to the puppy and back again, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Leo? you brought home a puppy?”

Charles nodded enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Yes! I thought we could use a little one to brighten up our home. Plus, this is our new baby!”

“Our baby?” she repeated, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. “Charles, you mean your puppy, right? What do you mean, our baby?”

“He’s our puppy!” Charles replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Leo needs a mom, and besides, he can keep you company whenever I’m out racing and you refuse to come with me!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You think just because you call him our baby, that makes him ours?”

Charles shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I mean, why not? It’s perfect!”

“Wait a minute,” she said, looking from the puppy to Charles and back again, a playful frown forming on her face. “This is still your puppy, not ours. And I’m not sure I can be a good puppy mom! I can barely keep my plants alive!”

He leaned closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come on! Just think about it. You can take care of him, and we can be a family! Plus, he needs someone to love him while I’m away.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, kneeling beside her as Leo bounced around her feet, his little tail wagging furiously. “Look how much he loves you already!”

Leo dashed between them, barking excitedly, and she found herself reaching down to pet the exuberant little pup. “Okay, okay,” she relented, grinning as Leo nuzzled into her hand. “But you have to take care of him, too. I can’t do this all on my own while you’re off being a superstar.”

“Deal!” Charles agreed, his face lighting up. “I’ll take him on all my runs. We’ll be the ultimate team!”

The next few days were a whirlwind of puppy chaos and laughter. Leo was a whirlwind of energy, darting around the apartment, chasing after toys, and testing the limits of their patience. She and Charles found themselves falling into an easy routine, their lives seamlessly intertwining with the new addition.

One afternoon, while they lounged on the floor, Leo bouncing between them with a toy in his mouth, Charles looked at the pup with a furrowed brow, then back at her. “You know, Leo really seems to like you more than me,” he sulked, his tone mock-serious.

She giggled, scooping Leo into her arms, the little guy licking her face enthusiastically. “Of course he likes me more! I’m his mom!”

“Wow, okay, don’t rub it in!” he huffed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the one who brought him home!”

“Doesn’t matter! Obviously, our kid likes his mom more,” she teased, watching as a dreamy look spread across his face, his expression softening.

Suddenly, without warning, he lunged at her, tackling her gently to the carpet. Leo jumped along, barking excitedly as they tumbled into a heap, laughter filling the room. Charles captured her in his arms, pinning her down with a grin that lit up his face. “You can’t just steal my puppy’s affection like that!”

“Maybe I can,” she challenged, her breathless laughter echoing in the room as Leo bounced around them, eager to join in the fun.

“Fine,” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “If Leo loves you so much, then I guess I have to remind you who’s the real winner here.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a warm, soft kiss, the world around them fading away. Leo, ever the enthusiastic participant, dove in to lick Charles’s cheek, causing him to pull back with a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I guess we have to share the love,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “But I’m still the favorite, right?”

“Sure, Mr. Favorite,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she scratched Leo behind the ears. “For now, you can keep that title—just don’t get too comfortable.”

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take it, especially if it means I get to keep having moments like this.”

A few days passed and they were lounging on Charles' couch, with Leo curled up between them and a half-empty bowl of popcorn resting on her lap. It was one of those blissfully calm evenings, where they’d both surrendered to laziness and were content just to be together. She didn’t expect any surprises, which was probably why his next words caught her entirely off-guard.

“So,” Charles started, his voice all too casual as he ran a hand through Leo’s fur, “my mom invited you to dinner.”

She nearly choked on her sip of tea, coughing as she set the cup down and looked at him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

Charles’s lips curved into a sheepish smile, his cheeks a bit pink. “My mom invited you to dinner,” he repeated, a little slower, and with that too-innocent tone he used when he was trying to soften the impact of something.

“Why…?” she finally managed, still blinking in surprise. “I mean, why would she invite me? Does she even know about me?”

“Kind of,” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away, looking a little too guilty. “I might’ve mentioned our… friendship a couple of times.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mom about us?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, shifting uncomfortably but keeping his gaze steady now. “She likes hearing about what’s going on in my life. And…Arthur may have told her about you too, after the Grand Prix.”

“Arthur?” She laughed, surprised. “So you’ve got your whole family talking about me?”

Charles laughed too, though he looked a little bashful. “Not my whole family,” he teased. “But, well, Arthur thought you were great, and he might’ve said some things.”

“Some things?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know…” he trailed off, scratching Leo’s ears, clearly trying to downplay it. “Just that I’d been spending a lot of time with you, and how I kept talking about you, apparently.” He coughed, a little red creeping into his cheeks. “And…there was that video that went viral. The one of us celebrating after the race, remember?”

Ah, yes—the clip that had circulated all over social media, where they’d been caught hugging and him kissing her face right after the race. She’d nearly forgotten how the internet had blown up with speculation after that.

Her mouth dropped open as she took it all in. “So your whole family knows about us because you keep talking about me?”

Charles shrugged, looking both a little shy and quite pleased with himself. “Maybe,” he said, drawing out the word in a way that made it clear he didn’t mind one bit. “Besides, you know how my family is. Lorenzo’s been complaining that Arthur got to meet you first, so now he has to meet you too, or it’s unfair, apparently. It’s a whole thing.”

She tried to process that, feeling a strange mix of nerves and amusement. “And your mom… what did you tell her exactly?”

Charles smirked, enjoying her reaction. “Just that you’re a really good friend I’ve been spending a lot of time with, and that you take great care of Leo. My mom just decided she needed to meet this ‘friend’ for herself.”

“Oh, right,” she said, shaking her head, still processing the surprise. “So your mom saw that video, heard about me from Arthur, and then decided she just had to meet me?”

Charles shrugged, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “Can you blame her? You’re pretty interesting.”

She rolled her eyes, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. “That still doesn’t explain why she’d want me to come to dinner. Meeting your mother is…kind of a big deal, Charles. And weren’t we just…casual?”

“Of course we’re casual,” he said, though his tone was light, and he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You’ll just be going as my friend, that’s all. Meeting your friend’s mom is normal, right?”

She hesitated, glancing down at her hands, which suddenly felt fidgety. There it was again—that odd feeling she kept trying to push down, the tug of wanting this to be more, even though they’d never really talked about it. “I mean…I guess,” she murmured. “It just feels like…a lot.”

Charles tilted his head, his expression softening as he watched her, clearly sensing her hesitation. “Hey,” he said, reaching over to nudge her shoulder gently. “It’s just dinner. And besides, you’ll have me there the whole time. My family’s just curious about you, that’s all.”

“Curious?” She laughed, some of her tension easing away. “What, Lorenzo needs to check off a list that says ‘Meet Charles’ friend’ or something?”

He smirked. “Pretty much. Lorenzo’s been giving me a hard time because Arthur met you first. He’s jealous, you know?”

“Oh, so now I’m some prize to be won?” she teased, folding her arms.

“Well,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping flirtatiously, “if that’s how you want to think of it, I don’t mind.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “Alright, and what does the prize-winner wear to this dinner? Since I’m meeting your mother, I guess I need to impress her?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed, his gaze dropping to her with a twinkle. “Remember that black dress? You know, the one that drives me absolutely crazy?”

“Of course that would be the one you suggest,” she said with a grin, pretending to roll her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the little thrill she felt at his reaction.

He chuckled, inching closer. “I just have good taste, that’s all.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, but her thoughts were anything but calm. Meeting his family felt…big. Like they were something more than casual. Her heart started racing as she thought of it, yet she reminded herself that he’d only said she was a friend. They’d never put a label on this, so she had no right to expect anything.

“Alright,” she finally said, exhaling a breath. “I’ll go.”

Charles broke into a smile, squeezing her hand excitedly. “Perfect! You’ll love them. And they’ll love you, too. Maman picked the restaurant with the best Tiramisu so you’ll enjoy it a lot!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, feeling both excited and a bit nervous. As he pulled his phone out to call his mom, she leaned back, letting her thoughts wander. Their relationship was a weird blur between casual and something…more. She didn’t know if meeting his family would change anything, but she also couldn’t shake the feeling that her heart was more involved than she’d let herself admit.

[inkspiredwriting]

payback

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: This was a request. As always, feel free to say if you liked it, even if you didn't, please tell me.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was not a man easily rattled. He'd seen the end of the world, faced off against assassins, and outwitted time itself. But there was one person in the universe who could consistently throw him off balance, and that was his wife, Y/n.

It was a lazy Saturday morning, the kind where the world felt slow and peaceful. Five and Y/n were lounging in the living room, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. Five had his nose buried in a book, his usual brooding expression softened in the comfort of home.

Y/n, on the other hand, was in a mischievous mood. She had been plotting a little prank for weeks, ever since Five had teased her relentlessly about a minor kitchen mishap that had left their kitchen covered in flour. He’d insisted on calling her "Flour Queen" ever since, and she figured it was time to get a little payback.

"Five," Y/n said, her voice deliberately serious as she folded her hands in her lap.

"Mmm?" Five replied, not looking up from his book.

"We need to talk."

Something in her tone made Five pause. He looked up, brow furrowing in concern. "What’s wrong?"

Y/n took a deep breath, putting on her best somber expression. "I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and… I think we should get a divorce."

Five blinked, his brain momentarily short-circuiting as he processed her words. "A… a what?"

"A divorce," Y/n repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the laughter bubbling up inside her. "It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this anymore."

Five’s book slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a thud. He stared at her, his usual composure cracking. "Y/n, what are you talking about? Why would you want a divorce?"

Y/n bit her lip, struggling to maintain her serious expression. "Well, for one, you never help with the dishes."

Five blinked again. "The dishes?"

"Yeah, and you’re always leaving your socks everywhere. And don’t even get me started on your time travel obsession. I just… I need more in a marriage, Five."

Five’s eyes widened as he frantically searched for words. "I… I can do the dishes! And… and I’ll put my socks away! We can talk about time travel less—wait, is this about the flour incident? Because I was just joking, Y/n. You know I love you more than anything!"

Y/n pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. She could see the genuine panic in Five’s eyes, and it was almost too much to bear. But she wasn’t done yet.

"It’s not just that, Five," she continued, her voice wavering just enough to make it believable. "I just feel like… like you don’t appreciate me anymore."

Five stood up, moving to her side with a desperation she hadn’t seen since the apocalypse. He took her hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. "Y/n, that’s not true. I appreciate you more than anyone. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel… human. I can’t lose you. Please, let’s talk about this. We can work it out, I promise."

Y/n could barely hold it together now. The sight of Five, normally so calm and collected, practically pleading with her was both heartbreaking and hilarious. She took a deep breath, deciding it was time to end the prank before Five actually had a meltdown.

"Five," she said, her voice softening, "I’m just messing with you."

Five froze, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What?"

"I’m kidding, Five," Y/n said, unable to keep the smile off her face any longer. "I don’t want a divorce. I was just getting you back for all the ‘Flour Queen’ jokes."

For a moment, Five just stared at her, processing what she had said. Then, as realization dawned, his expression shifted from shock to something between relief and exasperation.

"You… you little—" Five started, but he was cut off by Y/n’s laughter.

She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she giggled uncontrollably. "You should’ve seen your face! You were so serious!"

Five let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his heart still racing from the scare she had given him. But as Y/n’s laughter filled the room, he couldn’t help but smile. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

"You’re evil, you know that?" he muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice.

"Maybe a little," Y/n admitted, looking up at him with a playful grin. "But you deserved it."

Five shook his head, still in disbelief that he had fallen for her prank. "I really thought you were serious."

"I know," Y/n said, her smile softening as she reached up to touch his cheek. "But seriously, Five… I love you. And I’m not going anywhere."

Five’s heart swelled with affection as he looked into her eyes, filled with warmth and mischief. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you too, Y/n. But if you ever scare me like that again, I might have to time travel just to get even."

Y/n laughed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Deal."

Five sighed, finally relaxing as the tension melted away. He knew that life with Y/n would never be boring, and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They spent the rest of the day together, the earlier scare quickly forgotten as they settled back into their usual rhythm. Five couldn’t help but chuckle every now and then, still amazed at how Y/n had managed to pull one over on him.

As they curled up on the couch that evening, Y/n resting her head on Five’s shoulder, he glanced down at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, I was this close to agreeing to anything just to make you stay."

"Good to know I have that power," Y/n teased, poking him in the side.

Five chuckled, pulling her closer. "Just don’t abuse it too much, alright?"

"No promises," Y/n said with a wink.

And as the evening sun set, casting a warm glow over them, Five realized that he had found something far more valuable than anything time travel could offer—a love that was playful, strong, and endlessly surprising.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |14|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Attempted Murder, Murder, Death, Blood, Gun shots

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You sat emotionless on the hospital bed as the doctor finished stitching up your shoulder. They had done the wound on your side first, the doctor said you got lucky, the knife had just barely missed your ribs. Luckily it only hurt when you breathed or moved. You let out a hiss as the doctor did his last stitch. He smiled at you and told you when to come back to get the stitches out, not that you really heard him, you couldn’t stop replaying what happened in your head, you couldn’t stop seeing Dewey’s face.

You looked down when you felt a squeeze on your hand, then lifted your gaze to see Tara watching you with a worried expression. You wanted to offer her a smile, something to comfort her, to show you were okay, but you couldn’t even manage that. She stood up as best as she could with her crutches and carefully wrapped her arm around you. You just let your head drop to her shoulder, you didn’t even have it in you to break down. The only good thing to come from the attack was that Ghostface didn’t touch Tara, he didn’t get her again, you kept him away long enough, that was the one thing you actually did right. You couldn’t protect Dewey, you couldn’t run to his aid, but you saved Tara, you were just trying to hold onto that, you weren’t a complete failure at least.

Tara leaned back, caressing your face as she stared into your eyes. “What’s going through your head?” she asked softly.

The death of the father you just learned about. That’s all that was going through your mind. The death of the man who gave you chance after chance, the guy who finally smacked sense into you and made you get your shit together.

“Can we just get the fuck out of here?” You asked.

Tara nodded and sat back down in her wheelchair, laying her crutches across her lap. You got behind the wheelchair and began to push her out the door despite her protests that you could rip open your stitches already. When the two of you got to the waiting room you saw Sam talking to Gale and some other woman. When Gale’s eyes landed on you, she pushed past Sam to make her way towards you and Tara.

“Are you okay?” Gale asked as soon as she was close enough. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Just stop,” you said harshly. You didn’t miss the way Gale flinched, you just didn’t care, just like you didn’t care that her eyes were red, she probably just stopped crying not too long ago. “Don’t pretend to care.”

“I do care,” she said softly.

“Well, I don’t, so if you don’t mind, we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

“What?” The woman who had been standing with Gale and Sam asked. “You can’t just leave. Look, you’ve been through a lot recently,” she flicked a glance at Gale. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I do know what it’s like to be targeted by this asshole.” That’s when it clicked for you, this wasn’t some random woman, it was Sidney Prescott. “We could really use your help taking him down.”

“Fuck that,” you shook your head. “Sorry, but no. This,” you gestured around the room. “Isn’t about me. So, I’m taking Tara and we’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Okay,” Sidney nodded. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” You looked at Sam who seemed conflicted. “You’re welcome to join us,” you directed at her. “Your Tara’s sister after all.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Sam said instantly. She texted Richie to pull the car up.

You were sure Sam had the same thought as you, now that Tara got attacked twice there was no way she’d stay in town. Sam might not have been your favorite person, but you weren’t about to keep Tara from her sister, especially if Sam was actually willing to stick around this time.

“Alright let’s get the fuck out of this town,” Richie said as he pulled up. You rolled your eyes as he quickly started apologizing to Gale and Sidney.

You glared at Richie when he tried to take over helping Tara, but he quickly let go of the wheelchair and backed up. “I’ll get the bags?” He said it more like a question as he took Tara’s crutches and backpack to sit in the back seat.

Tara gave you a disapproving look, but you caught the small smile on her face. She might not have been happy with you straining yourself already, but she appreciated it. As gently as you could you wrapped one arm around her and helped her slide into the back seat. You spared Gale and Sidney one last glance as they finished talking to Sam.

You were pressed against the door on the right side in the backseat to give Tara as much room as she needed to stretch out her injured leg. As much as you would have loved to be on the other side of her, with her leaning on you, that was her injured side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed Tara searching her backpack in a panic.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, glancing back from the passenger seat.

“I can’t find my inhaler,” Tara said. Her breathing was already getting shallow at simply the idea of not having her inhaler.

“Can we stop somewhere?” You couldn’t blame Sam, the last thing you wanted to do was turn around. You wanted to get out of town as quick as possible and stop somewhere outside of town if you could.

“I need a prescription,” Tara shook her head.

“There’s a spare at my place,” you offered. You always kept a spare inhaler at your place, you never wanted anything to happen when Tara was staying the night or if she was at your apartment alone while she waited for you to get off work or come back with dinner.

“That’s on the opposite side of town. Wait,” her eyes snapped up. “Amber, I have another spare at Ambers.” You wanted to roll your eyes but even you had to admit Amber's place was more convenient, it was actually on the way out of town.

“No, no way,” Richie said, shaking his head. As much as you didn’t want to stop you knew how much Tara needed her inhaler.

“It’s on the way.”

Richie started to shake his head until his eyes landed on Sam. “Please?” She pleaded. “She needs it.”

“Fuck it, where does Amber live?”

A few minutes after Tara gave Richie the address, he was pulling up outside Amber’s house. You helped Tara out of the car and handed her her crutches, making sure to stand close by as you made your way to the front door, which was wide open. Amber was having a party, typical, of course she’d have a party when a psycho was on the loose.

Tara entered the house instantly after Richie and Sam, you couldn’t help but hesitate at the door. You knew where Amber lived because you had picked up and dropped Tara off multiple times, but you had never been in her house. With Ghostface looming in the darkness you couldn’t help but be on edge as you slowly stepped into the house.

You lingered in the background watching as Tara talked to Amber. You furrowed your brow when Amber started yelling that the party was over, Amber wasn’t usually the type to end a party early, especially one she was throwing. You then watched as Tara followed Amber, as everyone else in the house slowly filed their way out the front door.

You waited in the entryway with Sam, having no desire to wander around Amber’s house. Richie wandered off towards the kitchen, saying he was going to find something to drink. You just leaned back against the door and waited for Tara to come back while watching Sam pace back and forth.

You pulled out your phone when you felt it start to vibrate, you furrowed your brow for a second when you saw it was Gale calling you. You ignored the initial confusion and tapped to decline the call with an eyeroll. Almost as soon as you hung up on Gale Sam pulled out her phone.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“Unknown,” she said, holding up her phone for you to see.

“If it’s Gale hang up.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at your request but swiped to answer the call. “How do you know where I am?” Sam asked whoever was on the phone making you furrow your brow.

“Who is it?” you whispered.

Sam’s eyes widened at whatever the person on the phone was saying. Then she took off, yelling up the stairs for Tara. “What’s going on?” you grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

“We’re in Stu Macher’s house,” Sam said. Your eyes went wide as soon as she said the name. Your eyes started darting around the house, you knew Tara lost her inhaler but there was no way all of you ended up at Stu Macher’s old house was a coincidence.

You stuck closely to Sam as she went around the house searching for Richie until the both of you ended up in the living room. “Holy shit,” you said when you saw Mindy bleeding out on the ground.

Sam instantly ran to Mindy’s side, pressing her hands against the wound. “Do something!” she yelled.

You nodded, your fingers stumbling as you grabbed your phone to call for help. You had just brought the phone to your ear when Tara and Amber came into the room. “What did you do?” Amber yelled, running over to Sam and Mindy, making Sam back away from Mindy.

“We found her like that,” Sam defended.

“Oh my god!” Richie said as he came into the room. You narrowed your eyes; you and Sam had gone through the entire bottom floor of the house and didn’t see him anywhere.

“Where were you?” you asked.

“The basement.”

“Alone?” Sam asked.

“Tara and I were together, but all of you are suspects!” Amber said, cutting off whatever Richie was going to say to defend himself.

“I was with Sam,” you said. “You’re the only one unaccounted for,” you looked at Richie.

“You and Sam together isn’t really a solid alibi,” Amber snapped. “Maybe you’re both the killer.”

Everyone continued arguing back and forth until Liv came into the room, hands raised and covered in blood as tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. “Liv,” you said slowly. “Why are you covered in blood?”

“I-I-” Liv sobbed. “I-I found Chad.” You could swear everyone held in their breath as you waited for what Liv was going to say next. “He-he was stabbed.”

“You’re the killer,” Richie said.

“I’m not the killer.”

“You’re the killer,” Amber repeated what Richie said.

“Amber, I’m not the fucking killer!” Liv snapped, tears still falling from her eyes.

“I know,” Amber said emotionlessly.

The next thing you knew Amber pulled out a gun and fired a bullet right between Liv’s eyes. She instantly pointed the gun at Sam, but Tara dropped one of her crutches and grabbed Amber’s hand, making the bullet go into the wall. While Amber was occupied Richie grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged her out of the room.

You ran towards Amber and Tara but as soon as you pulled Amber off Tara, she stabbed you in the gut, giving you a twisted smile. You heard Tara scream your name as you collapsed to the floor. You pushed yourself up and began to scoot back away from Amber, Tara was clinging onto her arm, making her unable to aim the gun still in her hand.

Amber whipped her hand back, knocking Tara into the wall. Amber raised her gun at you but as quickly as you could you crawled to the side of the couch, ducking as a few bullets entered the couch just above your heard. You pressed your hand to your new stab wound as you listened for more shots.

You weren’t sure how long you waited, it felt like seconds, but you were sure it had been longer than that when you realized you didn’t hear gunshots anymore, you didn’t hear anything. You risked peeking your head out to see Amber was gone, as well as Tara. You gripped the back of the couch, trying to use it to help pull yourself to your feet. As soon as you were standing someone appeared in the doorway, aiming a gun right at your head. You raised one blood hand, keeping the other on the wound as you stared down the barrel of a gun held by Sidney Prescott.

“It’s Amber,” you said, your eyes unable to leave the gun still pointed at you.

“I know,” Sidney said. “Stay here.” She gave you one last suspicious look before slowly making her way up the stairs.

You don’t know how long you stood there, leaning against the couch, you closed your eyes, meaning to just focus on your breathing but when you opened them again Amber was standing in front of you. You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Amber held her knife to your throat and shoved you in the direction of the kitchen.

When you stumbled into the kitchen you saw Gale, nursing a wound of her own, and Sidney already there. A couple seconds later Richie came in, shoving Sam to the ground. You grabbed Sam’s arm, quickly helping her to her feet and pulling her back towards the counter.

Richie and Amber looked at each other smiling, before pulling each other into a kiss. Richie kept his gun pointed at Sam while Amber dropped her knife to her side, the second Sidney tried to get around them though Amber broke the kiss and stabbed Sidney in the side.

You should have seen all this coming, you never liked Amber and Richie was suspicious from the moment you met him. You never imagined they would be in it together though, and definitely never could have imagined them dating. You always assumed Amber had a thing for Tara and was jealous of you.

“Why are you doing this?” Sidney asked.

“Because the latest sequel to Stab sucked!” Richie snapped.

You lifted your eyes to look at him, you were hoping you were bleeding out and a consequence was hard of hearing, there was no way these two assholes killed a bunch of people all because they were pissed about a movie.

“Richie and I met online,” Amber said, smiling up at him. “We quickly realized we shared similar ideas.”

“Didn’t take us long to come up with our own movie,” Richie said. “Wasn’t hard to find you in Modesto,” he shrugged, looking at Sam. “But you,” he pointed his knife at you. “You were a surprise.”

“But you can find out anything if you dig deep enough,” Amber said. “It’s a small town, secrets aren’t exactly secret,” she chuckled. “One whisper of someone saying Gale Weathers was in town,” she looked at Gale. “And didn’t take much after that. Going back,” she nodded to herself. “Your old interviews, your old episodes, it was clear something was off.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked. “Kill everyone? Make me your little hero?”

Richie burst out laughing at Sam’s suggestion. “Oh, you’re serious?” he said, clearing his throat. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re the villain, he gave her a devilish smile.

“Think about it!” Amber screamed; her eyes wide with excitement like you had never seen before. “What better movie is there? The secret daughter of the original mastermind,” she pointed her knife at Sam.

“And the secret daughter of two of the original survivors,” Richie continued, his smile matching Amber’s.

“Lied to her entire life,” Richie said, taunting Sam. “Until she discovered the truth,” he gestured with his hand at Sam, a glimmer in his eye. “And decided to exact her revenge.”

“Thrown away like trash, abandoned, never to be thought of again,” Amber continued, looking you directly in the eye. “Then learns the truth,” she smiled, pointing her knife at you. “And decides to get revenge.”

“It’s a revenge story!” Amber squealed. She actually did a little jump, as if she were giddy about the idea of you and Sam teaming up to kill a bunch of people. “Agh! It’s so good!”

“You’re insane,” Gale said.

“No!” Amber whipped around, raising her knife as if she were going to stab Gale again. “We’re fans! We just want to save the movie that inspired us.”

“You’re crazy,” Gale shook her head.

“And you’re a bad mother.” The next thing you knew a knife was shoved in your side. You lifted your head, opening your mouth only to cough up blood. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Amber whispered, twisting the knife that was still in you. “After we rid ourselves of you and Sam,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Tara will be all mine.”

Despite your current situation you laughed, you couldn’t help it, Amber said the funniest thing in the world after all. “You really are crazy,” you rasped out, coughing up a bit more blood in the process. “Tara will never love you.” You made sure to stare Amber directly in the eye as the words left your mouth, the consequences be damned.

Amber let out what you could only describe as a snarl before pulling the knife out only to shove it back in again, and again, and again. You started gurgling on the blood in your mouth, you weren’t sure when you lost count of how many times Amber stabbed you. When she finally stepped away you just collapsed to the floor.

You were only partially aware of the others trying to come to your aid, only to be met with a knife or a gun to their head. You tried to pull yourself to your feet but as soon as you got up on wobbly legs a sharp pain ripped through your knee, sending your straight back to the floor. Your hand went to your knee, instantly being met with the wet stickiness of blood. You rolled over, holding your knee, your eyes pinched shut, you didn’t even have it in you to scream.

When you opened your eyes, you were instantly met with a gun in your face. Amber let out a scoff and walked away. You weren’t sure what happened after that, you decided maybe just bleeding out on the floor was the best-case scenario. You saw blurry figures going back and forth, you were in and out of consciousness, every time you blinked it took you longer to open your eyes again, you could barely hear the muffled sounds of what you assumed was the others fighting.

Everything was silent, you could barely keep your eyes open, you just wanted to close them and rest. You felt a weight hit your chest, forcing you to open your eyes again. You could just barely make out the blurry image of Tara, it almost looked like she was crying, you weren’t sure why, she was safe, she was alive, there was nothing to be sad about. You saw her lips moving but couldn’t hear the words she was saying. Tara’s face was the last thing you saw before everything finally went black.

Taglist: @r-3-becca

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Old Blood, New Family

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

A/N: I set this during season 5 episode 16, the episode where the boys are in heaven reliving memories, and the sister is with them.

Requested by Anonymous

“Just keep going down the road, I guess,” Dean said. “We’ve gotta hit the end eventually.”

“Where are we?” Sam began to look around in bewilderment as the road turned into more of a tree-lined path.

“I know these woods,” you muttered to yourself. “But this…this can’t be right. This wouldn’t be in heaven.” You pushed through the trees, and it took the boys a moment to realize that you were straying away from them.

“Hey, wait!” Dean called after you, and both boys ran to catch up. “Whoa!” Dean staggered back in surprise when he caught up and got a good look at you.

“What?” You asked, frowning at him.

“You…don’t look like you,” Sam said.

You looked down, taking stock of yourself. You were a lot shorter suddenly, your body thinner and covered in bruises.

“Kid—“ Dean’s voice was low and gravelly, his eyes flashing with anger when he saw his baby sister hurt. “Where are we?”

“It’s—um—“ you had slowed down, your whole body tensing with every movement of the trees. “We’re close to my mom’s house.”

Dean grit his teeth—John had told Dean that he’d gotten you out of a rough home life, but Dean had never seen you banged up like this before—there was barely any skin showing that wasn’t bruised or cut, and you looked like you hadn’t eaten in days. Your hair was matted and greasy, like you hadn’t been allowed to shower—it wasn’t like you not to take care of yourself if you had the ability.

“Maybe it’s my heaven,” Dean spit out, his fist clenching. “Because I’d love nothing more than to beat the crap out of whoever’s in that house.” Dean jutted his chin out towards a house in the distance—your house.

“It’s memories,” Sam reminded him gently, although he didn’t look any less angry. He masked it quicker, however, and turned to you. “Let’s just keep walking—we don’t have to stick around here.”

“I just—I don’t know why this would be in my heaven,” you babbled. “I mean I-I never wanted to see this place again, and I thought that—“

“Hey.” Sam put his hands on your shoulders, snatching your attention. “It’s ok, forget about it. This whole place seems pretty screwy, let’s just go.”

“No no no.” You flinched away from the brothers when an angry voice yelled your name through the trees. Your body went into autopilot, sending you to the one place where you could feel safe. The boys tripped over roots and bushes as the struggled to keep up with you while you dashed and ducked through the woods, coming to rest only when you’d reached your haven.

A huge root from a towering oak tree created a wooden shield that you ducked behind, huddled among the leaves as you caught your breath.

“She’s coming she’s coming she’s coming,” you whimpered, rocking back and forth as you struggled to breathe.

“Hey, hey,” Dean soothed. “Kid, she’s not gonna touch you, I promise. She’s never gonna hurt you again, we won’t let her.”

“You can’t touch her,” you whimpered. “It’s my memory, remember? You-you can’t do anything.”

“I—“ Dean swallowed. You were right.

“What’s that?” Sam’s head shot up. “Did you hear that?”

“She’s coming,” you sobbed, burying your head in your knees.

“No, no, not her voice,” Sam insisted. “It’s—“

There was another voice calling out your name in the distance—a man’s voice.

When you heard it, your head popped up.

“Wait, I…I remember this,” you said, wiping your tears as your breath slowly got stronger. “She brought a man home again,” you breathed, glancing through the trees trying to see the source of the voice. “I-I had thought it was just another drunk one-night stand, so I ran for here. But-but when he found me…”

“There you are.” Your explanation was cut off by the appearance of John Winchester stepping around a tree. “Easy.” John held his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t tryna scare you there.” John took in the little nook you’d hidden yourself in. “I won’t tell your mom about this little hiding spot, I swear. I just wanted to talk to you. I…I don’t know what your mom has said about me, but I…I’m your dad, kid.”

You didn’t say anything; you just stared up at the man.

“Your mom, she…she didn’t want me to meet you,” John went on. “I had a bad feeling about that.” John took in your battered appearance. “It’s because she hurts you, right?”

You nodded timidly, remaining silent. The brothers just watched, unable to find the words; dad had never told them exactly how he’d gotten you, and they’d never imagined it would be this bad.

You flinched hard when your mother’s voice rang out again, closer.

“Hey, it’s ok,” John soothed. “I’m not gonna let her hurt you. Look, I know you don’t know or trust me, but I wanna help you. Nobody deserves to be treated the way your mom treats you. Now I can’t exactly go to the cops about this, because they’re gonna have a lot of questions about me that I can’t answer. So I need you to make a choice right now.” John placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light. You leaned into subconsciously—no one had ever been that gentle with you before. “You gotta choose,” John continued. “If you wanna stay here with your mom…or come with me.”

You swallowed hard, gaping up at John.

“My life’s not easy,” he added. “I move around a lot—I’ve got two boys, they’re a lot older than you, and I can’t promise you’ll always be safe, but…but I can promise that I’ll never hit you like she does.” John swallowed. “What’s it gonna be, kiddo?”

You stared up at John for a long moment, his rough but gentle hand still on your cheek. His soft eyes bore into yours, and he never once looked away, even as your mother’s voice got closer.

You threw yourself into John’s arms, almost knocking him off balance.

“Please take me away,” you whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes. “Dad, please take me with you.”

John’s arms tightened around you as he cradled your head in his hands.

“I’ll take you home, kiddo,” he breathed. “I’ll take you home, I promise.”

Dean noticed when the memory of John began to fade, and he rushed to take his father’s place, taking you in his arms as you started to cry.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “Sweetheart I’m right here, I got you.”

The woods had faded away, along with John and your mother’s voice and the bruises on your body.

“That was the first time I ever felt safe.” Your voice was muffled against Dean’s shirt as you refused to let go of him. “Dad saved me.”

“I know,” Dean said. “I know, kiddo.”

“We—“ Sam swallowed. “We have to keep going.”

“I’m ok,” you sniffled, finally pulling away from Dean, but still gripping his hand in yours. “I’m—I just…seeing him again…”

“Hey—“ Sam pulled you away from Dean long enough to wrap his arms around you. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry, I never knew…what it was like before he found you.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Your smile—albeit faint—was finally returning as you looked up at your brothers. “You guys are my real family.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely

[leonw4nter]

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[fangirl-writes]

Smosh, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging

Shayne Topp x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): swearing, thongs, gets kinda spicy towards the end but nothing too smutty (making out, hickeys, butt-grabbing lmao)

Notes: This was a rabbit hole I didn’t expect to go down, but here we are.

Summary: you and Shayne have been keeping your relationship on the down low for a while, but as much as you keep sharing clothes, you're just begging to be caught.

“Sooooo," Courtney said, leaning up against your desk. "Who’s shirt are you wearing?”

You choked on your coffee, quickly turning away from your laptop so you could cough it out. “What?”

She grinned. “The shirt. It’s definitely not yours, so who’s is it?”

You wiped your mouth, blushing furiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The shirt’s mine.”

“Oh yeah?” She said, a challenging look in her eyes that made you want to run to the nearest exit. “Why’d you buy a men’s shirt that’s too big in the shoulders and too long in the arms?”

“Uh…style?”

“Bullshit!” She exclaimed, laughing. “Come on, just tell me! Do I know him?”

“What’s going on over here?” Tommy asked, walking over to your desk with Amanda and Angela not far behind.

“Y/N’s wearing a guy’s shirt and she won’t tell me who’s it is,” Courtney explained.

You put your face in your hands. “Tell the whole team why don’t you…”

“Ooh, Y/N’s got a boyfriend,” Amanda teased with a waggle of her eyebrows.

You didn’t deny the accusation (which was true), so they egged on further.

“Where’d you guys meet?”

“When did you start having sex?”

“Do you borrow his clothes often?”

“Is he big?”

“Oh my god, you guys!” You shouted, burying your burning face into your knees. “Can we drop it?”

“Only because we have a shoot to do,” Courtney said. “When we get back I expect all the details.”

You frowned at her as the three of them retreated from your desk.

“They bothering you?”

You looked over and felt yourself relax. Shayne was standing there with a grin, hands tucked awkwardly into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Well, they seem to think I’m wearing a guy’s shirt,” you said with a small smile. “Can’t possibly know what they’re talking about.”

Shane chuckled, glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, and kissed you on the forehead.

It had been a bit of a running joke between you for a while, but you usually managed to sneakily wear something of the other’s around the office without anyone noticing.

While Shayne’s generally had to be smaller (he’d look pretty obvious wearing one of your shirts), you had more of a selection.

You wore his denim jacket, he wore your fuzzy socks. You wore one of his snapbacks, he wore one of your bracelets. You wore his crewneck, he wore one of your necklaces. You wore his beanie, he wore your belt. You wore his flannel, he wore your sweatpants.

It had been going on for a while, but Shayne’s button-up was the one getting the attention.

“Wait ‘til they find out I’m wearing your underwear,” Shayne whispered.

You blushed. “You are not.”

Shayne grinned, walking away from you towards set.

“Shayne, you are not!” You called after him.

He just laughed.

You dropped yourself back into your chair with a huff.

You and Shayne had been seeing each other on the down low for a while, not feeling comfortable to come forward about it just yet.

It was one thing if the relationship was going strong for a while and it was someone who didn’t work on the crew, but this was still new territory and keeping it to yourselves would make it less awkward if things happened to not work out.

Plus you were pretty sure Shayne liked the rush of sneaking around; stealing kisses when a space was empty (rare), going with you to pick up coffee or props (occasionally), staggering the way you entered the building when you rode to work together (nearly always).

And you could admit that it was pretty fun sharing secret glances or dirty looks that read “I’ll get you back for that later.” But trying to lie to your friends about stuff when they asked was hard.

Still, you could deal with it for now if it meant you could keep your little secret for a bit longer.

“No way!”

You snapped out of your daze, turning from the script you’d been editing as the shouts from set grew louder.

It was a TNTL shoot so nothing unusual about the loudness but something this time drew you towards it.

Saving what you were working on, you got up and went to see what the fuss was about.

You nearly died on the spot when you recognized the hot pink thong that you usually kept tucked safely away in your drawer at your apartment sticking to Shayne’s ass.

Granted, it was mostly covered by his pants but there was still plenty showing, as it was pulled up by the sides probably as far as he could get it.

Keith was in the hot seat but everyone had come out from behind the divider to see this.

“Oh my god,” was thrown around a lot.

Shayne looked pretty proud of himself for this one, a smug look on his face.

“Where did you even get these,” Courtney asked, incredulous.

“Bought them just for this.”

Lie.

He made quick eye contact with you, and you could tell he was trying not to burst into laughter again and give you away.

They fell into the usual outro spiel so you walked back to your desk to start working again before the girls could come finish interrogating you.

Suddenly, however, you found it hard to focus on editing.

It was a Beopardy video so it should be easy for you (you’d edited a hundred of them) but you couldn’t help but notice Shayne’s outfit.

It was a normal one: white shirt, khakis, jacket. But what caught your eye was your necklace that was dangling around his neck.

It was a (first initial) necklace that you’d had for years and, as far as you knew, no one had commented on it the day he wore it.

You felt an odd mix of emotions about this subtle “claim” of him, an obvious but quiet declaration of your relationship that nobody had questioned.

At least, not yet. The video wasn’t posted yet and fans had a way of deducing things about the Smosh team’s private life that they weren’t super comfortable with (whether true or not).

“Y/N!”

You screeched as Damien slammed his hand down on your desk.

“Don’t do that!” You chided, taking off your headphones.

He and Shayne had both gathered at your desk and were smiling, which was suspicious enough.

“What’s this I hear about you wearing a guy’s shirt?” Damien asked.

Damn it, Courtney.

“It’s my shirt,” you defended, going with your original excuse.

Shayne’s grin widened slightly over Damien’s shoulder.

“Well, let’s just see then,” he said, walking over and grabbing the collar of the shirt. “Calvin Klein, nice. Your guy’s got good taste in shirts.”

You frowned and pushed him away.

“Shayne, don’t you have a shirt exactly like that?” Damien asked.

You sucked in a breath.

“Yeah, I do,” Shayne replied. “We must shop at the same stores, Y/N. Maybe I’ll run into him. Maybe I know him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you guys have nothing better to do than bug me?”

“As a matter of fact, we don’t.”

You groaned. “Go bug someone else, please. I’m trying to get this video done.”

“You sure?” Damien asked. “Because when I came over here it sure looked like you were enthralled with Shayne’s muscles.”

“Oh, grow up,” you said, watching as Damien scurried away before you could swat at him.

Shayne, on the other hand, not afraid of a swatting, shoved something into your palm below the desk before following Damien.

Confused, you looked down at your hand to find your pink thong in all its glory and a note from Shayne that said, ‘sorry for stealing them. Maybe you can punish me later ;)’

You blushed again and shoved them into your bag before trying to get back to work, which had become nearly impossible now.

You finally got the video done by the time everyone was wrapping up for the day, and good thing, too, because you were ready to get the hell out of there.

“Hey, you need a ride home?” Shayne asked, casually.

You usually “ubered” to work, so it wasn’t unusual for someone to offer you a ride.

It also wasn’t unusual that it was mostly Shayne.

“That’d be great,” you replied brightly.

“Ooh! See if you can pull any more information about this guy out of her,” Courtney said, hanging over Shayne’s shoulder. “We’ve already got that he’s blond, works out, and is a white man.”

“Well, damn, Courtney, that could be half the guys in California,” Shayne joked.

“I know, that’s why your mission” -she poked him in the cheek- “is to get something else out of her.”

“I’ll do my best,” Shayne said, waving Courtney off before turning back to you. “Ready?”

If anyone was paying attention, they just might’ve seen the way you looked at each other and figured you out.

But since no one was, you walked out of Smosh Headquarters after another day of fooling your friends.

“Who do you think will find out first?” You asked when Shayne started driving towards your apartment (which was a little closer than his).

He hummed thoughtfully. “Probably Courtney. She’s got this whole sleuthing thing going on about your guy.”

You hummed. “Damian’s like your best friend, though, surely he’s noticed something different.”

“He hasn’t asked but he does think I’ve been seeing somebody and I’m not ready to introduce her to my friends yet,” Shayne replied.

You nodded. “We’ll have to come clean soon, you know.”

He reached over and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it.

It was a simple gesture that he did often but it made your stomach flutter each time.

“I know.”

You rode in silence for a while, Shayne holding your hand. You guys hadn’t really discussed how you would tell everyone about your relationship but you knew the conversation was looming now that questions had been raised by your friends/coworkers.

Neither of you were ready for it just yet.

Shayne pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex and found a spot easily, which seemed to be a superpower of his.

“Shay,” you said hesitantly, squeezing his hand and stopping him before he could leave the driver’s seat. “How are we going to tell them?”

Shayne bit his lip before speaking. “How about we just… let them find out? Stop all the sneaking around and see who sees first? Then we can explain.”

“Okay,” you replied. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your temple before you both got out of the car.

A memory surfaced and you brightened as you guys got into the elevator.

“You know,” you said. “There’s still a punishment in order for what you did to my poor pink thong.”

Shayne blushed but you also saw the way his eyes darkened in anticipation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reached over and grabbed his ass before whispering in his ear. “You’ve been a naughty boy.”

Shayne suppressed a moan and watched anxiously for the elevator to hit your floor.

You sneakily leaned over and began kissing his neck, sucking small marks into his skin. An obvious claim this time.

One of his hands landed on your waist and a sound bubbled from his throat that spurred you on.

Sure, this was an elevator with a camera, but people had done much worse things in it.

Still, you weren’t keen on punishing your boyfriend in the elevator and eagerly pulled him along when the doors opened on your floor.

Shayne’s hands wandered as you fumbled with the keys to get your apartment door open.

You would hope nobody walked by, but that was a concern far from your mind at that moment as you pushed open the door and pulled Shayne inside, only to press him up against it as it closed.

Shayne relished in your control as you held his hands above his head and slid your tongue in his mouth.

He hummed into your kiss and chased your lips when you pulled away.

"Ah, ah, ah," you said with a silly waggle of your finger. "This is a punishment, remember?"

He groaned. "I'm gonna hate this, aren't I?"

You chuckled, pulling him towards your bedroom. "Next time, ask to wear my thong, and you might get a reward."

"How soon can I take you up on that offer?"

***

“Holy shit, dude!” Damien said. “How many hickeys did this girl give you?”

Shayne was cursing under his breath.

You knew this was going to happen, and he’d fallen for it like an idiot. A horned-up, desperate-for-his-girlfriend idiot.

You knew he was supposed to shoot today, but now they were going to push those videos back because it wasn’t going to work when his neck and collarbone were covered in bruises.

“Long story,” Shayne said.

Not a lie; it definitely would be.

“Oh, come on, you can’t say this is yours!”

The boys looked over to where Courtney was hovering around your desk again this morning.

You were wearing Shayne’s shirt from yesterday, and he nearly made you both late for work when he saw you in it.

You shrugged.

“Oh, come on!” Courtney almost whined. “It doesn’t even fit you! If you didn’t want me asking about it, then why’d you wear it!”

You shrugged again.

It was driving Courtney insane.

"Hey, Y/N, did you get that footage I sent over?" Anthony asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere at your desk.

You nodded. "Yeah, I saw it in my email this morning. I can probably get that cranked out and sent back to you by the end of the day if you need it."

"That'd be great, but no rush. Just do your thing."

He paused, face contorting as he looked you up and down.

Courtney noticed that he noticed and hurried to get Anthony in on the gossip: “I know! She’s-“

“Why are you wearing Shayne’s shirt?”

Her sentence died on her tongue and Damien’s mouth dropped open.

“Shayne’s shirt?” she squeaked.

“Yeah, he wore it in the sketch yesterday. Ian sent me a picture of the thong thing- Y/N, why are you wearing his shirt?”

Your face was on fire, and Shayne, it seemed, had stopped functioning.

You could see the pieces clicking together in Damien’s mind as he connected the hickeys to the shirt.

“No,” he said, mouth still wide open. “You guys are-“

“Shayne’s shirt??” Courtney repeated, flabbergasted.

“Um…surprise?” You said, grinning sheepishly.

“How could I have missed that?!” Courtney shouted. “It’s so obvious now! You two are always staring at each other and shit! Gah!”

You laughed awkwardly, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"And you!" Courtney said, pointing a finger at Shayne. "How could you not tell me about this! I need details right now!"

"Courtney, quiet down, you're going to let the whole office know-"

"Oh, I'm gonna tell the whole office! She's been parading around in your shirts for everyone to see!"

You put your head in your hands, regretting every decision that's brought you to now.

Well, except for dating Shayne. Because while Courtney was raving and Damien was laughing, he was looking at you to see if you were okay.

You smiled softly, giving him a small nod.

He smiled back before jumping into normal Shayne mode and ripping right back on Courtney. "You had me try and find out, too! You asked her boyfriend to find out who her boyfriend was!"

You watched them amusedly as the commotion began bringing others around to see what was unfolding.

It wasn't until he cleared his throat that you remembered Anthony was still standing there.

“So,” he said. “Was the thong yours?”

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Imagine…

BAU!reader being married to Hotch but keeping her maiden name in the field to avoid assumptions and judgment. The team knows, obviously, but then a former colleague of Aaron’s from the Seattle office happens to be in town for a conference and wants to catch up over a drink. You can’t help but tease him, of course:

“Knock, knock,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to your husband’s office. With a glance at your watch, you ask, “Y’gonna be late for your date?”

Aaron looks up at you with a frown before returning his attention to his case file and mumbling, “Not a date.”

“Mm, my apologies,” you respond with a twitch of your lips as you approach his desk. You lean your elbows on the dark wood and rest your chin in your open hands. Batting your eyelashes, you amend, “It’s a meeting betwixt old coworkers.”

Aaron rises from his chair, pressing his fists against the desk opposite you and positively towering over your smaller stature. He meets your fiery gaze with equal defiance, then leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Are you our resident Reid while he’s with his mom? Who says ‘betwixt’?”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” you taunt back between kisses of your own. “You collected coins; I played Scrabble. Now get going! Can’t leave a lady waiting for the Aaron Hotchner.”

—————

But WAIT! There’s more! Said agent gets a call while they’re out for a drink and asks Aaron and the BAU for help on a new case. Naturally, you all have to fly to Seattle together…

“Mama, you know this cabin is pressurized, right?” Derek teases with a nudge of your shoulder.

You mumble back around a sip of coffee, “Yeah, so?”

“So if you glare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole through the jet and we’re all gonna die up here.”

Emily snorts out a laugh and you steal a Cheeto from JJ’s snack (for which you’re met with a stern, “Hey!”) to throw at her. Emily collects the offensive projectile from her lap and pops it into her mouth with a ferocious chomp in your direction, receiving an, “Oh, bite me, Prentiss,” in response.

“Just find a way to slip in that you’re married,” JJ counsels, moving the bag out of your reach to avoid further retaliation.

“Or accidentally fall into his lap. Turbulence can be nasty, you know,” Emily offers as a follow up.

“Like that?” you deadpan, jutting your chin toward the scene at the back of the jet. Aaron and Agent Brandt are over by the coffee, and she’s just steadied herself using your husband’s broad shoulder.

“Or,” Derek counteroffers, tugging at the chain around your neck that holds your wedding and engagement rings while you’re out in the field, “put this rock on and go claim your man!”

“This is dumb. I’m being dumb,” you grumble, flipping open the case file and burying your head in it. “Can we get back to talking about this sociopath and not my high school-esque jealousy?”

“What’s happening? Did I miss anything?” Garcia’s blonde curls bounce up on the monitor before your group, ready for the next installment of this evidently riveting saga.

“Nothing is happening, Pen,” you respond with a sharp look her way, “and y’all need to get out more. Watch a romcom or something if you need some angst.”

“You all completely suck,” Penelope sighs dramatically. “My cup runneth empty in my lair!”

“Then go get yourself another cappuccino, baby girl,” Derek answers smoothly with that dazzling smile of his, perched on the armrest of your seat.

You feel his presence before you hear his voice, every atom in your body suddenly on high alert and keenly aware of everything that is Aaron. “Hey.”

You look up at him with an easy smile, determined to not let your unwarranted bitterness reflect on your work. “What’s up, Hotch?”

He squats down in the aisle beside you so he’s not looming over you and brushes his knuckles across your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender touch, given your current audience. “Do you have that travel bottle of Advil? Brandt may have been overzealous with the margaritas last night.”

“Yeah, it’s… in the side pocket of my bag,” you answer, brow furrowed because he tossed it in there this morning to ward off your inevitable headaches during the coming late nights.

“You’re the best, honey,” he murmurs, standing halfway to press a kiss to your forehead before returning to his full height and going off in search of the pain killer.

“‘Overzealous with the margaritas’, huh?” Emily teases, then starts singing the viral song about just how many margaritas are needed to perform certain acts that shan’t be discussed in polite company.

From across the plane, Dave glances at Aaron who’s rummaging through the overhead luggage bin, then turns his attention to you with a knowing gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks, and settle back in your seat before flipping through the case file in front of you. “So crime scene photos would suggest we’re dealing with a disorganized killer…”

—————

But WAIT! There’s even more!

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US #DRABBLE - JUNGKOOK THINKS YOU HATE HIM

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 1.3k

MAIN STORY HERE.

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

AGE: 17 years old.

You have become distant over the last few weeks. Jungkook has grown accustomed to having you around constantly: at lunchtime, in class, and even walking home together. But it’s been two or three weeks since you’ve started avoiding him, finding excuses.

At first, he didn’t say much—maybe you were really busy. But then he caught you with other friends. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt. Over the past year, everything in his life had improved with you in it. But now, he feels like he’s bothering you every time he tries to talk. The worst part is that you keep talking to Jimin, even having lunch with him—but not Jungkook.

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook mumbles, stabbing his bowl of rice with his chopsticks as he gazes at you from afar, sitting with your friend Hyesun. You seem so happy, laughing at something she said, oblivious to his gaze when you could usually spot him anywhere. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks Jimin, who tilts his head to look at you too, sighing.

“We never know what that girl has in her mind,” Jimin says, chewing his food. “It’s not you, Kookie. You’re the kindest guy I know.”

“Then why is she avoiding me?” Jungkook frowns, making Jimin sigh and taking a sip of his water.

“Maybe she figured out that you’re madly in love with her and doesn’t feel the same?” Jimin suggests. Jungkook freezes at the words, feeling his cheeks burn.

“I’m not— I don’t have feelings for her…” He mumbles, his gaze dropping to his tray.

“Oh please”, Jimin rolls his eyes, putting down his chopsticks. “You’re a sap for her. You buy her favorite snacks, wait for her after class even when yours ended two hours earlier, and you even go to the library with her. You never stepped foot in that place before meeting her.”

“I’m just a good friend.” Jungkook frowns, trying to deny Jimin’s words.

“You turned down every girl who hit on you this year, Kookie.” Jimin arches a brow as Jungkook whines, throwing his head back, before hiding his face in his hands. He knows that Jimin is right. He hates that Jimin can read him like an open book.

“Do you really think… She’s avoiding me because of that?” Jungkook asks quietly, his face still buried in his hands. Jimin sighs, staring at his friend.

He’s been following the development of your friendship since the start. Gently, Jimin wraps his fingers around Jungkook’s wrist and pulls his hands down.

“Hey,” Jimin says softly, “She’d be stupid to avoid you just for that. You’re a great guy, Kookie. A little slow and dumb, but not in a bad way.” He teases with a smirk, making Jungkook smile slightly.

“I don’t want to lose her. If she doesn’t feel the same way, it’s okay. I can deal with a little heartbreak. But not… not having her in my life.” Jungkook admits, and Jimin’s lips curve in a soft smile. “I’ll talk to her.”

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook wipes his hands on his pants. He’s been standing outside your door for fifteen minutes. He was full of courage on the way to your building, but now it's slowly crumbling. What’s he supposed to say? Are you avoiding me because I’m in love with you? He cringes at the thought. No, he can’t say that. Exhaling softly, he knocks at your door before he could chicken out.

Your father opens the door, his slight frown shifting into a smile. He knows Jungkook. He actually loves Jungkook; he is a respectful and well-mannered.

“What’s up, son?” Your father grins as Jungkook swallows hardly, his hands sweaty. He discreetly wipes them again.

“Hello sir. Is… Y/N here?” He asks with a small voice.

“Come in, she’s in her room.” His father nods, stepping aside as Jungkook bows politely before entering. Once his shoes are off, he heads to your room. Your door is open, you’re lying on the floor, humming a song and drawing in your notebook.

You sit up and frown when you see Jungkook standing in your doorframe, still outside the room, because he didn’t have time to knock. You always seem to sense his presence whenever he's near. He called it your ‘spider-sense’.

“Kook?” You ask, getting up clumsily, feeling awkward. “What are you doing here?”

“I… uh… I need to talk to you.” He mumbles as you walk over, gesturing for him to come in before looking outside at your father, who’s smirking at you. You roll your eyes and close the door behind you.

“I’m kinda busy,” you say, avoiding his gaze, with your hands on your hips. “Make it quick.”

Jungkook's heart clenches painfully at the way you're acting. He hates it. He misses you.

“Y/N…” He starts, tilting his head to force you to look at him. “Are you avoiding me?”

“What— No!” You immediately shake your head.

“Please, don’t… sugarcoat it. If you don’t want to be friends anymore, that’s okay. But just tell me. I’ll respect your decision, but—"

“I’m not avoiding you, Kook!” You sigh, your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“We haven't had a real conversation in weeks. You have time for everyone but me. You can’t even look at me right now.” He frowns as you finally lift your eyes from your feet to meet his gaze. “You know what? Sorry, it was stupid of me to bother you. I get it.” He clenches his jaw and steps back, turning toward the door.

He needs to get out fast. Jungkook has always been emotional. He can’t help it. The last thing he wants is for you to see him cry over this. He knows you wouldn’t judge him. But it still hurts.

 “What do you want me to say?” You bark, fists clenched at your sides as you stare at the back of his neck. You hate his chestnut haircut—you’ve told him multiple times. But that didn't stop you from falling for that idiot.

Your words make him freeze, his fingers still on the doorknob. He stares at the chipped paint of your door, unsure what to do, waiting for you to continue.

“I…” you start, shaking your head. “This is stupid.”

“You what?” He asks, not moving. But when you don’t reply, he nods, his grip tightening on the doorknob. “Alright…” He sighs, ready to leave.

“I like you.” You say in one breath, scared that if he crosses the threshold, you’ll never see him again. The confession sends a shiver down his spine. When he turns to face you, you're looking away, frowning— probably angry because you don't understand this new feeling. “Laugh at me all you want. I can’t help it.” You mutter, jaw clenched.

But Jungkook doesn’t want to laugh. His features soften as he watches you.

“Why would I?” He almost whispers, stepping closer. “Why would I?” He repeats, tilting his head to make you meet his gaze.

“Because you’re popular, and you can have any girls you want. Why would you care about someone who looks and acts like a boy?” You reply, making him chuckle softly. He pulls you into a warm hug, your breath shaky, but you stay still.

“I don’t care about them,” He murmurs, his warm breath brushing your ear as he tightens his arms around you, his nose grazing the skin of your shoulder. “I like you,” he says, and his words make you freeze for a second before you start laughing nervously. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping shyly around his frame.

A huge weight lifts off your heart, and you feel lighter.

“Let me take you on a date,” he offers, pulling back as you shake your head, amused.

“A date?” You ask as he hums, wiping away a lonely tear from your cheek— the last remnant of your fear of losing him because of feelings you thought were unrequited.

“Well… I don’t have the money for something fancy, but I know you like tteokbokki.” He adds with an amused smile, his hands resting on your shoulders as you nod. “If I want you to be my girlfriend, I’ll better woo you properly, right?”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

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