#so bare with me on the uncertainty of the length

[fanbasetwo]

hiii🫶🏻 could you write something about gyuvin wanting to do it with reader but she’s nervous because she’s virgin so gyu convinced her with just the tip?

✦ JUST THE TIP �� GYUVIN

001. PAIRING , experienced ! gyuvin × virgin ! afab reader

002. SYNOPSIS , gyuvin has had a lot of experience in the bedroom compared to you, and you knew it. you didn't think much of it until you two finally decided to get intimate.

003. WARNING(S) , the reader is a virgin, kissing, a little dirty talk (maybe), more of a comfort sex, hymen breaking and blood, petnames, mentions of cumming, NSFW, MDNI, etc, lmk if i missed anything.

004. WORD COUNT , 1.5k

You and Gyuvin were literally partners in crime, even though you two didn't quite match in everything. He was experienced when it came to sex. He had quite the girlfriends. Of course that didn't make you jealous or insecure (maybe) well, not until you two decided to do it.

Now, as you lay there on the bed, the soft sheets caressing your bare skin, you can feel Gyuvin's weight pressing down on you. His muscular body, honed from years of physical training, looms over you, casting a shadow in the dimly lit room. The air is heavy with anticipation, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you gaze up at him.

Gyuvin's eyes, usually so confident and unwavering, now hold a flicker of uncertainty. “Do you not trust me?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper. There's a hint of hurt in his tone, and you can see the concern etched on his chiseled features. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, highlighting the contours of his jawline and the curve of his lips.

“I do... I do trust you, Gyuvin...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with nerves. Your eyes dart to his chest, taking in the sight of his defined pecs, the muscles rising and falling with each breath. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and it makes your skin tingle with a mixture of excitement and fear.

“I'm just nervous,” you continue, your voice barely audible. “What if I'm not as good as the other girls you've been with?” The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken fears and insecurities.

Gyuvin sighs, understanding flashing in his eyes. “They don't compare,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. The warmth of his mouth against yours sends a shiver down your spine, and you can taste the faint hint of mint on his breath. “What I have with you is different,” he whispers, his voice low and earnest.

You can feel Gyuvin's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss. “You know what I mean, right?” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. The dim lights of the bedroom flicker, casting a soft glow on his chiseled features.

When he sees your hesitation wavering, he makes a suggestion, his voice soft and coaxing. “I'll just put the tip in,” he offers, hoping you'll agree. “If you don't want to go further, just say the word and I'll pull out.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You trust Gyuvin, you know he loves you, but the fear of not being good enough still lingers in the back of your mind. “Fine,” you mutter, giving him permission to continue.

Gyuvin gently rubs your arms, trying to soothe your nerves as he hooks his fingers into your panties. He slowly slides them down your legs, past your ankles, and onto the floor. You're still wearing your top, and he doesn't want to remove it, sensing your discomfort at being fully exposed.

He kicks off his own boxers, revealing his already hard length, the tip glistening with precum. Your own folds are slick with arousal, and you can feel the heat building between your legs. Gyuvin keeps his movements slow and gentle, mindful of your virginity.

He places his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his calloused fingers. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “You're so pretty.” He peppers your face with soft kisses, his lips trailing from your forehead to your nose to your chin.

With the utmost care, Gyuvin guides his tip to your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your tight ring of bundles. He had promised to only put the tip in, and he keeps his word. There's a small pop as your hymen breaks, a trickle of blood seeping out and staining the sheets below.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!” You let out a cry of pain, squeezing your eyes shut as the sharp sensation of your hymen tearing courses through your body. Gyuvin's strong hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he gentles you through the momentary discomfort.

“Shh, I've got you baby,” he soothes, peppering tender kisses across your face as if to chase away the tears that have begun to fall. “Just breathe, it'll be okay.”

You focus on the rise and fall of your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. Underneath the pain, you can feel an unfamiliar fullness, a stretching sensation as Gyuvin's tip remains nestled inside your tight heat. It's overwhelming, the foreign intrusion making you clutch at his shoulders for support.

“Do you want me to pull out?” Gyuvin asks softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. Even now, with your virginity claimed, he's still putting your comfort first. He would withdraw if you asked, no questions.

But as the pain begins to ebb, replaced by a growing ache, you find yourself shaking your head. “No... Please... Stay,” you manage to murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “I...”

You can't even finish the thought, your mind too hazy with sensation to string together a coherent sentence. All you know is that you don't want him to leave, not when you've finally given yourself to him completely.

Gyuvin's answering smile is tender, almost reverent. “I'm here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere.” With infinite care, he begins to rock his hips, slowly easing himself deeper into your clenching heat. Inch by inch, he fills you, stretching you open on his thick length. Each thrust is careful, measured, giving you time to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

And all the while, he keeps up a stream of soft endearments and praise, telling you how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how perfect you feel wrapped around him. The words wash over you like a soothing balm, easing the ache in your chest even as the pleasure builds between your legs.

By the time Gyuvin is fully sheathed inside you, you're both panting heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. The initial pain has faded, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that pulses in time with your racing heart. It's a strange feeling, being so utterly filled, stretched to the limit around Gyuvin's thick girth.

“How are you feeling, baby?” he murmurs, his voice rough with restrained passion. His hands stroke soothingly up and down your sides, gently kneading the tense muscles. “Tell me if it's too much.”

You shake your head, not wanting him to stop. “It feels... strange,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “But not bad. Just... a lot.”

Gyuvin chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “That's normal, sweetheart. It'll get better, I promise.”

Slowly, carefully, he begins to move. Each thrust is shallow, letting you adjust to the new sensations. You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging along your inner walls, stoking the embers of pleasure that are beginning to ignite in your core.

As Gyuvin picks up the pace, the ache starts to transform into something else entirely. It's still intense, bordering on overwhelming, but now there's a hint of something else beneath it. A spark of heat, a flutter of anticipation. Your body starts to move with his, instinctively seeking more of the delicious friction.

“That's it, just like that,” Gyuvin encourages, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “You're doing so well, baby. Taking me so perfectly.”

His praise washes over you, fueling the growing fire in your veins. You feel powerful, desirable, utterly cherished. Like you're the most precious thing in the world to Gyuvin in this moment.

The pleasure builds with each thrust, each drag of Gyuvin's hard length against your sensitive walls. Your hips rise to meet his, urgently seeking more of the delicious friction. The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room, a lewd symphony that spurs you both on.

Gyuvin's hands roam your body, mapping out every curve and dip. He cups your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples into stiff peaks. He trails kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Each touch, each caress, serves to heighten your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge.

“That's it, baby,” Gyuvin pants, his voice ragged with desire. “Take everything I give you. You're so fucking perfect.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting something primal within you. You wrap your legs around his waist, using the leverage to pull him even deeper. The new angle has Gyuvin groaning, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor.

The pleasure is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's all-consuming, overwhelming, threatening to drown you in its intensity. Your nails rake down Gyuvin's back, leaving crescent marks in their wake. You cling to him, anchor yourself to his solid strength as the world spins out of control.

“Gyuvin, I... I think...” you gasp, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. Your thighs tremble, your core clenching around him like a vice. You're so close, teetering on the precipice of something massive.

“That's it, sweetheart,” Gyuvin urges, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Let go for me. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you explode.”

NOTE : i’m not sure if you wanted me to write a fic over 1k words but I found this request interesting so i followed through. this took me a while to write but here you go! thank you for the request anon <3

© 2024 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; fingering, gn + afab!reader, pro-hero katsuki, dirty talk from both parties, semi-public sex (they're in a dressing room), finger-sucking, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.5k

✮ a/n ; it feels like i just got hit over the head with a fucking mallet. i swear im still on hiatus. its seven in the morning. im going to go crazy. the literal spike of adrenaline i got looking at him.

"No way," He snorts, his voice clipped—cocky against the shell of your ear as his hands sneaks against your waist. "This is what gets you?"

A reflexive part of you doesn't want to give Katsuki the satisfaction of a yes. You know how he is. You'd go as far as saying you like it - almost as much as you like him when he's not acting like the center of the universe. But it's undeniable that part of what draws you to Katsuki is the very thing that causing you strife now.

He's complicated. Underlined all that dripping egoism is a real sense of uncertainty - and that part of him is sexy too. The awkward, lovesick gentle man he can be when he wants.

But. But.

Other times, it's his magnetism. Such raw, enigmatic confidence built on experience. Prowess. No amount of complicated can erase or overshadow just how much Katsuki is a pure fire. You normally get boyfriend Katsuki, and he's catty and affectionate with nothing to prove. Soggy and loveable and approachable.

You forget, often, what he can be like when the cameras flash. What the public likes of him. Which is raw sex appeal and sultry eyes and a wicked little grin, wolfish and wanting.

You're not ashamed to admit seeing that turns you on. And it's only worsened to see him bask in it - getting off on the sudden attention

(Your attention, specifically - considering he had been all but indifferent to the awing of studio, only minutes prior.)

"Yeah, it is," You groan, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Your body shudders responsively to his touch.

There's something rushed about the whole ordeal. Your back is pressed up against the mirror in his dressing room - legs spread with your pants barely unbuttoned. Katsuki is no better, borrowed pants snug on thick, muscular thighs. He laughs a little breathlessly. No less affected than you if the tent in his pants is any measure.

"Aw, what?" He presses, his lips pulled. All canines as he rests his palm over your waistband and doesn't move an inch. "Seeing me in front of all those cameras turn you on?"

You pull away to stare at him and he's grinning. Unusual playfulness steeped and soaked between layers of lust. Your hand reaches for his length, hand cupped around as you grip. He closes his eyes, swears under his breath.

"You look good," You tell him, and you mean it - much more than you've meant anything in the last twenty minutes. He's taken aback by the candor despite asking for it. "You looked so fucking good."

His eyes go lidded as he presses his mouth to yours. He stops teasing, breaching past your pants into your underwear. Your spine curls at the sudden sensation. Brief and unmoving. You can feel how wet you are, feel the way your arousal burns in your core and makes your whole body tight with want.

"You mean that," He says more than asks. His breathing goes shaky and you can feel him pulse in your hands. "Say it. Tell me you want it."

You laugh a little "Want you, Katsuki. Make me feel good, baby."

He groans, once again loosing all composure. You hold onto Katsuki's shoulder as he takes your words like a challenge—the way he takes most things. Everything about the experience is both too much and not enough. You both know it. The energy in the room electric, it's almost harder not to take it all off and fuck him in the middle of his work-day. He has to be back out there in god knows how soon but you can barely keep your legs together without the friction driving you crazy.

He breathes slow trying to maintain his composure- huffs as his fingers press along the folds of your cunt. "You're so wet, fuck," He drops his chin against your shoulder "Never seen you like this"

"You look good when you're all in front of the camera, my love," You huff, an arm around his middle as you draw him close. Your voice is close next to his ear, speaking soft. "A waste you can't fuck me right now,"

There's something like a low growl in his throat when he finally gives you what you. Katsuki knows your body like the back of his hand - every inch of you memorized. Precise, angular movements. He circles your clit a few times before moving down further. You can feel the tight space get tighter, the heel of his hands pressing against your clit as his fingers push past your entrance.

You bite back a moan so broken it's pitiful and he groans with you. He goes slowly at first, tries to ease you into the sensation of his fingers. His are so much thicker and so much longer, noticeable as you feel him stretch your pussy out. He presses the heel of his hand up a little more to give you everything.

"How the hell am I supposed to go out there?" He grits. "Talking to me like that like I'm not about to go back out there."

"I'll let you fuck me as much as you want as a sorry, I promise."

He scoffs at you, makes a point of it as both of his fingers slide into you. He always starts with his middle - feels around for the sweet spot until you're gripping at him harder. After he finds it, he adds his ring finger. He stiffens when you moan, his own arousal starting to show in his face. Red eyes all clouded with desire so deep it could drown.

A honeyed feeling blooms in your core. Burns hot like sugar as you spread your legs to give him more room to you. Your body is so hot, so molten - you give up on everything else. On thinking, on breathing, on keeping quiet. You slump into the mirror behind you as he sets a motion. His fingers curl towards him over and over, rubbing and pushing and grinding against your pulsing core. Against your g-spot, throbbing insides trembling with each gesture.

Your voice breaks out. A deep, needy moan punched from your lungs. He stares at you before ducking into your space. His teeth scrape against the skin near your jaw, kissing and biting and licking. He pays attention to the sweet spot underneath your ear.

"Look at you," He says, like he's gloating. You think he is. If you weren't so aroused you might be able to pay it some mind. "Gonna cum on my fucking fingers, huh?"

"Fuck, Katsuki. Fuck me, fuck."

"I'll make good on that promise, damn tease." He says with a laugh. Biting and cocky and egotistical. Unbearably sexy at the worst of times. It's effecting you more than you care to admit, but you don't have the capacity to pull away from him. "Makin' me do this to you in the middle of my work day like some kinda freak."

"Like it doesn't turn you on,"

He laughs, deep and low. "That's the problem, dumbass."

"Kat," You shudder, your back arching - eyes fluttering closed as you grip his arm. You can feel the way his muscle flexes under your nail, digging into your arm. You groan and whine, cunt clenching around his fingers. It's dripping, noisy as he draws the mess out of you. "Gonna cum."

"Make a mess. Show it to me."

The sound of his voice, gravel coarse and low - is what ends up pushing you over the edge you're sure. Your orgasm crashes into so quickly and with so much force. You barely keep yourself from screaming. Your boyfriend kisses you to swallow whatever other noises you make - seemingly eager to do it. He puts his tongue into your mouth, stifling any other remaining noise.

Your body is pulses, pussy fluttering as shocks of euphoric flit through your whole body and leave you in complete and utter wreckage. Katsuki fucks you through it like the overachiever he tends to be, his fingers highlighting the soft sticky noises of your orgasm as you finish.

Your whole body shakes as a result of your lust. Not entirely gone but at least somewhat tamped down. You let your eyes flutter open as Katsuki pulls his hand away.

Before he can wipe his fingers down, you grab his wrist and pull them up to your mouth. He looks at you startled at first before he realizes, a look of pure lust settling on his features. Carmine red eyes stare down at you hard as you lick your cum off of his hand with a tired smile.

"Take more pictures for me to get off on and come fuck me before we go, okay?"

"Fucking evil little brat." He hisses, kissing you. He moans when he tastes you on him. "Don't think about anything but me while I'm gone."

You shake your head, trying to make sense of anything. "Don't think I could."

He laughs good-naturedly, kissing you again. "Damn right,"

[kyeomofhearts]

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone you happened to share a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 4.5k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, jealousy, angst, suggestive, possessive wonwoo (yum), teasing, a lot of dialogue for sure, fluff?, please lmk if i missed anything tyyyy!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] glad you guys enjoyed part one!!! 🥹 i really appreciate the lovely comments you all left <333 i know this took forever for me to post but i swear i didn't mean to. currently writing part three as we speak so it will definitely come out within these following months or so... anyways, this wasn't proofread so please excuse any mistakes i may have made! as always, don't be scared to comment because i quite literally thrive on your guys' comments and reblogs! :)

Two weeks. Two full weeks of your torture.

Wonwoo was pretty shocked, to say the least. He wasn’t aware of the lengths you would take to ignore him. Sure, it was his fault for going off on you but he was sorry. He knew what he had said to you that day upset you, but he didn't know it was going to end up like this. And now he was at a loss, he wasn’t sure on how to navigate this 'predicament' between the two of you.

Wonwoo obviously knew that he had to apologize to you but he also knew that you needed space. Which is exactly what he did for those first few days after the ‘fight’ had occurred. He gave you space for a day or two but then, those two days turned into five... and before he knew it, two weeks had passed.

Of course, it’s not like Wonwoo didn’t try to talk to you but it was kind of difficult when you would run away at the mere sight of him. It also didn't help that any of his attempts for forgiveness were typically greeted with your indifference, it was as if you had walled yourself off completely.

To make matters worse, anytime that Wonwoo was able to see you, Hyunwoo was right by your side. It was troubling, to say the least. He couldn't quite put his finger on why the sight of you with Hyunwoo stirred such unease within him but it did and he hated it.

Out of everyone on this campus, you were giving Hyunwoo your time and attention? It just didn't make sense to Wonwoo. You barely knew the guy!

Not that he was jealous or anything but… there was something about Hyunwoo that he didn't trust. His easy 'charm' and 'magnetic' personality seemed almost too good to be true, and Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. He was definitely hiding something.

And so, Wonwoo found himself in limbo, caught between the regret of his past actions and the uncertainty of what would happen between him and you. He hoped for the chance to set things right, to close the gap that had formed between the two of you, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.

Until then, all he could do was wait for another opportunity.

[...]

To say that you were bored was an understatement. Ignoring Wonwoo for two weeks was beginning to take its toll on you. Life had suddenly become only about your job and classes which was... exhausting.

Granted, you did make it your life mission to ignore him any chance you were given but there was no point in dwelling on that. It was quite easy going no-contact with him considering that you didn't share any socials with him. A small part of you did occasionally miss when you would get randomly bothered by Wonwoo, it was a nice distraction from whatever you were thinking about at that moment.

Other than that...

Life was pretty uneventful if you were being honest with yourself. Your days were usually filled with school assignments and work so there wasn't anything that could help you keep your mind away from Wonwoo. And it didn't help that your friends had gone radio silent on you either.

Some might say that you were taking your pettiness too far but you couldn't help yourself! Sure, you and Wonwoo were not at the level where you could practically share everything with each other but how else were you supposed to react to his obvious injuries? Like... did he want you to just ignore his bruised face and act like everything was fine and dandy? You despised how much this whole situation still bothered you even after a few weeks had passed since it occurred.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear Wonwoo out-

"Hellooo? Yn!"

Your head snapped towards the direction where you heard your name come from. Of course, it was Hyunwoo.

"I've been calling your name like crazy! Are you deaf or something?" His voice was laced with annoyance but you could tell that he was trying to play it cool.

You don't know if it was because you were always sleep-deprived but recently, Hyunwoo had been getting on your nerves. Hyunwoo was just too clingy for your liking, always feeling the need to be around you any chance he could. It was bothersome if anything.

“Sorry I was distracted, what did you need?” You tried to sound nice but couldn't help the irritation from slipping into your tone.

Hyunwoo scoffed. "Well, I just wanted to invite you to this party on Friday." He stepped closer to you, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He continued, "I know parties aren't really your thing but... please think about it at least?"

You hesitated, your mind automatically going through your schedule. You were definitely open on Friday, but the thought of going to a party wasn't exactly appealing to you. Especially not with the current state of your social life.

You mulled over his proposition for a few seconds.

"Uh, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning into one of disbelief. "Pass? Come on, yn, when was the last time you actually went out and had some fun?"

Ugh. His words hit a little too close to home. You knew he was right, but the idea of going out without knowing anyone felt daunting. You knew that there was surely something better you could do on a Friday night but a small part of you was curious about the party. Maybe you should at least check it out, that wouldn't hurt, right?

You looked at Hyunwoo and exhaled.

"Okay fine, I'll go with you," you playfully nudged his arm before continuing, "under the condition that I can leave whenever I want."

Hyunwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff at your 'terms and conditions', but he accepted it either way.

"Sure, oh and trust me, you won't want to leave, I'll make sure of that," Hyunwoo said as he looked at the time on his phone noting that he had a few minutes left. He patted your back before bidding you goodbye to attend his next class.

You weren't sure if it was you but there was something off about his reply. But before you could dwell on it further, your phone suddenly buzzed with a notification, forcing you back to reality.

[www.onwoo requested to follow you.]

Oh.

Okay, now you have a lot of questions. How did he even find you? Was it through one of your friends? Why now? God you knew this was going to eat you up for the next few hours or maybe even days.

Nevertheless, you accepted his friend request and even went as far as to add him as a friend. That should be okay, right?

You slipped your phone back into your pocket as you got closer to your class. Surely your lecture would at least help you take him off your mind.

Wrong.

When you entered the classroom you noticed that the seating arrangement had been changed. There were a few students still standing at the front who looked just as confused as you. After a few more students came to the class the professor eventually got up to address the situation.

"For those that are coming in, I have changed your assigned seats for the rest of the semester! If you look at the board you will also see that I have grouped you into pairs, and to make it convenient I have sat you with your partner so you do not have to struggle with finding them. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask me!"

Okay, this was different but not necessarily bad. You looked towards the board to see who you had been paired with and you felt your stomach drop down to the pits of Hell.

[yn | wonwoo]

If you were going to be honest you completely forgot Wonwoo was even in this class in the first place.

If there was a God out there, then they for sure failed you today. This was very unfortunate for you, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. So you begrudgingly made your way to your assigned seat, right next to Wonwoo.

You took a quick glance over his figure noting his dark attire. There wasn't anything special about it but just seeing him in a simple black shirt and sweats was doing a lot of things to you. Why was the room hot all of a sudden?

After getting yourself situated in your seat, you felt his eyes surveying your figure. Part of you wanted to turn to see if he was actually looking at you but that would just be another win for him so you decided to keep your gaze on the board. Just focus on the lecture.

"yn." Wonwoo said in a somewhat muted tone, tapping a finger on your arm.

Well, that didn't last long.

You hated how much of an effect his voice still had on you, that deep tone always giving you goosebumps. Surprisingly, you still managed to keep your eyes on the lecture, you wanted to see how far he would go to get your attention.

Though your silence didn't amuse Wonwoo, in fact, it annoyed him. He hated not being able to annoy you, maybe even going as far as to say that he missed talking to you. Of course, he wouldn't have been in this situation had he not snapped at you that day but he was really trying to earn your forgiveness. He was willing to do anything at this point. So he leaned towards you, his cologne invading your senses. God, why did he have to smell so good?

"Can you stop ignoring me? I gave you enough space already," he said in a hushed, irritated tone.

You looked at him, trying your best to not laugh at how desperate he was beginning to sound. His usually calm and collected persona was beginning to crumble down into a hopeless mess. Feeling playful, you decided to torture him just a little bit.

"I don't think I want to, it's been kind of fun not having you around," You whispered back, turning your gaze at the board so you wouldn't have to see his reaction. Just for the fun of it, you decided to egg him on a little further, "Maybe try again later."

As you focused on the board, you could practically feel the tension radiating from Wonwoo beside you. His irritation was palpable, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his frustration.

But despite your playful defiance, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe you were being too harsh on him, too stubborn to admit that you missed whatever you had going on with him. Deep down, you knew that ignoring Wonwoo wasn't going to solve anything, that it was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation you both needed to have.

As the lecture droned on in the background, the weight of Wonwoo's presence beside you grew heavier with each passing minute. You could sense him fidgeting in his seat, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he grappled with your stubborn silence.

Maybe it was time that you stopped pushing him away.

Finally unable to bear the tension any longer, you cleared your throat.

"Okay fine, I'll stop ignoring you but don't think that I have forgiven you yet." Your eyes lingered on his face, his cuts and bruises had noticeably healed but they were still evident.

Wonwoo's tense figure visibly relaxed at your words. Even though it was only a small step, Wonwoo felt as if he had already won the lottery.

After another hour had passed, the lecture had finally come to an end. You didn't have any plans after this so you were excited to just spend the day doing whatever. But just as you were about to slip out of your seat, Wonwoo's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait for me," he said, his voice softer than before.

Seeing Wonwoo like this was quite... weird. His demeanor towards you was a complete contrast to his usual confident self. It was kind of unnerving.

After that, Wonwoo began to gather his belongings, even going as far as gently taking your bag from your hand. He slid the bag onto his shoulder, not caring about the fact that he looked ridiculous wearing his regular backpack with your tote.

"I can carry my bag," you said as you tried reaching for it.

Wonwoo quickly moved away before you could even land a finger on your tote. "Let me carry it for you, please." His tone was sincere this time, almost pleading if anything.

With a reluctant sigh, you began to make your way out of the classroom, allowing Wonwoo to fall into step beside you as you made your way out of the lecture hall. The hallway was relatively quiet, the sounds of footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as you passed by other students.

As you walked side by side with Wonwoo, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a physical barrier. As you rounded the corner, you stole a glance at Wonwoo, taking in the uncertainty etched into his features. It was strange to see him like this, vulnerable and unsure, but there was also something oddly endearing about it.

"What's going on? You're acting really weird right now," you finally blurted out, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Wonwoo's steps faltered slightly at your question, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "Can't I do something nice for my friend?" he replied, his voice tinged with a tiny hint of defensiveness.

You blinked, taken aback by Wonwoo's response. "Friend?" you echoed, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. It had been weeks since you and Wonwoo had exchanged more than a few words with each other, but even before that, you weren't necessarily sure you could call him a friend. Sure you've known him for the majority of your life but that was really it, growing up your friend groups rarely interacted so it's not like you actually knew anything about him. He just always happened to be there.

Did he seriously consider you as a friend?

Wonwoo's steps came to an abrupt stop, he shifted uncomfortably beside you, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Well, yeah. I mean, aren't we?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications and unresolved tension. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words to express the swirling thoughts and emotions that churned within you.

"I don't know, Wonwoo," you finally admitted, your voice quiet but resolute. "I get that we've known each other for a long time but... I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

His face flashed a hint of hurt before he looked away from you. The silence following between the two of you was almost suffocating.

"That's fair I guess." His voice returned to that stoic tone that you had grown accustomed to.

Wonwoo's response hung in the air for a second, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you, mingling with your own sense of unease.

"I didn't mean it like that," you interjected hastily, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... weird you know? We've been around each other for so long but I don't know anything about you and you don't know anything about me."

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the footsteps of the people passing by. "But we can always change that." Wonwoo was now completely looking at you, his gaze filled with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

He continued, "Look, I'm sorry I spoke to you that way. I was really irritated by what had happened but I figured that being with you would put me in a better mood," he paused for a second, "I know that it was unfair of me to do that to you and I'll make sure that it won't happen again." Wonwoo's eyes were soft and sincere as he spoke to you.

It was shocking in a way, seeing how vulnerable he was being with you. For someone who usually displayed himself on the 'cooler' side, he really did know how to be genuine with you.

It was also overwhelming. Everything about this felt too intimate for you. From the way Wonwoo was looking at you to the way he voiced out his apology; it was just too much for you.

You had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to accept his apology, it was about time anyway.

"Okay, fine. I get it, we all have our off days," turning to face his side, you made a playful jab into his ribs, "but if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you." You tried your best to maintain a somewhat serious face but couldn't help but let out a giggle as soon as you saw Wonwoo squirm from your touch.

And just like that, the tension that had once felt suffocating was now gone, as if it had never been there in the first place; or at least so you thought.

What you didn't know was that Wonwoo was completely aware of your little diversion tactic. He noticed the subtle shift in your eyes while he was apologizing to you, he just chose not to say anything. But he'll play along at least for now.

“So…are we officially back to being besties?” Wonwoo decided to say teasingly, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

You stare at him momentarily with an unimpressed look before breaking into a smile. Although you've known Wonwoo for a while, you would have never thought he could joke around like this, especially with you.

And well... it wouldn't hurt if you played with him a little more.

“I’ll say yes if you buy me a smoothie from the stand over there.” You pointed toward the barely visible smoothie stand that was parked a bit farther from the window where you and Wonwoo stood.

It was the same smoothie spot from a few weeks ago only this time they were in a small cart. Although they did have their own shop near the area, the owners would occasionally bring a little cart around the campus to help bring more people in.

Wonwoo let out a low chuckle before asking you, "Do you want the same thing from last time?”

Last time? There was absolutely no way that he was talking about your order from two weeks ago.

You quirked your eyebrow up at him, "…And just how sure are you that you remember my order?"

Okay, to be fair, it's not like you had a complicated order, but it would be surprising if Wonwoo was able to remember it considering that he only heard you order that smoothie once.

Wonwoo looked over to you once again, a small smirk taking over his features. "I'll have you know that it also happens to be my favorite so don't get too excited now," he said in a provocative tone.

Ugh, he was so annoying.

Before you could give his response any more thought Wonwoo had wordlessly started walking toward the smoothie stand, effectively leaving you behind. But rather than following him all the way to the stand you decided to find seating, preferably under the shade. It's been getting hot, you noticed it's especially true when Wonwoo is around.

After finding a spot under the shade you begin to mindlessly scroll on your phone. It wasn't too long after you sat down that a notification got a hold of your attention.

[www.onwoo wants to send you a message.]

Oh god. What did he possibly want now?

[www.onwoo] why didn't you come with me? :(

Before accepting his message request you glanced over to the smoothie stand, the line was pretty long now but Wonwoo had made it just in time to get his order in before the rush. As you were looking at him, he turned his gaze toward you making you immediately look back down on your phone.

[you] it's only a one-man job. also you look ridiculous with my bag.

Wonwoo softly scoffed at your message and looked in your direction. You weren't looking at him anymore but he was still able to see a small smile on your face.

[www.onwoo] i'll have you know that i already had 3 girls compliment me on the bag 😼

You rolled your eyes before shooting back a reply.

[you] i have immaculate taste that's why.

A few chat bubbles popped in and out before they eventually disappeared altogether. It wasn't long after that you heard footsteps quickly making their way toward you.

Just as you lifted your head upwards you heard Wonwoo's confident voice announce his arrival.

“One large smoothie for my little birdy.” He smiled as he spoke, knowing that you absolutely despised that nickname.

You squinted at him in disapproval, “And here I thought that nickname was officially gone for good.”

Wonwoo chuckled at that. He then proceeded to take a sip of your smoothie before officially handing it off to you.

You stayed frozen for a second before grabbing the smoothie and wiping the straw with your shirt.

Absolutely no indirect kisses will be occurring today.

Getting up from your spot, you begin to mindlessly walk toward the closest pathway near you, the weather is pretty nice today. After a few steps, you turned around to see a rather puzzled Wonwoo looking back at you but he still followed nonetheless.

“You’re a little too chirpy today… what happened to the oh-so-serious biker? Hmm?” You playfully poked at him as you said it, enjoying the sweet flavor of the smoothie he had gotten for you.

Wonwoo scoffed softly, holding back his laugh, “He’s still here, he just happens to be in a good mood now that his little birdy is talking to him again.”

But before you can even think of a snarky response Wonwoo continued.

“But if that’s what you’re into then I can always play the part for you,” he said with a smirk, his words smothered in arrogance.

You scoffed, amused by the implication he made. “Ew it’s definitely not like that.”

“Oh, but it can be.” Wonwoo moved closer to you, effectively closing the space between you both. His cologne invaded your senses once again; this time, it was proving much more difficult for you to escape from his grasp. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at your face or to be more exact, your lips.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo finally pulled himself away from you. He smirked at the very flustered state that he had just left you in. It was clear that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you, an attraction you were trying to reject.

It was a challenge that Wonwoo was more than ready to handle.

You cleared your throat, "As fun as it was hanging out after class... I think that it's about time for me to head back home," you said as you recomposed yourself.

Technically speaking, there wasn't anything waiting for you back at your place but you felt that if you stayed a second longer things would definitely escalate between the two of you.

And again, your little stunt didn't go unnoticed by Wonwoo but he also wasn't surprised, if anything, he expected you to pull away like this. That was one of the first things he had noticed when he initially started talking to you, always leaving before things could really develop. It was cute in a way, but he was eventually going to get you out of your shell, it was only a matter of when.

Wonwoo faintly smiled to himself, “Okay but before I let you go, we should come up with a day to start our project together.”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

He continued, “How about this Friday? I have nothing going on that day.” Wonwoo's eyes landed on your figure as you went on your phone to check your work schedule for the upcoming week.

“Ugh, I have to go out with Hyunwoo that day,” you said just as your eyes landed on Sunday, it was completely open.

“…but how about this Sunday? I don’t work that day.” You looked up toward Wonwoo's eyes, hopeful that it could work out.

A million thoughts raced through Wonwoo's head. You're going out with Hyunwoo? Like as in a date or...? No, he has to stay composed.

“That works for me,” he mumbled, his gaze went toward the ground, kicking a few pebbles before looking at you once again, “but what’s going on with you and Hyunwoo?”

You couldn't help but laugh at Wonwoo's question which earned you a scowl from him. God, you were going to have so much fun with this.

“Why do you ask?” This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Wonwoo for teasing you earlier so like the tease that you are, you decided to play dumb with him. “Are you perhaps… jealous?” You said with a loud gasp as a way to rile him up, your hands flying to your mouth for dramatic effect.

You continued, "Don't worry Hyunwoo is just a boy who also happens to be my friend." Wonwoo's face physically hardened at the idea of Hyunwoo being your boyfriend. He knew that you saw him on a regular basis but he had yet to see any real signs that you were actually dating him.

Patting his back in a comforting manner you then explained, "Relax, don't get your panties in a twist. If you have to know, Hyunwoo is just a friend." While it was fun teasing him you most certainly did not want him to get the wrong idea about you and Hyunwoo.

"But if I'm being honest it was kind of fun bullying you, I should do that more often." It couldn't be helped! You just had to add that last part.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Oh wow, who knew you were a sadist.” His tone was playful, an evil grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he played along with your banter.

Your jaw dropped at his comment, huffing out a loud, “Wonwoo!”

He raised his hands up in a surrender, “I'm kidding! I'm kidding… or maybe not.” Which then earned him a slap on his bicep.

“You truly are shameless,” you muttered out loud for him to hear.

By this point, Wonwoo had taken the lead as the two of you walked away from the courtyard. It was only until you were at the school's parking lot that you realized that he had purposely taken you here.

There was a beat of silence before Wonwoo let out a soft sigh. "Would you look at that... my bike happens to be over there..." He nudged you in the direction of where he had parked his bike a few hours prior.

Wonwoo let out another pathetic sigh, "It would be rude of me to just let you walk back home you know?" This time he grabbed a hold of your hand as he led you directly in front of his bike.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the implication that he just made. There's absolutely no way that you are getting on his bike.

"Uh... I'm not so sure this is a good idea Won-"

Wonwoo shushes you and hands you a spare helmet, a shit-eating grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

"Just trust me," he says as he slides your tote inside his backpack, "that should hold everything in place." Wonwoo then handed the backpack to you, waiting for you to put it on, his eyes landing on your terrified figure.

This was going to be fun.

Part Three: Coming Soon…

[chocopokkie]

Bound by Shadows

Summary: You attempt to break up with Alastor but it doesn't go so well.

TW: Non-con, yandere-ish Alastor, forced relationship, smut (let me know if I missed any!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm really sorry, Al," you murmur softly, your gaze avoiding his once-adoring eyes, now fixed with a grin that cuts deeper than any blade. "I just don't think we should be together anymore..."

"We can still be friends!" you hastily add, your voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty, "I just don't think—"

But before you can finish, a dark laugh cuts through the air like a chilling gust of wind.

"Haha!" Alastor's laughter drips with disdain as he interrupts, his tone laced with judgment. "My dear, I truly don't think you know what you're talking about. You think after everything I've done for you, you can just leave me, little doe? I believe I need to give you a reminder of who you belong to," he growls, his words like a predator's low warning growl.

Suddenly, the room shifts and morphs around you, the comforting walls of your room replaced by the dark, dense canopy of a forest. Panic surges through you, but before you can even grasp the gravity of the situation, you're violently shoved to the forest floor. The earthy scent fills your senses as black tendrils snake around your limbs, rendering escape impossible.

"Alastor, please, what are you doing?" you plead, your voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. You attempt to struggle against the oppressive grip of the tendrils, but they hold you firmly in place, like iron chains. "Please, you're really scaring me!" you beg, desperation seeping into your words as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, as you should be, dear~," Alastor purrs sinisterly, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because I'm going to make sure this is a lesson you never forget." With a snap of his fingers, the tendrils forcefully flip you over, leaving you on your knees with your face pressed against the cold, hard forest floor. Dread washes over you as you realize what's about to happen.

"N-No... Please..." you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation tainting every syllable. "Okay, I'm sorry! Please, I'll never do anything like this again, I swear! I love you! Just please stop..." You plead, reaching out to him in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity, to make him see reason. But all you receive in response is a dark chuckle that sends chills down your spine.

"Oh, I know, baby~," Alastor responds, his tone laced with a sickening mixture of affection and possessiveness. "But if you aren't punished, you might get that stupid idea of trying to leave me in that pretty little head of yours. And we can't have that again, now can we?"

Alastor moves quickly, his movements fluid yet unsettlingly precise. With a swift motion, he shoves your dress over your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. You gasp in shock and protest, but before you can utter a word, his clawed finger slashes through your panties, cutting them away with a cruel efficiency.

His dark chuckle cuts through the air like a blade through silence. "Bad girls don't get any foreplay," he growls, his voice dripping with malice as he works at his pants, freeing his cock. With grace, he positions himself at your unprepared entrance.

"I'm sorry, Alastor! Please, just stop," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as tears stream down your face. You know there's nothing you can do to halt his actions, trapped and powerless against him.

Your scream rips through the air like a haunting melody as Alastor mercilessly shoves his entire length inside of you, setting a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for breath. Each thrust is accompanied by a symphony of pain and desperation, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he revels in your suffering. Alastor savors the sound of your cries, finding perverse pleasure in the symphony of agony echoing through the forest.

One of his hands snakes around to rub your clit, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm in response to the new sensation, but the relentless grip of the tendrils keeps you firmly anchored to the forest floor, rendering you utterly helpless against Alastor's desires. He continues his assault, relishing in the control he exerts over your body and mind.

As the realization sinks in, a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You understand now that there's no escape from his grasp, no reprieve from his twisted desires. In that moment, it becomes painfully clear: you belong to him, body and soul, for eternity. Alastor has ensured that you'll never forget your place, sealing your fate with every merciless thrust and cruel manipulation. You are his forever, and he delights in reminding you of that fact.

You can never escape.

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers with a cruel intimacy, "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" With renewed vigor, he increases the speed and pressure on your clit, driving you to the brink of ecstasy even as tears streak down your face, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations coursing through your body.

As you came around Alastor's cock, he resumes his brutal pace. His claws dig into your hips, leaving marks of possession as he relentlessly chases his own release. With a guttural groan, you feel him twitch inside you, his hot seed spilling deep within, painting your walls white with his essence.

"Now then, have you learned your lesson, love?" Alastor's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Gradually, you feel the tendrils loosen their grip around you, allowing you to collapse onto the forest floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and sobs wracking your frame.

"Y-yes," you manage to whisper weakly, your voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of emotions raging within you.

"Lovely~. Now get yourself cleaned up! We have reservations tonight!" His words, almost sickeningly cheerful, echo in your ears as he strides away, leaving you alone in the cold darkness of the forest. As you lay there, broken and defeated, you can't help but reconsider everything—your choices, your worth, and the twisted dynamic that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

[rafecameronssl4t]

honestly so inlove with what’s good John b because you wrote it very similarly to what happened in the show (of course with your twists) and I was wondering if you could do one about reader being rafes girlfriend and being there when he shot peterkin and reader being just so shocked and couldn’t believe what he just did

Me and the Devil || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

GIF by @tetragonia

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for toooo long

Warnings: this is a canon fic that is based from s1 ep 9 so if you were uncomfortable watching it, especially towards the end when Rafe k!lls peterkins, please do not read this as I go into detail.

Word count: 1,693

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

"Rafe, what are we doing out here?" you ask, your voice tinged with concern as you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car. The sun blazes overhead, casting sharp shadows on the dusty, secluded airstrip, save for the one airplane on the other side.

"I'm just checking something," Rafe replies, attempting to sound casual as he opens the car door. You hesitate for a moment before following him.

"Oh my god, Rafe!" you whisper-yell, your eyes widening as you spot Peterkins aiming her gun at Ward, with Sarah and John B standing behind him. Rafe halts, and both of you watch the tense scene unfold, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "What is going on—" Your question is cut short by the chilling, unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

You turn, heart hammering in your chest, to see Rafe gripping a gun tightly in his hand. Panic and confusion flood your mind. "Rafe," you whisper, your voice trembling with fear and disbelief. He looks back at you, eyes wild and desperate, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Hey, hey, I'm doing this for us, okay? Just—just stay in the car," he pleads, though his voice is shaky and uncertain. Your breathing quickens, and you can feel the terror rising within you.

"No—no, I'm coming with you," you insist, shaking your head as you step beside him. You clutch at Rafe's shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you look at him with wide, fearful eyes. "Please don't do anything stupid," you beg, your voice breaking with emotion. His silence is deafening, amplifying your dread and uncertainty.

Rafe moves stealthily along the side of the airplane, keeping out of sight, and you follow closely, every nerve in your body on edge. The afternoon sun beats down relentlessly, adding to the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, Peterkins' voice rings out, clear and authoritative, "You're under arrest for the murder of Big John Routledge." A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Rafe is quick to react. His hand clamps over your mouth, silencing you as he pulls you against his chest.

Your heart races, pounding so loudly as you the situation you are in sinks in. Pressed against Rafe, you can feel his own heart beating rapidly. The realization that he's willing to go to such lengths terrifies you. He removes his hand slowly, but keeps you close, his eyes scanning the scene ahead.

"Stay quiet," he whispers, his voice barely audible. The sound of footsteps and hushed voices reaches your ears, and you can make out the strained expressions on the faces of Ward, Sarah, and John B. Your hand tightens its grip on Rafe's shirt, your body trembling.

The conversation around you fades into an indistinct murmur as your mind races, grappling with the gravity of the situation you and Rafe find yourselves in. Rafe’s muttered curses, “Shit, shit, shit,” barely register in your ears, overshadowed by the pounding of your own heartbeat. You watch in a daze as Ward crumples to his knees. His shoulders sagas he places his hands behind his head in a gesture of surrender.

Peterkins strides forward with a stern expression, her movements deliberate and unyielding. The metallic click of the handcuffs as they close around Ward’s wrists seems unnaturally loud in the silence that envelops you.

Beside you, Rafe’s panic is palpable. His breaths come in quick, shallow gasps. In the blink of an eye, Rafe is moving past you, gun in hand. Your eyes widen in pure terror as the reality of the situation crashes down on you. “Rafe, Rafe! Stop—” you scream, your voice breaking with fear and desperation. But your plea is cut short by the deafening sound of a gunshot.

Instinctively, you block your ears and crouch down on the ground, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your heart pounds so fiercely you can feel it in your throat, each beat echoing in your ears. Over the ringing left by the gunshot, you can hear Sarah’s screams, high-pitched and filled with horror.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the hot tears streaming down your face, mingling with the sweat and grime of the moment. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you slowly look up, dread gnawing at your insides. Your gaze settles on the scene before you, and an audible sob bursts from your throat.

Sheriff Peterkin is on the ground, a pool of blood spreading out beneath her. The stark crimson against the earth sends a wave of nausea through you. Rafe stands a few feet away, the gun still in his hand, his face a mask of shock and confusion. He had shot her. The reality of it hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Every detail sharpens into painful clarity—the way Peterkin’s body lies still, the glint of the handcuffs now forgotten beside her, the horrified expressions of everyone around. The world seems to contract to this single, unbearable moment. Your sobs come harder now, wracking your body as you struggle to process the horror of what just happened. The gravity of Rafe’s actions sinks in, and you feel a deep, gut-wrenching despair.

Sarah is sobbing uncontrollably as John B holds her close to him, his face a mix of shock and terror. “Rafe, what did you do?” Ward’s voice trembles with a mixture of horror and disbelief as he stares at his son.

Rafe, his eyes wild and manic, lets out a chilling chuckle. “I saved you, Dad,” he says, his voice tinged with a desperate glee. “I saved you!” he yells, his voice echoing in the stillness that follows the gunshot. You stand there, paralyzed, your hands clasped over your mouth in a futile attempt to contain the sobs threatening to escape.

Peterkins coughs, struggling to breathe. John B rushes to her side, desperately trying to stop the bleeding as you stand by, helpless. Your eyes dart to Rafe, his gun still trained on them. You grab his forearm, attempting to lower the weapon, but he remains unmoved, your efforts only eliciting another sob from your lips.

John B clutches Peterkins' radio, when Rafe shouts, "Hey! Hey, wait!" He lunges towards John B, and you fight to restrain him. "Rafe, stop it!" you scream, panic in your voice. "Rafe, no! Rafe!" Ward approaches quickly, his focus on his son. "Don't try it, asshole," Rafe snarls at John B, who swallows hard.

"Rafe—John B, give me the radio," Ward demands, extending his hand. John B hesitates, shaking his head, "No." Sarah's sobs grow louder, her tear-streaked face mirroring your own fear and shock as you look at each other.

"Come on," Ward insists, prying the radio from John B's hands. Rafe keeps his gun aimed, his expression tense. Ward steps in front of him, arm outstretched. "Rafe, I've got it. Calm down."

"He has the radio, Rafe. Put the gun down!" you beg, your voice trembling with desperation. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot John B getting up and running, pulling Sarah with him "Where are you goin'? Huh?" Rafe shouts, pushing past side Ward as he yells out for Sarah.

In an instant, Rafe attempts to run after John B and Sarah, but you and Ward hold him back, pleading with him to calm down. "Where are you going?" he yells, his voice frantic. "Rafe, no!" you scream as he breaks free from your grip and starts shooting at John B and Sarah. "That's your sister, Rafe!" Ward shouts, trying to lower his son's arms.

You rush to Peterkins' body, your clothes now stained a deep crimson red. "I'm sorry," you sob, your shaky hands pressing against the wound. "It's not your fault, sweetie," she weakly whispers, as you continue to cry, "I'm so sorry!"

Rafe is breathing heavily, pacing as he watches you sobbing beside Peterkins. He regrets bringing you along. "Dad, I was trying to—" "Shut up!" Ward yells, his eyes shifting to you as he approaches.

Ward had always been like a father to you, believing you were a good influence on Rafe and treating you like his own daughter. But after what had just happened, you look up at Ward in terror. "Y/N," he says calmly. You don't reply as tears continue to stream down your face.

"I need you to get up," he says softly. "She is dying!" you scream, your voice breaking. "Y/N!" Rafe yells at you, his gaze cold and hard. You flinch under his glare. "What is wrong with you? You just shot somebody, Rafe!" Your voice cracks as he furiously storms up to you.

"You should've stayed in the car like I fucking told you!" he shouts, grabbing your biceps and forcefully pulling you to your feet. "I'm not going until the medics come!" you argue, your voice filled with desperation. "Get her home, Rafe!" Ward yells behind him.

"No, I'm not going!" you insist, trying to shake off Rafe's grip, but it's useless. "Rafe, she needs help!" you scream, thrashing against his hold. "Honey, I'm calling them, look!" Ward shows you the radio, trying to reassure you as Rafe drags you away. "Rafe, please!" you sob, trying to escape his grip as he manhandles you towards the car.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screams, yanking the car door open. "Get in the car." He shoves you aggressively into the seat, and you let out a scream. "Don't move!" he barks, slamming the door. You flinch, pulling your knees to your chest, your body trembling in terror at your unrecognisable boyfriend.

Inside the car, your mind races, fear and helplessness overwhelming you. You look out the window, seeing Ward and Peterkins, feeling utterly powerless.

[cherryredstars]

I absolutely love your work! Could you maybe write some soft!Dom Simon riley? I really really like your characterisation of him

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with No Plot, Praise, Penetrative Sex, Body Worship, Oral Sex, Aftercare

Summary: Actions have always spoken louder than words. 

A/N: First Simon request (WHAT!!)

Word Count: 1.2K (Barely Edited)

Love is hard. Especially for Simon. 

It offers a new type of uncertainty, one entirely different from the uncertainty of the field. One that is much more risky, one that he doesn’t know how to navigate through. All he knows, from his life on and off the field, is that actions have always expressed what words can’t. That very fact has shaped Simon’s love language. 

So, on the days that both of you feel love overtaking all your senses, or on the days where love seems particularly daunting, Simon finds himself hovering over your delicate body. His hands pressing into the softness of your flesh as his body fills the space of your parted legs. His breaths are soft against your lips, eyes closed impossibly tight as he lets his tongue caress your own. Fuzzy colors dance along his closed lids as he takes in the smell of your shampoo and the warmth that seeps into his body. 

He pulls away, your lips trailing after him with a pout. The smallest of smiles covers his face and he coos down at you, pulling your shirt off your body and pressing soft kisses along the skin that becomes more exposed to him. He throws the shirt to the side, a pleasured sigh leaving his lips as he runs his fingers up and down your exposed body. His hands run down your chest, momentarily flicking your nipples to hear that beautiful gasp you can’t help but give. His fingers ghosting down the plane of your stomach and swirling around your belly button to hear your little giggles that warm his heart. He slides his hands under your back, massaging the flesh of your waist as he kisses up your body.

His smile makes the kisses a bit wonky, your eyes watching him as he kisses from your lower stomach, to your chest, to your neck, and finally to your lips. Your hands find their way into his hair, prickly from his very overgrown military-standard buzzcut. A pleased noise leaves him as tilts his head to deepen the kiss, lips slowly trailing away to kiss the other parts of your face. Soft lips meeting the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the thin skin of your eyelids. A fond smile crosses your face that mirrors his as he pulls away. 

He sits up, removing his own shirt before continuing to strip the both of you bare. Once you’re fully naked under him, he parts your legs fully and lowers his head to your sex. His first flick of his tongue is experimental, eyes closing as the taste of arousal blooms in his mouth. A soft groan vibrates in his throat, sucking you fully into his mouth. The pleased moan you let out goes straight to his aching cock. He hungrily buries his head in between your thighs, pulling away to give you teasing licks and diving back in. He coaxes an orgasm from you, eyes drifting up to your face as your tug at his hair. A hazy look covers his eyes, his hands massaging your thighs as he reluctantly pulls away. 

He licks his lips of any remaining arousal, pressing one last kiss to your sex, “Did so well, love. Tasted so good for me.” 

A soft whimper leaves your lips, but your eyes beam under his praise. He crawls back up the length of your body, caressing your cheek as he studies your face. He tries to memorize every curve and dip, tracing his fingers along them. His eyes shine with complete admiration for you, lowering his head to press his lips to yours when you whine out his name. Your own taste is shared with you, and your grip on him gets tighter. Your hips fully grind into Simon’s erection, causing a broken hiss. He lifts your hips up slightly, his tip pressing against your hole.

You can feel his precum, leaking excitedly from his tip and slowly dripping down your thigh. It becomes smeared when he bucks his hips, your soft mewl a contrast to his rough grunt. Simon tilts your head to the side, his face buried in the curve of your neck as he slowly pushes into you. He tries to stabilize himself by pressing heated kisses to your skin, biting and sucking hard before cooling the irritated skin down with gentle kitten licks. When he’s fully inside you, he lets out a deep moan, appreciating the way you’re clamping hard around him as you adjust to the fullness. 

He gives an experimental thrust, your back arching into him at the sensation. He moves his hand down to your thigh, wrapping it securely around him as he thrusts again. He can feel the blunt edge of your nails carving down his back, a sharp inhale of air entering his lungs at the feeling. His thrusts speed up the tiniest bit, his head lifting to look down at where his cock disappears inside of you. A thin spray of sweat hits your body when he whips his head up, his eyes wildly searching for yours. When they connect he moans out, his unoccupied hand coming to tangle in your hair. The tiniest whimper leaves you before you smile shyly, muttering out a ‘hi’.

Simon curses in response, his hips angling to hit the perfect spot inside you. He crashes his lips down to yours in a messy kiss. He tugs and licks at your bottom lip, his head briefly rolling back before he rests his forehead against yours. He continues knocking against that gummy spot inside of you, a strangled gasp leaving you as you feel the tightness in your stomach about to explode. You desperately grab at Simon, trying to find something to tether you to the moment. 

“I know. I know, babe. Go ahead, ride it out.” 

His words give you the right nudge over the edge. You get impossibly tighter around him as you arch off the bed. He lets out a deep groan at the feeling, watching as you come in a dazed trance. He’s not far behind, his hips stuttering as he explodes. His thrusts decrease to half hearted pumps as he rides out his release, a deep breath leaving him as he stares down at you. 

“M’love you.” he humbles out, kissing your cheeks gently as he slips out. He holds you against him tightly, breathing in the smell of your hair and sweat. 

His hand untangled from your hair and pushes it away from your forehead, laying a single kiss to your temple before getting up. He leaves you to rest on the bed, bringing wet washcloths to cool your warmed body and to clean you up. HIs touch is gentle and focused as he takes care of you, pressing kisses every now and then to your flushed skin. A soft smile graces your face as you watch the concentrated furrow of his brow, your hand lifting to smooth out the skin. 

He grabs your hand before you can fully pull it back, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. He loosely holds your hand as he begins walking away, stopping when your hold tightens. He looks back at you, silently asking what it is you need.

“I love you, Si.”

A deep breath expands Simon’s chest as he looks down at you. His eyes soften as they scan over your face. He says nothing in return, instead squeezing your hand tightly three times before letting it go. 

“I know.”

I love soft Simon!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Limits [Final]

There's only so much he can take.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, misunderstanding, smut, (slightly) mean Dom kook, a slap to the thigh, uh, knot is mentioned, it's nasty, unprotected but MC is mentioned to be on birth control, he holds her by the throat? Idk he also has his fingers in her mouth-

Length: 5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: This will act as a final chapter. The main story is therefore wrapped up- but as always, if you want drabbles, you can still request them.

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Jungkook has never understood the phrase of your ‘heart stopping’- because how could it ever? You’d be dead in that case. But right in this moment, he finally gains the knowledge by experiencing it first hand- eyes wide open and body frozen.

Why are you in his bed? Barely dressed, snuggled up to him who’s only in his underwear?

He thinks through the whole process of yesterday to make sense of this. Did you both get potentially drunk last night? No, not at all. You and him had simply packed your things to drive you to your parents hours away, after having contacted them and told them about everything. He remembers driving you there himself, unloading your bags, leaving you there after waving and driving off. And added to that, that was not last night. It was almost an entire week ago.

He hasn’t seen you in days. So what are you doing here?

It’s not a dream either, clock on his nightstand ticking away, world outside going about its day as the window isn’t all closed to let some fresh air in at night. And yet, you’re there- bare legs entangled with his, arms holding onto his.

He doesn’t really feel alarmed by the fact that you somehow entered his apartment- you know where he lives after all, and you know the passcode to his door, so it’s not really surprising at all. But what he is questioning is why you’re here- and why you’re in his bed, most of all. Has he forgotten some conversation you might’ve had? Or has something happened to make you so upset that you were craving the comfort of him at any cost?

Now he’s worried.

Shaking you a little to wake you up seems to not be very effective- because you just frown, slap his hand away and bury your face right back into his shoulder as if he’s nothing but an annoying fly. “I know you’re awake.” Jungkook tells you, and at that you actually open one of your eyes, looking up at him with your tail wagging beneath the covers. “What’re you doing here?” He asks, and you frown again turning onto your back to look up at him who’s sat up by now.

“Why do you sound so upset about that?” You complain with almost a pout in your tone, arms crossed. “I thought couples love reuniting.” You say, and he looks at you, confused.

“Couples?” He questions, and you nod, now visibly unsure as well.

“Well, yeah?” You say, attitude fading and being replaced by uncertainty. “I mean.. we haven’t said the L-word yet, but like.. I thought..” you start, scanning his face for any sign that he realizes what you believed you two were. “..since you uh.. called me baby in the car..” you drift off, and still- there’s no sign of anything on Jungkook’s face as he thinks, and digs around in his memories for the correct moment he might’ve said that. He did, maybe. But he doesn’t remember.

“did I?” He asks, and regrets it the moment he watches the shame visibly wash over you- from the way your ears pin back to the slight change in your gaze, he knows he fucked up by saying it loud- and he’s a little too late as you roll out the bed and run for the bathroom after picking something up from the floor, hiding away now. “hey- wait.” He asks, getting up to walk towards the bathroom floor, knocking on it just to not get an answer. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding-“ He starts, trying hard to calm you down- but it’s clearly not working as the door opens, and you slip right past him to run towards the door where your shoes are. “Hey no- stay, let’s talk-“

“Nuh-uh, nop, this is so embarrassing-“ You rant, visibly frustrated over the shoes not closing fast enough as your hands are too shaky to really tie them. So you just make a simple knot and stuff the laces into the corners, before a tattooed hand snatches your other shoe from you. “give that back!” You bark, not looking at him however as you reach for the shoe he’s holding too high for you. “stop-“

“stop, exactly. Don’t run off now, I’m sorry if I said something that made you think we were more than we are.” He explains, and you visibly deflate at that, ears down low just like your tail. “let me get dressed, and we can talk, okay?” He asks again, and you just shrug.

He sighs as he puts down the shoe and leaves to tug a shirt and pants onto himself- before he realizes his mistake too late-

Door already slamming shut, your jacket the only thing you left at his place.

Fuck.

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He’s been knocking since forever it feels like- but even at his third visit today, you refuse to open the door.

You still got a week left in your apartment- but he knows from first hand experience that you got almost no furniture at all in there anymore, so this can’t be an option for you to sleep at. He doesn’t want you to be upset at him- and in hindsight, he really could’ve worded things a bit better, but he’s still new to this as much as you are. “please let me in.” He requests once more as he’s done so often today, sighing. “I missed you too, you know?” He tries this time around, and to be honest, that’s not even a lie.

Its odd how at first glance, he never thought he’d ever get along with you. But having you gone for almost an entire week, he really felt the way you’d somehow snuck into his heart- every task back to being mundane without you causing a little chaos in his daily life here and there.

“That’s a lie.” You say, door open just a crack to glare at him through.

“Its not.” He denies. “I just think we never actually talked about what we want to be- so I was surprised to just.. have you turn up out of nowhere in my bed.” He chuckles a little, and you just look down to the floor in shame.

“M’ sorry.” You apologize. “won’t happen again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Your gaze snaps up at him at that, confused. “I was just a bit caught off guard, and honestly worried. Did something happen at your parent’s?” He wonders, and you sigh, opening the door to let him into the almost entirely unfurnished apartment- a pile of clothes and a blanket being the last items that were probably used as a makeshift resting spot for you today laying in the corner of the main living room. You sit down there, before letting yourself fall to the side as if exhausted, before you shrug, Jungkook sitting on the floor across from you. “it was.. I don’t know.” You admit. “I love them. And I was really super happy to see them again, and spend time there..” you explain, before you pull the blanket between your fingers to have something to hold onto while you stare into nothingness. “But it was.. really a lot.. I don’t know how to explain.”

“I guess that’s normal. You know, being overwhelmed with it.” Jungkook sympathizes. “I’m exhausted too after spending a day or two with my entire family-pack. Nothing to worry about.” He explains, and you just nod, still avoiding eye contact. “I think what’s important now then, is what we are to one another. You can’t just break into my apartment and sneak into my bed without formally asking me out, you know?” He jokes, but your glare is filled with embarrassment.

“Now I don’t want to anymore.” You huff, before you turn around- and at that, Jungkook feels an odd rush underneath his skull, fueled by your subtle and underlying confession in your words.

“You love me though, don’t you?” He asks, leaning in closer as he sits near you now, a hand on your shoulder. “all you need to do is say it.” He chuckles, as you curl up more into yourself as if that would hide you.

“And then what?” You huff. “You’ll-“

“I’ll say it back.” He cuts you off. “or I’ll say it first, it’s no issue. At this point it’s pretty obvious that I’m starting to fall in love with you.” He easily spills, and you freeze before you slowly unravel, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a face full of wonder.

“You are?” You ask hesitantly, and he smiles, before he nods.

“I am.” He responds, confirms his words and you sit up at that, facing him now. “are you?” He wonders, and you nod.

“I am.” You answer, and he laughs.

“See? Nothing to be scared of. Now come on, I’m not letting you sleep here.” He says, standing up with you to pick up your stuff-

Unaware of the absolute Rollercoaster he just signed himself up for.

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Jungkook did not know what he got into when basically confessing his growing feelings.

His mundane life is pretty much over at this point, with you always around and currently basically having moved in until you can figure out if this works or not. After all, you’re not used to living with someone else- and it’s clear that no matter what, you’re the opposite of an angel, still trying your tricks on him to make him dance around like you want him to.

But Jungkook isn’t this easy to control. And in a way, it’s a little fun to see how much you can get away with.

“Jesus christ, put some clothes on.!” Jungkook curses as be spots you laying on your stomach on his couch, in nothing but a simple top and underwear, tail wagging. The wolf hybrid has to turn away, distract himself with the task of turning the volume of the TV lower, while you just don’t understand what his fussing is all about, game on your little console in your hands on pause.

“Why?” You ask because of that, not sure why he’s being so overly dramatic in your opinion. It’s just your legs, maybe your butt. So?

“because- just put at least some pants on.”, he groans, and you roll your eyes, before you continue your game instead.

You’re not listening. And he’s not sure if it’s your character- or if you think his decreasing patience is funny to watch.

“Do I have to turn the wifi off to get your full attention?” jungkook asks a little irritated, and you shrug.

“Don’t care.” You respond, eyes on the little screen between your hands. “the game doesn’t need internet.”

Suddenly however, the console is taken out of your hands, as he saves your current progress, and puts it into the charging station near the TV. “Hey!” You complain, getting up now to rush towards him- and as he makes sure you can’t get to your precious game again, he notices that God fucking damn it, you’re not wearing a bra beneath this very flimsy shirt.

You’re really testing him.

“Put pants on.” He says, and you have the audacity to laugh.

“Nah.” You deny, stretching before you step away from him, walking towards the bedroom. “I’ll just take a na-“ you don’t get to say much else, as he suddenly tugs on your tail with just enough force to make it count- but nowhere near enough to hurt. “Hey!” You turn around instantly, just to be basically cornered by the wolf hybrid, who’s backing you into a wall in the living room.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth there.” He simply says, but it sounds like a threat almost-, a very specific kind of threat that makes your skin shiver. “But you tend to forget when to shut it, clearly.” He scoffs, as your back hits the wall, making you swallow your own saliva nervously.

But he can sense, smell, that this is affecting you not in the direction of fear- but something else entirely.

“You’re so lucky, you know?” He asks, somewhat- and you look at him with question. “I’m not usually patient like that.”

“What would you have done?” You ask, unable to really keep it in as you know that if you hesitate for just a second, you’ll never be able to say this out loud, ask for such things. You want them, but you’re also nervous, considering you’ve never actually gotten this far with anyone before. “Put me in timeout?” You almost challenge, tail beginning to sway a little with newfound confidence, when he just shrugs it off, and shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “Brats like you need something that.. Lasts longer.” He words out, and at that, scenes manifest inside your head that make you visibly shy.

You’re not sure if he realized it yet, but a lot of the things you do, you do on full purpose. You like this game of push and pull, you think its exciting and fun- so you hope that with words like that, he means them as such, because that would mean that he’s both aware of the little game you’re playing, and also a willing participant in it.

You don’t want him to just feel like you’re made of porcelain, possibly breaking at the slightest touch.

“Such as?” You ask, and he leans in closer at that, almost unbearably so.

“fuck around and find out, Princess.”

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Turns out you can be sickeningly sweet almost when you really want to- currently happily laying on his stomach after helping him cook and wash the dishes after, awfully nice today and in a good mood.

It makes him wonder. Are you up to something? Or are you simply not who he thought you were? It would be just a slight bit disappointing, if he was to be honest- considering he’d actually grown quite fond of the idea of you with your ass spanked bright red, Jungkook basically having to work for your submission. But maybe you’re just all bark and no bite- just yapping around, nothing more than that.

Even that would be fine at this point, as long as he’s got you.

It’s when the male lead kisses the female love interest in the admittedly boring drama you both watch on TV, than he notices you staring at the scene. He’s notice too that at this point in time, one might think you would’ve kissed by now- but that’s not the case, neither of you seemingly brave enough to make that step towards the other. But it’s clear from the way you look at the scene in front of you with a shy sense of longing, that you want it- he just needs to find the perfect moment for it.

After all, he doesn’t just want to be any partner for you. He wants to be the one and only.

“I’m tired.” You yawn and stretch, arms above your head before you look at him. “can I get a goodnight-kiss?” You boldly ask, and Jungkook laughs, before he moves to basically lean over you entirely, hands pressing into the cushioning of the couch below you.

And then he finally leans in to peck your lips- or at least that was his intention. You chase after his lips and even move your hands to pull him back, making him act on instinct as he pushes them back, pins them down with his fingers around your wrists. But he has to admit, either the lip balm you’re using is sweet as honey, or he’s surely found the perfect person to kiss in you-

Because he doesn’t want to stop either.

“You said you’re tired.” He hums in when you break apart for just a second, and you shake your head.

“not anymore.” You deny his claims, making him chuckle.

“Not anymore?” He repeats, teasingly escaping your advances. You shake your head, as your legs move to rest around his waist, signals sent pretty clear to him as he watches you try and seduce him. “You’re right.. You’re clearly not yet tired.” He mumbles, as he leans down to kiss you again, letting himself be swept away by the moment, as you both just enjoy each other’s presence.

“Jungkook..” you whine impatiently, hips squirming around in search of any form of friction, while he just laughs under his breath.

“What do you want?” He asks. “this is our first time, after all. I don’t know what you like- or what you can handle.” He teases- though it’s clear that there’s an underlying truth to his words. This is indeed clearly going in a very obvious direction, and you feel warm inside knowing that he actually cares this much about your experience during this.

“I don’t know..” you admit. “I just.. always do it myself, so I don’t know.” You tell him, and he nods, accepting that as his kisses move to your neck, where he makes sure to leave his marks.

Because he wants you to be his, and his alone.

“how far do you want to go?” He asks, pausing his advances for a moment to look at you.

“All the way.” You tell him, and he nods.

“You sure?” He questions, and again, you nod- this time visibly serious.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with like that than you.” You say, and he soaks those words up like a sponge, before he leans back down to kiss you- softer now, more gentle, as if he’s savoring you and your open appreciation for him in this moment.

And he does. He really does.

And you know, through the softness of his touch and the slow and gentle manner in which he undresses you, that tonight, he’s going easy on you.

Tonight, he’s just going to show you real love.

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Something clicked into place last night.

As if he’s finally committed himself to you, he’s relaxed, comfortable and most of all; confident. And you’re strangely excited about this new side of him, because it’s unbelievably entertaining to play around with him now that he’s not holding himself back any longer.

Youre currently all laughing, some friend’s of Jungkook’s having spotted him at the grocery store with you, eager to get to know the girl who made him catch feelings. And you’re having a lot of fun hearing some embarrassing facts about your now boyfriend- who’s also laughing along, despite being the butt of the joke. Even when you make jokes about him too he doesn’t seem bothered-

Until a hand finds the back of your neck, fingers pressing down a little to make sure you know he’s got a good grip on you. And like a cat grabbed by its weak spot, you freeze, one look at him making you almost cower in public as his dark eyes gaze down at you. “yeah- but I think we’ll better head home now.” Jungkook decides to his friends, casually smiling while he says goodbye to his friends. And even when his hand leaves you, you’re strangely affected- waiting for something to happen, as he calmly brings the groceries to the car.

You must’ve gotten away this time, since he seems pretty relaxed on the way back home. Good thing you were in public.

However, once back inside your now shared four walls, things take a turn again when, instead of helping him unpack the groceries, you lounge on his sofa- TV instantly turned on as you watch, and Jungkook makes sure to put everything where it belongs by himself.

Your punishment follows late- but you know when it’s time.

The TV is wordlessly turned off, but you stop mid-breath trying to complain about it, because the smile he sends you is none of pure kindness. He looks almost like a villain ready to move on with his sinister plans, as he approaches you. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” He asks, and when you don’t reply, he clarifies further. “you love getting on my nerves.” He states, and you have the audacity to shrug.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

That was definitely your last mistake made- challenging him, well aware of how he will potentially punish you.

He’s quick to grab at your hips, no matter how fast you’d wanted to dash off. His grip is tight and secure as he carries you unto the bedroom, where he closes the door with his foot, putting you down on the big mattress. And there you sit- waiting, not sure what his silence means.

“Early bedtime, huh?” You scoff, trying to appear unimpressed.

“Its what you make of it.” He however answers. “this is your last chance to get on my good side, Princess.”

“or what?” You ask with an attitude, still not believing in hit bite at all.

Jungkook sits down at that, back against the door, eyes reflecting a little in the darkness of the bedroom. He’s a wolf, deep down, even if he’s mixed- he’s got time, and patience, and he knows it. He’s well aware that after yesterday’s endeavors, you’ve been trying to ‘seduce’ him all day long- wanting more, wanting it again, because as you’d told him last night, you ‘can’t do it the same he does’. It’s normal, as a hybrid-

And as someone like you in particular, who craves everything pleasurable in life.

You’re still sitting there, waiting, adjusting your position a bit, squirming under his watchful eyes. You’re not sure what he’s aiming at here, but it makes you a little uncomfortable-

Mostly because you can feel the way your underwear is soaking up your arousal over this entire situation.

“Go to sleep, baby.” He tells you with fake gentleness in his voice. “it’s late, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to sleep.” You respond, and he chuckles.

“I know.” He tells you.

“Jungkook..” you whine, hoping this will be enough to break him. “I’m sorry..” you admit, ears drooping low, as you look at your lap in shame.

But he’s not fooled.

“try again, princess.” He simply says. “I know you’re not sorry.”

Fuck. What else could you do to get him to crack?

Manipulating him into doing what you wanted him to has worked in the past, so it shouldn’t be this hard. And he’s already seen you naked yesterday, so you don’t have to have shame about what you do next- moving your legs to give him a bit of a teaser to your soiled underwear beneath your skirt, feet digging into the bed below as you try and get under his skin this way.

“…can you help me?” You wonder, noticing how his eyes were captured by the sight for just a second.

“I can.” He nods, getting up to walk over to you- and your tail wags, triumph yours to claim. It’s still so easy to make him dance around like a puppet on strings, because down the line, he’s just another guy who’s quickly caught up in his own lust-

His face is inches from yours, eyes piercing into yours as he still got that wolfish smirk on his lips.

“But I don’t want to.”

Wait- that’s not part of the script.

“do it yourself, puppy.” He laughs, opening the bedroom door. “You know how to-“

“No!” You call out, making him turn his head over his shoulder to look at you. “I want you!” You argue, making him laugh.

“too bad.” He denies, and at that you get up, one leg out of the bed already. “get back on the bed.” He demands, and you huff.

“so you really putting me in timeout?” You scoff, stepping out with the other leg as well.

“You want to act like a brat so I’ll treat you as such.” He explains. “get back on the bed until I’m done cooking.”

“No.” You deny, walking closer.

He says your name, low and clearly in a warning, but you don’t care.

It’s then that your world turns upside down for a second, before you’re thrown back onto the bouncing mattress. You can’t help the sound that escapes your lips at his display of strength over you, a hand still on your arm to push you down. “does pissing me off make you that horny?” He asks, almost in a demeaning tone. “gushing into your panties just because you’re getting on my nerves, huh?” He continues, and your tail still wags.

“Its funny.” You admit, giggling, when a hand slaps your inner thigh, skirt having risen up to cover basically nothing anymore. “ah-!” You call out in surprise, making him laugh.

“it is.” He agrees. “it’s funny how you think you can play me.”

The next second, he’s tugging your underwear off of you, strings of sticky arousal still trying to hold onto the soiled fabric for a good stretch before the piece of clothing is thrown somewhere. “gotta get you off to make you listen?” He asks, agitated, hand between your legs a complete contrast to the gentle way he’s helped you reach highest pleasure last night. “gotta fuck you stupid so you’re finally a good girl for once?” He questions, and you just nod, frantically, overwhelmed by the way he pushes two of his fingers in already, thumb rolling over your most sensitive spot.

“Please-“ you start, but he only laughs down at you.

“Please? That’s a new sound.” He mocks you. His ruthless acts down settle down at all however- instead, he takes his hand away from you, and wipes it on his pants. You’re left alone, watching him, unsure what’s happening. “You ready to listen?” He asks. What an asshole. He knows exactly that in your state you’d accept anything-

“Why did you stop?” You whine however, and your downfall has been sealed.

Only moments later, as you try and escape, he’s on top of you, using his entire body to cage you in, hand around your throat- though he’s gentle enough to not hurt you at all. The hold he has still arches your back, pushes your behind right into him. And considering the fact that you’re on birth control, he doesn’t need to search for any other contraceptive right now, able to just pull himself out of his cotton pants, not needing much to get himself ready.

You whine in complaint when he pushes in. He knows it’s a bluff.

“oh shut up.” He growls into the back of your neck. “You can take it.” He states, well aware that you can. And it seems like finally, you’re quiet and compliant- if only after his fingers press down on your tongue, occupying your mouth with something other than whining. “so this is what it needs to shut you up?” He mocks you. “my cock inside, and my fingers in your mouth?” He purrs against your neck, and you just whimper pathetically.

His pace is steady, but he doesn’t even need to move anymore he notices- you’re for once doing all the work for him, bouncing on his lap like you’ve done this a million times already.

Your stamina does however not match up with his, as your thighs quiver, orgasm approaching you and causing you to lose tempo. Something he catches up on- taking over as he rolls his hips into you with dancer’s precision, while you emit sounds of pleasure the second his digits leave your mouth. You fall forward once he lets go of you entirely, spent.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He however days, as he manhandles you onto your back beneath him, hands tugging on your legs to move them exactly where he wants them. “wants to be fucked stupid but can’t even keep up with me.” He teases, shaking his head as he pushes his length through your thighs, remnants of your own arousal making the movement easy and slick. Your hands reach out sleepily, fingers touching the very tip every time it appears between your legs, and you giggle, visibly out of your mind.

But he notices something else too.

You look entirely relaxed, not even a glimmer of any of your usual insecurities present. You’re just existing in the moment, enjoying this, enjoying what he offers you, and nothing else.

Your head must really just be TV static.

You open your legs again, whining once more as he watches you reach for his hips- one orgasm not enough still, or maybe you just want to please him the best you can. He’s going easy on you this time, he decides, complying with your wordless demand to get back inside you, a wish he happily grants.

You don’t hold back, only shutting up when he leans down to kiss you, needy and chaotic, tongue and bitten lips. But once his hand is between you both, pushing you over the edge alongside him, you squirm once more- his release spilling inside of you, something swelling that you didn’t feel yesterday.

It’s him. He’s locking himself inside you to make sure you don’t spill any of it.

Which isn’t all that easy, since he appears to be a but of an overachiever- some of it already escaping you the second he softens up, cunt pushing out the translucent white as he pulls out of you.

You’re a mess.

Clothes somewhat still on, skin sweaty, opening between hour legs still gaping, clenching around nothing as your body calms down.

But, to be fair-

You also, finally, shut your mouth.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You can be so gentle!” You complain as he helps you put lotion on your skin after your shower, already back to your old self not even a couple of hours after.

“I can.” He laughs.

“But something tells me that you like it rough.”

Oh-

How right he is.

[copinghex]

Blood hands | T.S

Summary: After killing someone for the first time, Tommy's wife has to deal with the emotional consequences of it. Luckily, he's there to look after her.

She was terrible in biology, never got more than a B, it didn't matter how hard she studied. Every exam period she went to the tiny, dusty Birmingham's library and took notes from the anatomy books. Nothing ever changed.

Analyzing the drawings, she tried to make sense out of them, the muscles, joints and bones, wrapped together in the masterwork of the human body. It just didn't make sense to her, the subject simply wouldn't get into her brain and honestly, it disgusted her too. She had no wish to see beneath someone's skin, aware the reality was much more bloodier and morbid than the books.

Less than ten years later, she did, but unlike she imagined, the bile didn't rise to her throat expressing the deep disgust. Her eyes opened widely, unable to move from the mess of what once must've been a beautiful body.

The curly golden locks hid the agent's frightened looks, gladly, because the murderer in the train station wouldn't bear to face the lack of life in her blue eyes. 

Blood ran down her nose, her hands shook and her left eye stung. The woman who a few ago held her in disadvantage, sticking a sharp nail into her orb, was reduced to nothing by the train's velocity. A push was all it took.

Then, her trance was interrupted by the sound of steps, she ran away like a child avoiding punishment, not many people dared to fuck with a gangster's fiancée, but the ones who did certainly would make her look much worse in the train tracks.

As she headed home, carrying her heels in hand so she could walk faster, another haunting thought crept into her mind, Tommy, the reason why she had blood in her hands. She was sure he'd be dead when she got home, with a bullet Billy Kimber would've put in his brain.

For a moment she considered not going anywhere, simply sitting down on someone's pavement so she wouldn't have to deal with anything. 

If she only could, she'd ask God to allow her man to be alive when she got home, she couldn't, asking Him to save a man like Tommy felt like blasphemy or a joke of poor taste. There was no salvation for the Small Heath's devil, at least not from divine sources.

Swallowing the bitter taste of uncertainty, she walked home with a heavy heart. However, much for her surprise, Tommy stood at the front door, his eyes slightly widened at her awful state. Her throat burnt with the urge to cry as she dropped her heels and wrapped her arms around him, he winced in pain from the bullet hole in his chest, nevertheless, allowed her to hold him.

His name poured from her lips in quiet, relieved whispers. His attentive eyes were quick to capture every irregularity in her figure, bruised knuckles, teary eyes and bare foot. He had never seen her so broken.

"I was coming to pick you up," he explained, "what happened? Where were you?" 

Lifting her head from his shoulder, her still shaky hands hesitated in cupping his cheeks, resting on his shoulders instead. She negatively nodded and peeked at the wound under his coat.

"You're alive, that's all that matters," 

"What happened to you?" he insisted.

"Tommy, please," she breathed out, caressing the length of his arms, "not now, not fucking now," 

His jaw tightened as he fought the urge of arguing, he hated to have things hidden from him, but knowing he'd eventually find out anyway, he obliged to her wish.

Gently, his thumb met the eyelid of her wounded eye, "That's fucking bad," 

"I'll go to the pharmacy tomorrow, they'll give me something to get it better," she drawled, "now, tell me what happened," 

"...Danny whizz-bang is dead," was all Tommy deemed as relevant, guilt weighted heavily on the sergeant's voice, he was responsible for his soldiers' safety and he had failed Danny badly.

"Oh, darling," she muttered, "I'm so sorry," 

Looking away from her merciful eyes, he slightly nodded. Reaching for a cigarette from his silvery pack before saying, "We're at the Garrison now," 

"I'm not up for it, you can go back if you want," with a quick brush on his cheek, she entered home and in a quick decision, Tommy followed after, "I'll take a bath, then take a look at your bandages, who took the bullet out?" 

"Jeremiah," he drawled.

She nodded, glad someone gentle as the preacher looked after her husband when she wasn't able to. Heading to the bathroom, she only hoped the hot water would wash away the weight on her shoulders.

-

Rubbing her hands together, she watched the quiet street through the window, every now and then a lonely citizen walked past and this was all keeping her from dissociating.

The bath wasn't of great help, the relaxation it brought also lowered the adrenaline, making her muscles and wounds ache. A knot tightened on her throat as she tried to convince herself everything was fine. Everything was fine, Tommy was alive, no one was after them anymore, nothing else mattered, nothing.

The door suddenly opened, making her jump. Tommy entered the bedroom with a towel on his shoulder, his bare torso was still wet from his bath and he moved slowly, careful to not get his injury bleeding.

Attentively, she noticed his mind was far away from there, a pout decorated his lips and his brow was tense. Eager to sooth his worries, she whistled the stereotypical catcalling sound. 

"Hello, handsome," she weakly smiled.

Lifting his eyes, a nearly nonexistent smile crept into his face, "Quit that," 

She walked to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, "Do you come here often?" 

"In my bedroom?" he chuckled, "Yeah, quite often," 

She took advantage of his momentarily good humor to take a look at his wound. Before she could avoid it her eyes got filled with tears, she had nearly lost him today, not all the killing she was able to commit would've brought him back if she'd done so, he'd be gone, simple as that.

"D'you want to tell me what happened now?" Tommy cupped her face, trying to distract her.

"...I love you, Tom," was all she was able to mutter.

"I know, and I love you," 

Slightly nodding, she sighed, "What now?" 

"Well, I-" he hesitated, "I thought of opening a club in London," 

"About Danny," she sat at the end of the bed, "what about his family?" 

"We'll help them, financially," Tommy explained.

"Get his children a job?" 

"No, no more business for the Owens," he sighed, "they'll be normal, his children will never know why he died," 

Hearing his words, her throat tightened, a heavy feeling settled in her chest. Did the woman she killed had children? When she first got into the Garrison Tommy found out she did, but that was before they ever suspected she was a copper, how much of everything she said was lies? How would her child react to knowing its mother was dead on train tracks? 

Tommy watched his fiancée's state with pity in his eyes, he hated her stubbornness at the same time he was well aware of how much they were alike. Both closed off before trouble, hating to burden the other with issues they deemed personal. 

"You know, eventually you'll have to tell me what happened,"

Her watery eyes met his and she pulled him to stand between her legs, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on the soft skin of his stomach.

Gently, he petted her hair away from her face and his rough fingers on her face brought some relief, still, she felt like a wounded beast. A wounded beast is still a beast and she'd forever be a murderer regardless of Tommy's acceptance.

"Tell me, eh?" he whispered.

"Tommy, I-" before she could answer, three knocks on the door interrupted.

Arthur entered the bedroom with a worried expression, "Tommy, hm, I just wanted to tell you we found the body of that barmaid in the train tracks, Johnny Dogs wants to know if he should get rid of it," 

She froze, eyes widened at the news, she was so deep into her own guilt she didn't even think about the further consequences.

Tommy switched a look between her and his brother, with a slight nod, he ordered, "Get rid of it," 

Small Heath had another murderer to call resident, there was no way of hiding it now.

[diejager]

Brain blurry, thinking about Konig being so nervous with you on the first night together so you have to take the ropes and help him have sex. Not that he's a virgin, but it's been far too long since he's had a partner interested in sexual intimacy and doesn't really know how to handle everything on his own.

Guiding Hand Cw: smut, switch!reader, sub?switch?König???, marking, tell me if I missed any.

He hasn’t had a moment to himself in a long time, or had the time to share his time and space with someone else. He’d told you so, being slightly apprehensive about sexual intimacy, especially with someone smaller than him, fragile and weak when faced with his giant, ramrod figure. He has fears, anxieties that he doesn’t share often, not about the uncertainty of his ability, but about not being able to please you like he wanted to.

He fumbled a bit, hands shaking when he reached for you, unsure of where to hold you and how to hold you. He hissed at his own incompetence, feeling as if he was letting you down, to let you dream and fail you.

“I’m sorry, Schatz,” he mumbled, warm palms cradling your face, his thumb running a line under your eye. “It’s been a while.”

König found himself blessed to have you, your guiding hands around his, your soothing voice coaxing him into sitting while you took care of him. You encouraging words at his soft moans, gifting him with loving words when he groaned out in pleasure at his nipples being pulled and tweaked, sucked until they were red and swollen. He let out the sweetest and softest sound, an addicting thing that had you pulling for more, wanting to hear his pleasure.

Your sweet smile at his leaky cock bobbing from his briefs, the tip slapping against his navel before hanging heavily between his legs. Your smile grew into a grin when he twitched in your hands, your small fingers wrapping around the girth of his cock, teasing down his length with feathered touch then jerking skywards, your thumb pressing down on is slit. He rutted against your hands, chasing his high with erratic thrusts of his sinfully slim hip.

Your honeyed mewls and moans while stretching yourself out, fingers wet with slick and lube. His eyes never strayed from your fluttering hole, the sides stretched around two fingers and still contracting. He wished he could replace your fingers, to feel your soft, warm walls around him, clenching and milking his throbbing length. Even when you came over him, he couldn’t get enough of your mewls and thrusting fingers who’s number grew to three.

Your comforting kisses and caresses as you sink down on him, your hands splayed over his chest as you eased his thick cock into you. He gripped your waist, groaning and struggling to hold himself back from slamming into you in a daze of arousal.

“No need to hold back, König,” you promised, the soothing motion of your thumb on his big hands. “I’ll be fine.”

He pulled you down, rutting skyward roughly with a deep growl, his cock twitching when you tightened around him. You threw your head back, baring your flawless throat to him, he was tempted to rise from his seat and bite your neck, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh as he lapped the golden ichor rolling down your shoulder. You bowed down to his face, lips grazing the erogenous spot under his jaw, licking and sucking until his pace grew rough and erratic, moans mixed with grunts slipping through his scarred lips.

God, König was truly blessed with a caring and patient lover like you, never rushing him to tell you his name (though you called him by his callsign per his request and comfort), never rushing him to show you his face and never rushing him to sleep with you. You knew where to bite, where to touch and where to kiss to put him on his knees, melting for a taste of your love.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Pls do one where The reader is like chubby and self conscience about her stomach and miguel convinces her that its okay and like fucks her 😋

I may have gotten carried away lol

Word Count: 1205

NSFW below the cut.

...

"Amor," Miguel called from the bed, "c'mere."

You ignored him, staring at yourself in the full-length mirror in your bedroom. You frowned, poking and prodding at your stomach, grabbing the soft skin in your hands and squeezing.

You hated it. You hated the plumpness of your body, the roundness of your hips, the thickness of your thighs.

Something about the day made you more self-conscious than usual, your eyes searching for every detail of your body to detest.

"Hey," Miguel called out again, "you coming or what?" You didn't turn around to acknowledge him, choosing to look at him through the mirror. His thick brows were raised, and his body relaxed as he lay comfortably on your bed with nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He patted the empty space beside him, ready for the movie night you promised him.

“¿Qué te pasa, hm?" He stood, stretching his limbs before padding over to stand behind you, pressing his chiseled body against your back. His hands fell on your shoulders as he towered over you. You couldn't see his face, the mirror not long enough to reveal anything above the middle of his chest. 

You leaned back against his warmth, feeling tears prick your eyes. You couldn't really explain where all these emotions were coming from. You felt ugly, even more so with Miguel's perfect form standing behind you. 

His large hand skimmed your chest, fingers dancing over your collarbone and up your neck, gripping it gently before tipping your chin up, forcing you to look up at him. Your watery eyes met his determined ones, and he could see the uncertainty within. 

"¿Qué pasó, amor?" He asked again, stroking the delicate skin of your throat. You sniffled, a few traitorous tears slipping down the sides of your face. 

You hated crying—and over something so trivial, too. You felt ridiculous, ripping yourself from his grip to furiously wipe your face free of the salty streaks. 

"You gonna talk to me?" He pursed his lips, arms now crossed over his broad chest. 

"Look at me, Miguel!" You cried, pointing at the mirror with an open hand. He grunted, bending down comically to be at your level, gazing at you through the mirror.

"What am I supposed to be seeing?" He asked, his eyes raking over your form. You were in your sports bra and panties, skin bare and glowing from your recent shower. 

"Ugh!" You dropped your face in your hands, almost in hysterics. Your words were muffled, and Miguel sucked his teeth, standing to his full height again, yanking your hands away from your face. 

"Hablame claro." 

You sighed, biting your lip. Your hands went back to your stomach and down the sides of your hips, sniffling. “Look at me,” you repeated softly, your fingers pressing into your skin, “I look…”

“Beautiful?” Miguel offered, pulling you flush against his chest again, wrapping his arms around you. You scoffed, turning your head away when he tried to place a kiss on your temple. “Hey, basta,” he warned, pinching the meat of your thigh. You yelped, slapping his hand away.

“But, my stomach,” you continued, almost whining, more tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

“What about it?” Miguel tightened his hold on you, one of his hands laying over the plumpness of your abdomen. He brushed his thumb back and forth over your soft skin, finally able to place a kiss on your temple like he’d been wanting to. Your shoulders sagged and you looked away from your reflection, laying your cheek against the warm skin of his arm.

Miguel wrapped his fingers around your jaw, forcing you to look back toward the mirror.

“Look at you,” he whispered, holding you close, “look at how beautiful you are. Hermosa.” His hands moved down the sides, gently groping along the way, “And all this for me, hm?” One of his hands snaked down your front and past the waistband of your panties. With two skillful fingers, he parts your lips, swirling them against your clit before swiping down toward your entrance. He tapped his fingers there, once, then twice, before slipping them inside.

“M-Miguel,” your voice hitched, hands gripping his forearms. You whined when he began thrusting his fingers, holding your squirming form by your stomach, “w-wait, what are you—”

“Showing you how beautiful you are,” he growled, spreading your juices over your clit and your lips, “Look at yourself, look how fucking beautiful you look like this,” again he forced your head to face the mirror, “abre los ojos, amor.” 

By that point you had your eyes screwed shut, but he repeated his command, and you opened your blurry eyes, focusing them on your face, flushed and with a sheen of sweat. Your panties had a large wet spot from Miguel working you, his hand digging deep into the meat of your belly, gripping you firmly as he worked to bring you pleasure. 

“Mira,” he marveled at you, watching your body move against his fingers, grinding your hips as he circled your clit, “you see what I see?” You whimpered when he shoved his thick fingers inside you again, moaning as you threw your head back.

“Uh-uh,” Miguel chastised, “don’t you dare look away, keep looking—mhm, that’s it, feels good, right?”

“M-mhm.” You were mewling now, Miguel’s fingers stretching you deliciously. Your eyes were glued to the mirror, and you watched his hand move under your panties, noting how the wet splotch grew larger, your slick spreading between your thighs. You looked so good in Miguel’s hands, your body seemingly made just for him to hold and play with. You felt his length pressed against your ass, large and hot, ready for attention. That aroused you more than anything, knowing that he enjoyed you just the way you are. 

He was going faster now, an unrelenting pace that had moan after moan pulled from your throat, until finally, you released a moan that informed Miguel you were coming undone, and seconds later, you were gushing all over his fingers and palm. 

“Damn, mama, never made you do that before, huh?” Miguel chuckled, smooching your sweat-slicked hair. 

“Huh?” You pant, finally dragging your eyes away from your reflection in favor of glancing down between your legs. You were absolutely soaked. Your panties were soaked through, your juices running down your trembling thighs. That’s never happened before. 

Miguel pulled out his hand from between your heated legs. He was coated with your slick up to the wrist, his digits and palm shiny with it. 

“You’re a squirter,” he grinned when you attempted to elbow him in the stomach, “that’s my girl.” 

He released you, using his dry hand to pull down his briefs while the other coated his cock with your slick. He pumped himself a few times, pulling back the skin to reveal his large tip, weeping with anticipation. 

“You ready for me?” He muttered with a tilt of his head, eyes heavy with arousal. 

You attempted to get on the bed but he stopped you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against his chest once again. 

“Not the bed,” he said hotly, “in front of the mirror. I want you to watch.”

....

Amor- Love

Qué te pasa- What's the matter

Qué pasó- What happened

Hablame claro- Speak clearly

Basta- Stop it

Hermosa- Beautiful

Abre los ojos- Open your eyes

Mira- Look

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER ONE

“even when it’s bad, i love you”

pairing — trentxblack!girl

genre — angst, angst and more angst

word count —5k

summary — y/n and trent's once strong relationship is strained by his growing distance and her unexpected pregnancy. as they clash over their future, y/n faces the painful choice of leaving or staying. will they overcome their struggles and rebuild their love, or will their fractured bond break beyond repair?

an — i’ve been so excited for this series! i’m so happy to finally post it

masterlist

trent walked through the front door, the usual warmth of their home replaced by an unsettling chill. the house was too quiet, a stark contrast to the life it once held. the silence only made the tension between them more palpable, like a storm that had been brewing for weeks.

he dropped his gym bag in the hallway and glanced towards the kitchen, where y/n stood with her back to him. she was moving slowly, almost mechanically, and didn’t turn to greet him like she used to. the knot in his stomach tightened as he noticed how withdrawn she seemed.

“hey,” he called out, his voice lacking the warmth it once held. “how was your day?”

she didn’t answer right away, her hands stilling on the counter. “it was... okay,” she finally replied, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

“hey,” he called out, his voice tired, lacking the warmth it used to carry. “how was your day?”

she paused, her hands stilling. “it was... okay,” she replied softly, not turning to face him.

he walked over, leaning against the counter opposite her. “you’ve been crying,” he observed, his tone accusatory without meaning to be.

y/n stiffened at his words, her heart racing. she had been crying, but for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand. she had spent hours that afternoon staring at the positive pregnancy test, her mind a whirl of emotions—fear, uncertainty, but also a small glimmer of hope. she thought about how to tell him, how to make him see that this wasn’t just a mistake or a burden, but something they could embrace together. but now, looking at his weary face, she wasn’t so sure.

“we need to talk,” she said, her voice trembling despite her efforts to stay calm.

trent’s eyes narrowed, suspicion and defensiveness flaring up inside him. “about what?” he asked, his tone clipped.

she took a deep breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. “i’m pregnant.”

the words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. trent’s reaction was immediate—his eyes widened in shock, and then his expression hardened, a mix of confusion and anger twisting his features. “what? how is that even possible? we’ve always been careful.”

y/n felt the sting of his words, her heart breaking a little more with each passing second. she had expected shock, maybe even fear, but the coldness in his voice cut deep. “i don’t know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “but it happened.”

trent ran a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the kitchen. “this... this can’t be happening,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “we’re not ready for this. i’m not ready for this.”

“we can figure it out together,” y/n tried, desperation creeping into her voice. “we’ve always figured things out together.”

he stopped in his tracks, turning to face her with an expression that sent chills down her spine. "did you forget to take your pill or something? is this some sort of trap?" the accusation was like a slap to the face, and y/n recoiled as if physically struck.

“how can you say that to me?” she choked out, tears welling up in her eyes. “do you really think i would do something like that to you?”

the weight of his accusation settled on her chest like a boulder, crushing her beneath its unforgiving mass. it wasn’t just the words—it was the disbelief, the mistrust, the implication that she could be so calculating, so cruel. the thought that he could even entertain such an idea ripped through her, leaving her raw and exposed. this was the man she had given everything to, the one she had loved unconditionally, and yet, here he was, questioning her integrity, her love.

every tear that welled up in her eyes was a testament to the betrayal she felt, each drop a piece of her heart that had been shattered by his words. she could barely recognize the person standing in front of her, the person who had once vowed to trust her, to stand by her no matter what. his assumption felt like a knife twisting in her gut, the pain of it almost too much to bear.

trent didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. the pressure of the season, the constant scrutiny from the media, the weight of expectations—it all came crashing down on him, and he felt like he was drowning. "i don’t know, y/n,'"he finally said, his voice cold. "i don’t know what to think right now. this is... this is too much."

y/n’s anger flared, her hurt turning into something sharper. “so what, you want me to just get rid of our child?” she spat out, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

trent’s eyes flashed with something dark, something she hadn’t seen before. “maybe we should consider it,” he said harshly. “we’re not ready for a kid, y/n. we’re barely managing as it is.”

y/n’s heart plummeted at his words, the world around her narrowing to the crushing reality of what he was suggesting. every breath she took felt labored, as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving her gasping for something solid to hold onto. “barely managing”. the words echoed in her mind, slicing through her like a cold blade. had their love really come to this? to the point where the idea of their child—their child—was something to be feared, something to be discarded?

the ground beneath her feet felt unstable, like it could give way at any moment, sending her tumbling into an abyss of despair. she had always thought of trent as her safe place, the one person who would stand by her no matter what. but now, as she looked at him, she realized that the man standing before her was a stranger—someone capable of suggesting something so unthinkable.

“'i can’t believe you’re saying this,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to keep herself from falling apart completely. “this is our child, trent. how can you be so heartless?”

“heartless? or realistic?” trent shot back, his voice rising in frustration. “we have plans, y/n. dreams. a baby wasn’t part of them—not now.”

the words stung like a fresh wound, and y/n could feel herself spiraling. “why is it always on me?”, she demanded, her voice sharp, filled with hurt. “why is it my responsibility to make sure we're careful? you haven’t used a condom in years, trent. you just assumed i’d handle it, like it’s only my problem.”

trent’s face hardened, but there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “we were both in this, y/n. don’t try to make it sound like—“

“your convenience, trent,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with rage.”'it was always for your convenience. you wanted me on the pill because it was easier for you, and now you want to blame me for this?”'

the truth in her words cut deep, and trent struggled to find a response. “it’s not about blame,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less tense. “i just… this wasn’t supposed to happen. not like this.”

“'and what if it’s never the right time?” she demanded, her tears blurring her vision. “'what if we keep waiting and waiting, and it never happens because we’re too busy being ‘realistic’?”

trent looked at her, his heart heavy with regret and confusion. he could see the pain in her eyes, the devastation in her words, and it made him feel like he was losing her—losing everything. but instead of pulling her closer, he felt like he was pushing her further away with every word

“y/n…” he began, his voice softening, but she cut him off, her voice choked with emotion.”'if you can’t see that this is a blessing, then maybe you’re right. maybe we’re not ready.”

trent’s chest tightened as the words hung in the air, suffocating him. he knew he had made a terrible mistake, but he didn’t know how to fix it. the fear and doubt that had driven him to say those awful things still clung to him, but now they were joined by a deep, gnawing guilt. "y/n," he whispered, his voice barely audible, “i’m so sorry. i’m scared and i don’t know what i’m doing.” but she didn’t turn back, didn’t acknowledge his words. she just kept walking, leaving him standing there, drowning in the consequences of his own actions.

desperation clawed at his throat as he watched her retreating form, and suddenly it all came crashing down on him—the weight of his insecurities, the overwhelming pressure he felt, the fear of failing her and their future. but none of that mattered if he couldn’t fix this.

"you think i do?” y/n shot back, her voice cracking as her tears flowed freely now. she spun around, her eyes ablaze with emotion, each tear a reflection of the pain she was carrying. “i’m terrified, trent. but i thought... i thought we could face this together. i thought you wanted us to face this together. but all you’ve done is make me feel alone. unwanted.”

trent’s heart sank at her words, the guilt tightening its grip around him. he stepped forward instinctively, his hands trembling as he reached out toward her, desperate to make her stay, to say anything that could take back what he’d done. “y/n, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse and raw with emotion. “i didn’t mean it. i’m just... i’m overwhelmed. i love you. i want to be with you. i want us. please don’t leave.”

but y/n shook her head, her face hardened by the pain he had caused, her tears still glistening in the dim light. “i’m leaving,” she said, her voice steely despite the way it trembled. “i never want our child to feel this... this unwanted. the way you made me feel tonight. i can’t stay here, trent. not after this.”

her words hit him like a punch to the gut. unwanted. the very thing he feared—the thing that had eaten away at him for months—was now the very thing he had made her feel. and it broke him. his knees felt weak, his mind raced for something to say, something to do, but nothing felt right. nothing would change the fact that she was walking ou

trent stepped towards her, his hands reaching out in a desperate attempt to fix what he had broken. “y/n, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse. “i didn’t mean it. i’m just... i’m overwhelmed. i love you. i want to be with you. please don’t leave.”

but y/n shook her head, her resolve hardening with each passing second. “i never want our child to feel this... this unwanted. the way you made me feel tonight. i can’t stay here, trent. not after this.” she said, her voice steely despite the tears.

“y/n, please, don’t do this,” trent’s voice cracked, his heart breaking as he watched her move toward the bedroom. he followed her, his panic rising with every step. “don’t go, baby, please. we can figure this out, i promise. i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

“i can’t do this anymore, trent,” y/n cried, yanking open the closet door and pulling out a suitcase. her hands shook as she grabbed clothes, shoving them inside with little care. “i thought i could, but i can’t. i can’t raise a child with someone who doesn’t want them.”

trent felt the words like daggers to his heart. he tried to reach for her again, his hands trembling as he touched her arm. “i didn’t mean it,” he whispered, his voice cracking with desperation. “please, y/n. i love you. don’t leave me.”

she pulled away from him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “if you loved me, you wouldn’t have said those things,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. “you wouldn’t have hurt me like this.”

trent’s knees almost buckled at her words. “i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his eyes glistening with tears he was too proud to let fall. “please, baby. i’ll do anything. just don’t leave.”

but y/n had already made up her mind. she zipped up the suitcase and grabbed it, brushing past him as she headed for the door. trent stood frozen, his heart shattered, watching the love of his life walk out of their home.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, but it was too late. the front door closed behind her with a finality that echoed through the empty house.

trent sank to the floor, his mind reeling with regret and sorrow. he had pushed away the one person he loved more than anything, and now, he didn’t know if he would ever get her back.

y/n gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white as she replayed trent’s words in her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. the quiet hum of the car did nothing to drown out the echo of his voice—harsh, unyielding, and completely unlike the man she thought she knew. her heart felt heavy, burdened by the weight of the hurt he’d inflicted on her.

“maybe we should consider it.”

the words rang in her ears, over and over, as if they were etched into her mind. he’d spoken about their child as if it was nothing more than an inconvenience, something to be dealt with rather than cherished. the man who once promised her the world, who had knelt before her with a ring and vowed to love her through anything, was now the same man who had suggested they rid themselves of the very future they had created together.

she wiped at her eyes, her vision blurred by tears she couldn’t seem to stop. how had it come to this? how had they gone from dreaming of a life together to this—a chasm so wide between them that she couldn’t see a way to bridge it? the ring on her finger felt heavier now, a cold reminder of promises that suddenly felt so fragile.

the miles between cheshire and london stretched out before her, but she barely noticed the distance. she needed her mum—needed the comfort of home, the warmth of arms that had always been there to catch her when she fell. she didn’t know what else to do, where else to go. all she knew was that she couldn’t stay there, in that house filled with memories now tainted by the cruel words trent had thrown at her.

as she pulled into her parents’ driveway, the familiar sight of her childhood home brought a fresh wave of tears. the house was dark, the neighborhood quiet, the world seemingly asleep while hers was falling apart. she sat there for a moment, the engine ticking as it cooled, trying to gather the strength to move.

finally, she climbed out of the car, her legs trembling as she walked up the steps. she hesitated for a moment before knocking, her hand shaking. it was late—too late to be arriving unannounced—but she had nowhere else to go.

the door opened slowly, and there stood her mum, her face etched with concern as she took in the sight of y/n standing there, tears streaming down her face. “y/n?” she whispered, her voice thick with worry.

at the sound of her mum’s voice, the dam broke. y/n let out a sob, her knees buckling as she fell into her mother’s arms. “mum,” she cried, her voice muffled against her shoulder. “i... i don’t know what to do.”

her mum wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the world. “oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her own eyes filling with tears. “it’s okay. i’ve got you.”

they stood there in the doorway, y/n’s sobs filling the quiet night air, until finally her mum guided her inside. the warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the coldness she felt inside, but it did little to ease the ache in her chest.

they settled in the kitchen, the familiar comfort of the space doing little to soothe y/n’s heartache. her mum moved around the kitchen, making tea like she always did when things were bad. it was something she’d done since y/n was little—a small gesture, but one that made the world feel a little less chaotic.

as they sat down at the table, y/n finally spoke, her voice trembling. “he said we should consider getting rid of the baby,” she whispered, her eyes staring blankly at the cup in her hands. “he actually said that, mum.”

her mum’s eyes softened with sadness, but she didn’t interrupt, letting y/n get it all out. “he said we’re not ready, that this wasn’t part of our plans. but... but we’re supposed to be a team. we’re supposed to face things together, not like this. how could he say something so cruel? how could he suggest...”

her voice broke, and she couldn’t finish the sentence, the words too painful to speak.

her mum reached across the table, taking y/n’s hand in hers. “oh, my love,” she said gently, her voice filled with compassion. “i can’t imagine how much that hurt you, hearing him say those things. but you know trent loves you. he’s been part of our family for years now, and i’ve seen how much he cares for you. whatever he said, it wasn’t out of malice. he’s scared, y/n. this is big, and it’s sudden, and he’s probably overwhelmed.”

y/n looked up at her, tears spilling over her cheeks. “but he doesn’t talk to me, mum. he keeps everything inside, and when he does talk, it’s like... like he’s a different person. i don’t know how to reach him anymore.”

her mum sighed, her thumb gently rubbing over y/n’s knuckles. “men can be like that sometimes. they think they have to bear the weight of the world on their shoulders, and they forget that they don’t have to do it alone. he’s probably trying to figure it all out in his head, and in the process, he’s pushing you away. it doesn’t make what he said right, but it might help to understand where he’s coming from.”

y/n shook her head, her heart still heavy with the pain of his words. “i don’t know if i can forgive him for this, mum. i don’t know if i can forget the way he made me feel—like this baby, our baby, was a mistake.”

her mum’s eyes filled with sympathy, but also with a quiet strength. “you don’t have to make any decisions right now, sweetheart. you’re allowed to be hurt, and you’re allowed to take your time to figure out what you want. just know that whatever you decide, i’m here for you. we all are.”

y/n nodded, the weight of her mum’s words settling into her heart. the road ahead was uncertain, and she knew it wouldn’t be easy. but in that moment, wrapped in her mother’s warmth and understanding, she felt just a little bit stronger.

the next morning, y/n woke up feeling like a shell of herself, her body moving through the motions as if on autopilot. the room was dim, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the walls. she blinked slowly, her eyes swollen and puffy from the tears she had cried into her mother’s arms and later into her pillow. the reality of the situation hit her like a tidal wave—she was pregnant, and trent, the man she loved more than anything, had reacted in the worst way possible.

she placed a hand on her stomach, the realization sinking in that there was a life growing inside her. her fingers trembled as she gently pressed against her abdomen, a quiet, almost inaudible whisper escaping her lips. “it’s just you and me now, little one,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “we’re going to be okay... i promise.”

but the words felt fragile, like they could shatter at any moment, just like the life she had envisioned with trent. a wave of nausea suddenly washed over her, pulling her from her thoughts. she barely made it to the bathroom before she was sick, her body heaving as she emptied what little was in her stomach.

after rinsing her mouth and splashing water on her face, she took a deep breath and steadied herself. she had to keep it together, at least for now. with shaky hands, she got dressed, pulling on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater that did nothing to hide the slight bump she now knew was there.

when she finally made her way downstairs, the smell of breakfast filled the air—eggs, bacon, and freshly baked bread. her mum was already in the kitchen, moving around with the practiced ease of someone who had done this a million times before. the sight of her mother’s familiar, comforting figure brought a fresh wave of tears to y/n’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, not wanting to break down again.

her mum turned and smiled softly at her, her eyes full of love and understanding. “good morning, sweetheart. i made breakfast for you. you need to eat well now that you’re carrying my grandchild.”

y/n managed a small, grateful smile, her heart swelling with the love and care her mum was showing her. she sat down at the kitchen table, her movements slow and deliberate, the weight of the past 24 hours pressing heavily on her shoulders.

as she picked at her food, her mum sat down across from her, the quiet between them filled with a deep, unspoken understanding. “you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” her mum said gently, reaching out to place a hand over y/n’s. “but just know that i’m here for you, every step of the way.”

y/n nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “i know, mum. thank you.” her voice was barely above a whisper, the words coming out strained. she wanted to say more, to pour out all the fear and uncertainty swirling inside her, but she couldn’t find the strength.

as y/n sat at the kitchen table, her mind still heavy with the events of the previous night, her mum took a deep breath, her voice gentle yet firm. “i booked an appointment with your ob-gyn for later today, just to see how far along you are and make sure everything’s okay.”

y/n’s eyes widened, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks as she shook her head. “i don’t want to do it without him,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “i can’t... i don’t want to go through this alone.”

her mum immediately pulled her into a comforting embrace, stroking her hair as she whispered soothing words. “you won’t have to, sweetheart. he’s just going through a rough time right now, but he loves you. you’re his whole world, y/n, and he’s going to come around. you’ll see.”

y/n clung to her mother, her heart aching with a mix of fear and longing. she wanted to believe her mum’s words, to hold on to the hope that trent would be there for her and their baby. but the uncertainty gnawed at her, and all she could do was cry, letting the tears wash over her as her mum held her tight.

when they pulled apart y/n sat quietly at the kitchen table, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug as she tried to collect her thoughts. her mum was bustling around, preparing breakfast, casting worried glances her way every few minutes. y/n’s face was still puffy from all the crying she did, both in her mother’s arms the night before and later alone in bed. her mind was a storm of emotions—fear, sadness, love, and the overwhelming realization that a baby was growing inside her.

as she stirred her tea absently, she found herself speaking softly, almost to herself. “i just can’t believe this is happening... there’s a baby inside me,” she thought, placing a tentative hand on her stomach. “i’m going to be a mum.”

a few moments later, the sound of laughter and playful banter echoed from the front door, growing louder as her dad and malik entered the house, fresh from their morning paddle game. y/n’s heart clenched at the sound, the familiarity of it all feeling like a balm to her aching soul.

her dad was the first to spot her, and his face lit up with a warm, loving smile. “there’s my babygirl,” he said, walking over to her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pulling her into a tight embrace. “what brings you here so early? not that i’m complaining.”

y/n couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. she clung to her dad, her body shaking as the sobs broke free. “i’m pregnant, dad,” she choked out, her voice cracking with emotion.

there was a moment of stunned silence, and then her dad’s arms tightened around her, holding her as if he could shield her from all the pain in the world. “oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “that’s wonderful news. you’re going to be an amazing mum.”

malik, who had been standing off to the side, rushed over and wrapped his arms around both of them, his voice full of excitement. “are you serious? i’m going to be an uncle? this is the best news ever!”

y/n couldn’t help but smile through her tears, the love and support from her family filling her with a warmth she hadn’t felt since the night before. but then her dad pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing in concern. “why are you crying, love? what happened?”

y/n wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself. “trent didn’t take it well... he said some things... hurtful things.” her voice broke again, and she shook her head, the memory of the fight replaying in her mind like a nightmare.

her dad’s expression softened, and he gently cupped her face in his hands. “he loves you, y/n. i know he does. he’s probably just scared, like you are. but he’ll come around, I promise. he’s a good man, and he loves you more than anything.”

malik nodded in agreement, his voice full of conviction. “yeah, sis. and until he does, you’ve got me. my niece or nephew is going to have the best uncle in the world, i swear.”

y/n let out a shaky breath, the love from her family seeping into the cracks that trent’s words had left in her heart. for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that everything would be okay, that they would figure this out, just like they always had. but as the morning wore on and the reality of her situation settled back in, the doubts and fears crept in once more.

her future felt uncertain, and the thought of facing it without trent by her side was almost too much to bear. but as she sat there, surrounded by the love and warmth of her family, she knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t alone. and no matter what happened next, she would find a way to make it through. for herself, and for the little life growing inside her.

trent sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, as the events of the past few days played on an endless loop in his mind. no matter how much he tried to push it away, the memory of y/n’s tear-streaked face and the pain in her eyes haunted him. the weight of his words pressed down on his chest, suffocating him with regret.

he was lost, unable to focus on anything else. training sessions passed by in a blur, his body moving on autopilot while his mind remained trapped in the past. every time he closed his eyes, he saw her walking away, heard the echo of the door closing behind her, and felt the emptiness she left in her wake.

it was unbearable. he had to do something—anything—to make things right. but every time he thought of reaching out, the fear of her rejection, of having lost her for good, paralyzed him.

and then, as he was sitting there in the quiet of his room, a memory surfaced, clear and vivid, breaking through the fog of his despair.

it was the night after he proposed. they were in bed, their bodies tangled together under the sheets, the room filled with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. trent’s fingers traced delicate patterns on y/n’s bare back as she rested her head on his chest, their breathing in sync.

“husband,” she murmured, her voice a breathy whisper against his skin. “trent alexander-arnold, my husband.”

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her cheek. “and you, mrs. y/n alexander-arnold,” he replied, his voice low and filled with warmth. “how does that sound?”

she lifted her head slightly, her eyes meeting his, and a playful smile danced on her lips. “it sounds perfect,” she whispered, leaning in to brush her lips against his. “i can’t wait to be your wife.”

their lips met in a slow, tender kiss, filled with the promise of forever. trent’s hand moved up to cradle her face, deepening the kiss as his other hand trailed down her spine, pulling her closer. y/n sighed into the kiss, her fingers sliding into his hair, tugging gently as their passion ignited.

“i love you,” he murmured against her lips before trailing kisses down her jawline to her neck, making her gasp softly. “i’m so lucky to have you.”

"i love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she tilted her head back, giving him better access to her neck. "always.”

his lips continued their path down her neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made her shiver with anticipation. “for the rest of my life,” he echoed, his voice husky as he pulled her back into another deep, lingering kiss, sealing their promise to each other in the quiet intimacy of the night.

trent felt his heart clench at the memory. how had they gone from that pure, unfiltered joy to this unbearable pain?

with trembling hands, he reached for his phone and opened their message thread. he had sent her countless texts since she left, each one more desperate than the last, but there had been no response. still, he couldn’t stop himself from typing another message, hoping against hope that she would read it.

i’m so sorry, baby. i never meant to hurt you. i love you. please don’t go. i am lost without you. please come home.

on the other side, y/n sat alone in her childhood bedroom, the weight of trent’s messages heavy in her hands. tears streamed down her face, each message a cruel reminder of the love that felt so distant now. her heart ached with every word, longing to reach out, to tell him how much she missed him, how her love for him hadn't wavered.

but every glance at her growing belly brought back the sting of his harsh words, the flicker of doubt in his eyes. she felt the unbearable contrast between the life inside her—so precious, so innocent—and the emptiness left by his rejection. his promises and the dreams they shared now seemed like distant echoes.

clutching her stomach, she cried uncontrollably, the pain of his absence intertwining with the fear of a future that seemed impossibly uncertain. she was caught between the love that still held her heart captive and the overwhelming dread that they might never overcome the chasm between them.

next

© PDRIESTA 2024

[frvnkcastles]

LIKE HEAVEN ABOVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After Frank saves your life, you’re there for him through thick and thin.

Warnings: Violence, language, feminine nicknames, implied smut, mentions of death, reader is a teacher, reader wears glasses

Word count: 5.6k (wow)

Author’s note: Omggg y’all, I dug this up from my Pages app, it’s literally almost 3 years old and that’s why I’m a little nervous to post it but I thought it might actually be some of my best writing, so here we go :) It takes place through Daredevil season 2 all the way to the end of The Punisher Season 1, and I have to admit, I honestly feel like Frank was NOT ready for any kind of love interest during Daredevil but I took some creative liberties, anyway. So this is a little out of character on that front. I’m rambling, I hope you enjoy!! I’m gonna get back to your requests soon <3

Frank felt like somehow days passed by in a flurry yet every second dragged on like the worst torture he had endured — which was saying a lot considering the literal war he had gone through, and the fact he was currently lying in a hospital bed; broken, bruised and with a drilling hole in his foot. And yet waiting to see you was the one thing that got his confidence to falter, his brain to shortcircuit.

For a man so stubborn and determined to do things on his own, he had crumbled so fast when presented with the opportunity to see you again. He hadn’t even realized he had ended up caring about you so deeply, not until the blonde journalist had stepped into his room and the words just poured out of him.

”Would ya do me a favour?” Frank asked as the woman was leaving the room, his gruff voice so uncharacteristically meek and vulnerable, and therefore capable of turning her head immediately. ”Please”, he added weakly, ”my girl… I—there’s someone I need to see. Just once. Please.”

Maybe she was curious about meeting the one person who seemed to mean anything to The Punisher anymore; maybe she felt surprisingly bad for him or maybe it was both, but Karen found herself doing as he asked and tracked you down. She reached out and a few days later… you were walking down the hallways of the hospital, uncomfortably shifting the weight of your leather jacket from one arm to the other, your stomach churning in nervous anticipation.

The sight of several armed guards standing outside the room you were being walked to made you gulp, but you weren’t scared of the man inside. You were scared to see the kind of condition he was in, to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, scared of the moment you’d have to walk out in the uncertainty if you’d ever see him again. But not him. Never him.

Something in Frank came to life when you appeared at the doorway; something he thought to be long dead and buried only for you to always revive him. He lifted his head from the worn pillows and sighed in some kind of relief, only for guilt to lodge into his heart when he saw you scanning his body.

He looked awful, no way around it. Littered in bruises so severe you could barely see his face, you struggled not to cry while looking at the multiple machines connected to him and the abundance of bandages on his tired limbs. What really got to you, though, was the handcuffs on his wrists and the straps across his chest and stomach to make sure there was no room for him to move any more than necessary to sit up and lie back down.

”Jesus…”, you sighed breathlessly, your hands beginning to shake as you walked over to him with a frown so deep it hurt his heart. He knew he might have been a selfish asshole for dragging you here, for making you see what he had tried to protect you from this whole time, for letting you get attached right before it would all go to shit, anyway. But he wasn’t strong enough to push you away. He was capable of enduring much, but he was weak when it came to you. He had tried it, at first, keeping you at arm’s length but you got under his skin in a way that was irreversible and it hurt more to resist than it did to give in. For him, anyway.

”Looks worse than it is, sweetheart”, he rasped, and with a scoff, you finally met his eyes only for the depth of them to catch you off-guard and make you choke on your own tongue. He looked just as attentive and kind as the day you had met him — you swore you’d never forget the way he had hid you behind the counter of the diner, looked right into your eyes and promised he’d make sure you’d make it to class tomorrow; what would the kids do without their teacher, after all?

”They said your foot was… that there was a…”, you stammered, hoping to counter his words with an argument that failed as soon as you tried to get it out. He had never judged you for your tendency to stutter, though, and he didn’t do it now, either. Simply nodded and let you process.

”Yeah. Yeah, there was”, he admitted quietly, licking his split lips as he watched you move to the chair next to his bed and slowly sink down. Even with all the pain in your eyes, you looked so beautiful in one of your worn band shirts and the skirt you had promptly tucked it into, your glasses heavy on your nose and the shimmer of your lipbalm like a red thread for Frank to hang onto like his life depended on it. Amidst all the chaos and ache of his recent weeks, he could just close his eyes and think back to you, and somehow he felt at peace. At least for a second.

”I wish I could… make it all better”, you whispered sadly, a lone tear rolling down your cheek as you looked at his bruised cheekbones.

Frank’s hand reached for yours only for the handcuffs to stop him, the noise of the movement alerting the guard outside the door and pulling a swear from Frank. When he settled his hand back by his side, the guard seemed to relax a little, making both of you sigh — the man wasn’t even allowed to hold your hand.

”Oh, sweetheart”, Frank whispered, ”that’s exactly what you do. You make all this shit better.” He managed a small smile as he tilted his head at you. ”I may just make it worse, but you? Christ, you…”, he struggled to put his thoughts into words, keeping you on your toes as he finally decided against it, ”I’preciate you comin’. I just, uh, I guess I wanted to see you before I get dragged into a courtroom and… yeah. Yeah, there’s no happy ending for me. But for a moment there, you helped me believe there might be”, he went on, only breaking your heart with each word.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly. ”You don’t give yourself enough credit, Frankie. You’ve really made things better for me, too. And you deserve a happy ending, however that might look for you”, you swore, casting your eyes at your trembling hands. ”I know it might be weird to say, but I’m grateful I met you. Life-threatening danger and all. You and everyone else may not see it the same way, but you are a good guy. You are”, you continued before sniffling and getting up from your chair enough to press a kiss on his forehead.

You were careful and gentle, unwilling to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. Yet when you moved to pull away, Frank grunted and reached for your wrist, stopping you from leaving. For a moment, you were forehead to forehead, your lips inches away and his breath mixing with yours.

”Sit with me for a bit? Yeah?” Frank pleaded, and when you nodded, he swallowed and smiled weakly. ”That’s my girl.”

He didn’t see you again until the trial. He spotted you right there in the benches, dressed in your finest red shirt that had his thoughts running a million miles while being walked to the stand. He was dressed in a suit, too, and he almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculous thought of a date swirling in his head. Maybe, in another lifetime, that could have been reality — not him being on trial for murder with you trying to tune out the hate speech spewed at him from the other half of the courtroom.

Most of his bruises had healed by then. You found small comfort in that.

You didn’t get to tell him he looked good, though. You didn’t get to say a single thing when he was announcing his guilt with a booming roar, and the next thing you knew, he was being walked out of the courtroom with a prison sentence looming over his head. You didn’t blame him for doing what he did, and you certainly didn’t expect him to choose you over his morals. But nevertheless, you couldn’t help but cry as he was taken out of sight and you were left with the realization you may never see him again.

You were sitting outside on the steps of the courthouse when a strange hand extended a tissue for you. Just as you looked up, nearly blinded by the sunshine, you were glad you hadn’t said your thought out loud when you saw Frank’s lawyer poke his cane at the steps until he figured where to sit. He lowered himself next to you just as you took the tissue and thanked him for his kindness.

”You’re the woman”, he stated matter-of-factly, and when you turned to him in confusion, he chuckled quietly. ”I recognize your perfume. It… stuck to him”, he explained — even if his explanation remained vague — but you had no time to present any further questions when he continued. ”Frank Castle is not a talkative man. But I’ve noticed whenever he does speak, his words carry meaning. He doesn’t do small talk or state the obvious, he… he only shares what he considers important. And if that is the case, then… you are extremely important to him”, he elaborated before drawing in a deep breath and sending a small smile your way.

Your heart both broke and leaped at his words. You hadn’t exactly doubted it, but it meant a great deal to know Frank cherished you as much as you cherished him.

”And he is to me”, you returned quietly, pulling a slow nod from the man — Matt — who then turned his head at you curiously.

”If you don’t mind me asking… how does a teacher find herself with The Punisher?” he wondered, and considering it your turn to chuckle, you turned to your hands and recalled the night that had turned your life upside down.

”He saved my life. I know that’s how all the cliché fairytales go, but he did. I was at my favorite diner to get some grilled cheese after a long day of work. I was so close to making it, too, when these, uh, thugs came in. Looking for him, unsurprisingly. There was only one other person besides us and they managed to escape before the shooting began, so… Frank hid me behind the counter. He told me he’d keep me safe, that I’d get to see the kids I teach again the next day— he’d heard me talking to the cashier. He’d make sure of it. And he did. He took care of those guys and afterwards he walked me home. I—I owed him my life so I figured the least I could do was ice his knuckles. He must have been barely ten minutes in my apartment but it meant everything. We just… couldn’t get rid of each other after that”, you explained, the sunlight suddenly feeling warmer on your skin and the smile on your lips so free of worry. For a second, anyway.

Matt listened intently — not only to what you were saying, but you. And it didn’t take him long to come to a conclusion. ”You love him”, he declared, and with your head snapping towards him, you frowned.

”We haven’t—there’s nothing—”, you began, your stutter seeping through again, and Matt smiled.

”Whether or not you’ve acted on it, I can hear it. You’ve fallen in love with him”, he emphasized before humming, ”and I think, somewhere deep down underneath all that trauma and guilt and unwillingness to face the facts… he feels the same way.”

You stared at him, disbelief all over your face as you thought about Frank and all your brief touches, all your sweet words and reassuring looks.

”Could you tell him I’ll be right here? Please? Just… let him know that even if I can’t be by his side, he’s not alone”, you whispered, and although he seemed to consider it for a second, Matt ended up nodding.

”I’m sure he’s gonna need that.”

And he wasn’t wrong. Prison was no easy feat, not even for The Punisher.

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to you. One moment he was sitting in court, listening to his vigilante of a lawyer speak on his behalf, and the next he was being dragged out in chains with your worried face amongst the angry civilians being the last thing he saw. And the big bad Punisher had gone so far as to beg Karen to let him see you for the second time; let you see him, but before she could even consider making it happen, he had been shoved into a white onesie and sent on his way to prison with his jagged memories trying hard to recall the last words you had spoken to him.

It had been something kind — that much he had decided on while sitting in his cell. You were always so fucking kind, and so understanding, even when he doubted he deserved it. You were a good person; a troubled one but you had weathered every storm and stuck to your morals, and he admired that to no end. You didn’t have a judgmental bone, not a single ounce of hatred for anyone who didn’t deserve it, sometimes not even those who did. He thought that maybe he was unworthy of your friendship and sympathy sometimes, but you gave it to him anyway, without question and without expectation. You liked him for who he was, not who he had been, and you didn’t try to change his mind and steer his path.

At least he had the message Red had passed onto him to keep him going.

It was those unexplainably good-hearted intentions of yours and the unconditional support he hadn’t realized he missed so much, that made him fall in love with you. He struggled with it for a while, wondering if he was ready; if he should have felt guilty, but eventually the desire to keep you safe and the longing to hold you close became too evident to ignore.

And he truly knew when one of the assholes he had put down had taunted him about his lady, only for his mind to go to you instead of Maria.

He had been writing a letter to you when his heart-pouring onto paper was interrupted by a taunting laugh outside his cell. ”Writing a love letter to your lady?” one of the gang members in his block teased, and with a grit in his teeth, Frank forced himself to not pick a fight — a successful attempt until the burly man went on. ”Would be a shame if anyone got their hands on your girl now that you ain’t out there to protect—”, he continued, his words cut off with a wheeze when Frank clamored out of his seat and promptly stabbed the pen into his neck. It was a good thing he had already signed the letter.

Realistically, he knew it may have been an empty threat. Nonetheless, as soon as he was out of prison, the letter tucked in the pocket of his jacket, he made his way to you. Making you were safe was priority number one — and if he’d get the chance to hand over the envelope and open his heart to you… Well, that would just be the cherry on top. He had promised to get out and tell you how he felt, to stop being a coward and admit that he wanted to be there for you, that he loved you, and that was exactly what he planned on doing.

Although, things never went exactly as planned.

He had so much determination and courage in his heart when he knocked on your door, but as soon as you opened it and your short figure appeared right in front of him, it all drained from his system. All he was left with was bare amazement and the reserved hope that you’d still welcome him into your home — he knew he had burned more than enough bridges with his little stunt in court, and he had spent many sleepless nights wondering if he had scared you off, too. That worry only now flared into a genuine fear as he watched astonishment wipe across your face, his own expression meek and his large body trying to shrink on itself to seem less intimidating.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he managed, his voice raspy as ever, his dark eyes scanning your face and trying to make sense of the speechless trance you had been stunned into.

It was justified, of course. Who would expect a convicted criminal on their doorstep?

That wasn’t exactly what was on your mind, though. You had never doubted that Frank would get back up somehow; he couldn’t be kept down — but you couldn’t believe he had come to you. A man like him surely had places to be, people to kill, things to do and somehow… he was right there in front of you in all his glory, not bleeding out and in need of stitches, either. Just… there.

You didn’t realize how emotional the sight of him had gotten you until you opened your mouth and the words escaped you with a choke. ”Is it okay if I hug you?” you cracked, and with a deep, even relieved sigh, Frank let his tense shoulders drop and his head bob in a nod as he opened his arms.

He welcomed you gladly, his big arms winding around your smaller body to encompass you against his entirely. He realized then that you were wrapped up in one of the hoodies he had left behind, his confidence boosting but his heart breaking just a little at the thought of you sitting at home alone in his clothes, comforted by his scent and wondering if he’d ever come back to you. And right there and then, he knew he had made the right choice in doing so.

”I missed you”, you whispered into his chest, your heart doing somersaults at the firmness of it, your eyes fallen shut as you breathed him in and basked in his warmth and all his rough edges that only confirmed he was real and not a figment of your imagination, not a daydream, even if he had occupied nearly all of them for the past months.

”Missed ya too, girl”, he muttered into your hair, and as he held you there, grateful to have you again, the doubt began creeping in and the letter in his pocket started to seem like a bad idea. What if it would simply push you away, just when he got you in his arms?

Swallowing, he then decided maybe it was better not to bring it up.

”Hey, I, uh…”, he cleared his throat when you stepped back to welcome him into your apartment. He treaded carefully, like any second now you’d change your mind and turn him away — and he wouldn’t blame you, either. Trouble followed him wherever he went, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from coming to you every time. ”Look, there’s… a lot going on, y’know? Some shit might go down and I just…”, he continued, uncertain of his own words as his gaze fell to the nervously fiddling hands in front of him, ”I don’t want ya to look at the news and rethink the kinda guy I am, y’know?”

Chuckling, you shook your head at him. ”The news couldn’t change my mind about you, Frankie”, you reassured in a way that had his chest tightening. ”You’re my friend and—and a good guy, even if with… unique methods. But you are. Just because you have blood on your hands, doesn’t make you a bad man”, you went on, but he could tell you were nervous, too. He just couldn’t see past himself enough to understand it wasn’t fear making you tremble.

”I think you are loyal and sweet and protective and… capable of making people feel safe and appreciated. When I’m with you, I feel respected and understood. Never judged or unsafe”, you added, and with an amazed twinkle in his dark eyes, Frank looked up at you. Jesus, that was exactly how he felt around you. His lungs and throat were screaming at him to just tell you, but instead, he gave you a doubtful tilt of his head.

”You’re not scared?” he confirmed quietly, and with a small smile, you gave him a look.

”I’m not scared of you, Frank. I’m…”, you breathed in, hesitating before widening your smile and shaking your head, ”I’m not scared.” What you really wanted to tell was that you were nervous because you liked him — loved him. But you never felt threatened by him.

”Good”, he swallowed, defiance suddenly ablaze in his eyes as he seemed to relax. ”’Cause I’d never hurt ya. Shit, you make me wanna…”, he laughed, unsure where he was going with that thought. ”I just wanna keep you safe, sweetheart. Look after you”, he finished with a sigh, the kind that knew he was officially in too deep. You got him good.

”Then I’ll look after you, too”, you promised, gesturing at his hands, ”starting with those knuckles of yours.”

He was almost amused, but when you seriously dug a small tube of hand cream from your bag and began rubbing the lotion onto his bruised hands, all he could do was stare at you, completely enamored by your kindness and the feeling of your gentle hands tending to his damaged ones.

It was almost ironic, really — you were gentle, he was damaged. In your mind, it was the other way around, and maybe that was why it worked. You were different in so many ways but the bare essentials were still there, making you an undeniable match even if neither of you were brave enough to say it out loud right now. But him being in your apartment and you lotioning his calloused hands spoke in volumes, reassuring you both that it was safe like this.

He hadn’t been wrong, though. Shit hit the fan fast and in a matter of days, Frank Castle was a dead man as far as the world was concerned.

Before that, though, he was coaxed further into the realization of just how important you were to him. He was used to nightmares, in fact, he anticipated them each night. And yet, that night, his hands still smelling like your vanilla lotion, he found himself dreaming of you, your big smile, your sweet laugh and your soft lips.

Jesus Christ, he wanted you so bad. All of you.

It was a little harder to go about his mission then. You occupied his mind constantly now, and he began to resent himself for being such a coward and not giving you the letter, after all.

And when he jumped off an exploding ship, he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you. Once he made it out in one piece, he decided he couldn’t risk losing the opportunity again.

You had just seen the news on the TV, and as badly as you wanted to believe no body meant no death, your stomach was twisting and turning. The idea of Frank being gone, just like that, was one that began chipping at your sanity. Thankfully, you didn’t get to sit with it for very long when there was a knock on your door, and you practically ran to open it, never more relieved to see the hunk of a man.

You tugged him into your apartment and sealed the door behind him before hugging him tight, on the verge of tears as you felt his firm body against yours and consoled yourself. He was there. He was alive. Well? Debatable.

”I’m okay, sweetheart, ’m okay. Can’t get rid of me that easy”, he chuckled darkly, his heart skipping a beat when you pulled away and looked right into his eyes. You looked so beautiful yet so vulnerable, and he couldn’t put his feelings into words when he realized he had gotten you so worked up. He hated to cause you any pain, but to know you cared that much?

”Shit…”, he breathed, licking his lips as he gently placed a hand on your jaw and groaned. ”C’mere”, he whispered before leaning down to kiss you, both your eyes closing as he placed his lips on yours, deep and tentative. You melted closer to him, your hands resting on his vest while he cupped your face and kissed you hard, breathing you in and reveling in the taste and feeling of you.

It was better than he had imagined, all anger and hatred leaving his system for the fleeting moment when he got to have just you, nothing else.

He wanted to take his sweet time with you but the yearning was too great to contain. In no time, you were lying on your back on your mattress with Frank on top of you, trying to hold back some of his weight as he kissed your neck and unzipped your skirt. He muttered words of praise and flattery against your soft skin, eyes blown wide with genuine admiration when he kissed his way down to your thighs and made you repeat his name in desperate begs and pleas.

A part of him was sure he was dreaming again, your head rested upon his bare chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you listened to his heartbeat and basked in the afterglow of the hours spent together. It was the middle of the night by now, the sounds of city never fully gone but toned down, your bed feeling like a safe haven amidst all the chaos around you both.

But Frank knew there was no permanent escape from what he had reshaped his life into. The thing was, you didn’t want to be an escape — you wanted to be part of it.

Nevertheless, he spoke up gruffly. ”Y’know I can’t stay, right?” he was quiet, his words a weak whisper, like a shameful confession he didn’t want the world to know. ”I mean, I’mma be with you tonight if you’ll let me, but I… I can’t leave things unfinished. The world thinks ’m dead, y’know, that’s just… It’s an advantage and I just—”, he went on, but you interjected with a nod and your hand smoothing up and down his chest soothingly.

”I know. I understand”, you promised before kissing his collarbone softly, ”I know, Frank. You don’t need to explain any more than you want to.”

He swallowed then, trying to muster up the courage to say what had been on his mind for so long. ”I, uh, I can’t ask you to hold out hope for me, but uh… I just want you to know…”, he tried to find the right words, licking his lips nervously before sighing and burying his face in your hair with a somber kiss. ”You don’t owe me shit. But you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Look, I gotta do my thing, but I don’t want you to think it’s easy to walk away from you because, fuck… I don’t wanna lose ya, sweetheart”, he explained further, making you smile against his scarred skin.

”I will always hold out hope for you, Frank. My door will always be open for you”, you replied simply, and even though you didn’t elaborate further, it was all he needed to hear. Just knowing you weren’t ready to give up on him.

And that was why he wasn’t going to do it, either.

He kept in touch in whatever small, Frank-esque ways he could. A note on your door, a novelty mug on your windowsill, a comforting message from an unknown number. Sometimes all you had was the remains of his aftershave enveloped in the sweaters he had left behind, or the slander of his name on the news even when he was presumed dead — it was small but it reminded you that he was, in fact, alive, and as long as he was that, then you had faith that one day he’d be back on your doorstep.

Sometimes he felt like an irredeemable asshole for making you wait for him. If only you had the chance, you would have told him to get his head out of his ass — you had fallen for him, and whether he wanted you to be there or not, you would have thought about him, worried over him, longed for him. He could have tried to distance himself from you if he wanted to, but he was so deeply entwined into your life by now that all the roots simply couldn’t be plucked out anymore.

And he may have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Knowing how he felt about you, how being away from you made him ache, he suspected you shared the yearning and he knew that trying to push you away wouldn’t have healed either of you from it. So he kept in contact however he could, but not too close to keep his enemies off your trail.

You checked the news every day. And when you saw Billy Russo’s face plastered across your screen, his arrest making the headlines, you knew it was a good day.

Accordingly, there was promptly a knock on your door, and you felt your heart soar as you peeked through the peephole and saw the only man worth waiting for on the other side. You swung the door open, and in an instant, a smile stretched across his bruised face as he help up a bouquet of daffodils, making you grin, too.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, pulling you into a hug that shut off your senses from everything but him — all you smelled, felt and heard was him, your systems threatening to fail as you clung onto him like your life depended on it and felt his lips leave soft kisses on your forehead and hair. ”There ya are. As goddamn beautiful as I remembered”, he whispered, relieved to be holding you again, even a little proud of himself for making it here.

It wasn’t like he needed the extra motivation on all those long nights away — avenging his family was all the fuel he craved, but knowing that at the end of it all, he had someone to fall back on, encouraged him even more.

”I could say the same about you”, you chuckled while pulling away enough to place a gentle hand on his face and observe all the purple and yellow markings left there. It was obvious he had taken a beating, but if the news was to be trusted, Billy had suffered a fate much worse. And despite all the slowly healing scars on Frank’s sharp features, he was alive, and he was right there for you to admire and tend to.

”This ugly mug?” he snorted while kicking the door shut and pushing his hood off of his head, his hair grown out again and begging for your fingers to run through. Regardless of the mangled appearance, though, he seemed almost hopeful, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He seemed exhausted physically, but mentally, a little less tired. And that made you indescribably happy for him.

”I’m proud of you”, you breathed out, a smile crawling to your own face, ”you did what you needed to do, right? You… you did good. You deserve to rest now.”

Frank looked a little taken aback by your words. Not in a bad way, but it was obvious no one had told him before nor had he expected anyone to. But the quiet chuckle that rose from his throat was genuinely flattered, as was the squint of his eyes as he leaned forward and gave you a tiny nod.

”Thank you, sweetheart. Really”, he rasped before taking in a deep breath, ”any chance I’d, uh, get to rest here? With you?” The look in his eyes was almost boyish, almost nervous, and it made your heart soar the same way his gaze had the first night you had met.

”Always, Frankie”, you promised before placing a hand on his chest and beaming up at him, ”I was hoping you’d say that.”

He licked his lips and looked down at you, hand coming to your neck tenderly with his thumb brushing across your chin. ”I feel like shit for the way I left you back then. I, uh, I hope you didn’t feel like I was just… tryna get in your bed, y’know? It was more than that to me. You are more than that to me. It’s, I dunno, hard for me to put it into words but I care about ya. More than I have about anyone in a long time, I guess”, he explained awkwardly, but you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a single second.

You leaned up to briefly kiss him, and the way he leaned forward to get more made your stomach churn. Nevertheless, you pulled apart to speak your turn, your smaller hand still resting on his bruised cheek.

”I know. I never doubted it. And I don’t expect you to be anyone else but you. I want you as you, Frank”, you reassured, and with a heavy sigh, he dropped his forehead to yours.

”Girl… I want you”, he urged, and you smiled as he briefly touched your lips with the tip of his finger.

”I’m all yours, Frankie.”

[ervotica]

Ooh! Ooh! I got a cute one! So we know how Liam makes wood carvings, he’s given the reader one and this time she wants to make one for him as a surprise.. but she’s not the best at it. Literally, she’s got bandages on the tips of her fingers, a couple splinters and cuts— and when he sees that, he’s asking her what happened and she tells him she’s okay and shows the carving to him

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; liam calls reader 'my girl' (it's a warning honestly. i've decided it's his thing now), pure fluff, light descriptions of injury

Thick fingers reach for your hands across the table before you can hastily snatch them away, upturning your smaller ones until your palms are bared before him. Crimson tinged bandages adorn the very tips of your digits, and a shallow slice runs the length of your palm, thin shards of wood lodged just beneath the skin next to it.

"What happened?" Liam's asking, the worry that drips from his cadence only serving to tug at your heartstrings.

"Nothin' bad, Li. Promise." You're quick to reassure him, sore fingers curling around his own to deliver what you hope is a comforting gesture.

"C'mere," he beckons with a playful tap, patting the empty space next to him on the bench until you relent, utterly lovesick and unable to deny him anything he wants. You traverse the length of the table, coming to a halt behind the hulking man, throbbing hands resting on either side of his neck. His pulse thrums under your touch, his natural heat seeping into your pores until you have the urge to climb into his lap and fall asleep. His arm comes up and back to hook round your midriff, pulling your chest flush to his back in one swift motion.

"Sit," he teases.

You press pursed lips to his temple for a chaste kiss before peeling yourself away, needling beneath his arm and into his side; you fit like the piece of a puzzle, like it's where you've always been. You have, really.

"You gonna tell me what happened, my girl?"

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, tilting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.

"You know you made me that wood carving?" you ask, more meek than you'd expected your voice to come out. You busy yourself picking at your cuticles.

"Yeah?" he singsongs.

"Well..." Your bottom lip spills into a pout. It's unlike you to be so shy - Liam's terribly endeared. "I wanted to make you one of Deigh. It's a lot harder than it looks, and it's not very good, really. But..." Your hand disappears into your pocket and the fabric rustles with the sudden movement; then your closed fist emerges, clutching a mildly haphazard wood carving of Deigh. It's a little wonky in places, lines not as smooth and clean as Liam always manages to get them.

He thinks it's utterly perfect.

Taking the carving from your curled fingers, he smooths a thumb over the little dragon's face, crows feet crinkling affectionately. His dimple craters into the middle of his cheek with a beaming smile, and his forearm draws tight, anchoring you to his chest and folding you into his embrace.

"It's perfect. I love it, angel. Thank you."

"You really like it?" you ask, a warmth blooming and spreading in your chest even as uncertainty drips from your cadence.

"How could I not, hm? It's beautiful."

Your chin tips up to smack a wet kiss against the sharp angle of his jaw, arms twining around the broad expanse of his waist.

"You gettin' shy on me?" Liam mocks lightheartedly. You scoff, brows drawing down and pushing a crease between your eyes which Liam promptly smooths over. "I love you," he coos, pressing his temple to the top of your head. Heat rushes through you, white-hot and surprisingly pleasant.

"I love you, too."

[faeries-child]

🌹Laid bare before you 🌹

Pairing: Rhysand x reader

Warnings: smut

Summary: Rhys wanting to make sure you definitely know how much he respects and cherises you.

This text is a example of what happens when I start writing at 2am and wake up in the moring to actually read what I have written. All the mistakes make me cry :,)

“Don’t ever do that again.”

He was on top of you, trusting into you with lethal force. His pace was not fast, but he rammed himself so deep into you that you knew that no one else could ever erase the feeling of him in you. 

Only thing you could do was to try to hold on to his hands, and those toned biceps that were currently next to your face, his palms tangled in your hair. 

“Don’t ever again avoid me because you think that I don’t value your privacy”

You could not answer him, for the pleasure he was giving you made you lose your words and took the breath out of your lungs. In truth you had not avoided him, your just found mate, your everything because you thought that he had intruded your privacy, you knew that he would never do that to you. Especially since how he was now doing his best proving that to you. 

While continuing to thrust into you, he slipped his hand around you and hoisted you up on his lap, his length still remaining inside you. He trailed his nose along your shoulder and neck, smelling you and keeping you as close to him as he could. 

“You avoiding me was the worst thing that I have ever felt, and I have been alive for a very long time.” 

Finally he stilled and you could catch your breath, after so many orgasms for both of your accounts, you had to place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself.

“Rhys” you panted. 

Immediately you had his full attention and his violet eyes were staring straight into you. “Yes darling?” Hint of uncertainty and maybe even fear could be heard in his voice. In his mind he thought that did he go too far, too rough with you. Or maybe you had started to regret accepting the mating bond. However, you eased his worries: “You have it all wrong, I did not avoid you for that. I… I avoided you today because of your daemati powers.”

“My powers?”

Recently you had realized that Rhys could actually have a straight access to your mind whenever he pleased, and that had scared you. You had so much darkness in you, ugly thoughts, vulnerable thoughts. What if that would disgust him? What if he would leave because of that.

“I just felt so laid bare in every sense of the word. What if what you saw in me wasn’t beautiful? What if you could not handle knowing that I have so much dark lurking inside me”

He just looked at you with loving eyes, you still on his lap and said: 

“I am the high lord of the night court. And I doubt my love, that there would ever be darkness so terrifying that it would chase me away from you.”

I hope you enjoyed!

(I will later make some corrections on the grammar)

[lovemyavatar]

Just for the Night

Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: slight angst, one bed trope, frienemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, smut-ish

part two

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lo’ak’s head swivels at the sound of your exasperated whisper. He slowly rises from his crouched position near the entrance of his family’s tent, dropping his bow with a quiet thud as his eyes flick over the dark space.

First, his gaze sweeps over your tense form, noting the way your shoulders are bunched as your hands fall to your hips pointedly. Then he glances toward whatever’s caught your attention, a low groan rumbling his chest when he realizes what’s going on.

He crosses the tent in a few quick strides, coming to an abrupt stop beside Kiri’s bed, where she and Tuk are curled tightly in each other’s arms. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. The two of them often end up in this position, especially on chilly nights like tonight.

But it is a problem. A big fucking problem because while your parents are away on a hunting trip, they’ve entrusted the Sully’s to watch over you. For the past several nights, you’ve been sleeping with the family, at the request of your father. He didn’t want you alone—unprotected—for that long.

“Kiri!” Lo’ak bends down, murmuring only inches from her face in an attempt to wake her.

His brow is pinched, mouth downturned in a deep frown. The muscles of his back ache from being so tense for days on end, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. There’s nothing he can do to quell the way his body reacts to you.

He’s never been so irritated, so frustrated in his entire life. It’s not that he doesn’t like you. Usually, he tolerates you, finding it simple enough in the fleeting moments he runs into you around the village. But now, he can’t avoid you, doesn’t even get a break from your stifling presence at night.

Under normal circumstances, he settles for lingering glances when he’s sure you aren’t looking, and secret, wandering thoughts during the latest hours of eclipse. He’s always been drawn to you, finding it impossible to ignore the way his heart skips a beat at the briefest connection of your eyes with his.

You’re always close by, due to a lifelong friendship with his sister, and it wasn’t always a bad thing. When you were kids, the two of you often played together, flocking to each other like moths to a flame. But then, you all got older, and things became complicated.

Lo’ak quickly learned that the spark of heat in his lower belly whenever you got too close, accidentally brushing your skin against his, was most definitely not platonic. The realization flooded him with anxiety, uncertainty clawing at the back of his mind, catastrophic what ifs plaguing him.

He could never act on the stupid crush, that much was obvious. Because if he did, and the feelings weren’t reciprocated? It would crush him. Shatter a piece of his heart so violently he knew he’d never recover.

So, instead, he did the only thing he could think of to protect himself: push you away. Over the years, you’d gotten over the initial sting of his sudden dismissal, finding comfort in your budding friendship with Kiri.

He’s kept you at arms length ever since, barely acknowledging your existence other than to mumble the occasional terse response or sarcastic insult. As much as it pains him, carves a hole in his chest every time your lips pull into a frown because of his actions, it’s better to have your hatred than rejection.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

“Kiri!” He tries again, raising a foot to kick her shoulder when she remains fast asleep.

“Are you crazy?” Your fingers curl around his bicep, tugging him back harshly before he can land the hit.

He stumbles back a step, eyes flicking up toward yours. His heart skips a beat, skin burning where you grip him firmly.

“Me? This is your fault for getting us into trouble.” He seethes lowly, willing himself to maintain eye contact when he notices the way your freckles have come to life, glittering under the low light.

He aches to trace your body with his heated gaze. Wants nothing more than to devour every inch of you while he has you this close. It’s a rare occurrence, since he typically does everything in his power to avoid this very situation.

But he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust the way his body is so beholden to yours. He knows he’ll mess it up just like he does everything else.

Your jaw drops, eyes narrowing incredulously. The blame is equally his to bear, and you both know it. You’d joined his family for dinner, seeing as your parents are still gone, and the two of you couldn’t help but fall into a familiar pattern. Snapping at each other and arguing throughout the entire meal.

His father assigned you both the duty of cleaning up after everyone finished, insisting you work through your longstanding issues. Of course, it took longer than usual, as you couldn’t help but sabotage each others efforts at every turn. So now, you’re in this predicament, all because the two of you refuse to find common ground.

“I’ll just wake Tuk then.” He yanks his arm free a bit too harshly, stomach flipping when you wince, retracting your hand quickly.

“No!” You whisper pointedly, eyes narrowing.

Your gaze falls to the sleeping pair, unable to make yourself disturb them. You know they’ve had a long day, and it’s late. It wouldn’t be fair. Even though the youngest Sully is occupying your temporary sleeping spot beside your best friend, meaning the only other option is…

“Not a chance in hell.” Lo’ak growls, watching closely as your gaze shifts to his cot.

It’s the only empty bed in the tent. His parents rest together across the room, Kiri and Tuk are obviously spoken for, and Neteyam, well…color blankets your cheeks at the thought of sharing such a small space with him. He isn’t even awake to gain his permission, and you wouldn’t dare climb in beside him without asking.

“Just go home.” Lo’ak’s chin drops, narrowed eyes searing straight through you to hide the way his heart threatens to beat out of his chest.

The idea of sharing a bed with you, of your body only inches away for the entire night…fuck. It drives him insane, makes his stomach flip with something hot, something he’s suppressed for too long to acknowledge now.

“You know I can’t do that!” Your arms cross over your chest tightly, hip popping in annoyance. His eyes can’t help but drop toward the movement, hooded gaze lingering a second too long over your curves. “Your parents will freak out if I’m not here in the morning.”

He growls, tearing his eyes away as his face screws in displeasure. His lips purse, one hand rubbing down his face as he considers the options. He can’t exactly kick you out because, as you said, his parents would rip him a new one if they found out. But the idea of being so close to you makes his stomach flutter uncomfortably, heat prickling at the skin of his face and neck.

“I know you don’t like me, but one night without being an asshole won’t kill you.” Your voice drops, a twinge of sadness hidden beneath the rough hiss.

Lo’ak’s jaw grinds, hands tightening into fists as his eyes cut through the darkness, boring into yours for a long moment. His chest aches, a mix of frustration and something else, something he can’t quiet name cinching his heart. His tail curls at his back, swaying side to side as his mind races.

He hates that you think so lowly of him, the idea weighing heavily in his gut. But there’s no one to blame other than himself. He’s done this, made you believe he can’t stand you out of pure selfishness. And he’s the one who has to deal with the consequences.

“Fine.” He grunts, stalking toward his bed stiffly.

He gathers his blanket from its disheveled position over the mattress, crumpling it up before pulling it tight, creating a long barrier that he shoves in the center of the bed. You watch with a quirked brow, eyes dancing over his toned body as he crouches over the bed, hastily shuffling the material around until it's perfect.

Sharp teeth find your lower lip, chewing on the plush skin as you're momentarily mesmerized by his fluid movements. You can't deny, no matter how much it pains you, that Lo'ak Sully is attractive. He'll never know it, since he spends most of his time being a jerk to you, but everything about him makes you hot.

The low timbre of his voice, the confident sway of his shoulders when he walks...Ewya, there's no getting around the fact that the skxawng (idiot) ignites a flame of desire deep within your belly. It’s infuriating, really, the way your traitorous body responds to him against your will.

He plops down onto the edge of the woven structure, long fingers curling tightly around the bedframe. He glances up at you through his brow, golden eyes glowing with clear irritation.

“Just stay on your side.” He mutters, searing gaze lingering for a second too long before he slides into bed, laying with his back toward the makeshift wall.

“Gladly.” You can't help but roll your eyes in exasperation, a rough sigh falling from your lips as you cross the room, mirroring his position on the empty half of the bed.

Tense silence blankets the tent. Both of you lay completely still, muscles taunt with uncertainty. You've never been this close, in such an intimate situation. Warmth radiates from Lo'ak's back, a stark contrast to the frigid air that shifts in through the slight gap in the entrance.

Within seconds, a chill washes over you, making your muscles tremble. Your arms wrap around your middle, hugging tight in an attempt to hold in some body heat. But the evening breeze is constant, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as it caresses your skin.

“Stop it.” Lo'ak barks, tail snapping against his leg in annoyance. You’re shaking the whole bed, and it makes his chest cave with annoyance. For some reason, the idea of you suffering only inches away has his stomach in knots.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” You turn slightly, glaring at him over your shoulder as you coo the sarcastic apology. “Is my freezing to death bothering you?”

“Don’t be a wuss. It's not that bad.” His spine stiffens as your shift in weight rocks the bed, the back of his neck prickling under the weight of your pointed stare.

Despite his words, a shiver runs down his spine, making his teeth chatter as cool air seeps into his skin. It’s colder than average tonight, but he's locked in place, terrified to move an inch incase his skin touches yours.

This goes on for what must be a least half an hour. Both of you are too stubborn to even consider giving in. It's turned into a silent battle, a war of wills to see who breaks first. At this point, your muscles ache from clenching so hard, but you're willing to endure it to avoid acknowledging how close Lo'ak is.

How the heat from his back penetrates the cool air, tickling against your spine with the whisper of comfort, of the warmth you so desperately crave. It's so close, only inches away. All you'd have to do is lean back a tiny bit and—

A gasp lodges in your throat as a frustrated growl pierces the thick silence, just before Lo’ak flips over roughly. The bed rumbles, a large hand gripping your hip firmly. In an instant the blanket is ripped from between you, creating a valley of space.

You clutch onto the mattress as you’re dragged across the bed, until your back is flush with Lo'ak's chest. Your eyes pop wide, the heat of his skin almost too much as it sears through the icy layer coating your body.

He’s suddenly everywhere, invading every one of your senses. His scent wafts over you, light and earthy, tickling your nose as his chin rests against the top of your head. The strength in his corded muscles makes your breath catch as they meld with yours, pressing into you firmly.

“Goddamn. You’re freezing.” Warm breath fans the skin of your neck, causing another shiver to roll down your spine.

Lo’ak trembles against you, partially from the stark contrast in temperatures, but mostly because of you. He’s hyper-aware of every movement, every quick rise and fall of your chest.

His fingers twitch against you, restraint tightening his chest as he desperately represses the need to touch you, to drag his hands over your body until you’re moaning his name. He tried, he really did, but keeping himself at arms length with you this close was near impossible.

At the end of the day, he’s only a man, and you make him weak. It was simply a matter of time, and he just couldn't take it anymore, knowing sleep would never come with your shivers shaking the bed like that. And now his heart clenches, stomach tight with remorse when he feels just how cold you are.

He's lucky enough to run hot, typically sleeping uncovered, but tonight is exceptionally bitter, to the point where even he wants to wrap up. You're rigid in his hold, every muscle in your body taunt as he settles into you. One of his arms snakes beneath your head, the other slinging loosely over your waist.

His eyes flutter as he allows himself a single moment to enjoy the newfound proximity before they pop wide, horror washing over him as he realizes what he's just done.

“What are you—” The question is a breathless whisper, heart pounding so harshly you’re sure he can feel it.

“I can’t sleep with you shaking the bed like that.” He responds curtly, voice matching the tension in his body as he stiffens against you.

He wasn't thinking, simply acting on pure instinct. Truthfully, he couldn't stand the idea of you so uncomfortable right beside him. In that moment, his heart demanded that he put his pride aside, allowing both of you what you so clearly wanted.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, a mischievous voice whispers in the back of his mind, if he let his guard down just for the night...

Despite continued internal protests, your body gradually sinks into his. Coiled muscles slowly unravel, a soft sigh falling from your lips as his heat blankets you. It penetrates the frozen shell encasing you, allowing you to relax for the first time all night.

Your shoulders shift, hips swaying side to side as you nestle closer, eyelids growing heavy as a wave of sleepiness washes over you. Finally, finally feeling a semblance of comfort for the first time that night. Lo’ak jolts when your hips writhe against him, cock jerking to life beneath his loincloth.

“Don’t do that.” He growls lowly, the sound rumbling through his chest and into your back.

His arm tightens around you, stilling your movements as he shifts his hips back, carving out space between you. A soft groan of protest falls from your lips before you can stop it. In your tired state, your body chases his warmth, pressing yourself against him again with a sway of your hips.

A sharp hiss is forced through his clenched teeth, cheeks flaming when your ass rubs along his already painfully hard cock. Fuck, he silently chastises, this can’t be happening right now.

Your brows furrow in confusion when he tenses behind you, something firm stirring against your skin. He’s so rigid, so stiff, even though he’s the one who pulled you in. It doesn’t make sense.

Suddenly, realization dawns, and your eyes pop open in surprise. Your breath hitches, heart thrumming wildly between your ribs. Your lower belly dips, warmth rising in your core.

“Lo’ak, are you...?” Your head turns, temple only a fraction of an inch away from his lips.

You’re so close, they brush along your skin with every minute movement, sending a shockwave of desire between your legs.

Tentatively, you flip over, rounded eyes peering up into his as you face him. His jaw ticks as he lays completely still, muscles taunt as his heated gaze watches your every move. Color blankets his face, skin hot as a wave of embarrassment washes over him.

You can see how much he wants you, a burning flame of arousal making his golden eyes shimmer in the low light. Ragged breaths mingle, chests heaving as you both pour every ounce of pent up longing into the tiny space between you.

Something snaps within you, and you can’t help but close the last few inches, leaning forward to connect your lips with his.

He responds eagerly, all restraint instantly forgotten. His hand leaves your waist, instead cradling your jaw as he urges you closer. A low groan rumbles his chest, heart exploding with relief that you want him too. His tongue swipes along your lower lip, and you readily open for him, allowing him to explore your mouth freely.

He swallows your gasp of surprise when he flips onto his back, free arm snaking around your waist to haul you on top of him. Your spine arches as you chase his lips, never breaking contact while your legs part, his body easily sliding between them.

You’re straddling him, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips. You can’t help but grind into him, a low moan rumbling his chest in response. You’re already soaked, the rough material of your loincloth creating delicious friction against your clit as it drags along your wetness.

Lo’ak moans, cock twitching desperately beneath his loincloth. He ruts into you, kiss turning feverish. You’re both completely lost in the moment, surroundings forgotten as you devour each other.

The hand cupping your face slides downward, caressing the skin of your neck before skating over your collarbone. A chill runs down your spine, hips stuttering over his when he cups your breast, gently kneading the soft flesh. His thumb ghosts over your stiff nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure to your dripping pussy.

His other hand grips your hip with bruising force, dragging your clothed center along his cock at a steady pace. He trembles under you, abs tensing, the muscles of his lower belly rippling, already nearing his peak. He pulls back, chest quaking and heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His voice is rough with desire, hips snapping up into yours harshly.

A shaky moan falls from your lips just before you close the distance again. Lo’ak ruts into you roughly, desperate to feel you fall apart for him. His fingertips trail along the string of your loincloth, dipping under the material, ready to rip it off you in one fluid motion.

That is, until someone stirs across the tent.

You both freeze, mouths ripping apart, muscles instantly taunt. Your breathing stills, eyes popping wide to peer into his fearfully. He blinks up at you, ice cold air washing over him as he’s catapulted back into reality. Back into his family home, where his parents and siblings sleep only feet away.

Shit, he hisses internally, what the hell am I doing?

A chill runs down your spine, body trembling not only from the cold, but from the weight of what you were just doing, lust-fueled thoughts clearing. Lo’ak still lays beneath you, stiff as a board. Your eyes flick over him, from his raised brow, to his reddened cheeks and parted lips, all the way down to his heaving chest.

You glance to the side, head turning slightly at the sound of light footsteps against the floor. Your adjusted eyes easily find Tuk through the darkness, watching with baited breath as she pads across the room. Her arms raise in a sleepy stretch, eyes still closed, a long yawn splitting her lips as she makes her way toward her parents bed.

You’re quick to scramble off Lo’ak’s lap when she settles between them, instantly drifting back to sleep. He rises onto his elbows, still catching his breath as you push yourself from the bed. Your arms wrap around your middle as you stand awkwardly beside him for several beats.

His stomach twists, already missing your heat. But the spell of desire that consumed you both has been broken, replaced with uncertainty and a tinge of remorse. He blinks up at you, hands curling into tight fists at his hips to prevent himself from reaching out, from pulling you back to him and claiming you the way he so desperately wants to.

“I’m just gonna…” You gesture toward Kiri’s bed blindly, voice low as to not wake anyone else.

“Yeah.” He nods absently, clearing hoarseness from his throat.

With one last lingering glance, you turn on your heel, eyes pinching shut the second your face is shielded from his piercing stare. Your heart is racing, chest tight with disbelief at your own actions. With one taste of his lips on yours, you were putty in his hands. It’s shocking, and unnerving, the way your body submitted to his advances so readily.

You quickly stalk across the room, tucking into Kiri’s bed. Thankfully, your back is toward Lo’ak, concealing the tiny smile that won’t leave your face. You don’t even bother messing with her blanket, the chill from the cool night air long gone under the weight of Lo’ak’s searing touch.

It’s etched into your skin, the feeling of his firm hold, the light caress of his hard ridges against your softness…Eywa, you’re done for. One taste isn’t enough, the ache between your legs already urging you to finish what you started. As you settle into a comfortable position, fingertips drag along the skin of your lips, where they still burn from his touch.

Sleep doesn’t come easily for either of you. Unbeknownst to the other, you both lie wide awake for the majority of the night, contemplating what just happened between you. It makes your cheeks flame, equal parts embarrassment and arousal keeping drowsiness at bay.

Whether for better or worse, one thing is clear: your relationship will never be the same again.

@fanboyluvr @minjix @daeneeryss @aonungsmate @glimmering-darling-dolly

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 2) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 2: navigating joel’s heart is a bittersweet thing. mostly sweet, though.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, fingering, unprotected piv (don't do that tho), fairly tame aside from that, brief descriptions of an injury, mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, angst, weird feelings (and there's more where that came from!)

words: 2.5k

a/n: I wrote the majority of this while listening to clocks by coldplay. hope this helps. (also thank you for the love on chapter 1! glad I'm not the only ooey gooey joel miller lover.)

-

Joel, yes. Joel, yes. Joel, please. 

Repeating his name like a metronome, a 2/4 time signature, the beginnings of a beautiful song coming from your lips and melting against the warm skin of his bare shoulder.

Your clothes had vanished somewhere in between the hall at the top of the stairs and the entrance of your bedroom. Joel grabbed you, nudging you back against your own creamy bedsheets. He took you in, all of you. He was between your thighs in an instant, head bowed between your parted legs like he was praying at the base of an altar.

“You’ve done this before, right, baby?” He pulled you by your hips, his big hands settling perfectly into the indentation of your waist.

You rolled your eyes and brought a hand up to cup his scruffy cheek. The answer was yes, you’d had sex before, but this? No, you had never been so wildly attracted to someone, so soaked from the start, so certain that your partner’s touch was the closest you were ever going to get to God. 

“You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

“‘M gonna be gentle with you, darlin’. Tell me to stop and I will, alright? I will, you don’t feel bad about nothin’ here.” He bowed down to kiss you again, sloppy and warm, his fingertips ghosting the length of your torso. He made you shudder and gasp against his open mouth.

He found your slick entrance, teasing you with two calloused fingers whose grooves made your back arch and your mouth fill with saliva. You reached down to stimulate your aching clit as he pumped his middle and ring finger in and out of you, speeding up, slowing down, testing your reaction from the strangled sounds of pleasure escaping your lips.

You fell right into it, your form turning to putty underneath him. His fingers curled and hit that ribbed edge inside of you until your hand on his shoulder blades turned into a pleading vice grip, begging for more.

“Joel… Joel, I–”

He stopped immediately, unsure if your mumblings were that of pleasure or uncertainty. He hovered over you, his lips ghosting across your jawline. “Say it, baby. What do you want?”

“You,” you said without hesitation. You wanted to come undone with his dick inside of you. Just him, pure and raw and carnal. 

His belt had already been undone, and he forced down his worn jeans and boxers to reveal his stiffened cock. You licked your fingers, bringing your hand around to stroke up and down the frontside of his length. It was a biblical sight: throbbing veins clearly visible, looking almost too oversized for you to take properly. 

He grabbed your middle and pulled you upright against his body, legs bent and slightly parted on the bed. You fit perfectly between him, wrapping the two of you together as your lips found each other’s in another desperate fervor. You sank down onto his cock, your walls clenching around him immediately and involuntarily. Twin moans sounded from both of your throats, and Joel didn’t give you more than a few seconds before he was thrusting upwards into you. 

The two of you shared the work, with him setting a sweet pace and you grinding your hips to meet it. Your bodies were both slick with sweat, faces reddenned; two burning silhouettes against a backdrop of patchy orange light. 

Joel was gentle and balanced at first, his motions coordinated and purposeful. In your warm, tight walls, you knew he was unraveling. When his thrusts grew jerky, he forced you back onto the bed, nipping and biting at the skin across your neck and collarbone while you clawed at his back. 

Joel. Fuck, yes. Please, I’m–

There it was again, that chorus you couldn’t sweat out.

“I’m here, baby, I got you. Drivin’ me up the fuckin’ wall with those little sounds.”

You couldn’t hold out any longer. Tears fought their way out of your eyes as you muffled uncontrolled moans into his shoulder. You saw white, and then things were fuzzy until the black faded from the corners of your vision. He’d fucked you blind, you were afraid.

That sent him tumbling over the edge after you, his entire body slowing and twitching as he gave the last few thrusts into your over-sensitive, aching hole. When he pulled out of you he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, swiping away the trail of tears with the pad of his thumb.

He kissed you again, and again, kissing you breathless and dizzy. He rolled over to the other side of you with a low grunt and pulled your body in close to him.

“Y’alright? Didn’t hurt you or nothin’?” He propped himself up to take another good look at your face. He was cataloging it– memorizing you.

You smiled and gazed up at him in the warm light. “No. You’re perfect. Stop worrying.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He smiled. It was a real smile, one you hadn’t seen before.

You both tended to yourselves in the bathroom afterwards before collapsing back into bed together. You slept for the first time in months. It didn’t matter how many nights had passed with you curled up in a warm bed in Jackson, away from the bitter wilderness or outside threats, you never could shake that nagging feeling that you were one wrong move away from death. You slept restlessly everywhere, waking up drowning in your quilted comforter and drenched in sweat in the still morning. 

But this time, when you were startled awake from a restful sleep, sunlight dripping through the curtains–

He was awake, too. He cracked a grin as your fingers found their way into his unkempt hair. 

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he whispered. 

He pulled you close to his chest, hand placed protectively on the back of your head until it trailed down to your neck and shoulders, nails raking lightly over chilled skin.

Yeah. This was going to kill you. Both of you, more likely than not. 

You slept anyway.

-

Joel came to you. Often. 

The two of you had improvised a system. Of course you had, you were having sex with Joel Miller. You would leave your bedroom light on after curfew if he was free to come. It worked out well. Clearly, because he was sharing a bed with you more nights out of the week than not.

He would come in, a little more than tired, and melt right into your arms like liquid mercury. He wouldn’t say much at first, just mumbling that he missed you and couldn’t stop thinking about you while he was gone. Wanted to make sure you were alright. He’d pull back for a moment, scanning your features and any exposed skin on your body. 

“I’m fine, Joel. Stop worrying about me.”

Tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder, he sighed. “I know, I know. I can’t.”

That was true, you knew it was. And it was sweet. And it was reason enough to keep him wrapped in your arms all night. 

Sometimes he fucked you, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes, though, he fucked you raw and shaky and teary-eyed. It was always a surprise, but a welcome surprise, something that you could look forward to throughout the days in Jackson that tended to bleed together.

On one particular night, a few minutes past 10 o’clock, the front door knob turned, opened, and clicked shut in one swift motion. You came down the stairs to meet him, unbuttoning the cardigan you had thrown on over clothes. The expression on his face gave you pause for a moment. He was holding his left arm in an unnatural way, a little stiffened and sort of awkward. He looked exhausted and there was a pinch between his eyebrows.

You smoothed a hand over his bearded face and took the arm gently into your hand to examine it. His jacket had a slash through it and a mixture of dried and fresh blood had seeped into the fabric of his flannel beneath it. He pushed you away, instead curling his good arm around your lower back and pulling you in. 

“What happened?”

He looked away from you, inhaling sharply as you twisted out of his embrace to examine his arm again. “Fucked around too much with an old hunter’s trap. Clipped me good. I’m fine.”

You smacked his shoulder before turning to gather supplies from the kitchen. A wet washcloth, soap, and a stash of bandages you took from the clinic. Look, these were hard times, and you had yourself to think of, too.

“You’re an idiot,” you said from the other room. “I thought you could’ve been bit. Why didn’t you go to the clinic? Someone should’ve been on staff. Who were you with?”

He came to take a seat at the kitchen table, a shuddery little sound escaping his throat as he shed his jacket and rolled up one sleeve. Ignoring all of your questions, he said, “Bit? I wouldn’t fuckin’ come here if that happened.”

You thought about that scenario and what it would entail for a brief moment before shutting it out of your mind. Joel was here, with you, mostly in one piece. 

“You’re still an idiot.”

You sat down in the chair next to him and brought his arm up so that it was flush with the table. It wasn’t so bad, just a few punctures. The part that concerned you was where he had evidently pulled it out from the metal and the skin had snagged.

The moment you started dabbing at it with soapy water, he flinched and pulled back. “You don’t have to do this. I ain’t asking you to do this,” he clarified. 

Ignoring him this time, you situated yourself to access the wound again, dabbing away the dried blood around his arm. “Well here I am, Joel. If you aren’t gonna take care of yourself, I’m happy to do it. Tommy would. Ellie would. You don’t go to them, though.”

You go to me. 

You cleansed the jagged tears with fresh water and patted it dry. “What did you think was going to happen? You come here, I ignore the gaping hole in your arm, we fuck and then you leave?”

He sat back and his eyes were glued to the ceiling. “No. I don’t fuckin’ know, alright? Ellie’s a kid, and Tommy… I don’t know what I thought.”

He raised his voice and you stared at him. When he met your eyes again, they were tired and glassy.

“‘M sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I just–” He brought his good hand up to your face, his thumb gliding back and forth against your skin. “I ain’t gonna be a burden on you. You’re too young, y’shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

Shaking your head and fighting back tears, you unwound a long strip of bandages. “Shut up. What’s gotten into you? You can’t just say shit like that.”

“–if somethin’ happened to me, I wouldn’t want you to–”

“Jesus fucking christ, Joel, I said shut up.”

If something happened to Joel, you were pretty sure the world would stop. Nowadays, yours was so small to begin with. You couldn’t just forget about him. Pretend like none of this had ever happened. You couldn’t unfeel the way he touched you, or unhear his voice, or unsee his silhouette reflected in the constellations as he laid next to you at night. 

Joel’s face faltered. “Hey. Hey, shh, c’mere.” He pulled you into him, disregarding the sting as he held you in his arms. “I’m just worn out, sweetheart. It ain’t you, It’s me.”

You just nodded. Your breathing synced up with his, and for a second, everything didn’t feel so heavy.

“I’m sorry.” You said into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t say sorry.” He rubbed his wide hand up and down your back. “You’ll still finish fixin’ me up?”

And you did. Of course you did. You wrapped the gash up in 20 year old gauze, kissed his forehead and made him promise he’d get it checked out in the morning. You both knew he wouldn’t, but he smiled and promised you anyway.

Such was the way of your promises to each other. You couldn’t guarantee anything, but you could pretend. At least while you were in each other's arms. 

-

Joel could hear piano music pouring out from every edge and crack of your home when he came by to walk Ellie to dinner. It almost made him smile– there was a distinct shift between Ellie’s playing and your demonstration to her.

He listened for a while before finally knocking hard on the door. He heard Ellie shifting around, and then flinging the door open to greet him. “Hey, Joel, have you ever seen Star Wars? The music is super cool.” 

He could see the sheet music entitled ‘Princess Leia’s Theme’ resting on the stand. Something twisted in his heart, something mournful and nostalgic, and he had to push it back down before it started hurting.

“Thanks for the lesson! Can I come tomorrow, too? I’ll forget all that by next week,” Ellie said, turning to face you once her shoes and coat had been tugged on.

You smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Sure, as long as Joel doesn’t mind me stealing you away again.”

Joel kept his eyes on Ellie. “It’s fine.”

Joel kept it curt with you, especially around her. You didn’t need to try to argue with his reasoning. A part of it hurt a little, if you were being honest. Your relationship was harmless. It would be even more harmless if the two of you weren’t sneaking around after dark like two teeagers. But you understood, as much as one could possibly understand Joel Miller. 

“Good. See you then.”

Ellie still noticed. While the two of them walked away from your house after a successful session, she posed the question to Joel. 

“Did something happen between you guys?” She kicked some snow up off the ground with the toe of her boot.

“No,” Joel replied. 

“Then why’d you barely say anything to each other?”

He gave her a look, one that would signal to any other person to fuck off and stop prying, but she ignored it. “Don’t have to. You got a problem with that?”

“Yeah. I mean, it just seems like… pretty weird that you didn’t even say bye.” She went silent for a moment, mulling something over. “Does this have to do with that time you didn’t get me from Tommy’s? Or when I couldn’t find you at the stables? Or when–”

“–Stop yourself right there, Ellie, I’ve already answered too fuckin’ many of your questions,” he interjected. 

That only made her grin. She laughed a little and smacked him in the shoulder. “Oh, man. Oh, this is good. You’re fucked. I totally know.”

“You don’t know anything,” and then, under his breath, “little shit.”

“Defensive and quiet? Fuckin’ hell, dude, you suck at this,” she said, laughing. “She’s too cool for you, man.”

Joel, trying his absolute best to fend off the smile at the corner of his lips, just shook his head.

“Shut up.”

-